#every now and then I just need to remember that fucked up lil bastard and lose my mind again

[chisatowo]

I need to write an essay on Alpha NOW (<- won't because it needs to shower and sleep)

[transfemarmin]

(⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃ EARTH 42 MILES ROMANCE HCS

PAIRING: MILES G. MORALES X FEM READER

SUMMARY: RELATIONSHIP W/ MILES

INSPIRED BY: @cyb3rspyd3r

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

___________________________________________________

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU whenever you leave your phone with him when you leave the room, he’s going through.. in a way to make sure you’re behaving the way you promise him you are, to see what new numbers you have in your phone, to see if you talk about him with your friends, anything that shows him he isn’t wasting his time by being with you.. don’t mistake that for him not trusting you… he does, he’s just a nosy bastard.

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU his mood can be adjusted by the sheer sight of you, let’s say he’s mad about something.. maybe his counselor was feeding him bullshit about his future; that he needed to mention the fact he was struggling in order for colleges to give him any kind of time of day… that pissed him off, because who are you.. to tell him that he’s just a struggling poor kid but the second he laid his eyes on you.. he was smiling again, and forgot why he was mad in the first place

“ whatchu smilin’ all hard for?”

“ nothin… I just.. like being around you, mama.”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU the littlest things will remind him of you, miles morales.. who is so in love with you.. that he once gave you a rock he found on the ground because it had a smooth front, and he remembered the time your arms were smooth after shaving.. that he couldn’t stop touching them, even when you wore long sleeves; he’d just sneak two fingers into your sleeve and run them down your arm.. it would usually be a surprise too..

“ eek- what! miles?! can you get your cold ass fingers off me.. please..”

“ mami.. c’mon, you feel so good though.. like a countertop or sum.”

“ boy… you stupid if that’s the only thing you can compare it too..”

“ stupidly in love with you.. that’s the only thing I’m stupid in.. don’t play with me before I fuck you up.”

“ nigga.. miles shut the fuck up, you ain’t touching me niggatron..”

“ …”

“ yeah exactly..”

“ oh, no.. trust.. I will take care of that attitude.. but what the fuck is a niggatron..?”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU that he takes pride in being your ‘ mini me’ every single saying that you have said around him; he’s said it around his friends, his uncle, everyone.. it just slips out, like one time he accidentally said one thing you say quite often around his uncle, after his uncle

“ girl..you did not eat that.. you thought you did, but I still see the lil ceasar’s hot and ready on the table.. why is that?”

“ nigga what?”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU he never says no to you, whatever you want.. he will get it.. if it’s within his budget.. he’s fifteen years old not a sugar daddy, as well as the fact his mother is struggling with the bills so most of his money goes towards her; but with the extra money she refuses to take from him.. you’re spoiled with it.. if he hears you need a new lip liner, he’s asking what color.. suggesting a reddish brown or a black, his favorite colors on you.. if you want a new stuffed animal he’s buying one from the nearest store, while he usually has to stretch his dollar, and most trips are made with him asking you which one you need more.. a teddy bear.. or chick fil a, and he gets whichever one you want more.

“ mama..”

“ you can’t rush perfection, miles! I’m thinking..”

“ girl.. perfection? I asked you if you wanted ice cream now or chipotle later..”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU he tells everyone who will listen all the wonderful things about you.. and by wonderful I mean everything you did.. whenever his girlfriend is mentioned or the possibility of hanging out with someone who isn’t you.. he will start yapping about you

“ hey man.. you coming over to TJ’s? we gon be playing basketball.. and then going down to the mall.. “

“ nah man, my girl said she wanted to come over tonight.. meet my ma n shit..”

“ man.. didn’t you have your girl over last night too? “

“ yeah .. she comin to meet my mami tonight though.”

“ she couldn’t have met her last night?”

“ my ma be at work.. ion think she even remember me telling her about my girl, to be honest with you mane.”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU he steals his uncle’s car to see you late at night, he knocks on your window at two in the morning, because his uncle is working… not a normal job but that job, so he drives over there.. illegally may I add; since he’s 15, he only has his learners. he does this just to lay in bed with you, to spoon you and tell you how much he loves you.. how much he lives for you

“ I love you.. so much, [name] you make my life.. so easy.. so tolerable.. I’m not as.. sad and depressed now that you’re with me, I love staying and being with you. you make my world brighter, you make my life better.. I love you, I can’t imagine a world with you.. cariño..”

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU he asked you to marry him one day, he had gave you a plastic ring he got from one of those coin machines when he was going to wash clothes with his mom; he had got a pretty one that had a plastic gem shaped into a heart.. he told you how much he valued you.. how much he cared, how he never wanted to lose you.. how he knew you two were only teenagers.. but he wanted to be with you forever nonetheless.

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU that he has your face plastered on every social media platform he has, your face is his profile picture on the very few he has. ( instagram, twitter, & tiktok.. he has snapchat too, where the main things he posts are just recycled videos he already sent you, and a private story with all the girls he knows has a crush on him added, and he just show cases your love)

MILES MORALES WHO IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU after the first date, he walked into his room with a big grin on his face. you two had went to the aquarium, and he saw a shark plushie he wanted but didn’t have enough money for.. and you had bought it for him.. no hesitation.. he was so in love with you in that moment.. that he had named it after you.

“ I don’t give a fuck if this shark a boy.. his name gon be [name] today.”

overall.. he’s just so in love with you.. he’d do whatever it takes to make sure you know he loves you.

[tayytayy12]

Daisy | AA23 x Reader x Lily Muni He

Feels like series part two | Part one | Series Link

Series Summary - Lily and reader are childhood best friends, they’ve always been there for each other no matter what. So when reader has a bad brake up Lily and her boyfriend Alex step up and help reader get back on her feet, the last thing they all expect was them all mistakenly catch feelings for each other along the way.

Part Summary - Lily comes to get you after your rough fight with George.

Warnings - Breakup mentioned, swearing

Type - Written work

(Daisy is Lily’s nickname for reader!)

Not been proofread

“Oh, Daisy.” Lily muttered as she pulled her car to a stop where you was waiting for her on the pavement down the road from yours and George’s shared apartment, your best friend quickly jumping out of the vehicle to pull you into a warm high which you instantly returned of course. You couldn’t help the small smile that crept up onto your lips at the use of the nickname she had given you when the two of you were kids.

Lily had been your person for as long as you could remember, you couldn’t really remember a time when she wasn’t your best friend.

You had first met the girl when the two of you were in third-grade, you was new to the area, you and your parents having just moved, and you had joined halfway through the school year when everyone had already had established all of their friend groups, even in third grade people weren’t very open to opening their friend groups to new girls from halfway across the country such as yourself.

So, at lunch you was sitting by yourself in the corner, picking at the food your mum had packed you when you saw a person sit down in front of you, you looked up as saw a young Lily, her warm eyes looking welcoming as she had a smile on her face that could light up an entire town, you still remember the first interaction you two had to this day.

She introduced herself, her wide grin never once faltering as she asked for your name, but, you being a shy eight year old in a brand new place didn’t answer, but that didn’t make Lily give up, not at all. Instead, she looked at your lunchbox, the object having daisies printed all over the fabric, so she just said, “It’s okay, I get nervous sometimes too, for now I’m going to call you Daisy.” Eventually you told her your name of course, after a day of her wearing you down, but the nickname never dropped, so still to this day, you was her Daisy.

“Hey Lil.” You whispered into her shoulder as you tightened the hug, feeling good to finally be able to relax now that you were with her.

She pulled away slowly and tucked your hair behind your ears as she wiped a stray tear away that had managed to escape your eye, “I hate him Daisy,” she whispered slowly, “I really fucking hate him. I don’t care if he’s Alex’s friend okay, he can’t keep doing shit like this to you.” She said sternly, you knew she wasn’t angry at you. Jts just every time you and George had an argument she was always the one you would go to, to try and find some sort of comfort, that she always provided, but seeing you so upset this time really made her hate him.

“I know,” you said as you wiped another tear, “I know Lil. That’s why I ended it with him, for good.”

“Oh, Y/n.” She said as she pulled you to come sit in the car as she jogged back round to the drivers side, “I know this must hurt, Daisy, I know it will for a while. But you have me, and I will be your shoulder to cry in for however long you need me too, okay?”

“Are you sure Alex doesn’t mind me staying with you? I just dumped his best friend.” You said with a small laugh as you pulled your knees to your chest.

“Trust me baby, Alex would never be seen with anyone who treats a woman like that bastard treated you, he respects people too much,” she looked over at you from her spot in the drivers seat, “and for what it’s worth, Alex really likes you.”

You smiled and laughed lightly at her words, you had always gotten along well with Lily’s boyfriend Alex, you met George through him and Lily, he was your favourite boyfriend that your best friend had ever had.

“I like him too,” you said with a small laugh as Lily looked over at you once again, but the small smile she had in her face disappeared when she saw the dried blood from the small scratch on your hand, you had completely forgotten about it.

“What the hell did he do?” She asked as she gently grabbed your hand as she stopped at a red light, “my god I’m going to fucking murder him.”

“Lil it’s okay.”

“No it’s not fucking okay, Daisy. That asshole hurt you,” she said softer this time as she sighed, “god I should’ve convinced you to leave him sooner.”

“Hey,” you said as you gently pulled your hand away, “he dropped a glass and swim if it hit me,” you said, not including the part where he smashed the glass onto the ground, “nothing related to our argument, okay? Don’t blame yourself for anything at all because it’s not your fault.”

She nodded as she sighed, “I’m glad you finally left that bastard.”

“Me too, Lil. Me too.”

-

@marshmummy @nikfigueiredo @nichmeddar @thedudeusimpfor @iloveyou3000morgan @woozarts @samantha-chicago @revrse @jexxy04 @biancathecool @leilanixx @tellybearryyyy

[breadbrobin]

friendship bracelets

leo valdez x reader — heroes of olympus

[gn!child of demeter reader]

summary: friendship bracelets are a love language in themselves. it’s a shame leo can’t wear the ones you make him.

warnings: little bit of swearing, possibly ooc leo, fluff, food and eating, leo forgets to eat sometimes.

word count: 1.2k

(so i wrote a leo fic too uhhhh. anyway. i love him and i have always loved him and i will always love him, so here’s a lil gift from me to you and uhhh yeah enjoy!)

——————————————

you’d given leo two bracelets. one was at the wilderness school. it was flimsy and made of red and yellow beads, held together by an elastic tie you’d smuggled into the school. the second was after your first quest. you’d managed to get some leather straps and made a braided leather bracelet for him.

he thought you’d made them for your other friends too, but he soon found out that he was the only one to get a matching leather bracelet with you.

“i don’t have enough for everyone,” was your excuse as you hid your rolls of leather threads and straps under your pillow. “i wish i could.”

that was good enough for him.

he soon realised, though, that he couldn’t wear them.

the risk of them burning was far too high, and after he nearly melted the beaded one when he got too excited one day, he decided to stop wearing them.

they held pride of place on his bedside table though. they were right beside his three-day-old water glass and the shrivelled pot plant you’d given him that you swore he’d be able to keep alive.

