#go down a beltloop or two

[to2llynottoby]

had trouble with just ten pushups not too long ago but now i can bang out 30 no problem. feels good man

[mv1simp]

inspired by my fav @piastrification thank you for being in my walls 🫶🫶 hope you enjoy!!

Streets ♥️

Max Verstappen x PR Manager!Reader

we play our fantasies out in real life ways, and no final fantasy, can we end these games, though?

6 months ago, F1 champion Max Verstappen traded in his status as "serious cat dad with road rage issues" for "Genius. Playboy. Millionaire. Philanthropist". Since then you've been fighting absolute demons as his PR manager to keep his reputation clean in the media. After you tell him you've had enough, he proposes a very interactive solution to your problem.

Content includes: Humour, crackfic, fluff, so much sexual tension, 18+ MDNI, smut, playboy!max, exasperated manager! reader, a very well rounded fic for once?! 4.7k WC

If someone asked you where it’d all gone downhill, you’d have to say it started because of that greedy paparrazi rat Henri - photographer at the MonacoDaily, otherwise known as every PR manager’s sleep paralysis demon. Because this particular paparazzo had a nasty knack for capturing celebrities just as they made the most atrocious decisions known to mankind. And he had an even nastier knack for threatening to sell said photos to the highest bidder. Truly, it was a dark day for any media team when they were forced to bargain with such a foul demon, who’d be able to go toe to toe with the likes of Satan himself.

So when your phone dinged at 5am on a peaceful Sunday morning, only to reveal the 7th (7th!!) message this month from the very same greedy little rat, you threw it across the room. Only to then remember you devastatingly had not been born into a Dubai oil family and you needed this job to pay Monaco rent. The text turns out to be a photo of your aggravating client - Max Verstappen, F1 champion driver, loving father to two cats, and more recently, certified manwhoreTM. He’s living upto your nickname for him, pictured in some nightclub with a half naked blonde sitting on his lap. Alright, alright, not as bad as you were expecting, you could even photoshop the girl’s hair colour to match his current girlfriend’s one maybe? Well, except the brunette woman glaring behind him is his current model girlfriend of the month. You hear a ding, another text from Henri - this time with just a 😈 and 💸👀. You throw the phone back against wall.

Three hours later you’ve cleaned up the PR nightmare and are banging on Max’s apartment door. He blearily lets you in, shirtless and still looking half drunk, but you don’t hesitate to yank him by his beltloops and drag him to the dining table (after quickly checking out that broad chest of his, though, cause goddamn. You’re just a girl.)

Ow, ow, what the hell, Max groans as he’s shoved into a chair. Please. As if you could do any real damage in your 5 foot frame to the 6 foot driver. Slamming your hands on the table for some dramatic flourish (you’re never beating the theatre kid allegations) you give the Dutchman a piece of your mind, demanding to know what his problem is, does he know how many people you’ve had to bribe this month to stop #SluttyMaxEra trending on twitter?? And yes, you know he broke up with Kelly 10 months ago but can’t he just process this healthily and go to therapy instead of having a hoe phase and hooking up with every third woman in Monaco?

Max looks insulted at this slight to his honor. He retaliates by accusing you of buying into the patriarchy and slut shaming him (-That’s not how that works but pop off king, is your deadpan response), and telling you he’s very much over Kelly, okay, it was an amicable breakup (-Sure, Verstappen, that’s why you’d only played Lana Del Ray for a whole month afterwards, huh?) and well, what’s the issue, he’s a hot and rich guy in Monaco, it’s not his fault women just want him? Would it not be #misogynistic of him to deny women the opportunity to explore their sexuality?! He smirks, pleased with his defence.

You groan, slumping down on a chair and burying your face in your hands, muffling your groan of wholesome cat dad Max comeback whennn. Max rolls his eyes at your theatrics, asking if you’d finally lost the plot.

You try cleaning up the PR messes you’ve been making, Max Emilian, you hiss furiously, remember Ibiza? Santorini? The goddamn yacht party over summer break when he got with the captain and her deputy?! (Even now, thinking of that leaking online gives you heartburn.)

Which yacht, Max says cockily, the one where he got with them one after another or at the same time?

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t even known about the threesome, so you suppose you should be grateful that wasn’t another mess to clean up. But a deeper, insecure part of you can’t help but wonder why the only woman Max doesn’t seem to want is you.

And sometimes you can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be one of his girls, under his strong body for once instead of on the other side of his hotel wall, having to drown out the very satisfied female moans and headboard bangs with noise cancelling headphones. Like always, you push that thought down quickly.

You, good sir, are for the streets, you announce, standing up and deciding it was time to leave before your delulu, jealous thoughts decided to resurface. Seriously, you mutter under your breath, you didn’t care if his current side quest was to fuck 10 times a week, but could he at least stick to one person for a bit and not make more work for you-

Max’s hand slams the front door back closed as you started to open it. You freeze, turning back to look at him smirking down at you. You hadn’t expected him to follow you down the hallway and you gulp nervously for the safety of your job - you might have taken the roasting a bit too far.

Instead, you get a sly, Oh, so I can do whatever I want, wherever I want, just with one person?

At your awkward nod, because yes, that would significantly ease your workload, he continues, enjoying teasing his uptight, pretty manager - then were you gonna offer yourself up? After all, there’s no PR messes to find out about if it’s you, right?

You blink at Max, completely stunned by the 180 this conversation has taken. Your expression is so adorable that he couldn’t resist a you’re so cute when you’re acting all jealous, you could’ve just asked if you wanted him to fuck you, ya know?

That promptly reminds you you’re dealing with an an absolute manwhore. RIP celibacy era Max, you’ll always be famous.

Um, absolutely fucking not, keep your STDs to yourself, you hiss, flushing head to toe, and furious at the desire in you to give into the devilish proposal. He encourages you to think about it, still smirking, relaxing his grip so you can mercifully flee far away from his intense gaze. Jesus, when did he learn to rizz a girl up like that?!

You don’t take his proposal seriously at all, ignoring his cocky looks at you over meetings all week (also, he’d texted you his clean STD result to assure you he was a #SafeSexKing.) But that weekend, your refusal comes back to haunt you when you’re on a well deserved night out with your girlfriends and your PR manager senses start going off. You narrow your eyes as you spot Max in the dark corner of the nightclub, hands all over a mystery redhead. She’s not going to be a mystery much longer though - if you’d spotted them it was a matter of time before fan’s phones did and then you’d wake up to another goddamn text from your sleep paralysis demon, Henri.

You don’t even have to think about it twice. Saying goodbye to your friends, you’re at Max’s side at a very impressive speed given your 6 inch stilettos and tight sparkly minidress, and once again dragging him off by the beltloops and into an open bathroom.

He lets you yank him away, smirking when he sees you lock the door for good measure. Sweetheart, he greets. So good to see you. Finally realised you couldn’t resist me?

You practically climb him like a tree while telling him to shut the fuck up and pay attention at media training day next time, because what kind of PR crisis did he have unfolding out there? And just this once you’ll help him out, you say breathlessly in between deep kisses, but this isn’t a regular thing -

There’s not much more talking from you because he has you moaning up against the wall next, fingers buried inside your tight little pussy as he talks you through an orgasm, and then another when he splits you in half on his cock. (Once again, manwhore, who carries a condom in their jean pockets?!)

Unfortunately for your self control but very fortunately for your sex life, it is not in fact, a “one time thing”. Your trusty rose vibrator is glad for the break as you’d been taking your year long frustrations at your dry spell out on her. Especially when coming home after staying in hotels where you’d had to book out rooms neighbouring Max’s, so no one else overheard the raunchy vocals of different women every night.

Like Max said, with you, there were no more illicit PR messes to find out about in the middle of the night. You’d redirect him everytime he gave you bedroom eyes (At the pre race debrief. Post race debrief. Weekly team plan meeting. Over zoom calls? Seriously?) - gently taking his large hand and guiding him to a much more hidden, PR crisis-friendly area. To your surprise, Max actually sticks to his word and only hooks up with you - admittedly, multiple times a week (Not that you’re complaining. Turns out he was just as good in bed as he was on the track. Except this time he was definitely not finishing first...)

And for a while, everything is going well. There are no more weekly scandals scattered across trashy celeb magazines about Max. Your boss is gushing with praise, so impressed that you’ve finally managed to talk some sense into Redbull’s problem child (ah, if only she knew, but she never would, because the goddamn CIA couldn’t torture this info out of you) and best of all, you haven’t gotten a text from papparazzi rat Henri in weeks!

So of course, Max Verstappen decides that things are getting just a little bit too quiet for his liking, you had to earn your generous PR manager salary, that he paid for, right? His new, numerous tactics to stir the pot had included:

Going to clubs with no private bathrooms so you’d had to sit on his lap in the VIP lounge as he pulled your panties to the side to slide into you, barely hidden under your flimsy dress. You’d held back your moans and prayed the bass was too loud for anyone to hear

Sitting right next to you at every team dinner or business meeting so that he could sneak a large hand up your thigh and tease your pussy for fucking hours, often just as you were about to speak. And when you’re clenching the table so hard your fingers were white, he’s bending under the table to pick up a pen or something but instead left teasing licks and kisses on your aching core. You'd learnt very quickly not to wear a skirt.

Picking you up in his 2 seater Aston Martin instead of the much more appropriate discreet, spacious, 5 seater Audi he owned - so when he was too pent up after a bad practise session to wait till he got home, he'd get you to go down on him right there in the car, sometimes even as he drove, instead of parking in some hidden backstreet. It was so dirty, that he needed you so desperately that he didn't care about being caught by anyone peeking in through the half tinted windows. Because if they did look, they’d find his head thrown back in pleasure as he moans, his fingers tangled in your curls as he moved your drooling, pink lips up and down his wide cock-

Anyways, you get the picture. And he’d escalated this all the way to the paddock, which was insane because there were always multiple cameras trained on the current F1 champion. It’s the one place you two couldn’t sneak off without a very high risk of being caught, as evidenced by the one and only time he'd managed to get under your skin in the garage. He'd had you pinned up against the wall in some narrow side hallway as he whispered how fucking sexy you’d looked today, wearing his hoodie to cover up the hickies you hadn’t realized you’d woken up with and paired with some tiny denim shorts. Having the 6 foot champion huskily groan that he couldn’t focus on his free practise everytime you bent over to pet a passing dog, or when you innocently sucked on the Redbull flavoured lollipops and then the goddamn ice cream from the truck they’d brought in - was quite the power trip, you admit. So you guided his lips from your neck as he tries to add to the growing bruises on your neck and redirected him to your waiting lips instead, steamily making out as his large hands squeezed your thick ass like he’d been thinking about all day-

Max?!?

