#but yeah i don't think it deterred me no

[a-x-ce]

Worst part of the end of Enies Lobby is Zoro's bullshit pride take on what Usopp and Luffy's fight was about. I need to go and look at the translation used in the manga but in the anime they have him say ''we also can't keep trusting a guy who started all of this on a whim'' like bitch WHAT?!

The fuck did he witness throughout Water 7 that would make him say something so dismissive of the heart of what that fight was about? 'Whim' completely trivializes everything that happened, every single word Usopp said, it dismisses Merry and everything she did. It pisses me off so much.

Also makes me mad how rude he was to everyone else, especially Nami, during that whole scene. Telling her to shut up as if her opinion doesn't matter when truly her opinion should matter the most, like aside from Luffy being the captain, she's the real reason they can sail the sea at all!

Usopp's the whole reason Merry could save them at all (aside from Iceburg patching her up during Aqua Laguna) getting off Enies Lobby, AND he was the person who motivated Luffy to get up and finish Lucci off. 'Cause up until that point Luffy's heart was still broken from losing him in the first place, like Luffy knew his crew wasn't complete without Usopp and he regretted not being able to keep him from leaving.

Why Zoro felt the need to talk over Luffy and decide things for him, a direct display of disrespecting the captain he's holding against Usopp, while Luffy just goes along with it versus make a decision himself. Luffy SHOULD have gone to talk to him, BOTH of them should have had a deeper, more meaningful conversation about the fight, Usopp got to say goodbye to Merry in a way that satisfied him AND Luffy at that point, all they needed was an apology. And Usopp was not the only one who needed to give one, Luffy handled that abysmally from the start, it could have been settled way better than Zoro's method of needing Usopp to grovel and beg while letting Luffy get away with not giving a fuck about how he handled everything to begin with.

I mean thankfully Luffy learned from that experience, as we see when Sanji left during Whole Cake Island, but it came after having completely ignored Usopp's core issues, never addressing them directly, hence why he then goes into Thriller Bark not any different except now he's OPENLY bragging about being negative and self-loathing. Like very cool, very well handled guys...

It's almost like Oda couldn't have that happen then because Usopp still needed to have his core issues (recognizing he IS brave, he IS strong, he IS smart and useful and needed!!!) and that the best place to do that wasn't until Elbaf. Like he left his character on pause for hundreds of chapters and many MANY years and it's only in the next few that we might get the full payoff as we finally enter the Elbaf arc. (Which is interestingly also turning into a Robin-centric arc so Oda does seem to be cooking with that one already.)

Anyway, had to vent about that again, 'cause it's the only time I ever got mad at any of the crew and it was never addressed again. As soon as Usopp does say sorry he's accepted right away and they all go back to acting like nothing ever happened (which is how Luffy was operating anyway the moment he woke up back at Water 7...). Zoro's prideful way of doing shit is often not the best way to handle things and thankfully that's been pointed out before (Punk Hazard by Tashigi) but I genuinely wonder if Oda has any plans to tackle that as a character flaw in any later arcs.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

love my own like theatrical relationship to shakespeare which is a) being so slow to realize like "oh, i've loved theatre? everyone doesn't just feel this way & go 'of course acting onstage would fucking kick ass' & adore rehearsals and hanging around backstage and in greenrooms and changing and performing & etc?' never really occurred to me" and b) my response to most encounters w/shakespeare being "wha" when it comes to anything granular yet the relevance still in the spirit of things lol

namely one prominent example being i was an on campus college student where said campus has a shakespearean theater literally three blocks away, and we had like a freshmen orientation weekly class there doing shit with actors and checking out the theater, not to mention like punchcards to see four shows free (to write up about afterwards but yeah sure whatever) and this wherein also you always got student discount tickets And there were pwyw performances....kicked ass. i went there for shows so many times. i have never fucking known what tf is going on in any of the like dozen shows i saw there when a) audio processing can be tricky enough for real life modern vernacular parsing and b) sure am not used to ye old very stylized language nor any other qualities of shakespearean material so lots of times when i finally started to kind of acclimate to the language it would be like "oh wait that was the conclusion? ok. hoorayyyyy" like also c) You Have A Great Time Seeing Shakespeare Productions Anyways like again i loved going anytime. it's Theatrical and if people are just putting their damn backs into delivering and performing the material it's An Experience even if you're really not following lmfao. and i suppose one can read the text / familiarize oneself beforehand

also like my first and really one of my only like regular theatre performing experiences was my literature class in fourth grade doing a few scenes from julius caesar. i was so hype for getting cassius like one of the most prominent roles? a guy? an antagonist if you're caesar or dante??? oh Fuck yes. b/c of technical difficulties we got to perform it twice in a row when we did a field trip to some other school to perform our respective [scenes from various shakespeare plays] altogether. even back then i was way into it and cared about stuff like "we have like no Effects to make it that dramatic when we kill caesar. or like, non silent. bit awkward" and "also i like, don't know how to act and am just winging it. and of course, i'm also like 9" like in theory i do like to know How to do something vs trying to make it up myself. somewhat lol. a balance, who can argue w/that

beyond that there's also lots of things i just didn't quite realize "counted" lmfao like, when you're a theatre gay with a parent req'ing you go to church every week but you have a good time being in the choir....i was sure on those tenor harmonies & singing loud. and going relatively often to various live theatrical events, having an engaging enough time there, but also would've assumed anyone would be into it And that that's not really the same as actually being in them, of course. but that most of my firsthand experience was just sticking w/ballet for like a decade, and kind of live theatrical performance adjacency there. don't say shit, for years was effectively just like, an ensemble for the occasional performances, but even then it's like hoorayyy i Love rehearsing and being onstage and backstage and dealing w/costumes and coordination behind the scenes and shit. and eventually being like, a distinct individual character in shows, so despite again nobody saying shit you're still somewhat interpreting and doing whatever character work while also enjoying the bennies of [it's dance, so also it's choreographed]....even more clear like oh i love backstage and rehearsing and behind the scenes and onstage and putting together stage character makeup, and i don't mind tackling technical difficulties, and etc etc. didn't even necessarily have the reference like, idk, wouldn't / doesn't everyone feel similarly. classic ye old memory of like being idfk 7 or some shit simply getting to walk with classmates behind a backdrop to the opposite wing of a stage, and loving that lmao. combines a love for [backstage] and [secret passages] type deal lol, big fan of these elements

also in 7th grade doing a theatre/drama class for a few months and we couldn't really get like all this in depth extensive stuff b/c you know, intro course for like 8 weeks for rando middle schoolers, but idk it was just illustrative lmao like after julius caesar, us slapping together some kind of script and my getting to be this fun little theatrical(tm) antagonist guy again? feedback was "what was supposed to be happening" but could've stood to have learned that the enthusiasm and affinity i felt for acting onstage was perhaps indicative of enthusiasm and affinity for acting onstage rather than just, idk, the exact kind of baseline experience any & everyone would have lol. not that i would've necessarily had the chance to really do anything with that knowledge, but even now, ofc i don't particularly anticipate getting to use it, but it's great having that knowledge like ohhh i see. the entire time i've been huge into doing theatre with all these kind of adjacent & gently overlapping brushes with it. gotcha

[medicinemane]

Not to take an extreme stance, but I will once again point out that often fines for companies are less a punishment and more just the cost of doing business

If a fine isn't higher than the cost of doing things right, then it becomes a fee you pay to get to cut corners

I'm sorry, but I feel like at a certain point the only way to get companies to stop violating the law may be prison time for upper management (no scapegoats allowed). Obviously only for more severe violations, but still... we see that fines don't deter companies from bad behavior... maybe repeat offenders need to face more than monetary consequences

[joeloverture]

hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax. 

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing. 

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. 

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from  — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky. 

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining. 

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down. 

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…” 

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee. 

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head. 

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.” 

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel. 

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

 “Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips. 

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become. 

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel. 

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily. 

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him. 

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is. 

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!” 

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

[sceletaflores]

thinking about needy art...just so desperate for you :((( always so horny and riled up :((( he needs you so bad he can't help it :(((

we love you girl!!!!!! pls don't die!!!!!!!!

-🧶

anon i was literally just thinking about this omfg we're so connected it's crazy (this lowkey wandered into a bit of puppy!art territory, @fawnnpaws your influence is too great <333)

and you're SO right!!! in my mind this is so married art coded. that man literally worships the ground you walk on, there's nothing he wouldn't do for his WIFE. the woman with HIS last name. the woman that wears HIS ring on your finger. you're his whole world.

you're cooking dinner when the front door creaks open, the sound of art dropping his keys and bag clear from where you're stood at the stove.

he's always a keyed up, horny monster after practice, so you're not surprised when two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. art clings to you like a second skin, pressing his chest to your back and hooking his chin over your shoulder, a sweet "hey baby," muttered into your hair.

you hum, not looking away from the pasta coming to a boil in front of you. "have a good practice?"

art nods, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling your familiar scent. "missed you," he says, voice going all light and airy. it makes you smile, stirring the pasta calmly as art starts grinding against your ass in small circles. you wonder if he even knows he's doing it or if he's more gone than you first thought.

"i did so good today, you'd be so proud of me," he rambles, brushing his lips over your neck as he speaks. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

"yeah? hope you worked up an appetite, it's almost ready." your tone is overly casual, like you're not soaking your panties at the feel of art's thick cock through the thin fabric of your sweats. but it's all part of the game, ignoring him only works him up more.