“it’s a cactus, leo! you can’t kill a cactus.”

he killed the cactus. or, at least, he mostly killed the cactus. you’d even named it jeremiah in the hopes that it would make him remember to water it, but he’d known a jeremiah once and hated his guts, so it hadn’t really helped much.

so leo valdez was a plant-killing, bracelet ignoring bastard. what was new?

oh, nothing. just the fact that he was madly in love with you.

maybe it was the bracelets, or your insistence that he would be able to keep a little cactus alive, or your uncontrollable laughter as he showed you the wilted plant, or maybe even the way you used your influence over plants to heal the little cactus and bring it back to life.

whatever it was, he was totally screwed. so screwed, in fact, that he took to staring at the two bracelets on his table every night before going to sleep, wishing he could wear them to see the look on your face.

leo worked hard. he always did. once he got into something, he didn’t stop until it was finished. sometimes, that meant ignoring his body’s need for food and water.

you marched into bunker 9 with a bag in hand. “leo valdez!”

he looked up from his workbench. “what did i do? whatever it was, it wasn’t me. i swear.”

“yeah, you didn’t do anything. like eat! i didn’t see you at breakfast or lunch!” you sat on his workbench beside him and placed the bag down in front of his busy hands. “it’s three o’clock now, so i bought you food.”

“i really have to—“

“eat? yes, you do.”

“no, but—“

“and drink water? that too. there’s a water bottle in there.”

“y/n—“

“leo, if you don’t eat your food i’ll break your hands so you can’t work anymore and then i’ll spoon feed you chicken soup every day until your hands are better.”

he looked up at you, offended. “i hate chicken soup.”

you smiled and leaned forward. “i know. so eat your fucking food.”

he raised his hands in defeat. “okay, fine.” he set his tools down and opened the bag with a teasing roll of his eyes. “if it pleases you so.”

“it does, indeed.”

as he ate, you walked around the bunker as you did every time, your hands behind your back like you were at an art gallery. to you, it was a gallery. bunker 9 was like the inside of leo’s mind: chaotic, messy, always moving and changing, and covered in memories of you. there were polaroid pictures that you’d given him pinned to a cork board. the whiteboard beside it read: ‘meet y/n for campfire’. there was even a note you’d scrawled to him in Ancient Greek a few weeks ago: ‘don’t forget to eat, dumbass.’ Apparently, he hadn’t listened to that one.

you walked back over just as he finished his food. he made to hand the back bag to you, but you stopped him. “you didn’t get everything.”

he frowned and opened the bag again, looking inside. “what are you— oh!”

he reached in and pulled out a leather bracelet. it was similar to the one you’d made him before, but tidier. you’d clearly gotten better at making them. “it’s beautiful, but, y/n, you know i can’t—“

“you can’t wear them because you’ll burn them. i know. put it on.” you smiled knowingly.

he put it on warily. it was nice, and his heart fluttered a little at the gesture, but he still couldn’t wear it out of fear.

“now burn it.”

his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. “what?”

“burn it.”

“i’m not gonna—“

“do you trust me?”

“sometimes, like when you tell me to burn your hard work, i don’t, no.”

you stepped forward and tightened the bracelet on his wrist. “leo. burn it. or i will.”

he frowned up at you. “you’re very scary today.”

“thank you,” you smiled, stepping back. “just trust me.”

he sighed and shook his head, but lit his hand and lower arm on fire, watching forlornly as the bracelet melted to nothing—hold on. he extinguished the fire. the bracelet was still there. “how did you—?”

“talked to lou ellen. there’s a spell on that one. i had to get her to do it as i made it, but it won’t burn. it’s magic.” you smiled proudly, rocking back and forth on your heels.

he looked at you in shock and stood up. “you made a fire resistant bracelet for me?”

you shrugged. “of course, i did. and look!” you extended your wrist to him, showing a matching one. “i made a better one for me too!”

he looked from your wrist to your face with his signature impish grin. “thought you didn’t have enough to make anymore.”

you shrugged. “maybe i underestimated myself.”

“maybe you did.”

for a moment, you just smiled at each other, and he thought he could have kissed you right there and maybe (just maybe) from the look on your face you wouldn’t push him away, but then you slipped your hand into his and pulled him to another work bench. his hand was still warm, as always. “now, tell me what this is, because i have no idea.”

so, as he explained how one of his many projects worked and you hung onto his every word and held his hand tightly, he couldn’t help but feel a little warmer than usual.

and maybe, when you left that afternoon, leaving him to continue his work, pressing a kiss to his cheek like you always did, he could summon the courage to pull you back in for a kiss on your lips, like he’d always wanted. and maybe your friendship bracelets would turn into something more.

but, even if they didn’t, he knew he’d fall asleep that night without staring at his bedside table. he’d stare at his wrist instead. and he’d never take that bracelet off. ever. not even if the gods themselves required him to.

[idkmanimreallysleepy]

You know I was thinking about ceo!gojo satoru and what he would do when he and his girlfriend got in an argument.

(My writing may be ass, apologies)

ceo!gojo satoru who knows he fucked up real bad, who knows it's his fault and that his girl, his y/n, the light of his life, was simply looking out for him. He knows he can't fix it by just saying sorry. But again, he's a great observer when it comes to you, so he knows exactly how to apologise.

ceo!gojo satoru who tries calling you, leaves more than hundred texts, which were left at delivered, he grows impatient by the minute, you're not at home and you're not picking up his calls, he feels as if he's suffocating. Just the thought of loosing you makes him loose his breath. He can't afford to loose his pretty girl at all :((

ceo! gojo satoru who finds out you're at your best friends house. And he's speeding there, he's breaking every traffic rule there is, but that's okay since he's rich (come on people let's be real, I say this as I write a drabble on a fictional man...) So, he rushes to your best friends apartment, continuously ringing her doorbell and it's her boyfriend who opens.

ceo!gojo satoru, who's told "sorry dude, my girl gave me strict orders to not let you in. Try the window maybe" by the boyfriend. And yes, you bet your ass he climbed through the window to be greeted by a closed one. However, your best friend shrieked as she saw the sunglasses and the white hair at her window.

ceo!gojo satoru who gets a scolding and a glare from your best friend, but that's okay, he'd change the course of the world if it meant his girl would talk to him. And so, now you're both finally left alone. He sees your tear stained face, you're still mad at him.

ceo!gojo satoru, who goes on his knees, hugging your legs and blabbing out his apology in the most messed up way, and you're not exactly listening to any of it but that's until he says "I fell on my ass while trying to climb the window, baby, please. I'd do anything just talk to me, please." ugh, hes so desperate and pathetic it makes you feel bad, I mean come on, him and his... blue eyes. plus! you don't even remember what the fight was about!

ceo!gojo satoru who looks like he got his life back as you ask him, "Are you hurt?" it's in a cold tone, but it's better than nothing, satoru would rather eat sand then have you not talk to him. And he's a drama queen so of course he uses his dramatics, as if it hurt his ass so much to climb a building... "oh, it's probably nothing, I mean I did fall twenty times but that's okay " and he says that while pouting!! And you sigh, finally giving in, because let's be honest if gojo satoru pouted in front of you or me I wouldn't deny anything he asks for. "You know you still need to make up for it right?" and he has the brightest smile on his face. "I already got you those diamond earrings you saw in the magazine last to last night." You're stunned, "How did you know about that?!" and he's a cheeky lil bastard, "I notice you a lot you know...it's almost as if I'm in love with you or something" he gets a slap on his shoulder from you for that.

[rip-quizilla]

Meet the Teacher

Pairing: Modern!Older!Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Summary: Eddie meets his daughter's new kindergarten teacher and he's pretty sure you're his wet dream come to life. AKA: single dad!Eddie fantasizes about you while he jerks off.

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, masturbation, implied road head, pervert!Eddie, switch!Eddie (sort of)

A/N: She's a short queen, standing just over 2k words tall- barely more than a blurb. Quick 'lil read, but I hope y'all enjoy her ❤️

🍎🍎🍎

Eddie needed to calm down.

This wasn’t the time for him to be straining against his jeans, getting hot and bothered at seven o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Wasn’t the place. Hell, given his history with school in general, he should feel uncomfortable as fuck in all sorts of other ways, sitting in a classroom for the first time in over a decade. The last time Eddie remembered being happy to be in a classroom was Miss Adami’s fifth grade class. She had always been nice to him. 

Eddie wouldn’t mind if this teacher were nice to him…

Fucking. Stop. You horny bastard. Eddie chided himself mentally, Get it together, Munson.

He crossed his leg over the opposite knee, willing his half-mast dick to soften the fuck down, and fast. Eddie did his best not to draw attention to himself as he readjusted his position in the too-small plastic chair, scooted about a foot away from the hilariously low table he was currently sitting by. 

He focused his gaze on Raven, his daughter, who sat criss-cross-applesauce on the rainbow-colored rug at the front of the classroom. Her big brown eyes were wide, rapt as she watched her new teacher leading her and all the other five-year-olds in a song that required various hand motions and claps and whatnot. Eddie couldn’t help but grin fondly at the little tyke as she listened intently to every direction, determined to do every little thing her teacher asked of her without a single flaw. 

The only problem was that no matter how cute his daughter was, no matter how much Eddie tried desperately to control himself, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you.

He knew schools were loosening up on rules and regulations and all that- more and more school districts now allowed teachers to dye their hair unconventional colors, show tattoos, have more than just their earlobes pierced, blah blah blah…

But he hadn’t expected his daughter’s kindergarten teacher to look this fucking hot. 

You were something straight out of his fantasies. Like some hybrid rockabilly/alt girl/teacher hybrid, with hair that shone such a vibrant red that he knew there was no way it was natural. Fine by him. Tattooed sleeves of black-inked flowers crawled up your arms, showcasing some of the most beautiful linework and shading that Eddie had ever seen. His eyes followed the vines without his permission, taking account of the foxglove at your right forearm, the hyacinth on your left elbow, the cluster of lilacs that peeked out of the capsleeve on your shoulder. 

And oh, god, he couldn’t look at the snake that coiled around your knee. He hadn’t seen it at first, but when you’d sat down in your chair at the front of the classroom, your dress had crept up your lower thigh, allowing the snake to slither into view, and fuck, Eddie wasn’t sure he’d be able to pay much attention to whatever information you’d be delivering that he probably needed to know. All he could hope was that you’d been considerate enough to print out any necessary information so he could read it later.

Tearing his eyes from his daughter’s teacher (christ, Eddie really was a horny bastard, this was in no way okay), he pulled his phone from his pocket in an effort to provide himself a distraction.

“Ahem.”

Eddie’s gaze shot up from his phone screen, realizing shamefully that your eyes were trained on him, catching him red-handed in the middle of using his phone in class (which was funny, since he technically wasn’t ‘in class’, just in a classroom). Still, that didn’t seem to make a difference to you as you raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to do anything other than slip that phone back into his pocket. Trapped under your authoritative glare, Eddie gulped, cock twitching slightly as he slid the phone back into the pocket of his charcoal jeans. 

The moment your eyes left him, you were back to wide smiles that crinkled around your lashes, clapping along with the kids who already adored you, even though you technically wouldn’t be their teacher until next week. It didn’t matter- they were infatuated with you, a sentiment that Eddie could understand completely. 

When Eddie stepped up to shake your hand on the way out of your classroom that evening, his heart had leapt at the look that you gave him- one eyebrow raised, the corner of your lipsticked mouth clipping up in a wry, knowing smile. 

Just like you’d done for every child before they left your classroom that day, you first crouched down until your eyes were level with Raven’s and asked if she would prefer a hug or a high five. Unsurprisingly, the little firecracker had responded by simply throwing her arms around your neck, clinging to you with the reckless abandon and generous trust that only a five-year-old could give so freely. When you stood to shake Eddie’s hand, he had to bite back a what, I don’t get to pick a hug or high five? 