You instantly pull back from the driver and turned to see a flabbergasted looking GP - Max’s race engineer. His jaw is wide open as he looked at you two with round eyes. You’re fumbling to explain, trying and failing to push Max back - who looks rather annoyed at the intrusion and semi-glares at GP with narrow eyes. You hiss at the younger man to stop being rude and slip underneath his arms, going over to guiltily apologise to GP only to be met with You too?! How did he get you in his bed, you hated how much of a slut he was! Seriously, does he have a magical dick? Now you stare at GP in shock, unsure of how to respond to his question while Max starts laughing behind you. You make him join you as you promise to GP that he will never have to witness this again, because there will be no unprofessional behaviour of any sort on the paddock after "BootyShorts Gate" as you thereafter dub the incident. Regardless, GP still shoots you both wary glances and begins the habit of announcing his arrival and waiting 10 seconds before turning a corner in the garage, earning him many an odd look. Dramatic, really, was this where Max gets it from?

Max, of course, was very displeased with this new “professionalism” rule you'd set down - on the paddock was when he'd get the most tense, the most horny and desperate to have you underneath him, after all - and he made sure you knew it. You deliberately ignored his heated gaze on you as you interviewed him, or his lingering touches when he helped you hold your microphone up to his much taller frame, large hand wrapped around your small ones clutching the mic. Or his recent favourite, which involved standing next to you to help pick out the insta pics post-race (something he'd notoriously always hated to do) - except now, he conveniently happened to be shirtless, his toned abs and broad shoulders on display, running a hand through his sweaty tousled hair.

This last seduction tactic had sent you fleeing to Checo's garage to seek out the other Redbull driver's PR manager and beg on your knees for a client swap, surely, the sponsor benefits are legendary for whoever Max's PR manager is -

Nope. Nuh uh, no way, Checo is the breeziest driver ever to look after. The other manager pauses. Well, except for the occasional political military coup scandal in Mexico. But still, I'd take that any day over El Manwhore.

You wailed at whatever Gods had decided to curse you and took matters into your own hands, furiously plotting up social media campaign idea after idea that were exactly the kind of thing Max hated with a burning passion - hoping it would get him to back off on his tactics and wave a white flag. From viral TikTok challenges, to making him read all his cringe 2008 tweets, and even making him play fuck, marry, kill with the drivers of the grid. You'd admit, that last one had been rather funny to watch, making you chuckle as you scrolled through the comments, liking "Can't believe we got Max Verstappen saying he would fuck Lewis, kill Pierre and marry Charles before GTA 6" and "does Redbull admin know she posted this on main?!"

But despite your best efforts, it didn't seem to deter Max. If anything, he'd begrudgingly do the task and end up laughing excitedly at you - who was holding the camera - about some joke or the other and make your stupid heart flutter. You knew you definitely should not be catching feelings for your client - who'd made it very clear his interest in you was only physical. But no one needed to know that sometimes you’d log into your fake account to like the "Who got max giggling and kickin his feet and shii?" comments.

Meanwhile, Max had caught wind of your desperation for an escape attempt with Checo’s manager and had upped the ante. He slyly mentioning to Christian Horner than you were doing such a great job as his PR manager, could he pretty please have you promoted to his general manager for his non racing publicity too?

And that's how you found yourself at a Dior Sauvage photoshoot, despite your adamant protests to Horner. You were putting your Masters of Business Adminstration, first class honours, to fantastic use by babysitting a 26 year old child who liked fast cars that went vroom vroom. The only redeeming factor is that you can leave the unflattering Redbull shirt at home since this wasn't for F1 publicity and instead wear a nice outfit for once. Still, you thought it was odd that Max had so easily accepted this campaign, as he wasn't normally one to enjoy doing PR.

A few minutes later you've figured out exactly why your favourite manwhore had agreed to this campaign, because he's grinning at you while posed shirtless, toned abs and broad shoulders all on display as some pretty, busty model is draped over him. The photographer is making this even more painful for you by dragging out the shoot, making Max and the model reposition herself multiple times. You roll your eyes at the scene, because obviously they're two very attractive people who will look good together no matter what, did the photographer really need to be so extra? You stalk off at some point to make yourself a hot chocolate in the hopes it'll sooth the flames of jealousy that are threatening to consume you right now. Max approaches you when a break is called, running a teasing hand along your waist from the back and whispering you looked so fucking hot in this tight maxi dress, making you nervously look around to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, all the staff appeared busy and didn’t look in the dim corner you'd settled into to do paperwork. You hiss at him to keep your hands to yourself, Verstappen making him grin and inform you that's not what you’d said last night, in fact, you were practically begging for him to do the exact opposite-

You're glaring up at him, seriously contemplating if it’s worth breaking your contract clause to "act in the client's best interests" and mauling him with your laptop when the photographer comes up to you both with narrowed eyes. You guiltily step back, thinking he overhead Max's suggestive comments, but instead he just looks back and forth between you two contemplatively. Then, just as you were about to ask him what the issue was, he announces that you'd be replacing the model as the female for the shoot. No questions asked! he announces as you try to protest and snaps his fingers at the makeup and wardrobe artists to demand they sort you out (he gestures rather dramatically to your whole figure when he says this, making you scowl).

So that's how you find yourself dressed in a silky gold minidress with a sultry eye look, pressed up against Max's broad chest and trying not to focus on the intimate position you two are in. Max, however, has no such qualms about the position, using it to tease you further. You've been looking extra tense lately, sweetheart, he breathes, those devilish lips brushing past your ear. I know a great way to make you relax? You growl at him to shut the fuck up because oh my god, did he know how many cameras are pointed at you both right now? Besides, you mutter under your breath, it seemed like he was very interested in relaxing with that blonde model earlier.

Fighting to keep the smug look of his face, Max whispers back that there was No need to be jealous, schatje, you were the only one getting access to his magical dick. So caught up in the game you two are playing, you don't even register the photographer excitedly snapping up pictures, proclaiming that he knew it, the chemistry between these two is unbelievable!

Afterwards, as you're walking off the photoshoot, feeling all hot and bothered from Max's hands running across your exposed skin, shamelessly looking you up and down, the blonde Dutchman catches up to you. He teases you that you were going to get wrinkles at 25 if you didn't stop scowling all the time. I'm older than you, you scoff back, by a whole 6 months, in fact, so maybe you should actually listen to me for once instead of pissing me off? No problem, Max agrees, after all, he's always had a thing for MILFs. You can't help snort at his retort and then start laughing when he tries to maintain an innocent look. At least you were away from the cameras in case someone heard this, you mused.

Unfortunately, you both don't notice MonacoDaily's ratbag paparrazo, Henri, hiding in nearby shrubbery with his camera. It had been far too long without a Verstappen news scandal, he thought with a satisfied smirk as he clicked away.

And later than night, after you'd eaten the chicken stir fry he'd cooked and rewatched Cars 2 (a surpassingly more regular occurrence, these days, to unwind with him at the end of the day instead of immediately being mauled the second you stepped foot in his apartment) you made sure he followed your orders for once. Sitting him back, telling him just how bad he'd been today with all his teasing (-well, it worked, didn't it, sweetheart?) you showed him just how good you were at playing the game, too. And soon, he was breathlessly moaning underneath you as you rode him for the first time, gripping his cock like you were going to milk every last drop, teasing him with just enough pace to get him worked up but not enough to send him over the edge. And you only let him cum inside you when he begged you sweetly, making you go fuzzy at the sight of the infamous Redbull playboy being so desperate for you, and only you.

Afterwards, once you've shampooed each other's hair in the shower while gossiping about how catty that makeup artist had been, really, to imply that your pretty curls had been the problem and not her shitty styling? and Max has got you spooned against him, warm in an old hoodie of his, pressing a goodnight kiss to your forehead, you can't control the warmth blossoming in your chest any longer. And as a content sleep takes a hold of you, you can't help but wonder if Max's affections went beyond physical attraction, just like yours’ were now doing.

It turned out the opportunity to find out this answer would come the very next day, when the ding of your phone wakes you up in the early hours of the morning. It’s a very specific sound that you've set for a certain ratbag - and you get war flashbacks, hearing it now after so long. Scrambling off the bed, ignoring Max's muffled groans as you shove his heavy arm of you, you unlock your phone and gasp in horror as your suspicions are confirmed. Henri has arisen from the ashes and this time it's to deliver his sauciest scandal yet. Because a picture tells a 1000 words, sure, but he has the two of you on a goddamn video, flirting and giggling at each other as you exited the studio yesterday. There's no chance of you talking your way out of this one, as Max's large palm wanders to give your thick ass a firm squeeze as he guides you into his passenger seat. Goddamn, you knew you shouldn't have worn that tempting skims maxi dress - Max was an ass (and tits) man who couldn't be trusted to control himself in public. BTW already sold this 🥸 Henri texts. Just a courtesy FYI cuz I brought a boat with the bag from this one ✌️

You contemplate if it would be better to disappear off the face of the planet, or get plastic surgery to become unrecognisable as you chug your morning Redbull while moodily looking over the Monaco sunrise. Max joins you after a few minutes, looking extremely cute as he rubs the sleep out of his baby blue eyes and asks you what's wrong, schatje.

Taking a deep sigh (like you said, #DramaKid), you break the news. I’m going to hold your hand while I say this (- that’s really not necessary, Max interrupts) - but you know celibacy exists, right? As does having sex in a private location without the risk of being arrested for public indecency?

