#gets me so 🤨🤨

[rwsdarw]

this was fun

[thatsitso]

So I finished orv

[minstrivia]

gymtok gets me so annoyed, half the creators just straight up lie for views 😭

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU DRINK YOUR COFFEE BLACK AND WE ARE AFRAID OF EACH OTHER ; SHOKO IEIRI

synopsis; shoko makes you a morning cup of coffee; turns out she’s not very good at that, but it’s the thought that counts.

word count; 4.2k

contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader (but written w a fem!reader in mind), fluff fluff fluff!!, just normal morning shenanigans at the ieiri household, implied stsg (my brand), shoko can be a girlfailure. as a treat, reader is absolutely whipped (and so am i)

a/n; been writing too much gojo n geto lately. neglecting my wife :((((((( let it be known that i am a shoko stan first human second. this one is for my wlws pls eat up!!!!

you wake up to the sound of your girlfriend’s voice.

melodic and soft, low and saccharine; almost like she’s coaxing you out of hiding. a sound so lovely you wish you could drown in it, laced together with a distinctly raspy tilt, one you can only attribute to the copious amounts of cigarettes she smoked back in high school. a leftover residue, bittersweet memories ghosting her lips — one that gets you a little bit weak in the knees.

in the mornings, it’s particularly prominent, a little intoxicating. manifesting itself as a shiver down your spine, a jolt of your heartbeat, a flush on your skin for every word that she speaks. it’s enough to have you slipping from sleep’s embrace, carried back into the cradle of reality.

why you notice her voice first, and not the smell of something burning — or the sound of insistent beeping — is honestly beyond you. 

it doesn’t take long for your sleepy brain to react, however, a pang of anxiety rushing through your slumbering veins. hurriedly stirring you awake. abrupting your dreamlike, drowsy state, tangled up in silken sheets with your neck smudged by lipstick marks; an alluring red, one shoko typically favors when she’s going out for a drink. coming home just a tiny bit tipsy, affectionate and giggly.

and when your eyelids finally flutter open, your mind melting into the motion of the waking world, you shoot up in a sudden bout of panic.

because fuck, you belatedly, groggily realize — that’s the fucking fire alarm.

and shoko is spewing curses, from afar, loud enough that you can hear it even through the fog of fatigue that clouds your brain. a raspy string of words that you don’t quite catch, but they’re enough to have you scrambling out of bed, nearly bumping into the doorframe as you kick the blanket off your legs.

”what happened?” you croak out, chest heaving a little, having stumbled into the smoke-filled kitchen. disgruntled, reeling with the aftermath of your deep slumber, cold air nipping at your bare skin. the balcony door is open, and the smell of rain invades your apartment.

when you look out the window, all you see is a gray sky, blanketed by a thick coating of wool. smothered by clouds, not a single ray of sunlight slipping through the cracks. the world smells dewy and sweet, asphalt and flowers melting into a nostalgic fragrance, one that reminds you a bit of high school smoke breaks — huddling under the slide at the nearest playground, watching a pretty girl wrap her lips around a cigarette, exhaling smoke just for it to melt into the pouring rain.

one that reminds you a bit of the woman right in front of you, balancing on a chair and stretching her goosebump-ridden arms towards the ceiling, wearing nothing but a lacey bra and a pair of unbuttoned jeans. messy hair that cascades down her back, brows furrowed, eyes simmering with irritation — before flitting over to meet your own.

shoko blinks. then sighs. ”you woke up?” she mutters, and you try not to shiver when the tremor of her voice deepens, morning-fatigue seeping into the syllables. “fuck. sorry, i —”

she stumbles a little, shifting her weight from one foot to another, and you take a step forward. on instinct, as if getting ready to cushion her fall. ready to be of service, in any way you can.

”don’t worry,” she fumbles with the fire alarm, clicking her tongue. nails scraping against plastic. “it’s fine, i just need to — there we go.” 

finally, the beeping stops. and your shoulders relax, immediately, the tight little ball inside your chest untangling. with a deep inhale, the fragrance of espresso and smoke fills your nostrils, and a sense of calm washes over you. rooting your feet to the floor. 

shoko settles down, too, seating herself on the wooden chair. a huff slipping from her lips. they’re smudged, a blurry red she still hasn’t found the energy to wipe away. 

bringing a hand up to card through her hair, lithe fingers in between her messy auburn locks, she exhales. a blend between fatigue and relief.

”god. i need a cig.”

a moment passes. she raises her head, and sees the sleepy little pout playing at your lips — her eyes softening. blooming with something fond. giving you a smile, tired, small. but reassuring. 

”i’m just kidding, love,” she chuckles. “relax.”

”don’t joke about that,” you frown, rubbing the sleep from your weary eyes. stifling a tiny yawn. ”.. took me so long to get you to quit.”

(sometimes you can still see the smoke leave her lungs when she exhales.)

shoko keeps smiling, but doesn’t say anything else. the pitter patter of rain against your balcony railing fills the silence of the kitchen, still brimming with a light layer of smoke, slowly dwindling. cold air drawing it out. clad only in one of suguru’s old t-shirts, you shiver, and shoko seems to notice.

“good morning,” she coaxes, opening her arms slightly — and you move forward, a moth to a flame. without thinking. “sorry for waking you.”

she wraps her arms around your waist, attaching her jaw to the curve of your shoulder, and you melt into the embrace. leaning close, to tuck yourself into her neck. she smells like lavender shampoo. “‘s fine,” you mumble, a yawn muffled into her collarbone. “what happened? are you okay?”

when her plump lips press against the sensitive skin of your neck, right next to one of the kiss marks she left there last night, you can’t help but shiver again. she must feel it, because you can hear the smile she’s trying to bite back in her voice when she answers.

“mm,” she hums, a gravelly noise that makes your throat clog up a little. “just burned something, it’s fine. don’t worry.”

tentatively, you take a step back. just to see her. gazing down at her, into her hazel eyes, the fading crescents beneath them. not as dark as they used to be, not as heavy with lost sleep.

shoko is gorgeous. always, every single day, but you think she’s particularly breathtaking like this. when it’s early, and she’s groggy and a little disheveled, eyes weary and lipstick smudged — bra strap close to slipping off her shoulder, black lace against pale skin, moles littering her forearms and chest like star clusters. oversized jeans that expose the curve of her waist, the fat of her hips, and you don’t notice how intently you’re staring until shoko’s raspy voice reaches your burning ears.

“eyes up here, baby.”

you do as you’re told, and she stifles a chuckle. eyes rich with amusement. you try not to blush.