“Raven,” you said, voice still lifted with excitable inflection that would make any little ankle biter’s ears perk up like a doberman’s. “I can already tell you’re an excellent student. Do you think you can help your daddy remember all of the things we talked about today?” 

Raven’s eyes lit up, and her wispy curls shook as she nodded her head in agreement. “Uh-huh!”

Eddie gave his daughter’s hand a squeeze and nudged her lightly with his knee. “Yes ma’am.” he prompted, and it was echoed in her tiny, polite voice upon hearing his reminder. 

Your eyes flicked up to his, approval in your gaze dancing with the teasing sarcasm in your smile. “Excellent manners.” you praised, and Eddie wasn’t sure if you were talking to him or to his daughter. Either was fine with him. 

You took his hand in yours, shook it all-businesslike with a polite “Nice to meet you, Mr. Munson.” and before Eddie knew it, he was out the door. However, his mind was still on the cherry-red shine of your hair. The crimson varnish on your nails. The sweetheart neckline of your fifties-style dress, and how when you crouched down and he stayed standing he could see the top of a black lace bra underneath. 

Good god, he was a pervert.

It was all he could think about on the way home, all he could think about while Raven watched one of those Minions movies for the twentieth time before bed. All he could think about after he’d tucked her in, kissed her goodnight, and retreated to his own bedroom to think about you while he touched himself. 

Eddie was old-fashioned- he didn’t need porn. His imagination was a talented machine, fine-tuned after decades of dreaming up campaigns and writing songs. When he laid down on his mattress, it didn’t take long for him to conjure up the image of you there with him, climbing onto his lap, hiking up that black and white polka dotted dress until he could see the tattoos that he imagined must decorate your thighs. 

He spat into his hand, sighing as he felt the slick coat his cock with each pass of his hand. He applied the most pressure with his thumb, flicking it over that ridge beneath the head that felt fucking phenomenal when touched the way he liked. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine your red-painted nails slipping over the head of his cock, tongue poking out to kitten-lick the very tip while you looked at him with big, bright, forbidden eyes.

Your crimson-stained lips, shiny with spit, would envelop him warmly, causing him to groan ecstatically as his hips bucked into your mouth. His cock, fully hard and throbbing, would slide down your throat as you shoved your lips- no, as Eddie shoved your lips further and further down his shaft until your nose smushed against the hair at his groin. His hand would span across the back of your head, pushing you down and holding you there until you gagged around him, and God, that would feel so good, your desperate swallowing around his throbbing dick and the noises you would make- what noises would you make?

He imagined your voice as he fisted his cock, wove melodies of moans in his head that he could pull from your mouth. Would they be deep? Guttural? Or would you be the kind of moaner that whimpered at the highest register you had? Would you be loud, so loud that the neighbors would hear- either that, or he would just have to gag you. Slap his hand over your mouth. Stuff your panties between your lips (which he was sure were black lace to match your bra). Or would you be more assertive, quick to put Eddie in his place like you did today when he’d taken out his phone?

Which did he want to call you: baby? Or ma’am? He imagined trying both out on you while he was balls-deep in your wet little pussy, and thought about which word would make you squeeze him tighter. 

God, Eddie was so fucking horny. It had been so long since he’d cum inside anything that wasn’t his own hand. He thought about whether or not it would be inappropriate to text the cell phone number you’d provided in the email you’d sent out to the parents/guardians of your class. What would he even say? 

Evening, miss. Was nice to meet you tonight. Feel like grabbing a drink? 

Could he? Would that be appropriate?

He got harder just thinking about it. It definitely would not be appropriate… but what if you said yes anyway? What if you actually agreed to see him? What if you both hit it off? What if you actually did come back to his place with him, let him slide his hand around your waist, hold you close enough to smell the perfume on your neck? Let him see that lacy bra in all its glory?

The fantasy of an evening played out in his mind’s eye: Eddie would pick you up at your house, and you would answer the door wearing a cherry-colored dress that hugged your curves, painting you red to match your hair, your nails, and the angry shade of his cock. In the car, his fingers would brush the skin of your thigh, tracing the inked designs that lived there as you answered his questions about what you liked, what you didn’t, what you wanted or hated. Your hand would snake over to his thigh in turn, trace the seam of his black jeans- the ones that hugged his legs in all the right places- and the sensation would get him hard on the spot, right there in his car. 

Would you be scared away by that? By how quickly you turned him on, drove him nuts. Or would it turn you on too, making you sigh, a rumble through your chest as he felt your delicate, red-tipped fingers brush his hardening cock through the tightening fabric. Would you unbuckle his belt? Unbutton his pants? Unzip his fly and free his throbbing dick into the cool night air, only to shock him with the warm, wet feel of your mouth while he continued to cruise down a Hawkins country road?

Eddie groaned, feeling his release creep up on him. Closer and closer he drew, and with every stroke of his cock he succumbed further into his hazy vision of you. Now you were back in bed with him, naked and bouncing on his cock. You were rubbing your clit as you moved your hot, wet pussy up and down his shaft, leaving milky white wet in your wake. In his fantasy, you were arching your back, moaning as he thrust himself into you at a pace that hit places within you that made you cry out his name. 

His movements were getting faster, his grip growing tighter as it slipped over his cock at a speed that he knew would result in a sore arm tomorrow but he didn’t care- his release would be worth it. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, imagining your knees quivering as you made yourself cum on his cock. Imagining your body convulsing under waves of pleasure, your thighs threatening to close against his strong hands holding them open. You would moan and mewl and chant his name, and conjuring up the sound of his name as it left your lips was what did it for Eddie.

Heavy, white ropes of cum dripped over his knuckles, painting his stomach and sliding over the shining crevices of his rings. He stroked himself slower, coming down from his release with a shuddering sigh. 

It only took a few moments for the fact that he just jacked off to the thought of his daughter’s kindergarten teacher to sink in. 

Eddie didn’t feel… creepy… but he could tell there was a definite line he’d crossed somewhere. However, he was tired, and decided that he would deal with the moral implications tomorrow. 

***

The next time Eddie saw you, you were working the car line after school. He’d taken note of the Metallica shirt you were wearing, and rolled down his window, turning up the volume on his stereo. He watched as your smile broadened when you recognized For Whom the Bell Tolls. 

“Here for Raven?” You’d asked with a lopsided grin. Your voice was just as sweet as he remembered.

“Yep,” he’d replied, nodding to your t-shirt, “but if you want to keep her for a few more hours, I think I just decided I trust you with my kid even more than I did before.”

You grinned, showing all of your teeth this time. “She’s a cool kid.” you paused, as if debating whether to finish your sentence. “...I can see where she gets it.”

Eddie beamed, his smirk reaching up to the crow’s feet at his eyes. “You think I’m cool?”

You matched him, smirk for smirk, going as far as to lean your forearms onto the passenger side window sill. “You carry yourself like someone who knows they’re cool.”

Eddie stared at you for a moment, debating for an entirely too-short length of time whether or not he should shoot his shot. 

Fuck it. 

“Cool enough to buy you a drink sometime?”

[inkyquince]

Seeing the scummy lil shits made me remember of the new thirst for Remy's dad and the happy edging until getting his chapter or so-

But maybe you have to spare some kinky hcs?

OH FUCK YEAH. We talk about Remy's dad every now and then on the server, its great. Lie he's hot enough in the server to earn a spot on this monday's patreon poll but lost out to my other OC, Zacarie and him being a petplay nasty.

Okay, okay, okay. SO.

Whatever the reader's appearance , they're his type. To the point that its hinted at in his chapter that after Wren got his info about you, he went forward with the marriage with your mom out of everyone else, was to get easy access.

Likes feminization but i aint gonna say too much, cuz that's gonna be in his chapter. Likes the humiliation but also how fucking pretty you look.

HUMILATION IS HUGE. LIKE, TO THE POINT HE'S GOING TO BE A FUCKING BASTARD. Legit was sitting with Tea and talking about him humiliating your mother, because she's desperate for his approval to the point of fucking YOU over. Like, its shit like making sure you're out of your room, NOT THE HOUSE, THE ROOM, and making your mom wear your underwear and fuck her ass as he zones out, watching him fuck into her with a smirk. Like, IT WASNT GOING TO WORK WITH MANY OTHER MOTHERS, BUT WITH YOURS? YEAH, SHE'S DESPERATE FOR THIS TO WORK OUT.

Public. He loves being open with what he does and seeing everyone trying to pretend its all okay and normal. Drags you out on a horse ride, openly groping you as you sit in front of him in the saddle. Pulls you off to fuck you in the meadow and the moors and everywhere. Wants you in his lap at the dinner table, talking to your mom while feeding you. Doesnt care if his sons are angry at it, really doesnt. Would have wren join for a threesome (i wanted to imply so badly that wren was his out of wedlock child and doesnt care they're related. knows remy and wren have a thing and doesnt bother to tell them they're half brothers, but like.... i have no idea, i think at the time i was fine with leaving out the incest kink cuz it would be more palatable?)

FINALLY, SO I DONT SPOIL SHIT

Like.. I keep thinking of him having sex but coming to you. Waking you up in the middle of the night, cum streaked cock sliding in-between your thighs, or just sitting on your bed and jerking off as he just looks at you. Loves you getting to experience first hand his desire. Needs you to know the affect you have on him. Like, i aint gonna lie, his marriage is gonna fail, but mans would keep you in the divorce. Rich bitch

[ashes-writing]

Could I get MJF headcanons please? 🙏

Oh my goodness, certainly! Thank you so so so so much for sending me this. You didn't really specify what type of headcanons and whew.. These kinda got away from me a little bit maybe?

They're not x rated. Just a lil spicy. A little food for thought if you will.

Warnings: ah.. if i remember correctly, because I wrote these while half asleep... there's not really anything in here that needs mentioning.

Tag List : ahh, well.. There's really not anyone on my taglist for anything I write just now because I kinda just made it. But if you wanna be tagged, please add your name [ here ]

[ my inbox is still open. I write for so many fandoms.. so many it's ridiculous... Headcanon asks only for now, any characters I have listed on my PSA -or if you wanna know if I'll attempt them ask me, and I'll close the box when I've chosen all five that I'm doing this round. this has been fun! ]

I do not consent for my work to be reposted -or plagarized, elsewhere.

✯ He’s probably going to insult you. It might be on accident, it might be on purpose. The reason for this is simple. He likes you and it really bothers him. I mean… it really, really, really bothers him. Maxwell isn’t the kind of guy who really notices a person right off the bat, so if/when he notices you and can’t get you out of his head, it’ll drive the poor bastard insane. This will lead to confrontations in confined spaces, your friends telling you both collectively to just get a fuckin room already and placing bets behind your backs about how long it’s going to take until you finally ‘get a room.’. 

✯ “Bite me.” “Is that a challenge?” - yeah, there’s a lot of that thrown back and forth too. The kicker to this is that when you’re insulting / roasting each other, it comes across as flirting. There’s a lot of staring at his lips or his biceps or the way that forest green shirt brings out the multitude of browns in his eyes and on his end there’s a lot of trying to restrain himself when you do that little thing where you pinch and rub the bridge of your nose because he’s got you so damn annoyed it’s bordering on a migraine. Or the way he towers over you, which.. For him to not be a very tall guy, I very much feel that he’s probably drawn to shorter people because he wants to feel like the bigger one, the stronger one, but anyway, where was I? Oh.. Oh yeah.. There’s also a lot of touching. Like he’ll step closer to you, sufficiently blocking off any path you might have to retreat. His hands will stop shy of grabbing hold of your hips to pull you in closer several times and this manifests itself in tightly clenched fists. He once clenched his fists so damn tight while you two were having a confrontation that he left imprints from his nails on the palms of his hands. 