True, Max agrees, but what was the fun in that? Besides, you were just too hot to resist. Ignoring the butterflies at his cheesy flirting, you hold up the incriminating video on your phone as proof that it was not all fun and games, as Henri had already sold this to multiple news outlets this morning, you inform glumly. Max is strangely silent, looking intently at the video and even replaying it a few times, his eyes crinkling as a soft smile appears on his face when he hears the sound of you two laughing. Then - in a truly unbelievable redemption arc plotline from the Monaco playboy - he asks if it would be so terrible, to have this made public, to let the world know that you were together?

Well, I - you stumble over your words, - I dunno, I thought you liked that? Keeping it secret cause you just wanted a convenient hook up?

Max is silent again. Then, looking uncharacteristically nervous, he says that's not what he wants, not really, not anymore - not since he'd fallen in love with you, somewhere along the 3 months of the friends with benefits/PR manager and her problematic client situationship you’d had. And like at the very start, you don’t even need to think about it twice. This time when you shyly smile and kiss him, you make sure he can feel your love through it and know that you wanted more, too.

So you walk into work that morning, holding hands in open defiance, ready for the world to see. You’re rather confused when no one seems to be paying much attention, instead frantically trying to get the set up ready for the pre race testing. Maybe you two had not been as indiscreet as you thought and people already suspected? Or maybe you both had a penchant for drama and thought you were the main characters when you clearly were not?

You look at each other, shrug, and you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’ll see him for lunch at the kebab shop on the corner, before he wanders off to the garage. Maybe Henri had a change of heart and decided not to exploit innocents for fame and money, you ponder hopefully. Maybe there truly was good in the world, after all.

And then you hear your name being called and turn to see your boss standing behind you menacingly, hands on hips. Care to explain why #MaxLovesMILFS is trending right now?

Somewhere along the Monaco waterfront, a paparazzi rat skulking in the bushes sneezes.

—————————————————————————

A/N: again thank you so much to @piastrification for inspiring this piece!! So sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy my attempt at branching out to other fics xx tysm to you all for the requests, I am working them into my upcoming fics!! 💖

[1pepsiboy]

Just Like A Movie (Matt Sturniolo fluff)

Description: After a morning of fliming, Matt wants to enjoy fall activites with his girlfriend (reader). Inspired the song by the Wallows and Matt's love for fall time.

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: None, just fluffy and silly Matt!

A/N: This is my first Matt writing, so sorry if it's not totally accurate! Lol I do requests! Currently anything Chris, Matt, Nick, and Colby!

----

Matt, Chris, and Nick were filming a guess 21 different halloween candies challenge. You sat on the couch behind the camera, scrolling through your phone but periodically looked up to glance at your boyfriend. Who would cheese when you did. Sometimes you'd make a silly face or comment, distracting him enough they'd have to restart part of the segment. Finally, they finish and Matt was the one closest to getting them all right. It wasn't surprising since he'd won guessing 21 different drinks.

Matt makes his way to the couch and wrapped his arms around you immediately. He nustles his head into your shoulder for a couple minutes and you run your fingertips up and down his back. Then he gives you a quick peck on the lips, mostly because Nick and Chris were still in the kitchen and they would make jokes about it.

You lick your lips and furrow your brows. "Hmm... I taste Snickers? No, Reese's?"

"(y/n)!" Matt whines lightly.

"Wait, wait, wait." You kiss his soft lips again. "It's Kitkat!"

A giggle escapes Matt and he lightly rolls his blue eyes. "Can we go do fall things, babe? Get away from those idiots over there. I've had enough of them today."

Nick flips him off as Chris fake laughs and makes a face. "So unoriginal Matt."

Now you roll your eyes. "Let's leave these losers to their lame things."

----

"I can drive if you want, babe," you suggest as you make it out the door after Matt changed his outfit to fit the vibe more. It's early afternoon now and barely a breeze to make it feel like a real fall day.

He shoots you a side smile and unclips the keys from his jean beltloop. "No, that's okay, I don't mind."

The two of you get comfortable in the front seats, starting up the recent playlist you created.

"Where to first?" you ask.

"What about... apple patch? Wait, I mean pumpkin picking... Fuck, I mean apple picking and then a pumpkin patch."

You reach out and lace your fingers with his. "I'd love to go to an apple patch and pumpkin picking. Maybe hot cocoa after?"

He nods and you put in the directions for the nearest apple picking farm. The two of you sing along. And you couldn't help pointing out people going about their daily lives. It takes up most of your conversation before you arrive at the farm.

Matt locks the car before he clips them back on the their loop and takes your hand. The apple farm was free to anyone, but they had a jar and square for donations/tips. You take out your card for them to do a $5 donation, and Matt doubles the amount.

You take a small basket and pull him over to one of the trees. Unfortunately most of the reachable ones were picked. But both of you still attempt to get one or two by running and jumping. You know you look like idiots, however you didn't care.

Matt gets a video of you as you finally acquire an apple and show it triumphantly. "That's right. No tree is a match for me! This apple is my bitch." You bite a chunk of the crispy green apple.

Matt laughs. "Babe, we're supposed to save them to make caramel apples!"

Your eyes go wide and you laugh as you chew it to a point you could speak. "Sorry, I can get another one."

He slips his phone back into his pocket as he shakes his head. "Let's try a different tree.

The second tree was a similar situation despite it just being on the brink of fall. There were a lot of early birds.

This time you get a story of Matt snagging two apples and he tries to not show how out of breath he is. "Ahh! Hah! I got some."

The two of you try two more trees and manage to get a few more.

There was a station for you to either bag them right away or make them caramel or chocolate covered before leaving. You spend far too long deciding on how many should be caramel and chocolate, and what toppings should be on them. You think of each brother and friend that'll want one. By the end, there's only one left and neither of you made one for yourselves.

"You choose," Matt says, kissing your cheek.

With creative intuition, you make it half and half, then smear all sorts of toppings on it and present it. Matt rests his hand on top of yours and takes a bite out of it.

"Mm..." he nods and runs a half through his hair, most of falling back in place. "I like what you did with the caramel and chocolate."

You take your own, attempting to lick the excess off around your mouth. "Delicious."

Your next stop was at a nearby pumpkin patch, which was also a little picked over. But there were still enough to enjoy and walk around a little bit. You pick up a few of the biggest ones you could find to get photos with.

Matt pulls you in for a selfie. His eyes squint as the sun is directly in your eyes and fumbles backwards. This causes him to run into a bundle of baby pumpkins and his butt lands on top of the stems.

"Fucking shit!" He groans as he holds onto his ass and rolls over on the ground.

You hold back a laugh and help him up. He paces back and forth a couple times.

"I'm done with the pumpkins," he sulks.

"Let's get hot cocoa to make it all better," you baby, jutting out your bottom lip.

He tries not to laugh but it didn't work.

----

You enjoy a small walk as you sip on hot cocoa, the sun starts to go down. You hold the to-go cup tightly between your palms in the hopes to warm up your hands. You forgot to bring any sort of warm layer. Once the sun is gone, it feels like fall now.

Matt shoots you a concerned look. "Are you cold, babe?"

"A little, yeah," you laugh under your breath.

"Here, wear my sweater, (y/n)."

"No, it's fine."

It's too late, he already took his jacket off and pulls the vintage sweater over his head. You take the sweater and tug it over your short sleeve tee. The warmth of the material and from him wearing it all afternoon engulfs your entire body. It sends shivers down your spine from the temperature adjustment.

Matt has his jacket back on and wraps his arms around you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. He kisses the crook of your neck. "Better?"

"Absolutely."

The two of you reminisce on your adventures of the day. Ultimately, though, it leads back to a few of the couples around you in the park. One were unashamedly having a full on make out session underneath a tree. Another were taking cutesy photos in matching outfits.

"You'll never catch us doing that," Matt comments.

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Did you forget the matching pj pants we had for christmas last year?"

"That doesn't count," he scoffs lightly. "It was only pants. I mean, like, top, pants, accessories, the whole fit. It's just cringy."

You giggle. "Whatever you say, Matty B."

"It is! Are you saying you want to do that?" He sips on his hot cocoa. "Cause that might be a deal breaker."

"Not seriously. More in an ironic way. Like those people on tiktok doing the 80s style photoshoots at JcPenny. Now that would be fun and not cringy!"

He shook his head. "No, nope."

"Come on!" you argue. "Think about the memories we could make!"

"Absolutely not, it would be embarrasing."

You roll your eyes. "That's kind of the point, babe."

"Still," he retorts.

"Fine." You sigh lightly. "I'll just ask Chris to do it with me. He won't care."

Matt shrugs, finishing the last of his drink, and tosses it into the nearest trash can. "Okay, you two have fun with that."

"We will." You do the same with your drink.

You sense Matt's a little down now and force him into a hug. "Thanks for today, babe. You're the best."

He falls into your body more and lets out a deep breath. "Any time, (y/n)."

[tasteracha]

little drabble inspired by the absolute whoreish behavior by mr. lee minho yesterday in this disgustingly sinful outfit

you’re mouthing your way down his neck, hands already tugging at his belt but moving to slap his own away when they reach for your waist.

“you think you get to do that after your behavior today?” you hiss, tugging him harshly against you with his beltloops, impossibly closer as you sink your teeth into the skin just above his collarbone.

when you pull back, you can see the battle between fighting back and letting you do what you want flash in his eyes before they soften and his arms drop to his sides, limp and pliant, a silent sign of submission. this is how it always is with you two - a push and pull, give and take, never knowing who is going to end up on top until the moment arrives. you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“good boy,” you coo, nuzzling your nose into his neck where you left marks just a moment prior, and the only thing that betrays how you’re affecting him is the pink tinge to his ears. he never says it, but you know him better than you know yourself.

you unzip the sinful shirt fully, exposing his smooth chest to you and you can’t stop yourself from staring for a few moments, drool pooling up in your mouth a bit as your fingertips ghost along the lines of his muscles. you look up at him, fully expecting the smirk he’s wearing and letting the red anger wash over you.

“these stay on for a bit.” you order, your hands dipping into the back pockets of his stage joggers and squeezing the soft flesh underneath. his smirk melts into a whine, high and needy, and you swallow it with a dirty kiss, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away completely. it leaves him panting and tense, and you’re donning a smirk this time. “what, you think you can get away with showing this off to everyone today and not getting punished? you’re in for a long night, honey.”