“sorry.” you chew at the inside of your cheek. eyes trailing to the houseplants by the windowsill. “.. you’re just so pretty.”

shoko tilts her head, an exasperated little breath rolling off her tongue. almost a coo. she’s incapable of blushing; but if she wasn’t, you’re sure she'd blush. 

“thanks.” her touch is light, fingertips trailing down the expanse of your arm. “you are, too. red is a good colour on you.”

you blink. shoko’s eyes are crinkled at the edges, soft lines of crows’ feet, and you huff when you realize she’s talking about the marks on your neck. suddenly a little self-conscious, you bring a hand up to rub at the skin — as if hoping to wipe them away. you doubt it works. shoko just breathes out an airy chuckle, getting up from her seat.

she looks tired, still. stretching her limbs out, sleepily, blinking drowsily.

and it’s odd, you think. that she got up this early, that she didn’t cling to you and make you stay with her in bed like she usually does. you don’t know anyone who loves sleeping in more than shoko does. especially after a night out.

so it’s strange. very strange.

“hey, sho.”

“hm?”

you tilt your head. “why are you up this early, anyway?”

she blinks, and then glances at the clock on the wall. ticking idly, counting down. when she looks back at you, she’s got a single eyebrow raised. “it’s not really early.”

“for you it is,” you quip, something resembling a grin tugging at your lips. and she rolls her eyes, smiling, before linking her arm with yours. bringing you to the stove.

“i was, uh —“ a pause. she does a little cough under her breath, clearing her throat. “trying to make coffee.”

silently, you look at the mess in front of you; what used to be your squeaky-clean stovetop, now stained with a muddy, rusty residue. an unassuming coffee pot sits to the side, having seemingly boiled over, smoke still drifting up into the air.

shoko cringes, a little, before a wry smile makes its way to her lips. ”it was…” she clicks her tongue. sighing softly. ”an attempt.”

”… wait.” you turn to look at her, dubiously, and she avoids your gaze. ”that’s what you burned? coffee?” still no answer. a tiny smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help it if your voice comes out sounding a little teasing. ”how is that even possible?”

”look,” shoko exhales, heavy. ”i don’t know, okay? i think it was the coffee grounds, or something. i look away for one second, and it’s just —”

a little giggle slips from your lips, and shoko shoots you a glare. mostly harmless, but she untangles her arm from your own. ”sorry, it’s just —” you apologize, failing to hide your amusement. ”why didn’t you just use the espresso machine, honey?”

she bites her lip, and you think she might be just a little embarrassed. averting her gaze, briefly flitting towards the machine in question. ”… i didn’t know how to use it,” she mutters. ”i’ve seen you do it, obviously, but i never paid attention to the steps.”

a smile graces your lips. “it’s not that complicated once you know how it works,” you nudge her arm with your elbow. ”it just looks that way.”

she hums. a click of her tongue, as she adjusts her bra strap. ”well, anyway. i tried. so.”

”right.” you try to stifle a grin, to no avail. ”so… you burned your coffee.”

”and woke you up.” she grins, herself, just a tiny bit self-deprecating. but pretty, always, hair falling over her eyes when she tilts her head. ”a mess, aren’t i?”

”not at all.”

shoko looks at you, and your eyes meet hers. unflinchingly. tired irises falling into the gentle hue of your own, trickling down to the curve of your lips. there’s an honesty to your voice that she’s never quite been able to deal with. 

(love, she thinks. a kind of love she finds somewhat hard to stomach. a sea of acceptance that she fears she’ll eventually drown in.)

before she can properly fall into a morning spiral, you stretch your neck a bit, idly, and she gets a good look at the red marks littering your skin. the way your pulse beats at the base of your throat. tender, slight, a mantra she’s grown just a little bit addicted to. 

”why, though?” you hum, and shoko blinks. snapped out of her thoughts, and back into reality. back into you, the faux pout on your lips. playful, but a little confused. ”i thought i was the coffee brewer of this relationship…” 

and it’s true. you’ve been making shoko’s morning cups of coffee for a while, now, even before you moved in together. she likes it black, sometimes with a drop of cream, sometimes with a cube of sugar. never both. you think it’s very like her, to tiptoe that line between bitter and sweet — never entirely giving in to one or the other. there’s a balance to shoko, something stable. something for you to hold on to, a bitter tinge or syrupy taste that always leaves you yearning for more.

truthfully, your coffee brewing skills aren’t anything special. but it makes shoko happy, to wake up and stumble into the kitchen, being able to hug your back. being handed a cup of fresh coffee. sipping from it in silence, muttering out a groggy good morning that makes your heart flutter.

(to you, it’s precious. that lilt of her voice, that bittersweet tinge. the dearest thing in the world.)

plump bottom lip trapped between her teeth, shoko furrows her brows. ever so slightly. nails tapping at the edge of the kitchen counter, a series of satisfying clicks against the marble. “… well.” 

she clears her throat, but doesn’t say anything else. a moment passes. you try to find the answer in the curve of her lips, the crease of her brow, in the depths of her eyes — but you don’t succeed.

something discomforting settles in the bottom of your throat. almost uncertain, maybe a bit anxious. sheepish, as your tired mind spins in circles. parting your lips. hesitant.

“do you… not like the way i make it?” there’s a dejected tilt to your voice when it spills out, one that makes you feel a little silly. so you smile, or try to, eyes trailing towards the windows; you note that the rain has grown heavier. “i can change how —“

“what?” shoko cuts you off. “no. no, of course not — your coffee’s perfect. honestly.”

again, your eyes meet. and again, shoko seems to be struggling with finding the right words. or maybe she’s struggling to voice them.

“i just… haah.” she brings a hand up to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. you just watch, silent, hungry to hear the thoughts she’s not letting you in on.

a beat. again, the sound of the rain against steel railings, the scent of honeydew and concrete. espresso-flavored smoke, almost entirely faded, leaving only cold air to nip at your thighs. 

and again, as always, inevitably, your eyes are fixed on shoko — a moth to her flame. helpless to the cinders that ghost at your skin whenever she looks at you. a certain contemplation swims inside her eyes, simmering beneath the surface, as she chews gently at the plush of her lips. before turning to face you.

you can only blink. but shoko finally speaks, clearing her throat in a way that strikes you as rather sheepish.