✯ He loves to make you angry because your cheeks darken and your nostrils flare and you get this little attitude.. It’s like.. You’re making yourself every bit as tall as you can, you’re looking him dead in the eyes. You’d think he likes a person he can intimidate, right? You’d be wrong. Totally wrong. Holy shit you’d be wrong.

✯ Let’s switch it up a little, shall we? Just because he’s the first to antagonize you, this in no way means that he’s going to stand back and let anybody else do it. If someone is trying to come up on you or they’re being shitty to you, he’ll appear out of nowhere as if summoned by the patron saint of assholes themselves, that cocky smirk on his face as he stands behind you and waits on his chance to insert himself. - Note.. this has led to fights. So many fights. Bby is a grumpy personification of the fight me emoji and we all know that every now and then, he bites off so much more than he can chew.

✯ “I had that, asshole.” & “But did you really? Because it didn’t fucking look like it to me.” - the exchange happens nearly every single time he inserts himself into whatever craziness you’ve been dragged into. You don’t really know why he gets himself so bent out of shape over something you were going to handle yourself but secretly, it gets you just a little hot… watching the way he would quite literally take on the meanest motherfucker around to defend you, who he makes it so painfully clear he hates. Or this is what you’ve come to think.

✯ Try not to imagine him jealous. Or don’t. But it’ll look a little something like this. His hips against yours and his hand beside your head, leaving you literally nowhere to go. He’s fuming, his chest is heaving with each angry breath he takes and he’s ranting as if he has some kind of primal claim over your ass. When you laugh, oh no. Oh no no no no no… Anger flashes in those brown eyes, darkening them. Gonna go out on a limb and say it. If you haven’t figured out why he does the shit / is the way he is towards you, try flirting and living your life. It’ll make him snap and when he snaps, holyyyy shiiiit… The hand beside your head rests rough against your cheek as he drags his thumb across your lips. The kiss that follows is angry. It’s messy and mean and full of biting, sucking and the angry gnashing of teeth as your mouths meet again and again. And then again, because when you finally shove him away so you can at least attempt to process, he grabs your face and crashes his mouth against your mouth all over again. So yeah… If you want him to crack like an egg, make him jealous. Either intentionally or not.

✯ Once you’re finally past all this, – it’s about damn time, if you thought he was protective and borderline territorial before, whew… People aren’t even allowed to breathe in your presence and have him find out about it. If he even thinks this is happening, he will appear as if summoned and waste zero time showing whoever happens to be intruding / encroaching  your bubble exactly who he belongs to. Yeah.. Dude is territorial as hell.

✯ His jealousy -and his ego, they both stem from this strong undercurrent of him being one hell of a lot less self confident than he carries himself to be. His whole attitude is a defense mechanism.

✯ He is also surprisingly romantic.. After a few little arguments and you finally convincing the bastard you’re not going anywhere, it’s like this whole other side of the man opens up. Privately, of course. He’s been known to have your favorite chocolates, Midol and whatever else you need on hand at any given moments.

✯ He loves, loves loves to gift you jewelry. But what he loves more than this is to look up at you or catch your reflection in the mirror when you’re doing the deed / riding him and watch the way the light catches on the jewelry, especially if it’s a necklace.

✯ He’s not so much into full on PDA as he is smaller and more reserved gestures. He’s also not the biggest fan of putting every second of your private lives out there for the world to see on Instagram, but he has been known to indulge you every now and then and that bio damn sure reads TAKEN AF or some form. With him it’s more or less the smaller and more intimate things that mean the most. It’s the covert ass grabs or the way he leads you into a room with his hand on the small of your back. The way he’ll always be lingering close by even if you’re not always holding hands or finding private corners in crowded areas every few seconds.

I hope you enjoy these. I had a blast writing them, to be honest. I haven’t thought about/watched or written wrestling in quite a few months.

[allpromarlo]

since the important part of you (my mutuals) asked, here's rose oc wank: nfl edition

this is gonna get a lil unrealistic and of course if you (for some fuckn reason) have a problem with ocs for a real life sports league then GET OUUUTTTTT

n e ways

so i already spoilered some of the things this peculiar group of Sad Wet Men have to offer but i wanna start with the running back or as i (the name generator i ran through 437 times.) called him, duane cameron. he's a rb who got drafted in 2011 in the 2nd round bc i just can't let go of my senior citizens (terms and conditions apply i KNOW 34 isn't old) to the panthers. i don't know if they were actually in need of a rb at that time but fuck it they have one now and he's gorjus.

he's known cam (1st ovr pick yannooooo) since high school (after moving away from canada...but that's a whole thing i don't even wanna get into that) and when they got drafted to the same team cam was more enthralled by it than duane but hey he'll have to live w that now. no eli manning shenanigans you are STAYING THERE

n e ways he played for the panthers for a couple seasons and he was always in the top 10 rb conversations (from 2012 onwards bc the only thing people remember him for in 2011 is getting batista bombed by jj watt). he won opoy in 2014 for the first time and repeated in 2015. yk what also happened in 2015.

bc i am chronically living in the past and i'll never stand for the injustice that was dealt on that particular day in 2016, of course my 6'7 babygirl (don't question the dimensions. just Don't.) was the missing piece to the panthers super bowl and they do win that shit fuck you and your big ass forehead peyton. duane also wins sbmvp bc of his outlandish 377 yard performance (I FUCKING WARNED YOU) but you could expect that

n e ways after an easy repeat in 2016 (julio i wanted you to have this so bad but...the Narrative) and some drama in 2017 (mainly due to cam making the bail for no fucken reason) my boy finally hung up the boots in carolina and signed with the ravens because i am a biased little fangirlie and i want my team to have everything. he won the chip in 2019 w the murder birds and maybe sorta somewhat did it again in 2022 but shhhh

n e ways this was a LOT for just one guy and trust me he's the only one with that much history. movin tf on

so in my last post i did mention a 2nd oc who's a social experiment. well his name is ansis knight (that was NOT my idea btw i asked my brother to give me a name for a cornerback and this is what he came up with) and he's a social experiment in the sense that he's literally german. like his dad is american and everything but the dude grew up in Heidelberg, schönste Stadt im Land.

as i said he's a cb & plays for the eagles as of right now and he's very. idk. he's a dumbass and he does things he shouldn't do a lot of the time but Never On The Field. on the field he's the most annoying little bastard (especially for qbs bc for SOME FUCKING REASON he's everything everywhere all at once and they can't escape him) and wrs have a burning hatred for him (so do i). but off the field he's just this very Peculiar Personality and nobody knows what his deal is except amon-ra bc out of all the wrs he bothers every week amon-ra gets the most of it. you can imagine how he reacted when he saw his week 1 matchup last season

not a lot of history on him bc he's still fairly new but i'll just say he's my weirdest saddest wettest football guy and i love him very a lot

AND NOW. FOR THAT MOTHERFUCKER THAT WAS PART OF THE FUCKING NBA OC POST (which is so outdated by now you don't even know)

cole grAnt.

i'll take away first that he's shrunk a bit (6'10 is ENOUGH, jfc) and he's an edge rusher now which means he's the biggest menace to society the world has ever seen. he was drafted by the colts in the 6th round after a solid college season (UNDERDOG STORY RAAAAHHHHH) but they traded his ass to baltimore (eheh. hey) after an...interesting 2021 season. let me explain por favor

basically, he was tackled pretty fucking hard at one point (however hard you can hit a 6'10 dude who's built like a fucking wardrobe) and hit the ground awkwardly. @ the beginning he thought it was just a concussion and bc it was right ahead of bye week, he came back the next game. in THAT game tho he collapsed on the field and when they did a scan on his ass they found that a blood vessel exploded in his brain which caused intracranial hematoma (inner bleeding in the brain for all you non googlers). my man basically died for a second and he didn't play another game afterwards, but in 2022 he came back w a vengeance and he made joe burrow's life HELL in week 5 (and the wildcard game)

i don't know why i went THAT hard on cole's injury i just thought that i was coddling these men too hard and needed one of them to SUFFER. i mean duane already did for the duration of the 2018 season but i needed PHYSICAL SUFFERING i needed there to be BLOOD.

anyways that would be all i hope you understand at least some of it goodnight goodbye

@heyitswolfman pls accept my humble offering + apology i had some bs to deal w today so this comes late <3<3 sawry

[sk3tch404]

Lmao np <33 I always enjoy drawing Yandere's as pathetic lil meow meows hehe (funfact: I actually drew Rory first but after I finished his lineart I was like, wait shit I don't have a full color reference- and then I hyperfocused on drawing jay instead lol)

Also, you 🤝 me: jayce + jack o' lanterns = stonks ✅ ✅ ✅

Also also, ngl if Darling were self-aware she'd def hate me, because I always try to speedrun the Bad ending first lmaooo

Also^3, every time I hear baggy pants, I can't help but remember the boys I went to school with a few years ago, who wore the most ugly, most a t r o c i o u s pairs of baggy pants I have ever seen 💀💀

For Reference: https://imgur.com/a/fZsHsF7

This is what I'm talking about^^ like pls,, just sTO P-

About the blue reference, the paragraph I meant was the one about how I only liked EJ so much because of his BLUE mask 😔 young me truly set the bar too low (maybe it's because of him that I'm attracted to most fictional mad scientists/doctors with no morals now, damn this bastard 😒)

Oh, and the OG mikey myers Movie is the 1978 one! ^^

And finally about the Christian Gang /hj (every holiday Yandere of yours has/used to have strong Christian influences but these three are still considered extra Christian to me so I'm just gonna start calling em that lolololol)

Gonna be honest, when you revealed that one of them was gonna be Christmas, I immediately headcanoned him as just some guy in Christmas elf costume- thank god that's not the case though (I say, even though I know damn well that I'm still gonna draw him in that costume the nanosecond you drop a ref for him, because he's a lil skrimblo who needs to get a reality check via me shitposting him into humility)

Also ofc the twins are ginger 😒🙄 /derogatory /j okay but fr, whenever I see a fictional ginger online I'm like ....Ed Sheeran??? 😱😱 (coughcoughchildecough)

-Ren'py anon

OKAY OKAY I'LL DROP A SMIDGE OF RORY SPRITES SO U CAN COLOR IT BBG

He only wears shades outside lol

HEHEHE YES JACK O'LANTERN STONKS GO UP IN THE BRAIN CELL ACTIVITY

Eh, I mean, its always fun to get the bad ending first though. Just to see then get all angry and violent 😍 good shit tbh

MC would def hate you, but I feel like it would take a bit to get the bad bad ending yk? I don't have the obvious, good/neutral/bad choices most of the time (although there are some choices that will obviously lead to negative consequences lol)

JAYCE ONLY WEARS THE ONES IN STYLE RN NOT THOSE LMAOOOO

Though they can look good if done right, those boys at school were definitely not doing it right 💀

Now I understand the blue reference! Ugh how did I MISS IT SO BAD 😭 gosh you were going crazy abt him and the color blueeeeee

I understand how that all kick started ur obsession with fucked up men. We are one in the same 😎

Hehehe thank you for the confirmation! I will be watching Myers stand there menacingly as I look up fics of him 😍

It's so funny that you call them the Christan gang, but it's not gonna have all the significant original values and whatnot. It's just a global holiday thingy that everybody does regardless of religious background (Though I'm glad you still see their origins and acknowledge their important purpose to many other people!)