"i could eat," he pants against your skin, a pointed roll of his hips pushes you closer to the stove. "god, i couldn't stop thinking about you." he groans, finally done pretending that it's dinner he cares about. he trails wet kisses down your neck, his hands slipping up under your shirt to paw at the lacy cups of your bralette.

the pot's water snaps and pops in warning, threatening the bare expanse of your stomach. you push art's hands down but he's not deterred, dropping them to knead at the meat of your hips.

"let's go to bed," he suggests into the crook of your neck, his breathing starting to get a little faster as he grinds against you with a purpose.

it's tempting, but you're not done cooking yet, and you know this won't take long.

"no," you say dismissively, turning the heat down to let the sauce pan on another burner slow to a simmer.

art whines, nuzzling deeper into your neck. his hand slides around, slipping between your legs to rub your cunt through your bottoms. "please?"

you sigh contently at his touch, letting your head drop to his shoulder. you let yourself get lost in him for a few seconds before you push his hand away again and cast your gaze back to the food, "no."

"the couch?" he tries, "it's just right there, in the living room. i can eat you out, i'll make you feel so good."

you bite your lip, stifling a smile at his needy begging. you bob your head side to side lightly, a considering noise passing through your lips before you deny him for the third time, "no."

art swallows, his breath getting shallow. "right here, i could eat you out right here," he rambles, his hips speeding up. you can feel the wetness of his pre-come leaking through his own shorts to seep into yours. "i could fuck you right here, against the counter."

you hum noncommittally, adding more dried oregano. it's quiet, just the sound of art's ragged breathing and the hiss of the boiling water. art takes it upon himself to fill the silence.

"i could," he takes a shuddering breath, "we don't have to fuck, i could just eat you out. i could sit by your feet, you don't have to do anything. i can...i could, i could use your leg."

you almost give in, his sweet voice begging you to let him get his mouth on you too much. you don't have to see his face to know he's gone red and flush, embarrassed but too worked up to stop.

"you want me to abandon dinner because, why? you can't keep your dick down? i'm busy, art."

art’s breath hitches, his hands trembling as they grip your hips. "i’m sorry," he breathes out, though you know he’s anything but. the apology only makes him grind harder, chasing any scrap of attention you might throw his way. “please,” he whimpers, his voice cracking. “i just— i need it so bad. please, baby.”

you click your tongue in disapproval, shaking your head as you turn back to the stove, stirring the sauce with a slow, deliberate motion. “you’re such a mess, art. can’t even wait until dinner’s done before you start acting like a desperate slut, can you?”

art shudders behind you, his grip tightening on your waist as his hips jerk involuntarily. “i’m sorry,” he gasps out for the second time. “i just—fuck, i can’t help it. please, let me—”

"no, if you want to come in here and hump my leg like a desperate puppy, than that's how you're going to come."

art’s whimper is pitiful, his hips stuttering against you, driven by nothing but raw desire. he’s practically drooling, his breath hot and uneven against your neck as he desperately grinds himself against your thigh.

“please, please,” he chants, the word a broken prayer on his lips, but you don’t miss the way he shudders under your cruel tone, his body trembling with anticipation.

“god, you’re pathetic,” you say through a condescending laugh, “you can’t even control yourself for a second, can you? always so eager to make a mess. i should make you clean it up with your tongue.”

art comes in his boxers with a broken whine. the timer goes off a couple seconds later.

[arminsumi]

Satoru simping for you and Suguru telling him to give up (lol)

Note : this is just crack i found in the drafts lol enjoy??

Warnings : 🔞 mdni / suggestive

Satoru grits his teeth and makes a frustrated growl. "Fuck. She's hot." he mutters under his breath.

He looks away from you, like it was just too much to handle.

Satoru turns to Suguru, "Suguru."

"Yeah?"

"Should I ask her for her number?"

"Who — her? Nahhh, she's out of your league." Suguru says.

"What the hell! you're supposed to be my supportive best friend."

"No — I'm a cunt first and foremost before anything." he jokes.

"Can't your cunty mouth manage a little pep-talk?"

"It would be disingenuous. Satoru, I don't think you should be messing around with the principle's daughter."

Satoru makes another frustrated growl.

"Fuckin' bullshit..." he grumbles under his breath. He looks away and sinks his hands into his pockets.

"Besides," suguru adds, "she's got a boyfriend."

"—and you only tell me this now?! After I've been pining after her ass for how long!!" Satoru seethes.

Satoru looks at you annoyedly, but still admiringly. Like a doting puppy.

"Fuck it! Boyfriends are temporary!"

"Calm down, Satoru. No need to let your morals degrade over some girl."

"She's not just some girl, Suguru! Fuck, just look at her."

"Give it up, man."

"Maybe you're deterring me so you can take her all for yourself."

"Oh my god, Satoru. you sound as insane as a conspiracy theorist."

"Maybe she's into conspiracy theorists! Hey, I'll go up to her and whisper all sexy into her ear; "ooh, baby you know the moon landing didn't happen~"

Satoru looks around searching for a way to make his joke funny.

"—but I'll be landing on your craters tonight for sure."

"OH MY GOD. Satoru. stop."

Satoru continues his bullshit.

""Can I rocket into your pussy, babygirl?""

"Stop."

Satoru's laughing like a seal and going red in the face. He keeps annoying his best friend with examples of his wacky pickup lines.

"Wanna know why they call me Neil Armstrong, baby?"

"Satoru, I don't know why we're friends."

"Bitch you love me!"

"This is why she's out of your league. Because you're a nutter and she's a normal person."

"How do you know! She might be a nutter too. Shit, or at least I'll make her into one... yeah... I'll make her crazyyyy for me."

"... Satoru, don't drive her nuts."

"Okay, I won't drive her nuts. I'll just let her suck on my nuts."

"What the hell (lol)?"

"Yo, listennnnn, one look from her makes my balls feel tight and full." Satoru admits unashamedly.

"Ough! Too much information!" Suguru grimaces.

"SHE MAKES MY DICK HARD SUGURU!"

"LALALA NOT LISTENING!" Suguru plugs his ears and gets up and leaves the cafeteria.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie loves the idea that Steve Harrington fucking bridal carried him out of the Upside Down. So once Eddie is all healed up, he starts dropping in front of Steve and groaning.

"Help! Steve! I have fallen and can not get up. I need a strong strapping man to carry me out of hell!"

Steve would scoff, step over him, and leave him pouting on the floor. Did that deter Eddie? No. So he kept doing it. Steve started complaining about it to Robin.

"You know he thinks you're not going to do it again. It's why he keeps doing it," Robin said.

"I feel like you're trying to challenge me," Steve said.

"I would never," Robin said.

"If I find out you have a bet going on with him. . ."

It finally happens when Steve throws a pool party. Steve and Eddie were about to head back outside when Eddie dropped in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something when he felt Steve's hands sliding underneath him, picking him up and cradling him to his chest. They were both shirtless, a fact that Eddie was completely focused on, completely aware of Steve's skin against his. Did the temperature outside suddenly go up? His skin felt like he was on fire as he gazed into Steve’s pretty eyes, a smirk gracing his perfect lips. God, Eddie wanted to bite them. Steve grinned and threw Eddie. The metalhead screamed as he was tossed into the pool with a loud splash. Eddie resurfaced to the sound of laughter to find Steve standing above the pool, his hands on his hips, and a cocky smile on his face.

"I hate you," Eddie growled.

"No, you don't," Steve replied, a twinkle in his eye and winked at him.

That motherfucker threw him into the pool and winked at him. Son of a bitch. Okay, yeah, Eddie was definitely in love. Damn it, he owed Robin money.

[kaciidubs]

Curious Cat

❣ Summary: Perhaps being curious wasn't all that bad. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.48k ❣ Warnings: Slight Sub! Chris, fluff, smut, comfort, use of safeword, sex toys [vibrators], slight overstimulation, aftercare ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, and My Love, Reader is referred to as Baby, unedited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back - and boy, was this cat satisfied.

Chris didn't intend on snooping around your room when you left to get snacks for your impending movie date, nor did he intend to find a few hidden objects in your sock drawer.

Who knew him wanting to coo over your cute Sanrio themed socks would've turned into him holding not one, but two of your sex toys?

"Alright, I think I have every- Why are you holding those?"

His head snapped in the direction of your voice, your hands holding two convenience store bags filled with the snacks you'd promised.

"I-I, um, I didn't mean to-"

"Are you trying to skip the movie and get to the good part of the night?"

The suggestiveness in your tone made his heart skip a beat - sure, he was ready for you no matter what, but he genuinely wasn't trying to come off as entirely horny, he was just curious.

"I wanna watch the movie, really, but..."

Looking down at the toys in his hands, he couldn't help the thoughts brewing in his head; how do you use them? Do you use them by themselves or do you watch the private videos you two have made while touching yourself? Do you use one or multiple in one night? Do they make you come just as hard as he does?

"I... I think I wanna know how these work."

"On me?" You mused, a sly smirk growing on your lips, "Or on you?"

Oh.

Was that even possible? Could your toys work the same on him as they do for you? Could they make him come just as hard as you do?

Chris was curious, some may say too curious for his own good, but he wouldn't let that deter him.

Which is how he found himself now; naked and writhing on your bed as you held a small blue vibrating toy to the leaky head of his cock, the two bunny shaped ears vibrating in a pattern that left him breathless.

The rabbit vibrator, you'd told him - it was your go to for nights where you just wanted to get off and go to bed.

It made his head spin just simply knowing that the toy currently on the flared tip of his dick was also used on your clit.