“well — you’re always the one doing all the work. aren’t you?” her voice trickles out into the air, low and saccharine, a blanket pulled over your shoulders. so soft you hold your breath and strain your ears, just to make sure you hear it. “i guess i figured… i don’t know.”

shoko pauses, again, and you can almost delude yourself into thinking there’s a cherry red tint to the tips of her ears. when she parts her lips, that usually carefree voice of hers sounds almost meek. almost, but not quite. more like unsure. embarrassed?

another moment passes, entirely silent. shoko swallows her pride.

“.. satoru always brags about suguru making him those fucked up sugary drinks he likes,“ she mumbles. turning around, to rest her back against the counter, looking out at the downpour. “says it makes him feel so loved. or whatnot. so i just —“ 

she waves her hand, haphazardly. 

“you know.“

a beat. then another. you can physically feel your lips part, a kind of surprise weaving itself into the contours of your face. 

and when you finally speak, your voice comes out a little garbled, scrambling for the right words. not sure if you should feel deeply amused, or just a tiny bit horrified. “wait. you’re saying you…” a moment passes. silent, slow, and all you can do is blink owlishly. in disbelief.

“… got inspired by suguru?”

shoko groans, deep and gravelly, almost comically agonized. covering her face with her pretty hands. “don’t say it,” she pleads, “you’re making it sound as dumb as it is.”

a little giggle slips from your lips. accidental, but she still shoots you a displeased look, huffing under her breath. crossing her arms just to tap at her forearm with her nimble fingers. frowning.

“don’t laugh at me.”

“sorry,” you search for her gaze, but she keeps looking ahead. so stubborn. “i don’t mean to, ‘s just — not very like you, y’know?”

shoko exhales. nearly a huff, but not quite. and you think she must be embarrassed, gnawing at her lip like that, fingers eagerly searching for something to fidget with. it makes you soften, impeccably, the blood inside your veins warming up beneath your skin. stirring you, coaxing you into soothing her. your very own heartbeat seems to be a little enamored with shoko ieiri.

”i appreciate the thought,” you smile. a tender tone, sincere. lingering with amusement. “really. but let’s not base our entire relationship around satoru and suguru of all people, alright?”

and again, she sighs. brittle, a little fatigued. brows scrunching together. ”look, i —”

a pause. she gnaws at her plump bottom lip, eyelashes fluttering like a battered heartbeat. her voice comes out sounding soft, all duvet pillows and fresh lavender, a lilt that anchors you to earth. sweet words. so honest it makes your breath hitch.

”i want to take care of you.”

and this time, you’re the flustered one. burning under her gaze, feeling a heat blossom on your skin. feeling the fervent pitter patter of your heartbeat, as her pretty eyes look into yours. a nice mocha brown. 

but even with the fresh embarrassment trickling through your veins, you find it in you to speak. desperate, maybe, to cross the distance between you — even when it borders on non-existent. desperate to feel your heartbeats synchronize, figuratively or literally. to stitch them together.

“i want to take care of you, too,” you echo, looking down at the floor. and then back at your girlfriend. hesitant, a tad shy. but sincere.

a sincerity so palpable it makes shoko feel a little jealous. 

(sometimes, she finds herself wanting to put a hand inside your chest. dig around your organs, run her fingertips down every single one, until she finds what she's looking for. that miraculous something that makes you stick around, that makes you so frighteningly easy to love. that makes her want to safeguard you so terribly.)

”then let’s take care of each other,” she breathes, a small smile slipping into the curve of her lips. reaching out to brush against your knuckle, weave your fingers together. delicate. 

she clears her throat. “… i guess.” 

and you can’t help but smile. somewhat cheeky, a little teasing. “ah,” your eyes crinkle, and you stifle a coo. “did that embarrass you?”

a sharp little scoff. shoko gives you a lazy grin, paired with a soft roll of her eyes. brushing her thumb across your knuckles, even still. “oh, shut up.”

the world seems to still, ever so slightly, as you look into each other’s eyes. like everything else is just background noise, from the pitter patter of the rain to the fading smell of coffee all around you. shoko looks at you like she’s trying to see inside your brain, see what makes you tick, see you for what you are.

and when she eventually leans in for a kiss, you’re pliant. expectant. her lips against yours, breathing you in, as soft as ever. like she’s afraid of getting too greedy. she tastes like nectar and cosmetics.

“give me some time,” she says, after pulling back. hands on your waist, squeezing softly. “i’ll make you another cup right now.”

”sure you don’t want me to do it?” you ask. “i don’t mind.”

another little scoff. offended. ”look, i’m not incompetent, okay? i’m just not used to it.” she untangles herself from you, warmth slipping away. you will yourself not to chase it. “just stand there and look pretty for me.”

and she smiles, when those words make you giggle, infected by your sleepy joy. something soft and silky blooms inside her ribcage, mirrored by the glimmer in your eyes when you intertwine your hands again. fingertips brushing against each other, delicate, a love that’s handled with care.

”.. i like making you coffee,” you whisper after a beat. smiling. under your breath, like you’re telling her a secret. ”it makes me happy.”

a moment passes. something in shoko’s bones still, for a second, enough for you to notice. and her eyes fill with a kind of hesitance. doubt, maybe. or fear.

when shoko opens up to you, it’s always like this. sleepy, rainy days, or tipsy afternoons. in no more than a whisper, a fragile breath, the ghost of a confession. when you can feel her heartbeat, one finger on her wrist, listening to the rhythm of her pulse. intimate. a little clumsy, but…

”i just don’t want you to spend too much of yourself on me.”

the words are spoken in passing, almost casually, a lighthearted kind of resignation. a hungry ghost. one that follows her, follows you. suguru and satoru, too. there’s a lump in her throat, you can tell, something that makes it a little harder to say what she means. an intimacy that frightens her in a way nothing else can; frightened to hold it in her palms, to keep it close without having it break apart.

(not just her — you all are. all four of you. that’s why you've always been together, you think, why you always will be. four hedgehogs huddling together in the cold of night, too desperate for warmth to stay away from each other's spines.)

carefully, almost cautiously, you bring her hand to your lips. as if you’re handling a flimsy sheet of glass. featherlight, a touch so tender you hope she knows what you’re about to say before the words leave your throat.