[drabbles-mc]

Something I Need

Cal x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: two things. one, i went down a rabbithole because i thought i missed Cal's real name when i watched the movie only to learn they never said it. i still found it anyway. shout-out to google. two, i will be back on my regularly scheduled johnny/benny bullshit soon but this idea hit me and i couldn't not write it down 😂

You had known Cal for a long time. You knew him before he was Cal—back when he was just Arthur. You’d met back when he wasn’t “from California”, he was from Canada and living in California. You were both living there at the time. He was a mechanic back then, tinkering with bikes and cars alike even if the tinkering was outside of the actual job at hand.

His hair had been a little longer back then, still tied out of his face by the makeshift bandana he wrapped around his forehead. The dangling earring was a new accessory at that point, not that you would’ve known that the first time you met him.

You’d dropped your car off earlier in the morning because you needed an oil change. Cal wasn’t the person you’d handed your keys to a few hours before. Whoever that had been looked like a kid who wasn’t even old enough to drive, let alone work on your car. It felt silly to tell him that along with the oil change to let you know if there was anything else that needed to be done on the car, but you said it regardless.

When you showed back up again you were expecting to see the same kid from before, but instead you were met with Cal. Arthur. Compared to the kid that you’d met when you showed up in the morning, he seemed like a seasoned professional. Grease on his hands and dirt on his work-shirt, he spoke to you like you’d met a thousand times before.

“Swapped out the oil,” he said casually enough. “All set there. Car’s good to go as-is if you want. But I think if we actually switched, I mean I got a couple parts from this other—”

“Sorry,” you cut him off, hand resting on your hip, “who are you?”

His brows pinched for a moment and then he cracked a smile. “Arthur.” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you did, not deterred by the grease or callouses. “The one gettin’ your car to the point where she can get up ‘n go.”

“Took a lot to get her there, did it?” you asked, unable to hide your amusement.

He cracked a grin. “Nah, nah not really. Kid said you wanted to know if anything else needed work, though.”

“And you found something?”

He shrugged, hooking his thumbs on the beltloops of his jeans. “Depends.”

You didn’t even bother trying to hide the smile on your face. “On?”

His smile widened right alongside yours. “What d’you mean when you say need?”

That was the start and the end of it all. Almost six years had ticked right on by and there were still days when you would walk outside in the morning and find him sliding underneath your car to mess around with something else. California had been in the rearview for years now, but no matter where one of you went, the other always followed. Chicago had been good to the two of you so far.

Every now and then you’d make a comment about your car. You’d mention scrapping it and getting a new one, saying that it was probably just about past its expiration date by now anyway. Cal, even if he was halfway across the bar or at a different picnic table would hear you. In no time at all he’d be plopping down to sit next to you, or standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders as he leaned down to talk to you. He’d always ask why you would be going around saying something like that about a perfectly good car.

“What don’t you like? Tell me what it is—I’ll fix it. Guarantee, baby, I’ve got something for whatever it is.”

Most of the time there wasn’t actually anything wrong. You just liked to get a rise out of him. If he ever caught onto that, he never told you about it. Within the next twenty-four hours, though, you’d be sure to find him popping the hood of your car, determined to find whatever problem you didn’t disclose to him because it didn’t exist. It was good for him—gave him something else to work on alongside his bike.

This time, though, he was working on your car for a reason. You made an offhand comment about a ticking noise while you drove and when you woke up in the morning to an empty bed you had no doubts about where he was. You pulled a sweater on over the tank top you’d gone to bed in and made your way outside to the garage. He had the radio on, although you could hear more static than you could music. Between that and his laser-focus on your car, he didn’t notice you walking in.

It wasn’t until you turned the volume down on the radio that his head snapped over in your direction. The look on his face only remained tense for a moment until he realized it was you. Then he eased, the same cheesy grin taking over his face as a handful of years ago. He maneuvered so that his arms were up, hands braced against the edge of the popped hood of your car.

“So?” you said as you walked over, arms crossed over your chest as you looked back and forth between him and the open front of your car. “She gonna make it?”

“Psh.” He shook his head. “’Course she is.”

You laughed, leaning back against the car so that you were facing him. “I think you’re only a couple parts away from making this a completely different car.”

He smiled. “I don’t think so.”

“Think of all the parts you could take from this car and put into a new one if I got it?”

That was enough to give him pause for a brief moment. The idea of a new project to mess around with was always enticing. But eventually he remembered the topic at hand and shook his head. “No. No way.”

You laughed, crossing one leg over the other. “Why not?”

“I wouldn’t have you if you didn’t have this,” he said as he gestured to the car. “And, this is the car that got us all the way out here.”

You shook your head. “It got me out here. Someone had to ride—”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed and playfully waved you off. He paused for a moment. “You know I’m right, though.”

“Yeah,” you conceded. “You’re right.” You held one hand out to him. “C’mere.”

He gave a small shake of his head as he stepped back, arms falling down to his sides. He turned his hands over, revealing the dark stains on his palms from the work he’d already put in over the morning. “Nah, baby, I’ll get shit all over your—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards you. He stumbled right into you, not having expected it even though he probably should have. His other hand that you weren’t holding instinctively found its home on your hip, having slipped beneath your sweater. He was shaking his head at you, already able to see the smudges on the fabric, already knew that there were going to be marks on your hands. But when he saw the smile on your face he also knew that you weren’t going to care about that—you never had.

“Know what I need?” you asked as you rested your other hand on his chest.

He tilted his head, earring swaying as he did. “What’s that?”

You smiled. Moving your hand up from his chest to his cheek, you pulled him in and pressed your lips to his. You felt it, the smile before he kissed you back. His hand on your hip held on a little tighter as he moved himself closer to you. A mildly precarious balance of wanting him pressing and leaning into you but not wanting to lose your balance and topple backwards. Not that it’d be the first time the two of you had gotten carried away and ended up in a pile of laughs rather than anything else.

Pulling his lips off of yours, he stayed close enough for your lips to just barely brush as he spoke. “You said you needed somethin’?”

You felt the curl of his lips into a smile as he said it, a joke that only the two of you were around to be in on. Your nose brushed against his as you shook your head at him. “Yeah. Just need one more thing real quick.”

He hummed in amusement. “Real quick, huh?”

You laughed, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You don’t sound like you believe me.”

“I know better.”

You kissed him again, soft and lingering. “You gonna let me tell you what it is?”

He shook his head, a knowing grin on his face as he felt the small, playful tugs on his hair you were messing with. “I know what it is—‘s why I know it’s not gonna be quick.”

(divider by @cyberangel-graphics 💞)

The Bikeriders Taglist (if you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!): @garbinge

[jungle-angel]

His Little Doodlebug (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: There's a damn good reason you gave Amy the nickname "Doodlebug"

Rhett had always had a deep love-hate relationship with Wal Mart in the month of August. Usually you would go and take Amy on a little excursion by yourself while Rhett and Royal ran down to Tractor Supply to get parts for the neighbors' farming equipment, but ever since you had gotten pregnant, that task had fallen on Rhett while Wes, his best friend, had decided to help Royal.

Amy hurried off towards the clothing section, her little sandals flapping against the tiled floor with her little circus-clown ragdoll tucked under her arm. "Hey, slow down there Doodlebug," Rhett called after her.

Amy giggled, excited as ever as Rhett pushed the cart that already had a few extra garden things in it. He didn't really have much of an idea about what kinds of clothes would be the best fit for Amy, but he was damn sure gonna try.

It was a whole back and forth mess of texting you pictures of all the clothes he could find that hadn't already been cleared out, little pairs of shorts with the lace trim around the legs, pretty little gingham dresses in pink, blue, yellow, green, orange, purple and red, plenty of jeans and little sweaters that would serve her well in late fall and early winter. However, what you knew you couldn't get in the store, you'd make by hand which would include plenty of Irish knit sweaters for Amy and the new babies.

"Hey!" Rhett called playfully to Amy as she zoomed from one end of the aisle and back to him. "Don't you run from me Doodlebug."

Amy giggled again. "Can we get more clothes Daddy?"

"Not right now Doodlebug," Rhett told her. "We've still gotta go to the other place and get your other stuff for school."

"No we don't," Amy giggled.

"Yeah we do, you're goin into preschool at the hippie school where Momma teaches," Rhett told her.

Amy held onto her ragdoll with one hand and her other one gripping the beltloop of Rhett's jeans with her little fingers. As soon as the clothes and the plant stuff had been purchased, Rhett loaded Amy and the bags up into the truck to head for the next destination.

Back into the center of town he went with Amy in tow, to the little shop owned by Mrs. Newman, who in turn would be Amy's preschool teacher. You and Rhett absolutely loved her store and all the supplies she carried, the cozy building with its knotty pine floors, shelves full of yarn, brightly colored wools, stones, books, pastel colored cloth and a whole host of other things that the children at the school you taught at would need for the coming year.

Two boxes of block crayons, a little case of beeswax and a basket of wool later, Rhett finally had what he needed and even let Amy pick a few items for later. He thanked Mrs. Newman, promising that over the weekend he, Royal and Wes would be down to help her husband fix his horse trailer.

Home he went and finally pulled up the driveway just as the sun had begun to set. Wes's truck was no longer there, a sign that he had gone back over the hill to the reservation to bed down his own horses and cattle for the night, yet the porch light had remained on. Royal and Cecelia would most likely be sitting out in the porch rockers, Royal smoking a hand rolled cigar while Cecelia told him about everything that had happened in the day.

"Alright sweet pea, out," Rhett said, opening the truck door so Amy could get out.

Amy practically jumped out of the truck and ran for the house, yanking open the door as Rhett unloaded the truck and kicked off his shoes in the mudroom. The house smelled so good with the steaks just having been pulled off the grill along with the smells of white rice and green beans trailing it its wake.

"Oh jeez! Somebody's happy," Cecelia chuckled as Amy rushed to hug her.

"I was hoping the trip would tire her out," Rhett answered. "Hannah-Banana go to bed?"