"How's it feel, baby?" You cooed, the only piece of clothing still on your body being a basic pair of cotton panties. "Feels good, right? I didn't even have to use too much lube with the way you're dripping right now."

He whined out a sound of agreement, too focused on the pulsing of the toy to pay you any mind.

"This next one is new, I haven't even used it on myself yet but that's okay - you can be my little test bunny, yeah?"

"Y-Yes, fuck yes, please." If one toy was able to make him feel this good, then whatever you had planned for him next was more than welcome.

The small, targeted vibrations of the rabbit left his cock, prompting him to open his eyes and look down at you in question before his gaze locked onto the next toy in your hand.

It was bigger, sort of shaped like a microphone, and was slightly intimidating based on the simpler, theme-less design.

"It's a Hitachi wand," you explained, turning it to give him a full view, "it's supposed to have more power than the rabbit, but since I haven't used it yet, I don't know how it's supposed to feel on me - so, make sure you tell me everything you feel, okay?"

Chris nodded, his dick throbbing in anticipation, "Okay, yeah, I will."

You took a moment to coat the soft bulbous tip with lube before turning it toward him; rubbing it along his shaft to give him a general idea of what it feels like while it's not running.

"Ready?"

"R-Ready."

The click of a button was all he could register before a strong wave of vibration forced a choked gasp from his plump lips.

He could feel it everywhere; from the tip of his cock to his abdomen - he could even feel the vibrations in the taughtness of his balls, it was insane.

If it weren't for the fact that you were sitting between his legs, he probably would've been folded like a chair from the pleasure.

"Channie? How's it feel, baby? What is it like?"

His hands fisted the sheets, chest heaving in uneven breaths as he tried his best to collect the brain cells to form words.

"I-It- oh fuck, fuck, it's so- it's everywhere, baby- oh my god don't stop, please don't stop!"

His stomach was coated in precum, his cock leaking in ways you haven't seen before - you were almost jealous it was being wasted on him instead of in you, but that would be fixed later on.

Pressing the vibration button, you kicked up the speed and pressed the toy against the underside of his cock, right against a vein you were graciously familiar with.

The sound he let out was crossed between a grunt and a gasp of air, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and before you knew it, thick ropes of white streaked across his chest and stomach.

It was like he was frozen in time, stuck between breaths and stomach contracting with each wave of cum leaving him, numb to everything but the constant vibrations now spreading throughout his body.

At the same time, you weren't fairing any better; watching in shocked amazement as your usually loud finishing boyfriend was resorted to nothing but choked breaths and twitching limbs. It wasn't until a certain gasped word forced it's way past his lips that you were brought back to reality.

"R-Red- Red-"

You turned the toy off immediately, tossing it behind you as your hands moved to hold his shaking ones, knuckles white from his grip on your sheets.

"Okay, Channie, it's okay - we're all done, yeah?" You could see the faint streak of tears shining down the sides of his face, watching as he tried nodding his head. "You're okay, baby, just take a deep breath with me - slowly, just breathe with me."

He took a shivering inhale, broken between soft hiccups, before sighing it out slowly, his body relaxing just a bit.

"Good boy, just a few more times for me, alright?"

With each breath taken, his body finally relaxed and the tension in his hands released enough for you to slip your hands into his palms, thumbs caressing his undoubtedly sore knuckles.

"You did great, Channie, such a great job - will you be okay if I leave to get a washcloth to clean you up? Do you want me to run a bath?"

Chris shook his head softly, squeezing your hands, "Just... Just a washcloth... A-And some water, please."

Nodding, you leaned down to press a kiss to his right hand, "Alright, baby, I'll be right back."

It only took a few minutes for you to return with the warm washcloth and a bottle of water, gently wiping up the mess of cum from his skin and lube from his softening dick, before helping him sit up to drink.

He finished the water bottle in record time, chugging it as if he just finished a set on stage before letting out a deep sigh, leaning his head against your headrest.

"That was..."

"Intense?"

"Amazing." He laughed lightly, "And intense too, yeah, but it was... I never felt anything like that before, but I feel like if I didn't tap out then, I would've passed out."

Small giggles bubbles from your mouth, shaking your head at his honesty, "Well thank you for letting me know - do you need me to do anything for you? More water? Food? Wanna talk it out some more? Where's your head at, my love?"

A small hum left him as he opened his eyes to gaze at you through a soft haze, "Food sounds great, and we can definitely talk about it more but not before you tell me how you're doing. I'm alright, really, just a little overstimulated - but what about you? I didn't mean to scare you with the safeword."

"You didn't scare me at all! I was just worried about you, trust me - I'm just glad you're okay." Scooting closer to him, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, smiling as he press himself into you. "I'll order the food, you just focus on cooling down, yeah?"

He nodded before looking at you with puppy eyes, "Can we order a pizza?"

Rolling your eyes, you laughed, "Yes, we can order a pizza - find something to watch then we can talk about the toys some more."

With a hum of agreement, you set off to put your date night back on track.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[ddejavvu]

idk if you've wrote this type of blurb before but if not maybe some hangman x reader were they aren't dating but friends and reader visits him and they go to a bar together and it's all very southern but reader doesn't know shit abt southern tradition and surprise surprise she puts on jakes cowboy hat as a joke 🤭🤭 the rest is up to you (just no angst please :') )

(If you wear a cowboy hat, you have to ride the cowboy)

Jake had tried briefing you on the way over. Don't get too cocky about the mechanical bull. You'll fall eventually. Careful not to step on anyone's toes, you might scuff their dancing boots. If you're going to dance, stick to the middle, that way there's always someone in front of you when the group turns to follow along with.

He'd just forgotten one minor detail, and you hadn't thought twice about snatching up his discarded cowboy hat as he wiped his brow of sweat. Perhaps you should have been deterred by that, the fact that the brim is slightly damp with his perspiration, but you didn't let it phase you, excited to look as southern as everyone else did.

You don't see his eyes widen until the hat is already securely on your head, and you grin at him, smug that you've managed to steal his look.

"What, Seresin? Pissed I look better than you?" You quip, but your smirk fades into confusion when his eyes trail down your front.

"Oh my god, are you getting turned on by this, or something? We should roleplay," You tease, slapping his chest, "I'll be the sexy cowgirl."

"Well darlin'," Jake finally finds his voice, laughing bashfully, "That ain't too far off from what you've just set yourself up for."

"Oh yeah?" You raise a brow curiously, "And what's that, Jake?"

"Well, there's this southern tradition," He explains, his typical cocky smirk flitting over his face as he leans sideways against the bar beside you, "That if you wear a man's cowboy hat, you've gotta ride the cowboy you stole it off of."

Your jaw drops for a quick second before you contain yourself, staring bewildered at him, "You- what? And you didn't warn me before I put it on? That's a stupid rule."

"It's not stupid," He grins, "It's perfect. And hey, think of it this way. You're savin' a horse."

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "hear me out ok .. ok what if reader was getting a tattoo and JAKE is the person who does the tattoos??????"

Warnings: TW needles, getting tattooed, male tattooing female reader, mentions of being in pain and smoking, mainly fluff

Word Count: 5.5K | kind of edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Hello?"

"Hey y/n, it's Corey from Emblem One."

You smile, "oh hey. What's up, Corey?" You sit up and listen to him, " So, Vienna isn't going to be in today, she's got a bad, and I mean bad case of the flu."

You pout slightly, "Oh. Thats too bad. I hope she feels better soon."

"Yeah, me too. I just got done rescheduling her appointments today.. she was booked and busy so it's.. been a day so far." He laughs slightly, "But I know you trust the rest of us, and I was going down over our other appointments and Jake has an earlier opening if you want it."

"Is he the one you were talking about bringing in a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah, that's him. He does pretty sick work, if I do say so myself, but you know that if I didn't think he could do your tattoos, I wouldn't recommend him." Corey chuckles slightly, "I know it's a sternum tattoo, so if you're no-"

"Put me in." You say quickly, "I need tattoo therapy Corey. I can't wait any longer." You laugh and he clicks his tongue, "You got it."

He pauses for a second, "So instead of coming in at six like you were supposed to with V, he can get you in at two thirty. That sound okay?"

"That's absolutely perfect. Thank you so much for calling me."

"Anytime. See you in a little."

"Yep, bye." You hang up, checking the time before getting up to go shower.

You were getting a chest piece done, a floral setting under your boobs with a vine that goes in between them.

You were actually kind of nervous for this one, well.. it wouldn't be as bad if you hadn't let google and all of its pain scale ratings deter your feelings about it.

You tried not to think about it by going to the shops page, looking to see if they posted an introduction to Jake.

They did, and wow is he ever pretty.

You bite your lip, reading down over the basic info that's listed below his picture.

Emblem One would like to introduce our newest artist, Jake Webber. Jake has been tattooing for a few years and he is absolutely incredible. You can swipe to see a few of the pieces that he's done so far, and if you would like to schedule an appointment with Jake, please call the shop and we'll get you set up.

You raise your eyebrows as you swipe through the attached pictures, "Wow." You shake your head, Corey was right, his work is pretty sick.

You find yourself in the comments, and to no surprise, you're reading stuff that definitely should have stayed in the keyboard.

User1: I have no tattoos, but now I want one that will take hours

User2: I have a few openings that I can definitely schedule you in to fill.

User3: I'd leave a wet spot on the table, he's so hot

"People have no chill." You roll your eyes, laughing slightly as you double tap the picture to like it before getting in the shower.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You push the door to the tattoo shop open, walking in as you give Corey a smile, "Hey."