GOD HELP WHY? I ONLY WATCHED LIKE 10 MINUTES IF THAT ELF MOVIE WHEN I WAS IN 6TH GRADE DURING LUNCH? WHY WERE THEY PLAYING IT DURING LUNCH YOU ASK? BC OF CHRISTMAS OR SMTH IDK, BUT IT WAS OKAY IG

It would be very funny to see him as an elf that works at the mall as a side 😇 He needs it anyway

Regarding the Twin's, THEY HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE MAKE GINGER JOKES, SO BAD. THE MINUTE SOMEONE SAYS ANYTHING ABT ED SHEERAN AROUND THEM, THEY EITHER ZIP OUT OF THERE OR FIGHT. NO IN BETWEEN.

Typical gingers 🙄 so sensitive dude

Childe is one of the only gingers I can tolerate. If these two didnt have a life and played Genshin, they would favor Childe so much.

[slytherinwh0re]

On your mother’s counter?

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni), a lil degradation and swearing

Summary: Where you and Draco spend some quality time on Narcissa’s kitchen counter.

Masterlist

A/N: I wrote this in literally 15 minutes, sorry if it’s not the best lol I’ve been in a bad writing funk so bare with me.

“They loved you darling-” Draco pauses to kiss the top of your head, “I told you they would, father even called you lovely, usually he describes people as tolerable at the very most.”

“I’m glad your father thinks I’m more than just tolerable Draco.” You giggle at the smile plastered on his handsome face. You’ve been dating the blonde for a few months and this weekend was the first time you met his parents. To say you were terrified was an understatement, they’re one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world, of course you were nervous, luckily dinner had gone wonderfully.

“Unfortunately father insists we sleep in separate rooms, something about not wanting bastard grandchildren.” He shakes his head, mumbling about how idiotic his fathers being, since he, along with every wizard knows there’s a simple spell to ensure that doesn’t happen (fetus deletus—Im so sorry).

“It’s one night, we’ll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow.” You brush his hair off his forehead, lift yourself onto your tip toes, and give him a soft kiss. “I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, I love you darling, goodnight.”

***

You wake up in the middle of the night parched, this happens often but usually you have a glass of water waiting for you on your nightstand. You get up quietly, doing your best not to make a sound, and make your way through the manor until you reach the grand kitchen. You fill up a glass and down it, then fill up again.

That’s when you feel him behind you, his arms trap you between his body and the counter, and he rests his face on your shoulder, peppering kisses on the exposed skin of your neck.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Draco pulls away just long enough to ask and then goes right back to his previous actions. You lean back into him, the warmth of his lips make those pesky butterflies erupt in your tummy.

“I was thirsty.” You tilt your head to the side, giving the boy more skin to nip at. One of his pale hands leave the counter and instead find the skin under your shirt, pulling you as close to him as possible, the cold metal of his rings a sharp contrast against your warm skin. You can feel how hard his cock is as you rub your ass on him, just enough to ensure you get what you really want.

His hand travels further up your body until he’s brushing the underside of your breast with his thumb, taking full advantage of the fact you can’t sleep with a bra on. The thin shirt you had on left little to the imagination but you hadn’t expect for anyone to be awake but this is a pleasant turn of events.

When Draco started rolling your nipple around his thumb and forefinger you let out a moan that immediately had him putting his other hand over your mouth. “You must be quiet darling, wouldn’t want mum or father to hear us, would we?” You shook your head vigorously, hoping he wouldn’t stop, thankfully he had other plans.

The slytherin flips you around, lifting you onto the counter where he stands between your parted legs, your lips finding his. Your hands tug at his hair and his hands hook around your thighs, spreading them farther open. When he pulls away and starts lowering his body to kneel in front of you it’s like your brain just caught up to what’s going on.

“Draco, on your mother’s counter?” You whisper, your cheeks heating up over the thought of being caught by one of his parents in the open kitchen. Draco grabs your shorts and yanks them off quickly, along with your panties, leaving you bare in front of him from the waist down.

“Yes, now remember, you must be quiet. Only good girls get to cum.”

Before you could respond, his lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking on it with the perfect amount of pressure. It takes all your self control not to let out the squeal that threatened to escape. His grey eyes remain on yours and you can just make out the smirk on his lips.

His skilled tongue swirls around you, spreading your arousal as he drags it over every inch he can. Your hands are in his hair, tugging to relieve some of the pressure from not being able to make a sound.

Your body feels as if it’s on fire when he inserts the first finger, by the time he has a second one in your ears start ringing. You bite your lip so hard you may draw blood but you could care less about anything right now. His mouth moves in perfect rythm with his fingers, when he pushes them in, his tongue flicks at your clit, when he slides them out, he sucks. The pressure drives you insane.

So when you accidentally let out the moan you almost cry at how close he left you to the edge. The loss of contact is immediate.

“What did I fucking say?” He has his cock in his hand, stroking himself, “Now you don’t get to cum until I let you. Understand?” He whispers and you nod in agreement, desperate to feel him buried in you.

Draco pulls you off the counter and turns you around, back to the position you were in when this all began but this time there’s nothing in between your bodies. You feel him brushing against your slick entrance and you grind back onto him, the friction is so delicious but you need more. He grabs your ponytail and slowly slips himself in, making sure to take his time. You feel every inch as he slides in until he’s bottomed out inside of you, the only sound in the kitchen is the soft pants you both let out.

The slow rythm of his thrusts has you arching your back as you step further away from the counter, your hands hold onto the edge of it for dear life. His cock brushes against all the right spots, you’re still so sensitive from being denied an orgasm earlier that everything feels ten times as intense. Draco’s hands are everywhere, they don’t stay in one spot for too long but the way they caress your body makes you shiver.

“Oh Draco!” Your eyes open wide at your mistake, his hand is back on your mouth and he pulls you up so your back is resting on his chest, his hips never stop the steady pace he set. His other hand wraps around your throat and his lips are right by your ear.

“Such a dirty slut, you probably want them to see me fucking you.” Your moans are muffled by his hand and his grip on your throat tightens. The thrill of being caught exciting you to no end. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Be a good whore and cum for me.”

Your body shakes as the orgasm rips through you, Draco’s hand stays clamped over your mouth and your vision goes white, if it weren’t for him holding you up your legs surely would’ve buckled. You feel him spill into you as he buries his head into your neck, quite moans of your name leaving him mouth.

Draco’s the first to move, he turns you around slowly, kisses you sweetly, and helps you clean yourself up.

“I love you.” You whisper to him.

“I love you, and this counter.” He whispers back, both of you laughing as he leans on the counter you just ruined.

You both go back up the stairs hand in hand, right at the top of the stair is none other than Lucius Malfoy, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrow raised.

“I thought I heard something.”

Oh fuck.

***

Taglist: message me to be added/removed

@tonksandherpinkhair @fuckingdraco @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lovecatsnotpeople @ccabian @purpleskymalfoy @tonksandhercombatboots @hellounicorn @whattheactualfuckyeet @perfect-storm95 @prongsandprancer @agirlwithpointlessideas @explxsion @tb-ctn @capkatie @dracoxmgg @sydnee-kom-spacekru @slytherinxraven @emomikewazowski @juliannaamonroe @unadulteratedfirellamapanda @t38h @dracoswhore007 @d-malfoytb @daringvixon @missmercurymoon @weaslcyx @raylovessarcasm @xlilsubbyx @amourtentiaa @sahvlren @beiahadid @royalvolturisblog @im-totally-not-dezi @disartrous @futuremrsfelton20 @dlmmdl @rowanthomasknapp @a-malfoy @drabblingdraco @rennaisancebaby

[spenciebabie]

could you do a blurb or hc where spence is going down on you and your phone rings and he makes you answer it??

if you’re comfortable with that of course :)) xx

I got one exactly like this I’m gonna knock out too:

“can u do a lil blurb on spencer being a little shit and eating you out while you’re on the phone😄”

— —

He loves going down on you. He loves the way you taste, the way you move and squirm beneath him, loves the little pathetic noises you make when his fingers are inside you at the same time. Loves the feeling of your hands pulling at his hair when he keeps going after you’ve already cum. He loves every single part of it.

So he’d never pass up an opportunity like this, you sitting on the sofa in front of him in a dress with no panties underneath. It was supposed to be you teasing him, but it was out of your hands the second he knelt down on the ground in front of you.

Pushing your dress up further and further slow and teasing until he revealed your cunt, soaking wet already, waiting for him. The sight was just too pretty, he wanted to dive in right away. But he knew better than that, taking his time to carefully litter your thighs with soft kisses. Working his way up to harsher ones, nipping and biting at the skin in an effort to leave a mark as you already squirmed beneath him.

“Fuck Spencer, please” you had to whine out for him to finally touch you. Taking pity on the desperate tone that laced your voice.

As soon as his lips connected with your core and your head fell back against the couch, your phone rang.

You froze completely, not wanting to answer it obviously, and waiting for Spencer to stop. But he didn’t, he just replaced his mouth with his fingers for a second and looked up at you to speak, his lips glistening already.

“Answer it for me baby. I promise I’ll be good”

Looking at the caller ID it was Emily, if it had been really important both your phones would be ringing so hopefully it was nothing. But you still didn’t want to answer it.

“Spence, she’ll hear” you moan out as his fingers curl up inside you.

“I’ll be quiet if you will?” He smirks up, answering the call and handing it up to you to take. You wanted to kill him, and you might’ve if his tongue didn’t feel quite so good.

“Emily, hey” you manage to get out in the most normal tone you can put together, and she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hey, I just wanted to find out a time that suited you for a meeting some time next week? Nothing too serious, I’ll only need like an hour?” Emily speaks.

But once Spencer can hear her voice on the other end of the phone he starts to pick up the pace. Forcing his fingers in and out of you so harsh that it feels like Emily must be able to hear the downright filthy sounds they’re making. His lips wrap around your clit and begin to suck at the same time, and your hips arch up off the couch only to be pinned back down by Spencer. His grip so rough it must be leaving some kind of bruise.

You have to take a second to remember to breathe before you can string together a sentence.

“Next— uh— next week?”

“Yeah, any day in particular suit? I know we might be called away but it’s good to have some kind of plan in place?”

One of your hands comes down to rest in Spencer’s hair. Tugging against it roughly in a bid to get him to stop, but it only seems to encourage him as he moans out against you. The vibrations of his lips and tongue only making things infinitely worse for you until you have to let out a noise.

“Fuck!” You gasp out before you realize what you’ve done.

“Are you alright?” Emily sounds concerned down the line and you have to think quickly.

“Yeah, no! I just— my toe, I stubbed my toe!” You rush out, and it’s not the most convincing lie ever but she doesn’t seem to pry, “Um Tuesday? After lunch?” You throw any time at all out there just to get her off the line.

Spencer can tell the call is coming to an end so he reaches up with his one free hand to grab at your tits over the fabric of your dress, roughly taking one, squeezing it in his hand and all of the sensations together just feel too good. And you’re so close.

“Great yeah that works for me. Is Spencer around actually? I was gonna give him a call next but if he’s there with you?” Emily asks and you don’t have another ounce of strength in you to fight against it anymore.

“No! I’m alone here” it comes out as a little whine and Emily’s probably concerned for your mental health now too.

“Oh alright, I’ll call him later so. Bye then!” Emily hangs up then and you’re cumming around Spencer, on Spencer. Finally moaning out as loud as you needed to as his mouth and fingers continued to make you feel as good as it was possible to feel.