"Nope," Cecelia answered. "She just ate, but I'll give her a bath in a few minutes."

"Thanks Ma," Rhett said, hugging his mother.

Cecelia took the clothing and supplies from him to put them away while he made Amy a plate full of steak, rice and green beans for her to eat before her bath.

Upstairs he went to his room, which had become your shared bedroom. Even though you were only five months along, you had already begun nesting, preparing the crib at the foot of the bed for the two little boys resting in your belly.

Rhett wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek, his hands coming to rest on your swollen bump. "Boys give you any trouble?" he asked.

You hummed, delighted by the warm breath on your cheek. "Not really," you sighed.

You two were yanked from the moment by the sound of Amy running through the upstairs hall in nothing but her pink wrap towel. "Daddy, can I use Momma's bubble bath?"

You two laughed and shook your heads. "Give Momma a minute honey," you told her.

Amy zoomed back into the bathroom as the bathtub filled up. You grabbed the pink grapefruit bubble bath out of the medicine cabinet and poured a little bit of the slimy pink liquid in for her and watched it foam.

"Guess someone had a bad case of the zoomies tonight," you laughed.

"Yep," Rhett answered. "Guess that's why we call her 'Doodlebug'."

[scoops-stevie-archive]

road trip ficlet that'll probably never be fully written

eddie shows up to steve's with the van packed and ready to go. it takes some convincing (not much, not when it's eddie asking) but then steve's packing a couple bags and he leaves his parents a note they'll probably never see. and off they go. they send postcards to robin and nancy at college and the kids get small gifts in the mail.

they spend nights at roadside motels or in the back of the van, conveniently set up with a sea of blankets and pillows. eddie's brought his accoustic and plays for steve every night, maybe teaches him to play a little.

theyre at a rest stop and eddie's talking to wayne from a payphone outside a rest stop somewhere in vermont. steve watches from where they've got the van's back doors open, leaning back on his hands and smoking a cigarette. nervous glances are sent his way and steve tries to push down the anxiety.

"everything ok?" he asks when eddie jogs back over.

eddie takes the cigarette and pulls a hit before stubbing it out on the bumper. "s'fine, darlin'," he says, smoothing the wrinkles between steve's eyes with his thumb. he started speaking in his natural cadence somewhere between the now leaving hawkins sign and chicago. "was just talkin' to wayne 'bout some things."

he gets this look on his face when he's thinking hard about something.

"pick a city," he asks.

"what?"

"pick a place," eddie repeats, fingers combing through steve's hair, pushing it back. "anywhere we've been to that you liked, or where you wanna go to next."

steve thinks back. they've been on the road for a good month now, cities and towns starting to blur together after the third week. but there was one that stood out to him. one that he knew made eddie feel as close to home as he could get.

"pigeon forge," steve settles on. he sees the surprise flicker in his boyfriend’s eyes.

"really?"

steve nods, fingers going to eddie's beltloops. "yeah. it's a tourist trap, for sure, but you looked comfortable there, like there was a weight off you, or something."

eddie bites back a smile as his hands fall to steve's shoulders. "that's nice an' all, sugar, but i asked where you liked."

"i did like it there," steve insists. "because of how it made you feel." he takes one of eddie's hands from his shoulder and tangles their fingers together. "i'm happy anywhere you're happy, eds." he won't mention the things he liked about it for himself (how outdoor-focused it was, surrounded on all sides by the smoky mountains in a way that doesn't feel suffocating like hawkins does.)

eddie's chest warms at that. he kisses the back of steve's hand. "yeah?"

"yeah."

in another three weeks they're back in hawkins, calling realtors in tennesee, lining up jobs for the two of them. the metal scene in pigeon forge is practically nonexistent, but eddie thinks he can kickstart something if he makes regular trips into nashville every weekend on top of singing the songs he grew up with at a local bar. steve lands an interview at old mill candy kitchen and they give him a chance, even with his limited experience from scoops.

once everything is said and done and steve's drinking a cup of coffee on the back porch of their cabin that overlooks the mountains, thick fog still rolling over them in the early morning, he thinks they'll be fine.

[bropunzeling]

matthew/leon: 1 and 12 brady/quinn: 7 and 20

all under the cut! also i treated them as combos because that was more fun

(things you said at 1 am) + (things you said when you thought i was asleep)

It's a risk spending the night at the hotel when Matthew's entire family is back at his house. Matthew knew that when he looked for Leon across the bar they all ended up at after the skills comp; he knew that when he downed a shot and a beer for plausible deniability; he knew that when Leon hooked his fingers in Matthew's beltloops and leered, sweaty and red-faced and still too sober to really get away with it. He knew that when he waved Johnny off to slip out to the street; he knew that sliding into the Uber where Leon was already waiting; he knew that when Leon shoved him up against the hotel door and bit his lip until Matthew let him in.

Knows that now, phone lighting up with unread messages on the nightstand, glowing against the wood.

He ought to get up. It's a busy weekend. Big day tomorrow. And if he slips away now, he'll avoid the walk of shame in the morning, the pointed questions from Brady and pointed lack of questions from his mom.

But Leon's hot against his side, arm heavy across his torso, breath warm and damp against the skin of Matthew's shoulder. Matthew can feel the steady inhales and exhales that he knows means Leon's asleep, or just about. He wouldn't want to disturb him.

And, of course, there's the part where Matthew doesn't actually want to slip away from Leon. Has never wanted to, not really. Even when he left last summer, trading out salted roads and frozen hands for sand under his feet and the sun on his face, he told Leon exactly where he was going. Hoped that if he did, this thing wouldn't break apart between them.

So far, it hasn't. That has to mean something.

"Fuck, you're heavy," Matthew says softly into Leon's hair.

Leon doesn't say anything back. His mouth is wet against the skin of Matthew's throat.

"And drooling," Matthew adds. If Leon were awake, he'd be offended, and they'd have a little argument, half flirtation and half annoying each other. Right now, though, he can just state a fact.

Nothing. Just Leon's breathing, slow and even, and the occasional buzz of Matthew's phone against wood.

Matthew rubs his hand up and down Leon's spine, feeling the bump of vertebrae under his fingers. Traces the moles on Leon's back, drawing constellations. "I wish we had more time," he admits to Leon's sweaty hair.

An inhale, an exhale. The glow from under the edge of Matthew's phone, bright in the dark.

-

(things you said while we were driving) + (things you said that i wasn't meant to hear)

During the drive to the lake house, Brady stretches out in the passenger seat, shoving it as far back as it will go and slouching down until his knees hit the glove box. He's jetlagged from the flights; Matthew told him he was pushing it to go from two weeks with family in Europe straight into two weeks in Michigan with Quinn, and Brady told him he was a bossy know-it-all.

Brady is pretty dead on his feet, though, so maybe Matthew does know a thing or two.

It's easy to drift off, closing his eyes as Quinn drives. Quinn's a good driver, not distracted like Jack or aggressive like Taryn or just plain bad like Matthew. He has a playlist going, some soft, quiet indie shit that certainly wasn't one of Brady's recommendations, but it's nice enough. Soothing.

A few minutes in, Brady realizes Quinn's singing along under his breath. No, not singing, not even in that tuneless way Quinn has. Talking quietly. "Yeah. Yeah, we're on our way."

Brady slits open his eyes. From the angle, he can see the curve of Quinn's jaw, the rumpled mess of his hair, the threadbare collar of his t-shirt. There's a hole near the shoulder seam, and Brady wants to stick his finger in the hole, touch the skin beneath.

"Yeah," Quinn's saying now. "I picked some up earlier." A pause. "Seriously? Well, I'm not gonna stop for more. Brady's wiped, man. He's already asleep."

Over the speaker, Jack's voice is crackling and mumbling, hard to decipher. Quinn's is clear, though. "Come on, Jacky. Let me get Brady home first."

More talking. The car is pulling up to a stop. At something Jack says, Quinn's gaze flicks over to Brady, then away. "No," he says. "I want this to be a good trip for him."

Jack replies, then cackles. Quinn's ears turn red. "Fuck off. You know he doesn't -- it's not like that."

The car starts to move again. The acceleration has Brady closing his eyes, or maybe it's the afternoon sun, warm through the windshield. The last thing he hears is Quinn's voice, quiet. "Yeah. See you soon."

[nohalosinhell-archive]

arachn0philia asked: "Arackniss--" Angel had made sure to ditch his phone for this encounter, lest his boss hear something from a bugged phone-- Valentino couldn't hear a goddamn peep of this, lest he find out what kind of weaponry Angel was packing. "I need your help wit' somethin'. S' real fuckin' important." The direness reflected in Angel's face-- eyes almost icy, yet troubled, not flashing any sort of cocky look, and he was tense as all get out, white knuckles clutched onto a small box.

Anthony?

He almost didn't recognize his little brother's voice. It was so much more serious than he was used to-- so straight forward.

Without missing a beat, the smaller spider slides his hand towards his beltloop and taps a small, black device that's hooked to his belt: A signal jammer.

Anthony doesn't ask for help-- not for himself, anyway. If he's going out of his way to track down his brother and so bluntly say he needs help with something important... he already knows who this is about.

And he doesn't need his occasional boss listening in. Neither of them need those two listening in.

"C'mon," he motions with his head. Whatever they're about to discuss, it doesn't need to happen on a crowded street. You never know who's listening... and who they're reporting back to. Once they're away from the crowded street, he gives his younger brother his undivided attention. "Tell me what's goin' on."

[beelzebuddy-catan]

The Not Entirely Human-Human Exchange Student pt. 15

Summary: Cass and the brothers learn how Lucifer and Styx know each other and why Diavolo was reluctant to call Cate from the beginning. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death and violence Spoilers: Up through Lesson 17 Characters: Cass (OC), Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie, and various OCs. Notes: I always thought Mammon would be more upset about Belphie attacking MC than in the game. Plus, Diavolo definitely has over-reactions as a spoiled prince. Previous Part • Next Part

Beel was giving Asmo a piggyback ride as he carried a still sleeping Belphie. Levi had his arms slung over Satan and Psi’s shoulders as they helped him walk back. Given his state, Cass wasn’t sure how much help Satan actually was. Cass was tasked with making sure Mammon didn’t run off.  