“you’re worth it,” is whispered against her skin, your lips against her knuckles. shoko softens, but you think the sigh that slips from her lips sounds just a little shaky. “always.”

and finally, you know you aren't deluding yourself. it’s there, visible, the cherry red of her ears; a red that matches the lipstick on your skin. a flush that never travels down to her face. but it’s enough.

she clears her throat. voice beginning to change shape, slowly but surely, morning fatigue peeled off with the ticking of the clock. there’s still a raspy residue, leftover smoke that’ll never quite leave her lungs, but it’s silkier now. trickling like honey from her parted lips.

and it’s terribly soft, her tongue twisting around the vowels, a low lilt that drips with tenderness. she wills herself to smile. tired, but fond. “just let me make you one cup, then.”

so you do.

you let her, after briefly pointing out the functions of the far too expensive espresso machine that satoru bought you when you first moved in, and she listens intently. those pretty eyes, the intelligence behind them, her lips pursed in focus. shoko’s a genius, you’ve always thought — so effortlessly good at memorization, at figuring out how things work. what ties everything together. 

you think it’s a little comical that she struggled so much with making coffee, of all things, but you choose to attribute it to her slight hangover.  

because she’s focused, when she begins to fiddle with the machine. attentive. as if she’s dissecting it. a satisfaction in the way she moves, the way everything clicks into place as she works. everything serves a purpose, every single part in the machinery, every tube or pump of caffeine. she compares it to the human body, a glint in her eyes, and you can’t disagree.

all you can do is watch her. silently, entirely mesmerized. sitting on the kitchen counter, bare thighs against the marble, swinging your legs. telling her about the dream you had, while she listens. always.

a fresh, thick aroma of espresso and rainwater begins to waft through the apartment. one you drink in, greedy, steam filling your lungs. as you admire how the tiny droplets bounce off the hyacinths blooming on your balcony.

and when she’s finished, producing one cup of espresso, tailored to your liking, you can’t still the beating of your heart. unsure if you should blame it on the caffeine yet to enter your veins, or the proud smile that lingers on your girlfriend’s lips. maybe the way her fingers curl around the handle, the way a soft here, baby, spills from her smudged lips. all of the above, probably.

she’s gorgeous. breathtaking. sometimes you want to give her everything, more than you could live without. your heart, your lungs, your eyes. anything she asks for.

but she would never. all she’ll ever need is for you to keep sticking around, keep telling her about your silly dreams, keep letting her feel the beat of your pulse at the base of your throat. a mantra she’s fallen a little bit in love with.

and when you put your lips against the ceramic, and a bittersweet scent fills your lungs, you think you can taste it. that care, a love soft enough to mend all the jagged edges of your heart.

shoko smiles. smoothing a stray eyelash from your skin, thumb against your cheekbone. “how is it?”

(you swear it’s the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.)

[keegansshark]

birthday girl cherry here with a wee request about my favorite scot <33 i NEED a little something about birthday sex with soap. preferably nasty, feral fucking 🫣 totally up to you, but i would love it if the piece included face licking, squirting, and elements of a breeding kink :3

love you and your writing!! <333

cw: 18+, minors dni, fem!reader, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, squirting, dirty talk, spit, face licking, breeding kink, creampie, porn with plot, johnny is very horny (this is a warning in itself)

summary: birthday sex and johnny's a freak

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy birthday sweet girl <3 love you so much

“I really don’t kno’ why ye dressed up so nicely anyways.”

“Huh?” You nearly choke on the bite of food in your mouth, staring at Johnny incredulously from across the table. “Of course I’d dress up, it’s my birthday dinner.”

“Ah know it is. You look like an angel. And now I’ll have tae tear that pretty little dress off of ye so I can ruin ye.” Johnny sighs, completely nonchalant as your mouth drops open at the bluntness of his words. 

“Johnny. We’re in public.” you hiss, feeling your face heat up as he flashes that classic MacTavish grin at you. You’re very much in public at a very expensive restaurant that he insisted on taking you to, but that doesn’t deter him from running his mouth. In fact, he might even see it as encouraging.

“And?” he counters, beaming brighter when your glare turns more into a warning. “Dinnae act like it’s a mystery on what we’re gonna do tonight.”

“You’re awful, Johnny.” you mutter, downing the last of your water as you lean back in your chair. “Can’t spend one evening without you thinking with the wrong head.”

He hums contently, pleased at the way he riled you up. That was his plan all along. It’s working. “Never did tell me what ye wanted for yer birthday.” He’s quick to switch the subject, knowing it’ll get you even more flustered.

“What I want is for you to have some manners.” The waiter swings by the table to drop off the bill and you thank whoever is watching out for you that Johnny knows enough to keep his mouth closed for just a few moments.

“You wound me, sweetheart.” He mockingly clutches his chest, chuckling when you kick him under the table. “Not my fault that looking at ye makes me think such dirty thoughts all the time.” 

He tilts his head, clearly weighing the consequences of whatever he’s going to say next.

“It’s also not my fault you look so gorgeous I cannae help but imagine all the ways I’m gonna fuck ye.”

You swallow roughly as he tosses a few bills onto the table, quickly standing up to wrap his arm around your shoulders and direct you out of the restaurant.

He leans in while you make the walk to his car, nipping at the shell of your ear and making you gasp. “And if you keep looking like that, I’ll simply have to take ye right in the backseat, bonnie.”

You don’t even make it past the living room. You’re lucky you make it past the front door.

Johnny unceremoniously shoves you onto the couch the second both of you step inside your house, hiking your dress over your stomach and gripping the delicate lace of your panties to fully tear it off of you.

“Och, dinnae act like ye aren’t aware I’ve already bought a couple new pairs for ye.” he scoffs when he’s met with your unimpressed glare. “Besides, I think ye look better this way. Don’t need anything covering up what’s mine.”

Any argument you have against that dies the second he grabs onto your thighs, the rough calluses of his fingers digging into your soft skin as he lifts one leg over his shoulder to bury his head right into your pussy. 

“Yer lucky it’s yer birthday,” he huffs, nose bumping against your clit as he practically drools in between your thighs, his saliva mixing with the slickness you can feel is already coating your cunt. “The way you looked back there, if only ye could’ve seen how hard I was. Wanted tae, fuck, wanted tae pull you right into that restroom, bend you over the sink and fuck ye stupid. Only thing stopping me was wanting to be polite on yer special day.”

“You’re an absolute freak, y’know that Johnny?” you laugh breathlessly before it dissolves into a moan, your hand threading through his mohawk as he presses his lips against your clit and latches on, a few simple sucks making your hips jerk involuntarily.

“I can be worse. So much worse.” He has been worse. Will definitely continue to be worse too, but he’s feeling generous today. It’s evident through the way he noisily laps at your cunt, acting like a man starved as he uses his thumbs to spread your folds and flatten his tongue against them.