He stands up, "What's up, y/n?"

You shake your head, closing the door behind you, "Nothing really, about to get a tattoo." You laugh slightly and he chuckles, "You don't say."

He slides the paper for you to sign, "Are you nervous?"

You sign your name and shrug, "I know it's going to hurt, but I'm so excited for it."

He chuckles and nods, "Yeah, I don't really think it's going to tickle." He nods to the back, "I'll go tell Jake you're here."

He walks back, leaving you alone in the small lobby that you're very familiar with. You walk over, looking at the different paintings and drawings that are on the walls.

You've seen them a bunch of times but they always amaze you.

"Y/n."

You turn, seeing Jake standing there and your eyes move up to meet his - wow, he's a lot taller in person.

You smile, "Yes, hi." You walk over to him, "You must be Jake."

He extends his hand out, "That would be me."

You lay your hand in his and it feels like fireworks are going off inside of your stomach.

"So if you're ready.." he nods towards the door, hand still holding yours, "You can follow me this way."

You nod, blinking a few times as you smile, "Yes. I am more than ready." You slip your hand from his and he gives you a little smirk before walking back the hall.

You follow him back, saying hi to the other artists that are there today.

"You're popular here aren't you?" Jake jokes and you laugh, "I've known Corey since, middle school, I think."

"So you're friends with the owner, how sick is that?" Jake sits down on his stool and you nod, "It has its perks."

You sit your bag down on the extra chair in the corner and shrug your jacket off. You turn around letting out a quiet, but loud enough to catch Jake's attention, "shit."

"Everything okay?" Jake looks up from getting everything set up and you nod, "Yeah, well. I mean no. I wanted to bring an extra shirt with me, just so I didn't get ink all over this one, and I forgot it."

"I have an extra one if you want it." Jake offers and you raise your brows, "Do you really?"

He nods, getting up from his stool, "It's in my car, but I can go out and grab it quick."

"Are you sure?" You tilt your head, "I don't want to be a hassle. I know you have other appointments later."

He shakes his head, "Nah, just one. But that isn't until six or something, so we have plenty of time." He grabs his keys and points to the door, "I'll be right back."

"Thank you!" You say as he walks out. You turn, digging your phone from your bag and bringing it up to text your best friend, I got rescheduled so I'm here at the shop now. Corey put me with the new guy they hired and oh my gosh is he a sweetheart, and oh, he is sooo pretty, too. Go to Emblem One on IG and look. It's their new artist. Jake.

Just as you get done, basically fan girling about Jake, he walks back in, "Here you are."

You take the shirt from his hand and smile, "You are a lifesaver, Jake. Thank you."

He bats the air, "Oh shucks." He laughs slightly and walks towards the door, "I'm going to let you get comfortable, I'll be back in a few."

You watch as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

You take off your shirt off, followed by your bra before slipping on his shirt. Your eyes scan over the black walls, moving over the long mirror hung horizontally against it.

You walk over to the mirror, spending the last few minutes alone trying to figure out how you were going to keep yourself covered while he tattoos.

As you're moving the shirt around, there's a knock on the door and you quickly pull it down, "Come in."

The door opens and Jake walks in, "Comfy cozy?"

You laugh slightly, moving to sit back on the table, "As much as I can get."

"Is there anything else I can do for you before we get started?" He sits down, turning to look at you with a smile.

You tilt your head, "It's more or less how I'm going to stay covered up, I don't want anyone uncomfortable. I seen other shops have hospital gowns that they have people put on backwards.."

He smirks slightly, "I was actually thinking about that out there and, I don't have a hospital gown, but what I can do, is cut the shirt up the middle and then tape it down so you're covered."

"I don't want you ruining your shirt, Jake." You shake your head slightly and he shrugs, "That's an old shirt anyway. I won't miss it."

"Are you sure?" You ask and he smiles as he grabs the scissors, "So. Are we doing this?"

You laugh, moving to stand up, "I guess we are."

He rolls over, pinching the hem of the shirt with his fingers before gliding the scissors upward. You lay your hands on your boobs to keep them covered and your breath hitches quietly as the cool air hits your skin.

"Let me grab the tape."

You nod as you watch him wheel over, grabbing the white tape before coming back over. He look up at you, "If you feel uncomfortable at anytime and need or want me to stop, please tell me."

"You're fine, Jake." You smile.

That wasn't a lie, you were, oddly enough, more comfortable with him than you were with any of your actual guy friends.

"I'm just saying. I don't want you writing a bad yelp review." He tries not to laugh but fails which causes you to laugh, "Oh yeah, I'm going to totally go home after this and write the worst review ever."

"Maybe that'll make the girls in the instagram comments stay away." He snickers as he shakes his head while taping down the shirt to your skin.

"You saw them?" You drop your hands and he look up with a nod, "Oh yeah." He rolls his eyes and sighs, "But I seen you liked it, so thanks for that."

You can feel your cheeks heating as he pushes himself back, "Oh, that. Yeah, i was just.. showing love to my favorite tattoo shop, you know."

Way to play it cool, y/n, you mentally slap yourself as you sit down on the table again.

He chuckles, "No I appreciate that. I know being a new artist to some is kind of scary, but Corey said he would hype me up and it obviously worked, since you're sitting on my table."

You laugh, "he did. Don't worry. He said your art was sick and I have to agree with him. You do some good work, Jake."

He smiles as he holds up a fresh, unopened needle, "Steril, clean." He brings it down to open it up, "Thank you. I appreciate getting that confirmed." He chuckles as he puts everything together.

You make small talk while he gets the stencil ready, asking where you're both from, what you do for work, this and that.

"alright, if you would come stand in front of me." He points with his pinky to the floor in front of him. You walk over to him and he rubs soap onto your skin before shaving the spot the stencil is going to be.

You look in the mirror, watching Jake as he works to get you ready.

"I'm actually nervous about this. I heard this spot hurt."

He smirks, "everyone is different, you know pain tolerance and all, but considering you have a few others, I think you'll be fine. If you need to take a break or two, or five.." he laughs slightly, "Just let me know."

You nod, "Sounds good."

He applies a thin layer of the stencil solution to your skin before turning around to pick up the thin layer of paper, "Alright. Nice and straight and stay as still as you can for me."

You let your hands hang by your sides as you try to control your breathing. You glance in the mirror, watching as Jake smooths out the stencil over your sternum and under your boobs.

"I think, this is going to be a sick ass tattoo." Jake leans back, letting the stencil sit for a few seconds before gently peeling it off, "take a look at that, let me know if you need it moved or anything."

He watches as you turn to look at the stencil in the mirror. You nod, "That's good. I like where it's at."

He nods, "Then we'll let that dry for a few minutes then I guess we'll get right into it." He smiles as he turns away to pour the ink into the little cups.

"I know your post said you've been tattooing for a while, but I'm nosey, so how long is a while exactly?" You sit back down, making sure to keep your body as straight as you can.

He laughs slightly, "Well, if you must know." He glances at you with a smirk, "I was an apprentice for about two years then I worked with an artist in the city for a little bit until I got a call from Corey."

"Did Corey find you on Instagram?" You reach up to run your hand through your hair and Jake laughs, "No, actually. My friend Sam got him in touch with me."

You blink, "Wait. Sam.. what's his last name?"

"Golbach."

"Shut up."

"I'm confused." Jake laughs and you shake your head, "No, no. I know Sam."

"Really? No fuckin' way." Jake's mouth drops open, "How do you know Sam?"

"My family knows his family. Ever since we were little." You shake your head, "That's crazy. Maybe it is a small world after all."

"Yeah, yeah." He smiles, "It sure is."

You smile and after a few seconds of silence, he points, "I'm going to check your stencil if that's okay."

"Oh no." You push your chest out, "Go ahead."

He walks up, gently rubbing his finger over the end part and nods, "Ready?"

You take a deep breath, "I guess so." You laugh as you swing your legs up, lying back on the table. Jake sits down, wheeling himself and the cart over.

You hear the buzzing of the tattoo gun and you take a deep breath. Jake applies a thin layer of Vaseline over the stencil, "Alright. If you need a break at all, let me know."

"Alright." You nod, taking in a deep breath before he anchors your skin down to start.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Halfway through the tattoo, you opted for a break.

Jake takes your hand, helping you sit up. You swing your legs over the edge of the table, "Thank you."

He nods, taking off his gloves before shrugging off his jean jacket, revealing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

"I like your tattoos." You smile as your eyes move over his tatted skin. He smiles, "Thanks. I'm kind of an addict when it comes to them."

"Tattoos are hot, so it's okay." You smirk at him as you get up to look into the mirror. He walks up behind you, "Yeah, they really are." His eyes move from your half finished tattoo to your eyes and his lips form into a smirk before he turns away.

"Do you care if I go out and have a smoke real quick?"

You shake your head, "Nope. You're good." You smile at him, "Take your time."

"So sweet." He smiles and pulls the pack from his jacket pocket, "I don't know if you smoke, but I'd feel like it would be rude of me not to offer you one."

You laugh and shake your head, "I only smoke when I'm drinking, or drunk, I should say."

"Nothing wrong with a drink and smoke." He smiles and puts a cigarette between his lips, "I'll be back."

You nod, bending down to get your phone out so you can snap a picture of your tattoo progress. You laugh when you read over the text from your friend, oh my god. He is absolutely beautiful. You're letting him see your tits? Lucky day for both of you lol

You roll your eyes, taking a picture of your current state, He gave me his shirt and cut it so he could keep me covered. He's honestly very respectful, but we're halfway done. I'll send you a picture when it's all done.