“Hades and I used to go out just to challenge demons to drinking contests,” Psi laughed watching Cass. She’d hooked a finger in Mammon’s beltloop to pull him back since he kept batting her hand away from his arms. “One of the few benefits of being a Neph.” Cass didn’t miss the tinge of melancholy in his voice at the second sentence.  

“Is it strange being back?” 

“A little,” Psi shrugged the best he could with Levi’s weight on him. “It’s more hard than strange. It brings back some less than pleasant memories. Especially since I didn’t spend much free time down here without Hades.” 

He paused while Cass struggled to stop Mammon from getting his arm stuck in the sewer gate. No matter how many times she’d been around the brothers drinking, you were always surprised how much control over their sins they lost. Only after promising to give Mammon the coins in her pocket did he abandon the one he’s supposedly seen in the drain. 

“I probably should have asked before now,” Psi said once they had begun walking again. “But does it bother you that we’ve been calling you Kore?” 

“I guess I haven’t really thought about it. I’m not particularly attached to either name. Diavolo just happened to call me Cass when I arrived and since I didn’t have any memories, I went with it. I don’t really mind if you all call me Kore.” 

There was no way they’d be making it to class today. Why Cass thought they’d gotten to the end of the secrets hidden between the brothers, she’d never know. After Styx, formerly known as Aeshma, and Cate, or Hecate, realized Cass was the Nephilim in the exchange program, chaos broke out in the chambers. Finally, after what felt like hours, they were able to get to some level of mutual understanding.  

During the Great War between the Devildom and Celestial Realm, there was an increase in Nephilim births. While most were killed, the surviving Nephilim concealed their identities. Epi and Asclepius had remained on Earth, living amongst humans. Others, like Charon, lived outside the three realms, existing in places like a reaper’s home or the docks. Some, such as Moirai, were known to be alive, but had not been seen since.  

The Titan Project turned out to be something created by demons in an attempt to control Nephilim. After the first war, most members had died, and it was thought to have ended. Before the brothers fell, there had been an increase in Nephilim births once again.  

It was discovered that two of the Demon King’s former council had been part of the resurgence of the Titan Project. The two had been sentenced to the underworld but kidnapped a Nephilim in the process. Aeshma had convinced the Demon King to retrieve the Nephilim.  

Upon leaving the underworld, Aeshma’s spirit had been torn apart so violently she almost died. Apparently, when a demon was forfeited, it meant their spirit had been destroyed to a point near death. A forfeited spirit shouldn’t be possible to bring back, nor should it be able to pass on, leaving the fragmented pieces in a sort of hellish limbo.  

The Demon King laid the pieces of her spirit to rest in the river Styx, knowing it was the only place to bring her any relief from suffering. It was at that time Barbatos and Solomon were tasked with helping hide the identity of the remaining Nephilim, both to protect them and prevent additional unrest from the scandal on the Demon King’s council.  

Upon falling, Lilith and Lucifer had both fallen into the river when they entered the Devildom.  When Lilith had fallen, Aeshma’s spirit had apparently been able to summon enough power to stop the angel from drowning. She’d been prepared enough to catch Lucifer as well. Because she’d been more prepared, and he hadn’t been in the river as long, Lucifer’s injuries were not as severe. 

Cass recalled the memory of Lucifer pleading for Lilith to be saved and how both of them had looked as though they’d just been pulled from water. It seems the river had saved the lives of many who passed through the waters.  

It wasn’t long after the two had been saved that Nadia had been summoned by Cate, who had apparently raised Cass, to revive Aeshma. According to the others, it should have been impossible. If anything, it lent support to Solomon’s claim of the necromancer’s abilities.  

Though she didn’t remember the event, Cass had gone to see Charon at some point in the past. Apart from Charon, the last time anyone had seen her was when she departed for that trip. Until Barbatos pulled her to the future, that is.  

The only Nephilim who knew the true reason was Hades. He hadn’t told anyone however, keeping his promise to Cass. It wasn’t long after Cass’s disappearance that Hades had vanished as well. Which left three questions nobody was able to answer: why had Cass gone to see Charon, what happened after she met him, and who had applied for her to be an exchange student.  

After covering that information, Cass told the Nephs about her time in the Devildom. A long silence followed before Diavolo decided to call the meeting to an end. He requested the Nephilim stay in the Devildom, or at the very least, return that weekend to further discuss how to proceed.  

“Kore,” Psi called as they were walking from the chambers. “Why don’t you join us for dinner? Styx’s favorite restaurant is still in business, so we figured we try it.”  

“Sure!” Cass agreed without much thought. She still had a few questions for the Nephilim that didn’t seem relevant enough to bring up during the meeting.  

“Do you think the Admiral could join us?” Psi whispered when she was close enough.  

Cass laughed at the request. “Levi,” she called out, gesturing for him to come over. He seemed hesitant to approach her with the others near, not that you blamed him after what Epi had done to Mammon and the way Styx and Cate had even made Diavolo falter. “Will you come to dinner with us?”  

“Me?” He stammered with wide eyes.  

Psi’s immediately corrected his posture in Levi’s presence, moving to salute him. There was a brief moment where Levi’s eyebrows furrowed before he returned the gesture. Much like Psi, Levi’s posture became perfect as he fell into the proper role.  

“It’s an honor to meet you Admiral,” Psi said, shaking Levi’s hand. Levi looked as though he was trying to remember where he would have met Psi before. “Back when Nephilim resided in the Devildom, I served under Admiral Yam.”  

Cass watched the two with fascination. She couldn’t believe how easily Levi put aside his anxiety and self-depreciation when it came to his position, especially how quickly that resolve crumbled when it was just him and his family or Cass.  

The calm confidence he exuded reminded Cass of the day they made a pact. How he’d gone spiraling in self-pity to picking her up without a second thought. Cass flushed at the memory, forcing herself to look away. 

“Have you seen him in uniform yet?” Cass jumped at Asmo’s question, not realizing he had approached her. She shook her head. “That’s a shame. I’m not even mad about him wanting to meet Levi now, because we got to see him like this.” Asmo sighed fondly looking at Levi. 

“It makes me uncomfortable when you act this way about your brothers.” 

“I like looking at attractive things, I can’t help that includes my dashing older brother in uniform.” 

Both Cass and Levi shot Asmo an incredulous look, hoping he’d stop. Despite earlier tension between the Nephilim and demons, it seemed that they may get along better than expected after all. Satan was speaking with Styx. From the little Cass could pick up, they were complaining about Lucifer. While Belphie looked like he was sleeping, his shoulders moved with laughter once and a while.  

Mammon was the only one who seemed too afraid to approach the Nephilim. Barbatos had joined Lucifer and Diavolo at the head table. Judging by their expression, it was a continuation of the serious conversations from earlier. While he wasn’t participating in the conversation, Mammon hung near them, glaring at Cass from across the room.  

“Did you say you were going to dinner?”  

Cass laughed at the pout Beel gave her. Clearly, he was asking to join and if they could head out already. “I did. Is it okay if we all go?”  

Psi shrugged, unbothered by the idea of having the others joined. Epi’s eyes landed on Mammon. “Are you sure everyone wants to join?” He asked, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“He just doesn’t like that she has other friends,” Belphie gestured to Cass, finally getting up.    

“And he’s probably still afraid.”  

“I ain’t afraid,” Mammon yelled from his spot next to Lucifer.  

“Then come on, we’re going to eat,” Cass answered. “Do you care if I invite someone else? I have a feeling they’ll want to see Styx.”  

Cass thought back to her conversation with Diavolo at the castle. If Styx had to go into hiding after being resurrected, she probably wouldn’t have had any contact with her family in the Devildom. If Diavolo was correct about Preta’s relationship with their aunt, they’d probably want to know about her existence sooner than later.  

Mammon and Cass were the last ones who were going to eat to leave the room. Before she stepped through the doorway, he pulled her backwards into a hug. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking a few deep breaths.  

Cass reached up to fluff his hair before speaking. “Are you still shaken up from earlier?”  

Mammon didn't let her go, only moving his head enough to answer her. “Just give me a minute, please?”  

There was something desperate in his voice that broke her heart. It was too similar to his voice when he thought she was dying, when he begged her to stay alive. She closed her eyes, letting him take the time he needed as she reminded herself that she was safe.  

--- 

The restaurant Styx had suggested was Inferno Impressions. Surprisingly none of the brothers had been to the restaurant either. In fact, Satan was the only one who had even heard of it. Apparently, it was owned by the same demons as Ristorante Six.  

There was a small art gallery that Cass had visited with Satan a few months ago on Abyssbred Court. In the very back, there were two statues. Cass remembered them from when she first visited. Satan had thought it was strange how she spent so much time looking at them. Even then, something felt off about the statues. Compared to the rest of the artwork they looked too plain.  

Without hesitating, Styx marched up to the statues. Her hand brushed over one of the heads, pushing it over as she did. Satan jolted, going to stop it from falling, only to realize it operated like a hinge. The wall behind the statues swung open, revealing a long stone hallway.  

Cass peered down the hall cautiously, the feeling of déjà vu setting in. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been here in the past or if it was because the stone walls looked a little too much like those in the underground labyrinth at the castle.  

Styx and Cate didn’t even pause their conversation as they entered the hall. The former demon waved her hand halfheartedly as they passed a torch, the fire lighting immediately. The other Nephs didn’t seem too phased either as they followed closely behind them. Cass gestured for the brothers to go, concerned they may try and bail.  

As she walked down the hall, a sense of magic filled the air. No matter how far they walked, the end of the hall was the same distance. The electric buzz she’d come to associate with magic grew stronger and stronger, when suddenly it vanished along with the hall.  

Cass turned around, surprised to find they were now in front of a host stand in a garden restaurant. Behind them was an ornamental gate serving as the only door. Much like her room in the House of Lamentation, the restaurant used lights to resemble daylight.  

“Wow, this is beautiful,” Cass said as they took their seats, “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.”  