“Good thing we didnae have cake yet,” he groans against your pussy, his tongue quickly collecting all the slick of your arousal before he lowers it to press inside your entrance, curling it a few times before lifting his head again. “Got the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in yer pussy right here.”

He stares up at you with those delicate baby blue eyes of his, letting out a moan of his own as your fingers in his hair form a fist and you tug him back up to your clit.  “If only ye could see yourself right now. So beautiful when yer getting yer pussy ate.”

You whimper, grinding against his face as he alternates between suckling and nipping at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you as you feel yourself rapidly approaching the first orgasm of the night.

“You’re close, aye? Can feel you clenching on my fingers, so fuckin’ greedy.” He leans directly over your clit, opening his mouth as a fat load of spit covers over the swollen bud and his thumb rubs against it to make a sticky mess out of your pussy.  “It’s yer goddamn right to be greedy, especially today. I’m gonna need ye tae cum for me, sweet girl, need to kno’ I’m making ye feel good.”

The filth coming out of his mouth coupled with the way his fingers are thrusting inside of you perfectly are what sends you over the edge, crying out sharply as your fluids drench his face, leaving your thighs trembling against his head as he eagerly uses his tongue to clean up all of your cum left on your pussy.

“Gonna make ye do that again. Makes me lose my fuckin’ mind when you squirt on me like that.” he sighs, leaning back as he wipes the slick glistening on his chin and licks his fingers clean. You immediately prop yourself up to reach for his belt, letting out a low whine when he gently moves your hands away.

“Quit yer fretting, you’ll get my cock. Just not here. Need tae fuck ye proper, cannae do it on a couch. C’mon, love.” Johnny swiftly hooks his arm around your waist to toss you over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and landing a soft smack to your ass when you squirm in his grasp. “Dinnae give me that, I’ll manhandle you any day of the year. Nothing you can do about it.”

You bite back the ‘yes sir’ on the tip of your tongue, not wanting to boost his ego even more as he carries you to your room. “I’m more than capable of walking up some stairs, Johnny.” 

“Won’t be doing any walking once I’m done with ye.” he retorts, kicking open the bedroom door and dropping you onto the bed. “Won’t be doing much of anything if I can help it. If I haven’t fucked ye till yer legs are shaking and yer heads empty then I didnae do my job correctly.”

“Is that a promise?” you ask softly as Johnny moves to unzip your dress, your hands working in tandem to unbutton his shirt, the collar of which is now completely soaked with your juices. 

“It’s a given,” is his short response as he tugs your dress off of you, tossing it to the floor as you finally lose your patience and rip the rest of his buttons open. You let him shrug his shirt off to join your dress on the floor before staring down at the bulge evident in his dress pants.

“Christ, baby,” you mumble, fingers moving swiftly to undo his belt and shove his pants down to his thighs. There’s already a wet patch against his boxers, and you appreciate it as long as you can before you’re pushing them down as well to watch his erection spring up against his stomach. 

His dick is mouthwatering, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. A fat pearl of pre-cum already leaking from his tip, dripping against his abdomen. It must be throbbing, aching at being neglected for so long. 

“I did all that?” you breathe out, wrapping your fingers around the length of his cock to pump up and down slowly. “Just from eating me out?”

“Fuckin’ hell, you do this just from seeing you.” he inhales briskly, staring down at you jerking him off before he softly directs your hand away. “Cannae lie, eating that sweet pussy of yours definitely helped me too.”

He fully tugs down his pants and boxers, kicking them off towards the pile of clothes as he crawls up towards you. 

His mouth is on yours immediately, his middle and ring fingers finding their way back to your pussy and quickly sinking into you. Johnny uses his other hand to guide your head back onto your pillow, allowing his body weight to press you into the mattress as you moan against his mouth. He kisses you sloppily as his lips slot between yours to push his tongue into your mouth and swirl it over yours.

“So pretty, so fuckin’ pretty, baby. My pretty girl.” he croons, his lips trailing down to your neck, practically panting as his tongue laps at your pulse point. “Ye drive me crazy. Every time I fuck ye I’m thinking about when I get to make you cum again. Yer always on my mind, I swear tae you.”

His words being both simultaneously dirty and praising make your head spin, and at first it barely registers that his mouth is moving from your neck.  “Johnny, fuck…” you groan, nose scrunching as he drags his tongue across your cheek and leaves a trail of spit in it’s path. “You’re no better than a dog.”

“Can bark if ye want.” he grunts in response, not giving you any warning before spitting against your lips and smearing it around with the tip of his tongue. “Sorry, baby, need my mouth on you. Look so fuckin’ good under me.”

You’d let him do anything to you if he keeps fucking you like this, even if it’s just his fingers for now, and you have to admit that his tongue feels as good against your face as it does against your pussy. His hand that isn’t currently filling out your cunt moves to your shoulder, pinning you down as he licks all over your face, making your skin coated with his saliva.

Johnny pumps his fingers inside you a few more times, the squelching audible before he slowly pulls them out of you. You whimper at the sudden emptiness before throwing your head back against the pillow at the feeling of his cock grinding against your folds, the sensation making your pussy flutter around nothing. 

“Please… please, Johnny.” you cry out, rocking your hips back and forth desperately in an attempt to get any friction possible.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he murmurs as he grips his cock, tapping the head against your clit and slathering your slick all over it. “Birthday girl still has to use her words.” 

“Please fuck me already.” you whine, your nails digging into his biceps as you spread your legs wider around his hips. “Need you to fuck me, please.”

“Never get tired of hearing that.” He drags his cock against your pussy a few more times to gather up as much wetness as he can before finally pressing himself into you. You feel your cunt stretching around his girth to accommodate him, his tongue and his fingers having prepped you well but never enough for how thick he is.

His thrusts start slow and gentle, but Johnny isn’t a patient man, nor does he feel like holding himself back tonight. He lifts his leg up to reposition himself, before completely pounding his cock into you. It’s almost animalistic the way he loses himself in you, making you cling to him as your thoughts are consumed solely by Johnny and the way he’s making you feel. You breathe heavily, forcing your eyes open as you stare up at him.

Johnny looks as ravished as you feel; mohawk tousled from your fingers running through it and damp from sweat, his pupils blown out you almost can’t see the blue behind them. The thick, rough pads of his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he fucks you without hesitation, pushing himself as deep as he’s able to he watches the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in.

You feel him everywhere, his cock spearing you open while one of his hands moves to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan and he uses the opportunity to spit directly into your mouth, feeling it coat your tongue as you make eye contact while you swallow.