You walk back over and toss your phone in your bag before going back to sit on the table. As you sit and wait for Jake, you can't help but think about how you feel like you've known Jake for years.

You clicked with him, so fast that it was actually kind of scary.

"I brought you a water." Jake says as he rounds the corner into the room. You look up, smiling as you take it, "Thank you so much."

You open it, taking a sip before lifting your legs to rest them on the table, "How was your smoke?"

He nods, "It was alright." He laughs as he grabs new gloves, "Don't worry, I washed my hands when I came in."

"No worries, I trust you." You smile, watching as he pulls the black gloves over his hands.

He had nice hands. Very. Nice hands.

"Are you ready to start again?" Jake snaps you out of your stare and you smile, "Yes. Yes I am." You lay back on the table as look over at Jake, "So is this your first sternum piece?"

He looks up at you, "Mm, not really. I did a touch up on one other, but her boyfriend stared me down the whole time."

"Oh I bet that was awkward." You stare up at the ceiling, "I hate that. I hate people in general."

Jake chuckles before he starts tattooing, "I totally get what you mean."

"Oh, I don't hate you. I hope you didn't ta-"

He cuts you off, "Not at all. Not at all." He smiles as he continues, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you have beautiful skin."

You bite down on your lip, smiling as you feel your cheeks turning red, "Thank you? I think."

He leans back, wiping your skin, "I meant that as a compliment, sorry if it didn't sound like one."

"No, no. It did. I just.. never got that compliment before."

"Really?" He shakes his head, "People are missing out to see you smile, then." He glances up at you, and you can tell that he's just as comfortable with you as you are with him.

You didn't really believe in love at first site stuff, but you did believe in that click, and that click is what you have with him.

"Alright, now this part might hurt a lot more than the bottom piece, so if you need another break, just tell me."

You give him a nod, biting down on your lip as he starts the vine that's between your boobs.

"Oh.. gosh.." you take calming breathes as he was right, it does hurt, "you were right."

You close your eyes, trying to think of something else and Jake helps with that.

"Have you lived here long?"

"Kind of." You say instantly, "I've been here a few years. I actually only live a few streets over in the Green Ridge apartment building."

"Nice, nice." Jake wipes away and gives you a little breather, "Do you have any pets?"

"I have a cat." You laugh slightly, "I would love a dog, but my building doesn't have the grass around it for them to go out, you know."

"Oh man. Of course not. What's your cat's name?"

You laugh slightly, "Um. It's mystic. He's a fluffy grey cat and I got the name from The Vampire Diaries." You wince slightly as you feel the needle piercing your skin, "I'll show you a picture when we're done."

"I would love to see it." He smiles as he moves onto the next part, "I don't have any pets. Mainly because I spend most of my time in the shop, whether it's drawings or tattooing, I just like being here."

"Did you draw that moon phase picture above the mirror?" Your eyes move to the frame and back to him, "Yeah I did." He looks up at you with a smile, "it wasn't easy, took me forever but I finally finished it."

"Do you.. think you can draw me a flower piece that connects to the top of this one?"

He nods, "I'd be honored."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Two hours of talking and tattooing later, Jake is up by your shoulder, leaning over you to finish the top of your tattoo, "We are almost done, sweetheart."

The cute little pet name makes your stomach flip and your cheeks turn pink, "Okay." You say quietly with a smile, "I'm so excited to see it."

"I may be biased, since I'm the one who's doing it, but it's so pretty." He nods, "I like it."

"I'm sure I will too."

"If you don't like it, you can tell me. I promise I'll wait to cry until you leave." He laughs and turns to get more ink.

"I don't think you'll need to cry. From what I already saw, I'm in love with it already." You smile at him and he nods, "I'm glad."

His arm lays over your shoulder, resting under your chin. You close your eyes, feeling the vibrations move through his arm and before you know it.

You're done.

Jake leans back, "Well.." he wipes off your skin, "we're done."

"Already?" You smirk, "That didn't even take long."

He laughs as he helps you sit up, your hand in his and his other on the center of your back, "Take a look."

You glance down before sliding off the table. You walk over to the mirror and your jaw drops, "Oh my god."

"Go easy on me, I'm sensitive." He holds his hands up and laughs.

"No, Jake. This is .. this is beautiful." You turn back to look at it more, "By far my favorite tattoo."

"I'm glad you love it. I love it too." He sprays a paper towel and sits down, "I'm just going to wipe it off some more then take a picture if you don't mind?"

You turn to face him, "I don't mind." You smile as you step towards him, feeling that relief as he wipes over the completed tattoo. (A/n: if you ever had a tattoo, you know exactly what I'm talking about.)

He rests his hand on your hip as his eyes move over the tattoo, wiping it in different spots, "Beautiful."

You look down at him and he smirks, "That tattoo looks pretty good, too." He winks before turning to grab his phone.

Okay, so there's something there. You weren’t imagining it.

You take a deep breath, licking your lips as you turn to look at it in the mirror again, admiring his work.

"Alright." Jake says, "Ready when you are."

You turn back to him, standing up as straight as possible as he snaps a few pictures.

"Got them. I'll probably post it later if you're okay with that?" He looks up at you and you nod, "Whatever you want to do. I'm covered."

"I definitely wouldn't post them if you weren't." He chuckles and points, "Do you want me to take that tape off or did you want to do it at home?"

"You can take it off and I'll just wrap the shirt over and we can slap a new piece on if that'll work?" You motion to pulling the shirt over and he nods, "oh yeah, that will totally work. Do you want me to cover it?"

"Oh yes. Please." You nod and he gives you a thumbs up before turning around to grab some Saniderm. He holds up the piece, "I think that'll be good for the bottom, I'll cut a skinnier piece for the vine part."

You nod, letting him do whatever he needs to do.

He runs his hands over the clear covering and then moves to take the tape off, "If you wanted to grab this side, I'll go ahead and work at getting these pieces off."

"Okay." You hold the side against you as he peels each piece of tape off on the other side before you hold that side of the shirt against you.

You pull the shirt over, holding it there until he grabs a new piece, "Thank you again, for the shirt, for cutting your shirt, and for doing all of this."

"It's not a problem at all, y/n." He smiles as he rubs the piece of tape to stick to the fabric, "Thank you for allowing me to do this."

"Corey said you were good, I just wanted to see how good." You smile and step back. He smiles, "Well I appreciate your curiosity getting the best of you."

"Of course." You nod and go over to grab your jacket, slipping it on before grabbing your bag, "Do you want me to meet you out front then?"

He nods, "Yeah that'll be good."

"Okay." You walk out to the front and Corey looks up, "Well, I see you're alive. How was it?"

"Painful. But.. worth it." You laugh and rest your bag on the counter, "You have a good artist back there."

He tilts his head, "Good as in he does good work, or good as in you like him?" He smirks and you shrug, "Is it okay to say both?"

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, "I guess." His eyes move behind you as Jake walks out. He moves behind you and around to stand next to Corey.

You hand him the money the amount for the tattoo and he squints his eyes, "How much did you and Vienna agree on?"

"Three fifty." You say and Jake laughs, "I'll take two."

You sigh, "then I'm leaving you a big tip."

He chuckles and Corey looks between the two of you, "I have to go.. check on something.. I think." He laughs as he walks away, leaving you and Jake at the desk.

"I'm not leaving until you take it." You rest it down on the counter and Jake sighs, "You're persistent."

"I like to show my appreciation." You smirk and he picks up the cash, "Fine." He smirks and sets it down on the desk, "Are we looking at scheduling another?"

"Is that even a question?" You laugh and Jake sighs, "Yeah, a dumb question." He laughs and looks at his schedule, "When did you want to come back in? For the shoulder connecting piece, right?"

You nod, "Um, we can do like two, three weeks? That should give you enough time to draw it up for me."

"Okay." He bends down, clicking on the computer, "Does the twenty first sound good?"

"That's perfect." You smile and watch as he writes down the date on an appointment card. He hands it to you and right when he's about to say something else, the door opens and you both look over.

A guy walks in, smiling at both of you.

"Hey Matt, I'll be right with you." Jake nods to him and looks back at you. You sigh, "Thanks again, Jake. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime."

And with that, you leave the shop, mentally beating yourself up that you didn't ask him out.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A few days later

The last few days have been painful and irritating as you can't really sleep comfortably yet.

So it's two am, you're wide awake, and your phone goes off.

Who could that be, you think as you sit up, leaning over to grab it.

Hey, y/n. It's Jake. I'm so sorry that it's so late but I cannot stop thinking about you.

Your mouth drops slightly as you feel an excited rush roll over your body. You smile, biting your lip as your thumbs quickly tap the screen, Hi Jake. I'm glad to see that we both feel the same way.

You clutch your phone, anxiously awaiting his response.

Okay, wow. This is embarrassing. I honestly didn't expect you to be awake, but then again I'm glad you are. I wanted to ask you out at the shop the other day but I was so fucking nervous.

You giggle slightly, happy that you finally got the message you were waiting for, or waiting for the courage to send.

You tap the screen biting down on your lip as you send the message, You're literally taking the words right out of my mouth. I was so nervous, too.

You see the bubbles pop up, disappear, and then pop up again before he finally sends his message, This might be a long shot, but what are you doing right now?

You look at your screen confused but you answer, I can't sleep so I'm just lying in bed wide awake.

He answers, almost instantly, Do you want to take a drive?

You answer instantly, Yes, please.

You send him your address and he responds, I'll be there in twenty, I'll text you when I'm there.