When he comes up for air, there’s a grin plastered on his face as he moves up the couch to join you. Placing a kiss on your lips so that you could taste yourself on him before pulling back.

“You’re a bastard” you breathe out, your chest still heaving from the exertion.

“I’m your bastard” he chuckes and places another kiss on your lips, trailing it down to your neck until he was pawing at the neckline of your dress.

“Don’t get too comfy, Emily’s gonna call you any minute and I’m out for revenge”

[angelamajiki]

Can I request something?!

We try to escape Overhaul but he catches us but as a punishment seeing as we don't like him he gives us to Rappa so he can do what he wants to us for a week and in the end we go back to him and he has you never wanting to even step out your room.

Is that fine? Anyways stay safe, drink water, wear a mask, and keep up the great work!

PARINGS: Rappa x AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, watersports, noncon, facefucking, teasing, manhandling, scumbag rappa

AN: thank you nonnie!! <33

Kai had caught you trying to escape. Or rather, Rappa was the one who actually caught you, laughing and jeering at your cries and the pounding of your small fists on his back. Your captor was not amused in the slightest as his henchman emerged into his office with you tucked a little too snuggly over his shoulder.

“Caught your lil’ scrub tryin’ to escape, boss.” Rappa cackled, sitting you down on the chair in front of the yakuza leader’s desk. “Damn, does she squeal like a pig.”

He clapped his hand over your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. The man had taken a liking towards you, meaning to say that he enjoyed watching Kai dole out punishments for when you tried to escape or otherwise upset him, which wasn't hard to do.

“Yes, she does.” Kai sighed, brows furrowed deeply in irritation. “What am I going to do with you, pet? Do I not provide for you, care for you? How can I get you to behave, hm?”

Tapping a finger against his forehead, he signed and closed his eyes, slumping back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.

“I’ll never stop trying to escape because anywhere else is better than being here with you, Overhaul.” You spat venomously, squirming under Rappa’s tight grip. The man behind you just chuckled darkly.

“Say, boss...if the little lady here is so unhappy with you, why don't you put her on loan to someone for the time being? Let ‘em show her how good you are to her, eh?”

Kai quirked a brow at Rappa, immediately picking up what he was throwing down. He had half a mind to punish Rappa as well for his blatant display of insubordination and to dare to think he’d willingly give up his precious pet to him like she was a mere stray.

Ah, but the man did have a point. His pet needed to be taught how kind her master is, and Rappa is the perfect opposition to do so. A degenerate at heart, his underling, was rowdy, filthy, and above all, a bigger sadist than Kai was.

He knew the man loved nothing more than to watch him spank the poor thing until she was a sobbing, blubbering mess of “I’m sorry, Kai!” gasping and panting for air like she was on the verge of death. What a drama queen he had on his hands. But he treated you like a queen nonetheless, but your attitude was simply out of control at this point.

“I think Rappa’s right, dear. Why don't you spend the week with him? Take a break from me if I’m so intolerable.”

Ice ran through your veins as Rappa unceremoniously scooped you up from your chair, opting to throw you over his shoulder. Kai’s chuckle and Rappa’s jeers mixed with your protests as you squirmed and squealed in his monstrous grasp.

“I thought you said anywhere else would be better than being with me. Remember, this is the choice you made, darling.”

“Rappa, you're dismissed.”

With a wave of a gloved hand, your fate was sealed. The bulkier man nodded and smacked a large hand over your ass.

“You and me? We're gonna have some fun, little piggy.” ——— •

Settled on Rappa’s bed, if you could call a sparsely covered mattress that hadn't been washed in god knows how long a bed, your nerves were set ablaze watching the man undress. And he certainly made a show of it, flexing his muscles and winking at you all the while.

“Like what ya see, sweets?” He groaned, striking a pose in front of you in nothing but a wife-beater and a pair of boxers. Oogling couldn't be helped; the man was built like Adonis. Strong, fierce, and big. Much, much bigger than you were.

“I hope so, cause I definitely do.” He smirked, licking his lips as he stalked over to you. “Don’t ya about a thing, little piggy. Papa’s gonna take real good care of ya”

Climbing over you, he pinned you to the mattress with one hand and used the other to feel you up.

“Yeesh, yer stiff as a board. Maybe a little game will help loosen you up, piggy.”

Fingers crawled their way up to your torso and to your mouth, leaving a searing heat in their wake. His fingers snatched your tongue from your mouth, shoving themselves down your throat to choke you.

“This little piggy wants to choke on my cock.”

His insenstant cooing and grinning had your stomach turning in knots, helping the fingers in your throat gag you even further. The thumb pressed down on your tongue before spitting a glob down your throat.

“This little piggy wants to be squeezed real tight.”

The sing-song tone in his voice only served to heighten your fear. Of course, the bastard thought this was all a game to him and you his toy.

His grin only got wider as his hand crept down your throat and ghosted itself there, barely touching before lunging. A panicked yip flew from your mouth as he pinned you by your throat.

There was hardly any pressure, just a cage of fingers keeping you locked into his impossibly firm grip. The hand was more than large enough to circle your neck. You smell the grim on his fingers, the labor of his love for the Shie Hassaikai.

“Almost got ya, piggy!” He teased, licking a long strip up your cheek. God, his breath stunk.

“Keep up now; the fun’s just starting.”

His fingers seemed to leave a trail of grime as they traveled down to your exposed breasts. They groped and gripped at your tender flesh without finesse or technique. So rough and worn from all the fighting he does. Your right tit was cupped in his hand before he gave it a hard squeeze.

“This little piggy wants to be milked.”

Onto your left, giving your nipple a good tug and pinch.

“This little piggy wants to be sucked.”

Your squeals and cries only made him laugh harder, grunting when you squirmed against the leg in between your thighs.

“Aw, is baby girl gonna cry? Cause I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Every touch of the pads from his fingers made you even sicker than before. You could feel every place he touched, the disgusting filth they left in their wake. The continued down your stomach, stopping to tickle you softly on your sides.

“W-What are you doing?!”

Your laughter couldn't be contained as he got rougher and rougher, chuckling along with you as he pressed his face close to yours.

“Stop it! I-I’m going to pee!”

“Good. That's what I like to hear.” He grunted, pressing his elbow hard into your bladder all while tickling you. Shame and piss flushed out of you as he groaned, grinding his knee up against your wet, sloppy cunt.

“Look at that! Piggy’s finally rolling around in filth where pigs belong.”

“I can't wait to make a mess of you.”

Humiliation flushed your face and your body, feeling even more disgusted as you felt your own piss on your lower body.

Rappa stood up and took a good look at you, admiring his handy work. A flushed, tearful expression that could be fucked up even more, his favorite face to see. Especially on someone as beautiful as you.

Sitting you up, he sat behind you and took your hair into two separate ponytails before trying them off.

“There, perfect for gripping.”

A rough push landed you on the floor, naked and afraid. One hand grabbed both your ponytails at the same time and steered you to be seated facing his crotch.

“Open wide, piggy.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough for one evening.

“Are you deaf? Open up, you bratty little bitch. Don't make me ask again unless ya fancy fighting me instead.”

Now that was a truly horrifying thought. The man could quickly kill you with a single punch and let Overhaul bring you back to life, only to do it again and again. Those men, especially Kai, had no qualms about taking your life when you decided to misbehave.

Considering your choices, you cut your losses and nodded, opening your mouth slowly and braced yourself for a brutal facefucking.

The man sunk himself into your throat, sitting there when he bottomed out. His hips twitched as you choked and gagged around his massive dick.

“Yeah.” He groaned, pulling out only to slam back in. “That's what I’m talkin’ about. Finally got ya to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Hips thrusting, he set a brutal pace into your mouth. Heavy balls slapped against your chin as your spit and tears made a mess of your face. He paid no mind to your shaking and struggling, only moaning when you choked particularly hard.

“Guess I gotta let ya up to breathe, huh piggy?”

Pulling himself out, he gave you a few seconds to cough and gulp in the air before nudging his way back into your warm, wet mouth.

“Can’t spoil you too much now.” He chuckled.

One hand gripping each ponytail, he tugged them tight and fucked your mouth with vigor. His hips slammed against your cheeks, sure to leave bruises as they started to sputter.

“Y-You’re just so cute, piggy. I can’t last long when you look at me like that.” He grunted, pulling your hair even tighter.

His cock hurt your throat horribly. You could feel the burn of every stroke and spasm into your mouth, tears streaming down your face even more from the pain. Your hair felt like it was going to be ripped out from the sheer amount of strength he was pulling it with.

His thrusts increased in pace as he chased his orgasm, opting to hold the back of your head flush against his crotch when he finally did cum. Making sure to swallow every last drop, Rappa didn't let you up until he was completely finished.

“Such a good girl for Papa.” Rappa jeered, picking you up off the floor by the throat and pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth.

Tossed onto the bed, he spread your legs wide and pressed a thumb to your dripping hole.

“And this little piggy wants to get fucked all night long.”

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[writefightandflightclub]

Trial by Fire (Part 1/3) Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN reader

Summary: You’re finally introducing your new boyfriend to The Boys. It must be intimidating for your guy because, hello? Not only are they literally lethal, as well as infeasibly handsome, but they’re hella protective of you to boot. They want the best for you so, naturally, they make your guy run the gauntlet the whole evening. Santiago, though? Well. Given that he is secretly in love with you? Let’s just say he doesn’t handle the situation very well at all.

Genre / tropes: angst, friends to lovers, love confession.

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing this (in fact I’m writing the opposite, where “Santi has a new girlfriend and you don’t take it well” as a series, loosely based around the 7 deadly sins); but, in the meatime, I wrote this to get back into the swing of things after a lil break. It’s just a quick one, but there will be a second and final part, if you want it! Let me know!

Word count: somehow, 4.4k.

Warnings: language, angst, best friends arguing, Santi being an asshole.

Rating: T

The boys aren’t being as awful as you had anticipated, at least. For the most part, they’re actually being pretty friendly, and although they’ve transitioned into grilling Dean about every aspect of his life, they are at least listening intently and smiling at his answers. All except for one fucker, of course; and, naturally, surprising no-one, the fucker misbehaving is one (1) Santiago “Pope” Garcia. 

The group - the boys, yourself, and Dean- are huddled comfortably around the blazing warmth of the fire pit in Frankie’s yard. The dancing, oranged flames cut through the dark and cold of the crisp night, as you sit upwind of the smoke on scattered, mis-matched camp chairs.

Whilst the others are evidently enjoying the evening -faces painted with smiles, body language open and leaning-in to chat to Dean- that fucker Santi is leaning back in his chair, his jaw twitching in seeming aggravation, his arms folded, and his intense eyes needling your beau. In this dim light, with the firelight licking over the sharp planes of his face, he looks every bit like a trained killer about to leap out of the shadows and garotte someone. Well… a very petulant trained killer. His call sign should have been Mr. Grumpy Pants, you think idly.

What’s up with him this time?! you wonder.

He gets these moods sometimes. And, when it strikes him, he can be a little bit hostile - despite the fact he’s a puppy underneath it all. You had hoped that for once, maybe he would suck it up, and yet, your hopes had been in vain, it seems.

Every time Dean speaks, or touches you, or even laughs at another of the guys’ stories, Santi’s expression sinks further and further through layers of distaste; and, by this point, he’s eyeing Dean as though he’s a war criminal the squad have been sent to take-out. You half expect him to leap up and take down Frankie any second for fraternizing with “the enemy”, if you’re honest.