Before sitting, Asmo had dragged Mammon away from the group, forcing him to take pictures around the restaurant. Mammon only grumbled slightly, already used to Asmo’s impromptu photo shoots. She already knew he’d been taking a few pictures of his own for Devilgram.   

Cass looked at the others only to find herself seated across from Styx and Cate. As the two stared at her in silence, she understood on a small level what Diavolo had felt standing before them. She busied herself by reading over the menu, trying to ignore the feeling of their staring.  

“So,” Cass finally said, unable to take the silence, “Solomon, who I think you’ve met, said that Lord Diavolo hadn’t wanted to get you involved at first. If you’re kind of point of contacts for Nephilim, why was he so hesitant?” 

“I can only assume it’s because he knew how I would react,” Cate answered.  

“Oh, what were you going to do?” Cate didn’t answer, looking bewildered at Cass’s question. “Wait, you think he was worried about you,” Cass paused, trying to figure out the best word, “scolding him?”  

“His father and Barbatos were entirely too soft on him growing up, if you ask me,” Styx scoffed, “he never did like being told no and practically threw a tantrum if he so much thought he might get punished.” 

Cass couldn’t help but smile at the thought of a young Diavolo hiding behind the Demon King or Barbatos when he was in trouble. It wasn’t all too surprising given what she knew of him, from others’ reactions when Cass disagreeing with him, to the brothers not feeling completely comfortable around him. Considering the events with Belphie, it’d be stranger if he wasn’t like that.  

“Still to avoid contact you over it,” Cass laughed.  

“How have you been, Kore?” Styx asked.  

Ever since they left campus, she seemed completely different. Any anger she felt towards Diavolo was gone, or at least hidden, and without Lucifer around, she seemed content with everyone’s company. This was the being she imagined when Diavolo spoke of her at the castle.  

Before Cass could answer, Belphie’s head slammed against the table. Everyone turned to see Preta standing over him. Judging by his disorientation, Belphie had been holding his head up as he slept and woken up when Preta pushed his arm away.  

“I heard you tried to kill Cass. That’s bold.”  

“Are you fucking – how? How is it so many demons like you?” Belphie asked, staring at Cass in disbelief.  

“Preta?” Styx stood, moving towards the demon.  

“Ae-Aeshma?” Preta’s eyes widened. “How? You were forfeited.”  

“I’m so sorry,” Styx whispered, pulling Preta into a hug. “I couldn’t tell you.”  

After the initial shock of seeing each other passed, the two stepped to the bar to catch up in private. While the others went back to their previous conversations, Cate continued watching the other two for a minute longer.  

“You invited Preta,” Cate said, not looking away from the bar.  

“I did,” Cass answered, “sorry for not checking first. Diavolo mentioned that Preta had a really hard time after Aeshma was forfeited.”  

“No need to apologize. I’ve known Styx for a long time, and I think her only regret may be leaving Preta. Thank you.”  

Cass watched Cate, trying to understand her better. Unlike Styx, her demeanor hadn’t changed. Even though Cass knew she cared about Styx, her expression was still devoid of emotion. It seemed that the only thing that changed was her tone of voice.  

“How long have you known Styx? You must have known her when she was on the Demon King’s council if you went so far has to have her revived.”  

“I’ve known her since she was born, though I wasn’t that involved with affairs in the Devildom at the time. It wasn’t until Oriens recommended me as a council advisor did I get to know Styx.”  

“Oriens?” 

“The former Demon King. He’d wanted me to serve on his council at first.”  

Cass tilted her head, looking at Cate more intently. It seems odd that a demon who’d been around that long would not be involved with the Devildom. Though, she did end up disappearing again after the last council disbanded.  

“From what I remember,” Satan chimed in, “it was quite controversial when you were approved.”  

“Almost as controversial has having six former angels.”  

Satan chuckled at the response, shaking his head. Cass looked between the two before asking, “what was controversial about it?”  

“Hecate was the first, and only, council member that wasn’t a demon. The House of Lords didn’t approve her when Oriens first proposed his selection, which is why he recommend the current Demon King elect her.” 

“Working with a reaper proved to be much easier than I expected,” Styx said, taking her seat once again. 

Preta joined Cass on the bench, pushing her closer to Satan in the process. “Sorry, did you say reaper? As in the grim reaper?  

“One reaper named Grim causes problems in the Human Realm,” Cate muttered.  

“She’s a reaper that collects both souls and spirits,” Preta explained. “Some reapers only collect the souls of humans, spirits of demons, or grace of angels.”  

“What happens when an angel falls and loses their grace, do you do something?”  

The former angels seemed to fall quiet at her question. Cass hadn’t thought about what happened after the brothers fell or how grace and spirit really worked. Lilith had retained some of her grace after falling and even given it to Cass.  

“Technically, they still have their grace,” Satan answered. “It wasn’t lost so much as it was corrupted.” 

Cass looked between Satan and the other brothers. “Can a demon’s spirit be uncorrupted or purified or something?”  

“What does it matter?” Mammon asked. “None of us would go back anyways. Satan, switch spots with Cass so we can sit by each other.”  

“Absolutely not.”  

Part of Cass suspected that Mammon was being a little pushier than normal to distract from the previous conversation. She let the moment pass knowing she could always look into it later. During her time in the Devildom, Cass had learned that while the brothers were open about their time as angels, they shut down when the topic drifted to their rebellion or fall.  

She did wonder if it would become easier now that everything with Lilith had come to light. Cass sighed, knowing that even if they were more open to talking, she’d still be fighting tooth and nail to get them to open up. Deciding they’d burn that bridge when they got to it, she opted to spend her energy stopping Preta from stealing food off her plate.  

--- 

The group dispersed after leaving Inferno Impressions. Styx had gone with Preta to catch up while Cate had only given a vague response when asked where she and Nadia were going. Hera and Epi were going back to the human world, leaving Psi to find a place for the night.  

Cass ended up inviting Psi back to the House of Lamentation. Despite him waving her off, she was worried he wouldn’t find somewhere on such short notice. Fortunately, he relented because Cass wasn’t sure she’d have been able to get all the brothers back given how much they drank.  

Beel was giving Asmo a piggyback ride as he carried a still sleeping Belphie. Levi had his arms slung over Satan and Psi’s shoulders as they helped him walk back. Given his state, Cass wasn’t sure how much help Satan actually was. Cass was tasked with making sure Mammon didn’t run off.  

“Hades and I used to go out just to challenge demons to drinking contests,” Psi laughed watching Cass. She’d hooked a finger in Mammon’s beltloop to pull him back since he kept batting her hand away from his arms. “One of the few benefits of being a Neph.” Cass didn’t miss the tinge of melancholy in his voice at the second sentence.  

“Is it strange being back?” 

“A little,” Psi shrugged the best he could with Levi’s weight on him. “It’s more hard than strange. It brings back some less than pleasant memories. Especially since I didn’t spend much free time down here without Hades.” 

He paused while Cass struggled to stop Mammon from getting his arm stuck in the sewer gate. No matter how many times she’d been around the brothers drinking, you were always surprised how much control over their sins they lost. Only after promising to give Mammon the coins in her pocket did he abandon the one he’s supposedly seen in the drain. 

“I probably should have asked before now,” Psi said once they had begun walking again. “But does it bother you that we’ve been calling you Kore?” 

“I guess I haven’t really thought about it. I’m not particularly attached to either name. Diavolo just happened to call me Cass when I arrived and since I didn’t have any memories, I went with it. I don’t really mind if you all call me Kore.” 

They arrived at the House of Lamentation before Cass had time to ask any other questions. They managed to get each of the brothers into their respective rooms. Mammon took more convincing than the others, though Asmo probably would have been worse if Beel hadn’t been the one to take him.  

Cass and Psi ended up in the gardens sharing another drink, neither ready for bed. There was a slight breeze, reminding her that colder months were approaching. The moon seemed to shine especially brightly in the cloudless sky.  

“If I’m overstepping, let me know, but why is it that Hera reacted the way she did with Diavolo?”   

Psi sighed, a rueful smile gracing his features before he continued. “You know how we were talking about Underworlds, Terras, and Olympians? Hera used to actually be fairly in tune with her inner demon spirit. More so than a lot of Nephs. The more in tune you are with that, the more you give into different urges and the more you’re able to tap into different powers or abilities demons have.”   

“Did she have a special gift or power?” 

“I’m not sure I’d call it that, but she’s a gifted empath.” 

“I’m assuming something caused her to resist those desires?” 

“Yeah, it was after Nephs started being targeted. Because she was so connected with that spirit, her skills were kind of amazing. Don’t tell her I said that,” he laughed. “But I think it caused her to feel everything so much deeper than a lot of us. She hasn’t really been the same since Ariadne died. She fights that side of herself more than anyone now.”  

Cass recognized the name but couldn’t remember specific details about the myth. Even as she asked her next question, she had a feeling she already knew the answer. “What happened with Ariadne?”  

“She was tortured and left to die. By the time Dion and Hera found her, it was too late. Sometimes I wonder if it was what Dion went through more than anything that broke her. I doubt he’ll ever be the same either.”  

Psi stared out at the woods around the house, but Cass knew he wasn’t really looking at the trees. They sat in silence for a while, the stillness of the night providing a moment of reprieve from everything that had happened that day. There were a million questions that filtered through Cass’s head as she reflected on the events.  

She didn’t ask Psi though. As much as she wanted to know, it was probably painful for him to talk about that time. Even if they had known each other before, her missing memories created a barrier. She knew he felt it too, so they were both hesitant.  

Cass kept looking back at Psi, thinking about what Hera had said. Supposedly, this was the brother of her fiancé. Or, former fiancé, she wasn’t quite sure. For a moment, she wondered if things had been different, would she and Hades be sitting here? Would they have been married? Would she ever have met the brothers?  

“Something I was wondering,” Psi interrupted her thoughts, “the white haired one.”  

“Mammon.” 

“Right, Mammon. What did he mean by your first? He kept calling himself that.” 

Cass blushed, only then realizing how that must have sounded to the Nephs. A wave of guilt followed the embarrassment knowing how concerned they’d been about her and Hades as she was living a whole second life in the Devildom.  