That must’ve set something off in him, because you’re instantly rewarded with him fucking you so perfectly it makes you see stars. “Just like that, Johnny! Right there, right-”

He cuts you off as he grips your hips harder to angle himself deeper, the head of his cock hitting the spongy spot inside of you perfectly. “Yeah, yeah, I kno’. Right there. Acting like I don’t kno’ yer pussy inside an’ out, like I haven’t made this pretty pussy my fuckin’ home.”

He leans down, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Think ye forgot I practically molded yer cunt to my liking, bonnie.” he whispers, his hips smacking against your ass with another thrust as if to prove his point. “Believe me, pretty girl, there’s nothing about you I haven’t memorized yet. And that includes all the ways I get tae make ye cum.” 

His hand moves from your breast to your stomach, gently kneading your skin as he continues to pump into you. “Wanna cum inside ye. Figured out what tae get you as yer gift.” He meets your eyes as he rubs soft circles against your stomach, smirking as he feels you clench down on him. “Yeah? Wanna have my baby? I’ll make you a mama, don’t even have tae ask.”

You don’t have it in you to reply, your mind feeling fuzzy as you feel the pressure build up inside you again. “Johnny, I’m so close, so so close, I can’t…” you pant, your senses nearly overwhelmed from all the pleasure Johnny’s making you feel.

“I kno’, love. It’s a lot, aye? S’okay, you can be good for me and cum.” he coos, his hand going from your stomach to above your pussy, his thumbing working roughly against your clit.

You arch your back against the mattress with a mewl, his cock and his thumb on your clit working together to send you over the edge. He holds you steady as you squirt for the second time, your juices soaking over the dark curls trailing up his stomach and at the base of his cock. 

Johnny fucks you through your orgasm, his own following shortly behind yours. He dips his head to the crook of your neck, sighing out your name as his hips stutter and he finishes inside you, hot ropes of semen coating your pussy as his thrusts slowly slow down. He keeps his cock where it is, allowing his cum to be plugged up in your cunt.

He collapses on top of you, panting and trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. He wraps his arms around your waist, cuddling you tightly as he looks down at you with love in his eyes.

“So good to me. Happy birthday, my girl.” Johnny murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he cradles you against him, your chests rising and falling in unison. “Love you so much. You have a good time tonight?”

“I love you too.” you smile warmly, catching your breath as your lips meet his. “I’m having a great time, Johnny, all thanks to you.” You try to lift yourself up from under him, before feeling his grip against you tighten ever so slightly.

“Where do ye think yer going, bonnie?”

“Don’t you need to take a breather?” you ask quietly, your confusion evident as he shakes his head and guides you back down against the mattress.

“Dinnae think for a second that I’m done with you.” he grunts, pulling his cock out just enough for you to feel his cum run down your thighs and onto the bed sheets before he thrusts into you again.  “I’ll make this a birthday to remember.”

[ironunderstands]

Double Indemnity, Spellbound and how a retroactive plot twist kicked the communities ass (which also has some VERY interesting implications for Aventio)

I had a very enlightening conversation on TikTok about the nature of these two romance/thrillers, and while unfortunately, I have no idea how to watch them, the plot synopses I’ve seen and analysis other people have made have caused me to come to this conclusion/interpretation of these references:

On the first viewing of the Double Indemnity questline, the reference to the DI movie is meant to be played straight, with Aventurine and Ratio being just as doomed to fail as they are in the movie, and their relationship as equally as toxic and fake.

On second viewing, it’s the complete opposite, and the track (and other movie reference) you receive at the end, Spellbound, proves it.

Let’s start with Double Indemnity.

Also disclaimer I’m gonna be over simplifying the plot/themes of these movies because a) both are singular references, DI is only referenced in the name of the quest itself and Spellbound is only referenced in a track you receive once you complete DI, and references this small probably aren’t meant to be anything more than a fun Easter egg for those who notice it b) this is hoyoverse they aren’t clever enough for that anyways c) the nature of references isn’t going to be having everything be the exact same anyways, so I’m just going to go with the overall interpretation of DI + Spellbound/their impact, picking the stuff which aligns with the actual plot of the DI quest, I don’t care what happens in one frame at 30:01.56 minutes in and neither do the writers

Anyways, how does the Double Indemnity reference on the first viewing seem?

On our first play through of the Double Indemnity quest, we are made to believe that Dr. Ratio and Aventurine do not trust each other, but they are begrudgingly working together for the sake of stealing Penacony for the IPC. Then, Aventurine makes it seem as if he wishes to use the singer Robin’s- also the sister of Sunday, the head of the Oak Family and the one they are negotiating with- death as a means to pressure Sunday into forking over some of the Family’s secrets, which Aventurine will then use against him in future negotiations.

With this setup, the Double Indemnity reference is a solemn warning- Aventurine and Ratio will fail.

You see, in the movie, Phyllis Dietrechson intends to kill her husband in order to earn the money from the Double Indemnity clause (which is a real legal thing btw!), roping in one Walter Neff when he falls for her. However, their relationship isn’t stable and in the end, Walter betrays Phyllis, ratting her out to the investigator Keyes, ultimately meaning they don’t earn the DI clause, also killing Phyllis in the process.

Hopefully you can already see where I’m going with this, but it’s time to draw some fun parallels.

Sunday is Keyes, Ratio is Walter, Aventurine is Phyliss and Robin is Phyliss’s husband.

Although Aventurine a) isn’t married to Robin and b) he didn’t actually kill her, he is the one who witnessed her “death” and in the first viewing of the Double Indemnity quest, we are made to believe he intends to profit off of it, although this time the payout isn’t money: it’s Penacony.

To do this, he enlists the help of Ratio- albeit not seducing him, but still convincing him to help nonetheless- and together they go to meet Sunday for negotiations.

However, Ratio “betrayed” Aventurine, ratting him out to Sunday behind his back and informing him of his plan, which mirrors how Walter confesses to Keyes. This results in Aventurine being sentenced to death, much like how Phyllis dies by Walter’s hand, Aventurine seems like he will die by Ratio’s, calling him a wretch before slinking off.

And there you go, their partnership is as doomed as the one in the movie, failing because their trust + love didn’t hold up till the end, a devious foreshadowing.

At least, that’s how it seems on the first playthrough.

Because Aventurine and Ratio’s plan SUCCEEDS.

And on the second viewing, knowing that the betrayal is fake, you realize they succeed because they do the one thing the people in DI (and I’ll get to Spellbound) DONT do- they actually TRUST each other.