You kick the blankets off, hurrying over to grab a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt from your closet. You brush your hair, not worrying about anything else before you walk out to your living room to wait.

You were kind of nervous, but at the same time, you were so excited to see him.

Twenty minutes later, your phone lights up and it's a text from Jake, I'm parked out front in the Tesla.

You grab your bag, making sure you have your keys before walking out of the door. You walk down, smiling at his car as you walk towards it.

He smiles at you through the windshield, leaning across the consol to open the door for you.

"Thank you." You say as you get in and shut the door. You turn towards him as you buckle, giving him a quiet, "Hey."

"Hey." He smiles and looks away, "god why am I so nervous?" He laughs and looks back at you. You shrug, "I asked myself that, too. A few times on the way out here."

He smile and shakes his head, "I figured we could stop, get some snacks before we drive around?"

You nod, "That's good with me."

"Okay." He nods and starts driving, "So. I have to ask. Are the lines on your tattoo straight?"

"I think so." You look at him, "Why do you ask?"

"Because.." he laughs, "I had to force myself to not shake."

You laugh slightly, "Aw, Why were you shaking?" He looks over at you, "I started shaking the minute you turned around to look at me in the lobby."

"Well you did a good job at covering it up because I couldn't even tell you were." You smirk and he sighs, "Well that's a relief." He looks over at you, "Tattoo healing okay?"

You nod, "Oh yeah. I took the stuff off two days ago I think?" You look over at him, "Do you want to see it?"

"If you're okay with that." He nods, "I'd love to."

He pulls into the parking lot and you unbuckle, bunching up your sweatshirt to reveal the underboob part of the tattoo, "I love it."

He raises his eyebrows, "That looks so good."

You nod, "It's healing perfectly."

He smiles as he points to the building, "Shall we go get some car ride snacks?"

You nod, "Let's do it."

You get out, walking in with him. You stay close to him, mainly because you're just happy to be with him. You grab some snacks and a drink, making your way up and Jake takes you stuff from your arms to pay.

"You don't have to do that." You say and he looks back at you, "You got out of bed at two in the morning for me, it's the least I could do."

You roll your eyes with a smile and wait for him to grab the bag before you walk out. You get back in the car and Jake looks over at you, staring for a few seconds.

"What?" You ask shyly, "Is there something on my face?" You brush your face and Jake laughs, "No." he sighs, "You are just.. amazing."

He laughs nervously and you smile as you look down, "So are you."

He turns towards you , word vomit spilling out, "I definitely would have asked you out the day you were at the shop, but I didn't want to do it with Matt standing and.. and then I thought that I could wait until your next appointment with me, but I couldn't so I got your number from your client profile and I just.. had to see you sooner."

"I'm glad you did. I was beating myself up over not saying anything." You sigh, "Plus. You're worth getting out of bed at two in the morning for."

He smiles and shakes his head, "That.. is sweet. Thank you."

You laugh, "I'm just glad we feel the same."

"You had me when you first looked at me, but you really got me at I hate everyone." He laughs, "I'm just glad that it wasn't all in my head."

You shake your head, "Nope. It's not."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

As usual, let me know how you liked this. Thank you for reading! Love you all!

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[th0ti-th0ts]

just desserts

hobie brown x reader, miguel o’hara x reader (implied)

summary: leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. if only it wasn't this fun for hobie to mess with him.

or: hobie exploits miguel’s one weakness for some shits and giggles (but also to stick it to The Man).

cw: fluff but hobie makes some innuendos. jealous!miguel, miguel who can't admit his feelings, hobie who knows this and knows he has more game and takes full advantage of this

You’re talking to Hobie when his attention is captured by something behind you. His gaze shifts as he raises a brow challengingly, mouth pulled into a cocky slant. It’s quick, quick enough that most people wouldn’t catch it, but you’re not most people. Not with your reflexes.

“—And I was—Hobie? Something wrong?”

You’ve got his attention again. “Yeah, luv? Sorry ‘bout that, got somethin’ in my eye.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and gives you a lazy grin. "Distracted me fro' your beauty for a minute."

You roll your eyes as you continue to tell your tale, Hobie listening to you with the kind of careless intensity that only he could pull off. While his flirtatious comments could be construed as something more, he says them with such a dry wit that it's hardly anything more than friendly. As the the two of you meander down the line of the cafeteria, grabbing whatever food spikes your interest, his arm remains a steady presence around you. Again, you don’t think much of it—Hobie's a touchy guy with his closest friends.

“Ya’ ever wonder 'ow these futuristic blokes come up wit’ some o’ these pop flavors?" he asks you, holding a can of soda in his hand as he languid reads off the label. "‘Sparkling orange cream cider with a 'int of lime...'" He pulls a face. "Sounds mad.”

You laugh. “It’s actually kinda good. Peter recommended it to me last time.”

He looks at you, surprised. “Huh." And then, with a hint of suspicion, he asks, "...Which Peter? Ya' can't trust all ov' their taste buds...”

With his arm around you, Hobie steers the two of you around the cafeteria, and you end up accidentally bumping into the person next to you in line. The two of you continue to chat--that is, until you hear someone clear their throat meaningfully. You glance behind you, unaware of the challenging glean in Hobie's cool gaze.

"Oh, hi, Miguel! I don't think I've ever seen you out here before."

He raises a brow. In his hand is a box of the empanadas he loves so much.

"I do... eat, you know."

Miguel's usual dry and blunt manner of speaking has hardly deterred you before.

"Yeah, but I don't think you really leave that dinky, dark room of yours," you say thoughtfully, to which Hobie snorts next to you. His body shakes with the effort to contain his amusement. Your eyes widen. "I—I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know what you mean," Miguel cuts you off. He jabs the empanada before him with tongs, puncturing its shell. His irritation is palpable. Maybe he's having a bad day? "I..." He sighs heavily, surveying the two of you, his gaze lingering on your shoulder. "Just felt like a change of scenery."

"Or at least I did," he mutters, but you don't quite catch it.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

"'Ey, 'ey. Look wha' we got 'ere." Hobie, the ever keen observer, steers you around Miguel, to direct your attention to today's dessert on the menu. Your eyes widen at the various flavors of cupcakes before you. You fucking love cupcakes.

"Lemme guess," Hobie says. "You're a chocolate kinda gal?" He snags a cupcake for each of you. Just as he hands it to you though, you're distracted by the sound of tongs clattering.

You glance to your right, only for Hobie to end up smearing some of the cupcake's icing across your cheek. You blink in surprise.

"Hey!"

"Oops." An amused smirk stretches Hobie's face. “Made a mess o' yourself, looks like it."

"You're the one who did it!"

Hobie puts his palms up, stating solemnly, "All's wort' it in pursuit of something sweet."

You glower at him, rubbing your cheek. "Did I get it?"

He shakes his head. "Nope." You rub again. "A lit'le to the left. Nope… Is a bit like finding a needle in a 'aystack for you, innit? Lemme help.”

Hobie’s thumb comes up to your cheek, swiping the suspect away. You scrunch your nose up, to which he makes a satisfied noise in his throat.

"Almos' regret doin' that. Ya' pull off the 'cream on ya' face' look."

You roll your eyes at the obvious innuendo, smacking his chest. “Hobie. Not in public!”

He shrugs unapologetically.

CRCKK.

The sound of cardboard crumpling meets your ears. The both of you turn around.

“Ay, chingados,” Miguel curses at his crushed box, meat and veggie filling from his empanadas splayed across the ground. He kicks the box away, before slamming his hand onto the counter. Hunched over, a hand tensely massaging his brow as he mutters, “Maldito sea. Estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa."

You raise a brow. You think you hear Hobie mutter something to the effect of, "Stickin' it to the big guy one step a' a time," and you're certainly not sure what that means. Miguel stops only when he notices you and everyone in the cafeteria watching him. He straightens up, and clears his throat before summoning his AI.

“Lyla, just have someone bring food to my room,” he grumbles.

"Roger that," she says.

And then Miguel is stalking away before either of you know it.

You watch his retreating back curiously. "I wonder what that was about..." you think aloud.

“No idea,” Hobie drawls. Of course, it's a lie, or as Hobie likes to think of it, a covert truth. He salutes in Miguel's direction.

Leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. If only it wasn't this fun to mess with him. And... Hobie glances down at you. If only you realized how much power you held over him.

Both of them, really.

—

translations:

estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa = i'm sick of seeing all this lovey-dovey shit

the other phrases are just a bunch of cursing lmao

[navybrat817]

Does Stud know what Smartie is getting him or will he try to get a hint?

He doesn't know, nonnie.

Cookies and Hints

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky tries to get hints about his gifts as you bake together.

Word Count: Over 1.1k

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, teasing, implied smut, humor, slight feels (it’s me, okay), talk of celebrating Christmas, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?).

A/N: More short and sweet for Stud and Smartie. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

There was something sweet about baking with Bucky. The kitchen became a hub for communication and collaboration as you made something tasty together. It was a way to be fully engaged and present with each other while creating new and happy memories. You looked forward to those moments together.

Even when Stud tried to drive you crazy.

You pinched the bridge of your nose before you scooped the last of the cookie dough onto the tray. “For the twentieth time, I'm not telling you what your gifts are,” you said.

You had just finished wrapping his presents this morning since you didn't want to wait until Christmas Eve. How you managed to sneak them in without him getting a glimpse was a proud moment since he was much stealthier than you. You wanted to surprise him and he was making it more and more difficult.

Especially since he kept giving you puppy dog eyes.