Truth be told, you’ve had just about enough of this. Your friend had better buck his ideas up, sharpish, or he’d be reminded very swiftly that you were Delta Force too.  

For now, trying to ignore the bastard, you look back at Dean, and the sight of him in animated conversation with your buddies causes at least some of your aggravation to fall away. Things have been going well between you and Dean, even if you do say so yourself. Originally from Michigan, he now worked as a lecturer at a nearby music school. He was also a banjo musician in a bluegrass / synth power-pop mash-up of a band, which (sort of) explained his retro-inspired mop of brown hair and his thick dark moustache - majestic enough to rival Frankie’s. True, he wasn’t your usual type, but he was honest, and sweet and kind... Plus, he’d never killed anyone with his bare hands, which was rather refreshing too, if you were honest.

Safe to say, so far, things were working out. So well, in fact, that you’d recently met his parents for the first time while they were in town. So well, in fact, that -after keeping him purposefully away from the boys for as long as you feasibly could- you’d now brought him to meet your family. That’s what this squad was to you, after all. Your family.

Remembering sporadic moments from the past few months together, you smile gently as you listen to Dean talk. You watch him seamlessly integrate some tailored conversation starters you’d fed him ahead of time, and you gently squeeze his thigh in an act of reassurance and appreciation. He is feeling the pressure, you can tell, although he is handling it well. To be fair, you think, who wouldn’t feel the pressure? You’d been nervous enough to meet his parents, but this? A bunch of Delta Force guys and an MMA champion? This squad was lethal; literally -you’ve lost track of your combined kill count, though Will probably hasn’t, you are sure.

Aside from that though, most of all, they are your family. You need them to like Dean and vice versa, and you know that isn’t necessarily a given. You are a tight-knit group, with little hope of outsiders grasping the full extent of your decade’s old in-jokes, or the intense camaraderie instilled by facing a hail of bullets together. Plus, as the baby of the group, they were protective as all hell of you.

It came from a good place, you knew: they wanted what was best for you. But, there was a reason you’d delayed this meeting... It’s not as though they were threatening or anything. They didn’t do the whole “if you hurt our buddy, I’ll kill you” thing, for example (at least, not while you were present – you couldn’t vouch for what happened when you were out of earshot).  However, after introducing a succession of boyfriends to them over the years, the squad had developed a well-rehearsed system for sizing-up your new squeeze. In the past, not all of your squeezes had made it through the gauntlet. It was a trial by fire, to be sure, and you were pleased that Dean has not yet been burned.

Of course, whilst the boys’ approval didn’t mean everything to you, you couldn’t deny it was important; perhaps especially this time, with this guy. And, out of all of the group, Santi’s approval meant the most to you. Always had. Probably because Santi meant the most to you, full stop. You simply couldn’t imagine having someone in your life that didn’t get on with your best friend. And, so, you are not overly thrilled at the reception Santi is giving Dean right now. The reception he had been giving him all evening, in fact. And the more you dwell on it, the more an anger bubbles forth from you. Even though you try to push it down, and focus on Dean, that fucker in the corner of your eye sends you.

“What’s wrong with you tonight, Garcia?” you blurt out, a little louder than intended, causing the amiable chat and giggles to stall, all eyes turning to you - then, in turn, following the direction of your fiery gaze over to Santi, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Now, he leans forward. Looks back at you with a rare venom in his eyes. With a smug curl of his mouth, he dips to pick up his beer from the floor and takes a swig - buying himself some time. Trying to brush you off. Still, your gaze does not relent as he rests his elbows on his thighs, bridging his fingers together in the space between, thumbs sticking in the air.

Now, he engages, and he looks directly at Dean, his eyes sweeping dismissively over the entirety of his form. Now, he speaks, his voice filled with far more bitterness than the situation merits. “Nothing at all. I’m fucking peachy. So, Dean. You play the motherfuckin’ banjo?” he offers, and yet, it sounds far more like an accusation than a question.

What the fuck is up with him?

Wilting a little beneath Santi’s stare, as the ex-operative squints his eyes in his direction, Dean casts a helpless, sideward glance at you from his place in the circle, and yet, you are so stupefied by anger that you can do little to help.

“I think what my dear friend means to say -” Frankie dips in valiantly, smacking Santi pointedly on the thigh, likely hoping to smack some sense into him too “- is why don’t you tell us more about your music, Dean?”

Frankie’s eyes and smile are soft when he looks at you, surreptitiously exchanging a pointed look -what’s up with that pendejo?- and you are grateful that at least some of the evident tension is diffused when he picks up the slack in the conversation.

Santi and his mood swings be damned, and, feeling bolstered, Dean continues on.  

“Actually, it’s going pretty frickin’ well with the band. It’s a side-gig to my lecturing job, but we’re planning a tour during summer vacation. The States -east coast- and Western Europe for now. Maybe headlining a couple of small festivals, if that pans out, who knows.” Dean relates, humbly.

“That’s great, man,” Will chips in, helping Frankie get things back on track. “We’ll have to come down to a gig soon, hear you play.”

“Actually, we have something to tell you about the tour, don’t we, babe?” Dean says bashfully, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to pick-up the thread. You’d talked about it before coming today, and it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but suddenly, now that the announcement is imminent, your mouth is dry - as if filled with cotton. Still, you force a smile, and you’re not sure why, but you look anywhere else but at Santi as your lips form the words. “Yeah – kinda big news, fellas. I’m going to join Dean on the Europe leg of the tour. I’ll be leaving you losers behind for a few months.”

Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he reaches for your hand, looking made-up at the prospect. Still, while you will yourself to be fully present in the moment, you find yourself focussed on looking anywhere but at Santi, sure that his stare must be boring into the side of your head. You hadn’t told him yet. Unfortunately, at Santi is where just about everyone else ends up looking, as the fucker abruptly pushes his camp chair back and stands, storming indoors before anyone can hope to fathom it.

You exchange glances with Frankie, Will, and Benny, with Benny thankfully stepping-in this time to distract Dean from the obvious, and asking him which stops you two will be making, and which sights you plan to see.

“Look, man, don’t mind that tool. Got any sightseeing plans?”

What is Santi’s problem? Why can’t he give Dean a chance? Yes, you’ve made some mistakes in the past- been hurt, and Santi had helped you pick up the pieces -every time- but you had a good feeling about Dean. A really good feeling. Can’t he see that too?

Frankie throws a concerned glance back towards the house and motions as if to stand, but you beat him to it, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll go,” you insist, motioning for Frankie to stay put, and with a quick promise to Dean that you’ll be back soon (and a silent plea to your boys to take care of him in your absence), you do just that, walk-jogging across the grass.

When you step inside to the kitchen, you find Santi stood, hunched over the counter, his palms clasping the surface tight enough that his knuckles pale, and his head hung low, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes in exaggerated breaths.

“Well?” you ask pointedly, with zero tolerance for his bullshit. “What’s going on with you? Wanna explain why you’re being an ass to my boyfriend?” you challenge to the back of him, and he instantly whips around at the sound of your voice. 

“I’m being an ass?” he asks indignantly, his eyebrows shooting towards the top of his head. 

“Yes. In a nutshell. Yes,” you hiss, any other interpretation feeling impossible. You fold your arms and purse your lips, making it plainly evident that you are waiting for some explanation. And, oh boy, it had better be good.

Instead of explaining though, Santi simply huffs out breath, gesturing angrily out of the window. “That guy, really? That’s the guy you’re gonna go all in for? Go to fucking Europe for?”

That guy, you mouth silently, completely stupefied for a moment. You’re not sure exactly what your so-called friend is insinuating, but you are clear that you don’t like it one bit.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask, punctuating your words with motions of your hands, as if you are trying to strangle the air in-between you in lieu of his neck. “Dean’s a catch. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a nice guy. He’s there for me. He takes care of me.”

“Like I don’t take care of you?!” Santi exclaims, his voice rising and abrasive; and then, immediately after the words tumble forth from his lips, he steps back imperceptibly, as if startled by his own outburst, his hand rasping over the stubble on his chin.

“What in the...? This isn’t about you, you ass!” you bite back, face scrunching up in confusion. Your fingers come to your temples as you grow increasingly lost-off and perplexed, and seemingly, your riposte only makes Santi double down on whatever the hell he is complaining about.

“Who’s the one who’s always been there for you, hmm? Who picks up the pieces every time you make yet another dumb shitty choice with another shitty guy?” he rambles, gesturing his hand towards you dismissively.

You step back from him this time, just a little, tears spiking instantaneously in your eyes at such an unnecessarily cruel blow. He’s right, in a sense: you had always relied on Santi to heal you, not to hurt you - and yet here he was dealing these painful, incoherent blows out of nowhere.

“Shit, Garcia. If it’s that much trouble to be there for me don’t bother next time,” you snap, your voice breaking as the swell of anger and hurt and adrenalin sends tears spilling over your cheeks. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll need you again. In fact, I have a feeling this guy might stick. So, maybe? Maybe you should think about the fact that the only shitty guy around here is you.” 

“You really think he’s good enough for you, hmm? He’s really who you want to end up with?”

You listen, aghast, as his tirade keeps coming. However, as Santi’s voice breaks with emotion part-way through his second question, you can’t explain it, but you feel an intolerable sadness in the pit of you. Even though you’re not sure what’s causing all this, what you’re barrelling toward, you want to thrust this sadness away from you. Push him away from you.  You want to push away the knot in your stomach for fear that if you tug at that thread, you might arrive at an answer to his question.

Exasperated, overwhelmed, you roughly paw tears from your cheeks, not knowing where all of these feelings are coming from, in either direction. “Fuck, I... I don’t understand what this is. I don’t get it!” you say, waving your hands, palms-up, through the air. “Is this some macho bullshit? Have I pissed you off somehow?”

At that, the wave of Santi’s anger crests and breaks; as you wonder if you annoyed him. Then, as suddenly as his anger came it is waning, his eyes pooling with rare tears now. With a huff of breath he tears off his damn cap, tossing it aside to run a hand through his grizzled hair. 

“No. No,” he backtracks a little, palms up in surrender. “You haven’t... I.... I just...” He pinches his lips in-between his teeth and looks up at the ceiling as his words trail off, perhaps trying to steady his voice before continuing. Or, perhaps he has nothing else to say to you. Perhaps he’s said enough.

You examine him. Still pissed as all hell, but worried now too, and ultimately, your love for your best friend slightly edging-out the anger. It’s rare that anything affects him like this, and you can’t help the sudden rush of concern.

Cresting too, you exhale a tightly held breath into the now silent, taut space between you, and your body sags - just a little. You chew over your words a moment, but when your voice comes back the volume is lower, your tone softer - and, although it cannot be considered friendly, by any stretch, it’s the best you can do right now.

“You know what,” you offer, generously, wrapping your arms around your own middle, stroking your forearms with your own fingertips. “I’m giving you a pass. You don’t even want to give Dean a chance? Then just leave, Santi. Just go. I’ll give the guys some bullshit excuse that doesn’t leave you looking like a total ass, because I’m not a dick to my friends. So just go, okay?” You pump your eyebrow at him indignantly and await a response, your manner stiff and unyielding.

Santi closes his eyes and knits his brow together, something like regret finally passing over his face and he shuffles guiltily from foot-to-foot.