Ratio and Aventurine’s plot is a success. And it’s because they deliberately made it seem like they were doing a Double Indemnity plot. Like they were going to make the same mistakes as the characters in the movie. Sunday falls for the false appearance hook, line and sinker, and that’s his downfall.

They win because they TRUST each other, you can even say because they actually LOVE each other, unlike the characters in the movie, where it’s more list than anything else. Walter and Phyllis don’t make it together to the end but Ratio and Aventurine DO, and they get to continue on with their lives because of it. The reference to Double Indemnity in this quest is genius because it works both before and after you learn the retroactive twist of Penacony. It makes you believe Aventurine + Ratio are doomed to fail, and it makes you realize they were always going to succeed, expertly dawning the false appearances Sunday expects from them, becoming literal actors playing out the roles of two people who will fall short due to their selfishness. Sunday believes he’s seen this film before which is why he BUYS IT, and god it’s just beautiful looking back on it. He thinks he’s Keyes about to uncover a dastardly plot to profit off his sisters death, and in turn he paints Ratio and Aventurine with the identities of those he believes would do such a thing, which they do their best to play into. Ugh it’s amazing.

And now, for Spellbound.

You receive this track after completing Double Indemnity, containing the description above.

Now, this is a reference to Spellbound, another one of Hitchcock’s films.

The main characters in this one are Dr. Anthony Edwards, a man suffering from amnesia, and Dr. Constance Peterson, a psychoanalyst who he was meant to replace, who discovers a dark secret about Edward’s while they fall for one another; he’s an imposter. He believes he killed the real Dr. Edward’s, but she thinks he’s just suffering from a guilt complex. Fake Edward’s goes missing, and the real Edward’s assistant arrived and informs them that he’s missing. She finds Fake Edward again, living under the pseudonym John Brown, and although he tries to leave, she convinces him to stay, telling him that with the help of her mentor, psychoanalysis can help recover his lost memories.

Through an incredibly complicated psychoanalysis of dream, Constance begins to uncover the truth- learning the person who believes himself to be Dr. Edward’s (and is using the pseudonym John Brown) is actually a man named John Ballantyne. Ballantyne accidentally caused the death of his younger brother in the past, resulting in his deep guilt, as well as recalling the location where the real Edwards died- skiing off a cliff to his death. With his memories, they find the body, but it has a bullet wound, so Ballantyne is taken into custody.

However, her boss, Dr. Murchison lets it slip that he actually used to know (and didn’t like) Dr. Edwards, and through another complicated sequence gets him to confess his guilt and ultimately kill himself, which frees Ballantyne, ending the movie with the two going on a honeymoon.

So, what does this mean in the context of the quest line?

Well, let’s say Ballantyne and Constance are representative of Ratio and Aventurine respectively.

“Every psychoanalyst must first have someone else diagnose them.”

If we read Aventurine as the psychoanalyst (Constance) and Ratio as the diagnoser/doctor (Ballantyne), it reveals an interesting interpretation.

That being that they knew the truth from the start/ they had already succeeded.

Or in other words, unlike in Double Indemnity, in Spellbound, they actually succeed.

In the film, Constance is the one doing the diagnosing, the one trying to figure out the truth, and you can see that in Aventurine pretending he’s trying to find out the truth behind Robin’s death. However, in the DI quest, it’s the opposite. Ratio’s as Ballantyne is the one doing the diagnosing for the psychoanalysist, Constance, or rather, Aventurine.

To diagnose someone, you must be very familiar with them, or at the very least the ailment plaguing them, and Ratio he knows Aventurine through and through at the start, and what plagues him (his own sense of meaninglessness) unlike the protagonists in Spellbound who despite falling for one another quickly, don’t begin being intimately familiar with one another.

In this way, they have already succeeded. Aventurine and Ratio already know one another, and while they might not know the reason behind Robin’s death, that was never what they were searching for in the beginning, meaning they effectively can skip through all the drama (aka the ups and downs of Spellbound, finding out the truth behind Robin’s/Edwards’ death), and reach their happy ending- a honeymoon; or in DI’s case, Aventurine attaining his cornerstone, and fulfilling his end of the plan.

Interestingly, Aventurine slots into the role of Ballantyne and Ratio as Constance equally well, with the phone call Constance makes to save Ballantyne being reminiscent of the note Ratio makes to save Aventurine, as well as Aventurine being the replacement, or in the sense, the one to find the truth about Robin.

Personally, I think Aventurine and Ratio are reminiscent of both the main leads in Spellbound, which is why it’s complicated to discern the meaning of the reference. Oh how I wish I knew what the original Chinese description for this was (if you do please tell me 🙏).

Is it just meant to signify them being in love? Is it meant to signify that they will succeed, due to how well they know each other? Is it both, which is what the inclusion of Double Indemnity (the movie) suggests?

Either way, it adds onto the already present idea that the trust between Aventurine and Ratio is what allowed them to succeed in Penacony, and that’s not just something expressed by these movie references.

Think Aventurines Eidolons: Stag Hunt Game and Prisoner’s Dilemma, both of which are game theories about trust. Or how Aventurine says that Ratio knows him best, or how Ratio entrusts Aventurine with close secrets of his, like him being the “Genius” of the council of Mundanites.

“Do you trust me?” “That depends on you.”

These are 2 lines in their 2.0 conversation that really stick out to me. Ratio will always offer his trust so long as Aventurine can prove himself worthy of it, and as we have seen, Aventurine always delivers, proving himself long before Penacony in the Final Victor lightcone, albeit in his weird homoerotic way.

Therefore Ratio will always trust him.

And because of that, they win.

Now whether you take the deep trust between them to be romantic or platonic, or infer the literal honeymoon at the end of Spellbound to mean something for Aventio, either way the feeling absolutely there, and it’s crucial for an understanding of their relationship.

Also damn, the retroactive plot twist fucking slaps.

[anonymouscheeses]

They are everything to me.

[pensymbols]

ah yes the brook/franky/robin/jimbei polycule also known as the babysitters also known as monkey d luffys biggest enablers

[nateezfics]

hongjoong’s vlog is so boyfriend coded, and he did that intentionally. this man knows our delulu asses love this type of content from him, cuz he’s aware of how down bad we are :))

[jadewritesficshere]

Happy Birthday

Steve Harrington x female!reader

Summary: Steve gets a video from you for his birthday.