“First, I did not ask you twenty times,” he said, leaning against the counter as he watched you open the oven and carefully placed the tray in. “Second, I’m not asking for you to tell me what the presents are. All I asked for was a hint.”

“See, but if I give you any hints, you’ll figure out what they are,” you told him, setting the timer on the stove. “You're a smart man.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” he smiled almost sheepishly, which made you smile in return. He deserved all the praise. If no one else would give it to him, you would. “But I really think one tiny little hint wouldn't hurt.”

He doesn't know when to quit, does he?

“You were totally that child that went looking for your presents, weren't you? Wait, did you go into my room?”

Bucky placed a hand on his chest, a wounded look in his blue eyes. “Do you really think I'd go into your room without your permission?” he asked, the corner of his lip twitching. “I could also get the cats to ‘play’ with the wrapping paper. I mean, you can't blame them if they’re curious.”

Fair.

You thrust a finger in his face as you spun toward him. “James Buchanan Stud Barnes, don't you dare trick the cats into doing your dirty work. And I am not giving you a single hint and that is final,” you stated.

Of course, your attempt at intimidation didn't deter Bucky. Not when he locked eyes with you and wrapped his lips around the tip of your finger. You sucked in a deep breath when he flicked his tongue against it, the same way he did against your clit when he went down on you.

Oh, fuck.

As if he knew your womb clenched and panties dampened when he released the digit from his sinful mouth, he smirked and winked. “You sure about that?”

Jutting your chin out, you nodded. “Yeah because I used your full name, so… There.”

There's that stellar education of mine put to good use.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” you began, reaching over to grab the used mixing bowl with as much grace as possible when he tampered down a laugh. “I need to clean this and you need to stop distracting me.”

“You know we can clean together and you can still give a clue,” he pointed out, reaching for the bottom of his T-shirt as you walked to the sink. “And if I really want to distract you, I can take this off.”

“Keep your shirt on,” you ordered, thinking it over as you turned on the water. “For now.”

You faced the wall as you rinsed the bowl, determined to stay strong. You wouldn't break. Bucky didn't need any hints. Not a single one.

You straightened up when he came up behind you and placed a hand on each side of the sink. Why did he have to smell so good? You didn't turn around, but you felt your heart speed up as the heat rolled off his firm body.

“Come on, Smartie,” he breathed low against your neck, his nose brushing along your skin. “Just a little hint and I won't bother you for the rest of the day.”

Maybe I want you to bother me.

You closed your eyes and almost dropped the bowl when his lips followed the path. “You're not playing fair,” you whined.

He chuckled as he pushed against you, letting you feel the outline of his cock. “Neither are you,” he groaned when you moved your hips back against him.

“You started it.”

“And I'm more than happy to finish it,” he promised, gently nipping over your pulse. “As long as it's inside you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Before you allowed him to do exactly that, you managed to spin around in the cage he made so you could face him. “You really want a hint?”

His face softened as he reached behind you to shut off the water. “Only if you really want to give me one.”

“Okay. Here it is,” you said, leaning in so your mouth touched his ear and smiling when he shivered. You wanted his heart to race the same way yours did. “Your gifts were all bought or crafted with love.”

It wasn't a clue at all, but it would tell Bucky all he needed to know. That no matter what you gave him, you selected and crafted them with care. Because he was your special guy and you wanted to spoil him a little.

The way he no doubt spoiled you.

You smiled widened as you leaned your head back. You thought baking cookies together was the happy memory you would make, but seeing the happiness in his eyes as he gazed at you warmed your heart. It was a look you cherished being on the receiving end of.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he gently admitted, his gaze drifting to your lips before he closed the gap and kissed them. “Now that I have my hint, I need to taste you before those cookies finish baking.”

Yes. Spread my legs wide open and taste how sweet I am.

“Mmm. I may need to finish cleaning,” you teased, his large hands gripping your hips as he moved you away from the sink.

“Why clean now since we’re going to make it dirty?” He questioned, lifting you and placing on an empty spot on the counter. “And after I’ve had my fill, you’re gonna let me frost your cookie.”

“Bucky, no,” you giggled as he tugged at your pants, knowing full well you’d let him fill you up.

“Bucky, yes,” he smiled.

And as the scent of the sweet and sugary cookies filled the kitchen, that was exactly what he did.

We know he'll love his gifts. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[silverameco]

Secret Relationship - @wolfstarmicrofic - 746 words

What Sirius didn't forseen, is that a secret relationship implied a secret break-up. Hidden love meant hidden sadness when it was all over. To be completely honest, he never thought it would end at all. He should have known, though, that he would find a way to ruin everything.

It had been a week. A week since Remus said I can't keep doing this. I don't want to be your secret anymore. A week since Sirius was stuck with the secret tears he shed every night, and the awful knowledge than the boy he loved was so close all the time - across the bedroom, the classroom or the dinner table - and yet so far away.

He didn't know what to do. They were so good together. Like friends, but better. All those secret meetings, passionate kisses behind closed doors and heated moments in the intimacy of silencing spells, all of it made Sirius feel more alive than ever. And now it was all over, because of him.

Nobody knew about them. Because he was so scared. Of the world, of himself. So scared he couldn't let himself take Remus' hand in an empty corridor, he couldn't show all the love he felt, couldn't tell the world about how amazing Remus was. But he wanted to. He really wanted to. He didn't even realize Remus drifted away from him, until it was too late. And now he didn't know what to do to fix it. He couldn't tell anyone about it, because nobody knew about them. Because it was like it never existed at all, even though it felt like the only real thing Sirius ever lived.

Well, it was without one James Potter to count on. He was cornered in the dorm one evening, before they went down to dinner. Sirius was sitting on his bed, James joined him and began talking before he could think about fleeing.

"Oi you wanker, what's up with you and Moony ?"

"Um, nothing ?" he felt himself flush with the blatant lie.

"Sirius. You've both been looking like miserable sods for days, and you're barely talking to each other."

Sirius didn't answer, and kept his eyes fixated on his hands, playing with a loose thread from his bedsheets. He didn't know what to say that wasn't a lie. It didn't deter James.

"You've both been so happy these past months. I thought-"

At that, Sirius raised his head to look at James, eyes wide and beseeching. Maybe he wanted someone to know, after all. "You thought ?"

"Well, that you were together."

He said it with a soft voice and a kind smile. Like maybe, it was all okay. Except it wasn't, because they weren't together anymore. He felt the tears welled in his eyes.

"Oh, Pads. What happened ?"

Next thing he knew, he was pulled into a hug, and Sirius was sobbing into James' chest.

"I- I ruined everything. Because I w-was so- so scared. And now he d-doesn't want me any- anymore."

"Padfoot, listen to me. I don't know what happened exactly, but I know that Remus has been looking at you like a lovesick idiot for years. You can't ruin that. I'm sure it's fixable, okay ?"

Before Sirius could answer, the door opened on no other than Remus himself. Sirius straightened himself, hastily wiping his tears.

"Er- sorry, I-"

But then their eyes met, and it was like Remus didn't know what he was going to say anymore. He seemed lost, looking at Sirius' teary face like it was hurting him. Sirius noticed that the circles under his eyes were darker than usual. He wanted to erase them. Before he could think about what he was doing, he got up and stepped in front of Remus.

"Moony." he said in a small, tentative voice, that he barely recognized as his own.

"Yeah ?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "I love you. I want to be with you. I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't. I'm not sure I'm ready to tell everyone yet, but I don't want us to be a secret either. So, if by any chance, you still want me-"

And then, Remus' lips were on his, just like that. Like they've never been apart in the first place, because they shouldn't be. James was cheering obnoxiously behind them and it felt right, because they were too good together, loved each other too much to be a secret.

[zweiginator]

INEXPERIENCED ART IS ALL I CAN THINK ABT RN.

I need more pleaseeeeeee😭

urghhhhhh he makes me crazy.

sucking art's cock and being his very first. the very first pair of lips to kiss and caress his cock. and you tell him you want to suck him off but he has reservations because he's nervous and embarrassed and nobody has been that close to him before. he also doesn't want to hurt you; he would feel disrespectful if he were to fervently nod his head and beg you to suck his cock, pretty please. but he does really want you to. and he hope his pushback won't end up deterring you.

it doesn't.

"i want to. don't you want to feel my mouth on you? sucking on you?"

art stares at your lips. so plush, plump from your cherry lipgloss. he tastes it on is own lips. and he nods. doesn't really realize he's doing it until he feels your fingers untying his sweatpants and his hips jerk and lift so you can yank them down.

art's cock is already heavy and hard just like it always is around you. he doesn't know what to expect but he draws in a breath as you start stroking him. his eyes close and his shoulders slump as he relaxes into your touch. he can't imagine anything feeling better than this but then your warm spit drips onto the sensitive head of his cock and he whimpers.

"fuck yeah--"

it's the most vulgar and uninhibited you've ever heard him and you moan as you press a kiss to his tip, spreading your spit down his shaft.

"fuuuck-"

you play with his balls and his hips jerk. "you like that?"