You puff out air through your teeth and shake your head, as you observe this Delta Force hero; the bravest man you know in many ways, but still too cowardly to tell it like it is. To admit that he’s in the wrong. You are afraid to say that even as his gaze comes back to you, misty-eyed, you have little sympathy for his plight. You are sure it is of his own doing. You are almost as sure that he won’t open-up.

“You know,” you begin, breaking from your position and gathering up a fresh cooler of beers from the fridge, turned away from him as you speak. “I brought Dean to meet my family. Do you understand that? I didn’t have parents and siblings for him to meet. I have you guys. You’re my family.”

Still nothing. Nothing but silence greets you. Nothing but a pained expression on his face, his brows drown together and the artificial light of the kitchen highlighting the harsh planes of his face as you look over your shoulder at him, waiting for some reaction. Some admission of guilt. None comes. He simply slots his hands into his jean pockets, looking sheepish.

“So,” you continue, greeted with a brick wall, “fuck knows why you don’t want me to be happy, but I am. I’m happy with him. Thanks a ton for shitting all over that.”

You don’t even bother to look towards him this time, instead placing the last of the clinking, condensation-adorned bottles into the carrier, resigned to head back out without him, and without any apology.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your head whips towards him in surprise.

He looks it - sorry. He looks apologetic. Deeply so. He looks sorry for this, for every way he’s ever slighted you, for every time he’s hurt you, even in ways and moments you never knew about. He looks sorry down to the pit of him, and it catches you off-guard when you see it freely offered there in his eyes.

Even so, this is a stubborn man. There’s an apology, but there’s no explanation. Nothing to explain his behaviour. So, even though it seems genuine, it also doesn’t seem like enough.

It doesn’t appease you, and yet, all you can bring yourself to do is sigh deeply.

You know Santi better than anyone, but there’s always been a part of him that has seemed out of reach, even to you. You’re not sure -never have been- whether to be scared or excited by those unknown parts of him. Not sure whether the impasse hints at buried secrets too dark and deep to bear, or whether it hints of a possibility of something more. Something deeper or something better you could have together, if only he would let you in. You don’t know, and you never have, but all you are sure of is that you have constantly teetered on the edge of that abyss, too much left unknown to know all of him, however much you may have wished to. He’s entitled to his secrets, of course, but you hate how they hurt him. 

With a little sympathy now, you examine his watery eyes, and when your voice comes back this time, it is softer and slower than you intended. More tired than you expected.

“You know, Dean wants to be with me. And he tells me so.” You casually dip down to pick-up the cooler handle, eyes still fixed on your best friend. “He might not be Delta Force… he might be a banjo player from Michigan… but even he’s brave enough for that.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Santi says, bristling all over again, his hand rasping angrily over his stubbled jaw, and yet, you decline him an explanation. Instead, keeping your own secrets now, holding back, you head towards the door, beers in hand.

Still, you turn back to him. You might be angry, but you still care for him -more than you could say. 

“If you figure out what’s up with you, let me know, and I’ll be there for you. Whatever you’ve got going on, you know that, right? But this? This isn’t okay, Garcia. You might think that I make dumb choices -you ass, by the way- but I’ve watched you hit self-destruct so many times instead of dealing with your feelings. Maybe you should look at your own life, huh, instead of shitting all over me for trying to be happy? Shit, at least I fucking try.”

His eyes shift from side to side in the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching, chin jutting forward, and his thumbs locked in his belt loops. He can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze; at least not until you are disappearing through the threshold; until it’s almost too late. Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

“Wait!” he pleads, but you cut him off, before he can speak. Even though, truth be told, you’re not sure he would muster anything to say at all, even if you gave him a chance. He’s so used to holding back.

“No,” you say firmly. “Forget it, I’m done. I still love you- you’re my best friend. But, fuck, just go home, and get out of my sight, Santiago. I’m so pissed with you right now.”

And so, you turn away, and when his words finally do come, they are spoken to the back of your head. They are spoken without you ever seeing his lips move, and you wonder if he ever said them at all, or if this might be some cruel trick of the night. Some witching hour spell. That is, until you turn towards him and you see the words painted clearly on his face too.

“Fuck it. I’m in love with you.”

I’m in love with you.

Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

You’re not sure what reaction he was expecting, but you almost choke on the sudden lump in your throat. You feel a taste of bile rising-up into your mouth. An intense, resurgent anger fills you, which near makes the room spin, and makes your hands and your legs tremble.

Even if a hidden, unconscious part of you has been waiting, hoping for these words all these years, when they finally come all you can feel is... royally pissed off.

“Oh. No. No. No,” you repeat, words gradually increasing in volume, looking at Santi as if he has mortally wounded you, rather than offered that confession. “You do not get to do this to me.”

You see a hard swallow bob down his throat, a near-instant regret on his face, and your heart pounds in your chest as you reel with the implications of his words.

The coward. The fucking asshole. He waited until now? All the times things had gone to shit, and he waited until you were happy?

“All the times...” you accuse, your tone as bitter as the taste in your mouth, the metallic tang of blood as you feel a rushing in your ears. “All the fucking times. All the chances, Santi, and you do this now?” you continue, your finger sawing through the air, wagging accusations at him, even as your voice wavers, as your hands notceably tremble. “No. Fuck you, Garcia. Fuck you.”

You want to cry, or scream, but you are too angry. So angry, that it eclipses anything else which might come to light. So angry that you almost come full circle again, beginning to stabilise out at eerily calm.

Santi looks down at the floor, and exhales air, chuckling disbelievingly to himself, then lightly nodding his head, lips pressed tightly together. His feet shift agitatedly below him as he brings his endlessly familiar eyes back up to meet yours. This time when he looks at you, it hurts. You remember bullet wounds, and you swear that was nothing compared to this.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me, hmm? Fuck you, Garcia?”

“What the fuck were you expecting?” you say, launching your words before you realise the implications of them. Yes, you know fine well that your boyfriend is sitting outside, likely wondering where you have got to. But, if you had the wherewithall to have thought about it, you would know exactly what Santi was expecting, despite all of that. You would know that a part of him must be expecting, hoping, that when he told you, you might reciprocate. That you might love him back.

And, would that be so outside of the realms of possibility? Would it be so hard to imagine that the deep, magnetic, and unshakeable friendship you shared could be something else? Something more? That you could tip over the edge you had long been teetering on? Maybe it could, or maybe it could have, but right now, you can’t see past the flashbang he has just dropped over your life, and it is clouding your vision.

You were happy. You are happy. Fuck him for doing this now.

Why would you fall into the unknown for him, if you never knew whether he would catch you? If you never knew whether ruin or safety awaited you if you let yourself tip? He always held back.

What the fuck were you expecting?

Your words linger in the space between you, and in lieu of any other lifeline, realisation dawns on Santi’s face. Realisation that, although he jumped, you are not intending to catch him either. But how could you catch him, with your arms already full?

And, so, he slowly nods his head once again, his eyes beading with glassy tears and his hand grazing over his chin in a self-soothing gesture. Wordlessly, he sets his jaw and he abruptly replaces his baseball cap on his head, padding a few steps forward to stand opposite you, sucking all of the breath from your lungs. This time, when he looks at you, you see all of your past, but you still can’t see beyond that. The abyss still scares you too much.

Like this, facing each other down, eye-to-eye, the silence in the room grows sharp as a knife, refined to a point. So, when Santi abruptly turns to leave in a sharp, determined trajectory, without so much as looking at you, it is as if he has dragged the blade across your skin in an equally swift motion. As if he has left you open and bleeding-out, having delivered a mortal wound with the act of his exit. You’ve felt like this on the battelfield before, and in life, yet he was always there for you. Always there to patch you. To pick up the pieces.

Instead of screaming open-mouthed for help, this time, you simply watch him go, and now you are the wordless one, mustering nothing but a gasped inhale of breath before your vision blurs with tears - as you watch his hazy form disappear along the hall and out of your sight.

“Santi,” you call pathetically, your voice small and weak and teary, barely making it past your throat, and he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t hear you but even if he had, you’re not sure anymore if he would have stopped.

When Santi slams the front door behind him, you shudder with it in its frame, your hand coming to your chest as if to hold your heart inside your opened-up ribs, and you close your eyes against the jarring sound, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face screwing-up into a shined, contorted grimace.

Entirely lost, now alone, you bizarrely wish for the room to be filled with anger again, instead of the intolerable sadness - which all too suddenly takes hold of you as your emotions crest and break. It is all you can do to stumble forward a few paces and hunch over the countertop, finding yourself in the exact position you had discovered Santi in. You stand, bracing yourself with your arms, fingers clutching the edge of the worktop, and your head slumped forward, tears freely spilling out of you as your chest heaves.

You wonder whether he’d held himself in this same position because he had felt an intolerable sadness too. An intolerable sadness at seeing you happy.

Suddenly you could understand it.

That fucker. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

I’m in love with you.

I’m in love with you.

The words echo in your mind, but this time, if you’re honest, you’re not wholly sure if they’re his, or yours.

PART TWO IS HERE

[mypoisonedvine]

for your sleepover… best and worst of danny’s characters to fuck

okay I'm only gonna do the ones for the movies I've seen or remember well enough of course...

the GOAT is and always will be laszlo. he's literally trained in giving orgasms as that was part of a medical degree back then (don't even fucking ask lol). he's the type to make you come every way, three times each, and interview you on all your kinks beforehand so he comes prepared lmao. I honestly think his stamina for sex itself is a bit poor so he focuses on a ton of foreplay and makes you come with his fingers and mouth so many times that you're already satisfied by the time he even gets around to fucking you.

second is zemo. you know why. he has experience, and he has patience; with that, a man can do anything. like make you come so hard you briefly glimpse an alternate dimension.

next up, I'm gonna be a weirdo and say dirk brulee. I know he's barely a character and I know half of yall dont know who tf he is but I wrote that fic and I convinced myself he can lay some PIPE... a guy in neon green skinny jeans has confidence that can only come from knowing he has a monster dong and knows how to use it.

after that I'd say andrea. kind of an underdog for this one but I think he's got some skills. he seems like the thorough type, who would kiss and touch you all over until you can't help but whine because you need him so bad. and when you do whine? he'd just smile at you and keep teasing, the little bastard. honestly, now all I can think about is him driving me fucking crazy until I snap and shove him onto his back and ride him like my life depends on it... only for him to smile smugly up at me because this is exactly what he wanted.

after him is niki. I love writing niki as a sex god as much as the next guy, but honestly he seems like a somewhat selfish lover. and that's fine for me, if anything I think it's kinda hot, but yeah... don't expect him to spend two hours making you come. if you're not getting off from twenty minutes of being fucked so hard you see stars, you're not getting off and that's not his problem. the thing is, he knows that his cock is all you need and he mocks you for it constantly.

then there's alex kerner. he a lil confused but he got the spirit. does he know where the clit is? marginally. can he eat pussy? theoretically. can he last very long? not on his first go, but this kid's got spirit and passion and he's gonna look at you like you're the only fucking thing in the world. he's gonna whisper to you things that make your heart clench. he's gonna beg and plead for you to come for him until he basically talks you into it. and the moans... man, idk if I even need him to be good as long as I can hear him moan for me lol

david kern... what are we gonna do with you... he's got no game, but we can a least give him an A for effort cause he's clearly trying, poor thing. thankfully I think he'd take instruction well so if you're willing to be a teacher for the night he'll be able to at least help you out. and if worst comes to worst he wouldn't be weird about you using a vibrator while he fucked you, so hey, he's not all bad. just... mostly bad. but it's sort of endearing, it's like "aw, he's doing his best c:"