Warnings: masturbation (male and female), f masturbation on video, pet name (baby), no use of y/n

18+ only

Steve sighed contentedly as he flopped onto the couch. He propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. He surveyed the destruction across his living room and smiled. Balloons were strewn about, streamers falling off the walls, and random cups that had been forgotten. Robin had thrown a surprise party, and though part of him thought he was too old for a party being in his 20s, he couldn't help but feel elated. Cherished even.

He glanced at the pile of gifts he had received. Eddie had gotten him an album, Nancy had given him more clothes in yellow, and Robin had gotten him tickets to a hockey game. You had given him three movies: one was a favorite of his, the other a new release he had wanted to watch, and then a home movie. You had asked him to watch it alone, claiming it was too embarrassing to show everyone and that you had been emotional in it. You made him promise, and Steve tried not to break his promises.

Steve hoped you were emotional because you confessed you liked him. Steve and you had a flirty relationship, but neither of you had "officially" said anything. One drunken make out session kiss was enough to fuel his fantasies for months, a kiss that you didn't seem to remember. Steve wasn't sure if he should bring it up, afraid of rejection. He wondered if you were silent for the same reason, or if you didn't even remember.

However, you could be emotional because one of the times you had your camera, you had found a stray dog. Both you and Robin were bawling about how the dog had been abandoned, leaving him as he wrestled with the dog from hell. Steve cursed that stupid rat dog, he would even curse the breed if he knew it, as it had scratched him relentlessly. Giving the dog a bath was funny in retrospect, but at the time Steve was fuming over this dog soaking both him and Robin and causing Robin to somehow fall into the tub, yanking Steve down with it. Of course, you were recording the whole time. The only good part was hearing your laugh.

Or maybe it was the time everyone had went to the lake. A seagull, which made no sense to Steve as it was the lake and not the sea, had stolen Eddie's sandwich. Eddie had taken off chasing the bird, yelling and cursing the whole way. Steve remembered laughing so hard he was crying, and he remembered the way your face had beamed at him. The way you pushed the hair out of his eyes.

Or it could be the party where everyone had gotten drunk, except for him. Sure, he had done a few keg stands in his days, but he wanted someone to be sober to take care of you. You had been rambling about something before stopping and calling him "pretty". He had blushed and tried to deny it, somehow making you think that he didn't find himself pretty. You had started trying to convince him, getting more sad that he felt bad about himself. Which Steve didn't feel bad about himself, but he wasn't going to complain as you gave him compliment after compliment. You even wrapped your arms around him and cuddled him. You were so warm in his embrace. How he wanted to embrace you in other ways.

Steve snapped the VHS case open and stared at the tape. He was alone now and his mind was going crazy with what ifs. He probably was overthinking it. He popped the VHS in the player and grabbed the remote before sitting back on the couch. He hit the power on and-

Steve's eyes widened and he dropped the remote. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but seeing your chest in red lacy lingerie was not it. The swells of your breasts pushed up slightly. He wanted to kiss and suck at your chest. Red lace contrasting against your skin. Your chest moving up and down as you breathed. Your hand comes into view and gently grasps your breast, squeezing it. Steve wished it was his hand.

Steve inhaled deeply and his hand shook. Holy. Fuck. His jeans were unbearably tight as he watched you slowly remove the bra. Your nipples were hardened-God, how he wanted to lick and tease them. You pinched one and let out a moan. Steve wanted to make you moan like that, but just hearing you? He was harder than he ever had been in his life. You sounded sweeter then anything he could imagine. You sounded like an angel, and he was in Heaven.

Steve unbuttoned his jeans and peeled them down enough for his cock to bob up and hit his navel. He was already leaking. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around his hardened length. He focused back on you and-

Steve moaned. You had moved the camera down to the red lacy panties you were wearing. "See that Baby?" You were out of breath, barely speaking above a whisper as you traced a finger over your clothed pussy. A damp spot was noticeable in the fabric and you sighed as your finger traced over the spot," See how wet I am for you, Baby?"

Steve's eyes closed instinctively before he snapped them open. He didn't want to miss a second of this. Steve's hips bucked into his hand as he stroked up and down his dick. On screen, you removed your panties, and his mouth watered. Steve bit his lip as he got a clear view of your pussy. You were so wet; he wanted to lick every drop. He wanted to taste your arousal. He wanted to hear you scream and writhe against his tongue as you came. He wanted his face covered in your release.

Your fingers on screen played with your clit before circling your weeping hole. One of your fingers easily slid in due to how wet you were. Steve moaned at the site of you adding another finger and pumping in and out. You moaned and ground against your hand. You added another finger and Steve couldn't help but think of how small your hands were and that it wouldn't even prepare you for his dick. As you picked up your pace and started to buck your hips wildly, Steve sped up to be at the same pace as you. He imagined that it was his cock spreading you open. How wet you would be. How warm. How tight. Your mouth dropping open in pleasure, your whimpers under him (or over him he wasn't picky).

"Steve!" You let out a gasp and moaned on screen, fingers getting drenched by your release. "Oh fuck shit fuck," Steve rasped out in between whines as he came all over his hand. His chest was heaving. Brain foggy from pleasure. His hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat. Steve sighed as he grabbed a napkin off the table and cleaned his hand, rubbing at the hem of his shirt that had gotten dirty. He looked back up on the screen to see your smirk. "Call me Stevie, next time you could do this to me yourself." The screen went black as you covered it with your hand. He could faintly hear,"Oh God what did I just do fuck ok this is fine, he'll like it right?" It took Steve all of two seconds to jump up and grab his car keys to head to you. Oh he definitely liked it. Fuck calling you though. The only calling that would be happening tonight was you calling his name.

[lemonycinnamon]

WHY DOES BRAD LOOK INSANE THIS WHOLE MOVIE i love him. max is so cute btw, the way he laughed when he got a kiss after he won the X-Games omfg <3

[brainrotcharacters]

It says a lot about how 2/3 of my top posts happened during the Honda hatefuck

[hyunpic]

[sheepthatgobaa]

Satan shower card edit because WHY IS HE WEARING SHORTSS 🤬🤬‼️‼️‼️

also plopped some headcanons and better lighting on him :3

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.

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One with less steam on his ass because it started off as a joke but I am NOT a coward:

[onehundredfallenpetals]

Flower picking at night

[last-in-line-for-hell]

*rings bells* WEI WUXIAN IS A NERD!! He loves learning and applying his knowledge in new and creative ways! He’s INCREDIBLY insightful and perceptive! He keeps notes and creates unparalleled inventions! He knows people and even knows politics! He develops answers and theories on the fly! Please I beg for people to stop calling him an idiot all the time 😭🙏🙏