"yes--fuck i do."

you respond by bobbing him in your mouth. just the top half of his cock at first. pushing him against the fleshy inside of your cheek. you grab his hands and shove them into your hair, wanting him to let go and stop being such a fucking goody two shoes. you want him to use you and be rude and disgusting and let his carnal desires take the best of him.

and then you deepthroat him and let your lips touch the base of his cock and his hand goes to grab your cheek so hard that it feels like he's slapped you. he feels bad for a second, just a second. but then he feels you groan around him, your soft hands palming his balls as you drool and sputter around him. you need to breathe but you almost don't want to and art feels you giving him the greenlight so he does exactly what he's dreamt of doing but what felt just so demeaning.

he fucks your throat, thrusting his hips up and down and up and down to feel that ecstasy of his cock pushing against the wet, spongy parts in the back of your throat.

your eyes water and you nod. your way to silently tell him you're proud of him. your little homemade slut.

art yanks your hair back. maybe he'll give dirty talk a try.

"do you like it?" art asks. he knows you can't answer, so he waits for your eyebrows to furrow; you're waiting for him to keep talking. "like how i fuck--" a breathless moan. "--your throat like that?"

one more pass of his dick down your throat and he's cumming and he likes to think that since you swallowed him he claimed you for himself.

[vmbrq]

MINORS DNI ; cnc (breeding?), afab/fem reader

just bc @/hyeyulove said they missed my ethan writing.

giggling rn because being in a relationship with deranged, ghostface ethan landry would be one hell of an experience on its own, but the day you let him fuck you without a condom is the day you can kiss your autonomy GOODBYE LMAOOO that man will NEVER leave you alone. he's already attached to you as is, so you think you can expose him to raw sex with FEELINGS and live the rest of your life in peace? that's actually really funny.

he'll be so needy—pawing at you, pressing up against you, languidly smoothing his hands over your waist and thighs, sheepishly commenting on how good you smell or look, anything to lure you into fulfilling his wishes. even if it's just you sitting on his cock and not moving while you two watch a movie or him teasing only the tip into your cunt, he just wants to feel you. he'd be addicted to how fucking warm and wet you feel without the latex barrier, groaning at how clearly he can feel every twitch and pulse of your walls, his breath hitching as you let him hold you by the hips and slowly guide you up and down along the length of his cock, on the verge of trembling when he clutches you tightly and empties his balls inside you for the second time.

and god forbid you ask him to pull out in the middle of him drilling into you. you're so overwhelmed, crying out and drunk on pleasure, babbling for him to pull out! since it's the only thing you can remember to do. but sometimes, ethan can be so mean when he's in charge. he'd loom over you, eyes wild and dark, lips pulled back into a mocking grin, and laugh. you think you have a chance at deterring him? that's cute. he'd take your moment of bewilderment as you stare up at him with wide eyes to hook his hands under your knees and fold your lower half up and into a mating press.

you don't have a snowball's chance in hell at pushing him off. he's far too heavy, too strong, and he'll reinforce your lack of control by leaning his weight on you to keep you pinned helplessly in place. all you can do is moan and whine and wince, embarrassed, at the obscene squelch of his cock bullying its way deep inside your sticky, overstimulated cunt and the slap of his heavy balls against your pelvis. but as overstimulated as you are, you don’t dislike it. he knows you don’t. if you did, your cunt wouldn’t be squeezing around his cock to keep him inside every time his hips pulled back a bit further than usual. you’re like an open book. he knows you by now.

on another note, the amount of text messages he sends you will increase in general, and if you don't reply within the time frame he deems acceptable, he'll start blowing up your phone. you'll wake up from a long nap, disoriented and not even remembering who the hell you are, and find several missed calls and texts from him as well as your man HIMSELF standing outside your bedroom window.

and those little couples pranks you see on tiktok, the one especially that's like "texting my bf he's gone, you can come over now?" yeah, you can't do that LMAOOO that man is INSANE. you remember how strong he was in that apartment scene where he was terrorizing the core four? HELL nah. you can damn near hear his car tires screech from down the STREET as he swerves around and heads back to you. in his brain, oh, so you think you can just be handing out pussy that good all willy nilly? 🤨 yeah okay. i know that the way he tried to kick in that bedroom door had y'all feeling something, bc me too.

he wouldn't try to kick it down immediately, but he'd stand out there seething, jaw locked, knocking on the door a little harder than normal, fighting to keep his voice even so he won't scare you out of letting him in. but his patience would dwindle rapidly. his behavior would be erratic, switching between pleading and persuasion and guilt-tripping and banging on the door and yelling so quickly you can barely keep up. babe you are playing with your LIFE😭 that pussy got him in a chokehold, and he'll be damned if anyone even gets the opportunity.

[waldau]

husband — lee seokmin | 1,220 words | fluff

this one is dedicated to lee seokmin's smile :)

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

"no."

"what do you mean, no?" dokyeom asks, manspreading. the exasperated eyebrow raise you give him doesn't deter him in the least.

"no, i'm not sitting on your lap to watch a movie."

"there's not much place on this sofa, though," he says, spreading his arms along the back of the sofa to emphasize his point. he really can take up a lot of space if he wants to.

"the floor is all free real estate, as far as i can tell."

"there's no way i'm letting my sweetheart sit on the floor when i'm on the couch."

"this is how your sweetheart can do it," you say, simply sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of him and fumbling with the remote to find some good movie. you barely have two seconds of peace before he scoops you up in his arms and pulls you onto himself, so you're exactly where you said you wouldn't be.

"dokyeom."

he gasps. "my whole name?"

"be thankful i didn't call you seok—"

"can't hear you," he says loudly, one hand coming up to your mouth to stop you from saying his real name. you shut up for a second.

"ew," he says a moment later, taking his hand away from your mouth like it's on fire. "you licked it!"

"be thankful i didn't bite it."

"i'm thankful for you! isn't that enough?" he whines, hand returning to its place around your stomach.

your retort dies on your lips. you're still not used to how open dokyeom is with his words.

"i guess," you say. the remote lies forgotten on the floor.

"so," he says, turning you to face him, "why don't you want to sit on me?"

"i paid for this sofa, silly. i should be able to sit on it if i want to."

"but you know you don't have to pay anything for me. i mean, unless you want to," he adds with a sleazy wink, and it makes you laugh.

"what about functionality?"

"what about it?"

"the sofa's soft. sitting on you is like sitting on a rock."

"all that workout and you call me a rock? at least i'm warm!"

"okay, but what about a headrest when i need one?"

dokyeom guides your head down to his chest. "how's this?"

"hm. your heart's beating a bit too fast."

"that's because you're so close to me."

you let out a fake groan. "why did i have to get stuck with the cheesiest husband in the world?"

the moment you actually hear your own words, even mortified doesn't begin to cover what you're feeling. dokyeom lowers you down to the sofa and sinks to the ground on his knees, looking at you like you've given him the best gift he could've ever asked for.

"stop looking at me like that," you say, but you're not trying to bury your face into the fabric of the sofa. part of you wants to know what he thinks about your words.

he has that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that's burned into your eyelids even when you close your eyes. it never fails to make you smile.

"i'm not looking at you like anything," he says, but one of his hands has snaked up to your face, tracing your cheek.

"you look like you're in love. it's embarrassing."

"you're the one that called me your husband. that's worse."

"is it?"

dokyeom looks at you with a softer smile before he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. you loop your hands around his neck, pulling him back in for more. you never do get enough of him, even on days you spend all twenty four hours by his side.

"i think," dokyeom says when he pulls back, having kissed you to the point where you've forgotten your name for a few moments, "being married to you would be the worst thing ever."

"yeah?" you ask, tugging him up to his feet and letting all his weight fall on you. it's not often that he lies on top of you, and you're reminded of how strong he really is.

"mm. you'd have to change your last name to match mine."

"what if i don't want to?"

"i could always take yours."

you smile. "oh? and how would the wedding be?"

"we could run away and get married, just the two of us."

"and what, have seungkwan curse us for the rest of his life?"

"our lives," he corrects, propping his chin up on your chest. "we could have a beach wedding, though. or a wedding at our dining table."

"who'd be your best man?"

dokyeom shudders. "not facing that headache till we actually get to it. your turn. what kind of a ring do you want?"

you pretend to think. "an adamantium one."

"funny," he deadpans. "i was thinking we could get married on the moon."

"you were thinking about marrying me?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

"isn't that what we've been talking about all this while?"

"what else would be terrible about being married to me?"

dokyeom is the one who pretends to think now, his chin digging into your collarbone. not that you mind. "i'd want to be around you all the time. i'd make you call me your husband every time we meet someone. i'd spend so much time trying to find houses we'd like. terrible, no?"

you press a kiss to his forehead. "horrifying. would you marry me if i asked you to, right now?"

he looks at you for a moment more before hiding his face in your neck. "i hid something in the knife drawer that says yes," he says, voice muffled.

"the knife drawer?" you ask. "of all the places you could possibly..." dokyeom really does have the annoying ability to steal your breath, both with his kisses and words; your words dry up when you realize what exactly 'something' means.

"i learned it from the boys," he says, looking at you again, all proud. "you never know where to expect the mafia to hide their money."

you're not listening to him. it's the way he says it so easily. you were just joking about it, not even intending to say it, but the fact that he's had it in there since who knows when...

"kyeom, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

dokyeom looks up at you with wide eyes. "are you saying that just because i have a ring for you?"

you snort, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "no, silly. i love you. i know i don't say it enough."

"you don't need to," he says, gentle. "i know you do."

both of you lie like that for a while, your hand gently scraping through his hair.

"so if i ask you to marry me right now..." you say again, because you just want to hear his voice.

"ten more minutes and that ring is yours. but it's not adamantium."

"what a shame."

you can feel his grin against your skin. "what did we even want to watch?"

you can't be bothered to remember. "i don't know, but i want to watch you."

dokyeom snorts. "stop trying to be cheesier than your own husband."

you don't think you're ever going to tire of hearing that.