“Sorry, he says that a lot. He’s my first pact,” Cass laughed, trying to dispel some of the tension, but it came out more awkward than she intended. “He’s always leaving off that part.”  

Psi’s eyebrows knitted together as he turned to look at her. “You mean first pact with a demon?”  

Cass froze. She’d forgotten about the mysterious pact Nadia had mentioned with everything else going on. Her hand went to her cheek, subconsciously touching the mark of an unknown being. She’d just assumed the pact had happened during the time she’d gone missing.  

“What do you mean, with a demon? Are you saying other beings can make pacts?”  

“Well, I don’t know if beings that aren’t demons can,” Psi contemplated the question. “But Nephilim can make them because we do have a demon spirit.”  

“What?” 

“I mean, we don’t make them the same way as demons, but there is a way to make them.”  

“WHAT?” Cass screamed.  

What if she had accidentally made a pact since being here? Would she know if they were different enough from the ones she made intentionally? What if there was someone out there who had taken advantage of her and could control her the way she was able to control the brothers that she was unaware of?  

“Calm down,” Psi laughed, as if her entire life hadn’t been flipped upside down once again. “Only Nephilim know how to make them, so it’s not like you would have made one since losing your memory.” 

Cass took a few deep breaths, trying to slow her heart rate. “But I have one that you know of then? With some random person out there?”  

Psi tilted his head in consideration. “I wouldn’t say Hades is some random person to you, even if you don’t remember him yet.”  

[babylonia-after-hours]

it's two am and i'm hornyposting about geto again. One of the things you're going to be subjected to as one of my readers is my gore kinks.

Tw for blood. Everywhere. It's not yours though, and it's definitely not his.

~

The human brain is hardwired to react to red, the color of blood, danger. So, you wondered hazily, why you were so warm as Suguru’s fingers stumbled over the buttons of your shirt. The blood on his hands was still warm, and his eyes glittered with something manic and hungry, almost feverish as he peeled the fabric away from your skin.

Immediately, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. The coppery smell and the stickiness were somehow pleasant as his hands left cooling trails down your sides, as his teeth sank into your shoulder. His breathing matched the kisses he trailed over your skin, rushed and sloppy while he started with your belt. “I don’t think you know how delicious you look, darling,” he murmured, clumsily jerking your belt from your beltloops with one hand, the fingers of his other hand sliding into your waistband

[the-roboticspaceidiot]

Personally find it funny i went from having no idea who Vash was.

Then buying a keychain of him on a whim at a cosplay con cuz it looked cute.

Then finding him to be a goofy lil man with problems.

accidentallydressinglikehimforamonthoorsotherewithoutrealising-

Clasping SAID keychain of Vash onto my belt loops a couple of times.

start doing it almost EVERYTIME I go out places.

Feeling bad i got no wolfwood so then proceed to track down a wolfwood charm at the next Cosplay con i went to (and end up buying MORE Vash related stuff+ The gals)

And now everytime i go out in public i have two Vash keychains on my beltloops with a Wolfwood phonecharm <3

[godlizzza]

Nsfw prompt: Dan and Herbert have an impromptu quickie in the hospital closet

"I'm pretty sure this violates several workplace regulations," Herbert said breathlessly as Dan pushed him back against the wall.

The shelves rattled at the impact, toppling a few bottles of Aspirin. The lightbulb swung on a string overhead but remained off, keeping the two of them fumbling in the darkness. Dan hadn't exactly planned to shove Herbert into the utility closet to have his way with him but, well, when the urge struck, it struck. What he wanted more than anything in that moment was to suck Herbert off and listen to him choke on a cry as he came.

"Since when have you cared about regulations?" Dan asked as he trailed kisses along Herbert's neck.

Herbert clutched at Dan's shoulders, tipping his head back to give him better access. Dan crowded into Herbert's space and was pleased to feel that he was hard. He pressed his knee between Herbert's legs and relished in the moan he grunted into Dan's ear. Dan tugged at Herbert's shirt, pulling it free of his waistband. He bunched the fabric up in a fist, pushing to get access to Herbert's skin. He kissed down his stomach, sliding towards the ground.

"Since when have you not?" Herbert countered, squirming under Dan's mouth.

His words fell in time with Dan's knees hitting the floor. Dan tipped his head back, his hands braced on Herbert's thighs, and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you saying you want me to stop?" he asked teasingly.

"No," Herbert snapped with a glare, though the effect was slightly hampered by his blotchy red cheeks. "Keep going."

Dan snickered but turned back to the task at hand, levelling his gaze at Herbert's erection straining against his slacks. He unbuckled Herbert's belt, his fingers fumbling with his eagerness, but he managed to tug the zipper down and pull Herbert's flushed cock from his briefs. Dan's mouth watered at the sight of Herbert's desire on display, gripped in his hand.

He wasted no time in taking Herbert into his mouth, pressing his tongue to the underside of Herbert's cock as he bobbed his head. Herbert groaned out a noise that almost sounded like he was in pain, but he threaded his fingers through Dan's hair and pushed his head down to keep him in place. Herbert pulled at his hair as Dan sucked him down until his lips met the ring of his fingers wrapped around his shaft. The tug sent a sharp pain lancing across his scalp but also had a stab of desire piercing his gut. He moaned around Herbert's cock and Herbert choked out a gurgle of pleasure in response.

"Ah, Dan-" Herbert hissed, his hips canting against Dan's mouth. "I-"

He broke off with a breathy sigh and came in Dan's mouth without further warning. Dan caught most of Herbert's release and swallowed, the remainder spilling out of the corner of his lips and dribbling down his chin. Herbert released the vice-like grip on Dan's hair, allowing him to pull back and grab a box of unopened tissues on the shelf. He quickly wiped his face clean and stood up to unbuckle his belt, his own hard-on straining painfully against his fly.

Dan watched keenly as Herbert followed his movements with his cat-like eyes. When Herbert slowly began to lower himself to the floor Dan thrilled with anticipation, eager to thrust his cock between Herbert's plush lips and fuck his face. But just as Herbert reached to pop the button on his pants, his pager beeped at his hip.

"Uh oh," Herbert tutted, easing back. "Looks like you're needed, Doctor."

"Damn it," Dan cursed, scrambling to grab at the pager hooked to his beltloop.

He eyed the screen and let out a frustrated groan, resining himself to the fact that he was going to be left with blue balls.

"I know," Herbert crooned, rising back to his feet. "All those pesky sick patients getting in the way."

"Shut up," Dan snapped, smoothing his disheveled hair back in an attempt to make himself look presentable. He could comfort himself with the fact that he certainly looked more put-together than Herbert, whose clothes were wrinkled and unkempt. He pointed a finger at Herbert, who was busy straightening up his collar. "We're finishing this later."

Herbert smiled smugly at him and cracked the door open. "Can't wait," he purred, then slipped out, leaving Dan alone and aroused.

Dan let out a long sigh, promised himself he would fuck that smug smile right off Herbert's face once they were back at home, then left the closet, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

[untilthenextencore]

Captivating Woman Pt. 2~...

Robert splashed water on his face one last time before toweling off. He ran his fingers over his jawline, turning his face side to side slowly, inspecting his work. No stubble. No patches. No stray hairs. Smooth as a baby's bottom. His work here was done. He smiled & reached for his bottle of aftershave.

A dainty hand suddenly stilled him. Delicate manicured fingers trapping his over the cap of the bottle. He followed it up the arm to find an orange, pink & white creamsicle minidress splayed open to the navel. His "missing" turquoise pendant dangling between two mounds he had had his face buried in but earlier that night. Tanned skin as far as the eye could see above & below the skirt. Pink glossed lips quirked into a vulpine grin.

"Aww... Babyface!" Zoraida teased, reaching over with her free hand to cup & caress his jawline just as he just had. "Did you do all this for me? You shouldn't have..." She giggled.

"Not exactly, my dear. Why?" He grinned, dimple popping in the corner of his mouth now in full display.

"Just wondering. Been awhile since you've been so shorn." She grinned, continuing to fondle his jawline in delight. Clear approval. "Mmmm... Good job, baby. You feel fantastic..."

"Thanks, I had practice." He snorted at his own joke. As always.

"Funny. I'm just glad I caught you before you stung yourself with that facesplash stuff of yours." Her manicured fingernails grazed his skin gently, massaging his nonexistent jowls with a glint in her eye.

Half disarmed half bitten by curiosity, both caused by her ministrations, Robert prodded gently. "Why, luv?" His hands reached to brace her hips. Large lion's mitts that go from beltline to hemline.

In return, Zoraida came closer into his embrace, now cupping his face as she tilted in & took his lips in a surprise soft yet rapidly deepening kiss. Robert was stunned, but far from unwilling. His arms came around her & lifted her up onto the counter. Her legs embraced him, bare legs crossing at the ankles behind his hips. The feel of the cold silver & turquoise of his belt grazing her bare belly made her shiver. It made her giggle, eliciting a chuckle from her little trapped lionman mate as well. A nice little contrast to the heat that forever seemed to burn between them. Burn and build.

But as ever, Zoraida had a little surprise in store for him yet.

She moaned into the kiss, ruffling his curls still dark & damp from his shower. He growled in return, starting to inch her skirt up her thighs before reaching to unbuckle his beloved silver & turquoise belt. Zoraida chose that moment to hop off the counter & slip away from Robert & out of the bathroom with yet another teasing giggle.

Robert emitted something between a growl & a whine. "Babe~..." He cried, stretching out the word in a not altogether too unfamiliar fashion. "Is that it? Is that all you wanted? To strain me trousers a bit before we go down?"

"Noooo..." She drew out the single word reply herself, albeit softer & of course more teasingly. "Although I doubt your little fangirls downstairs would turn their noses up at the sight. I don't blame them." She perched herself daintily on the edge of his bed, crossing her legs & smirking. "Whoever could?"

"Be that as it may, my darling Zoraida..." Robert intoned with another chuckle, strolling over to her thumbs in his beltloops. "What I want to know is whether I should expect to keep my trousers on or off in the next five minutes?" He leant against the doorway between the bathroom & bedroom awaiting her answer.

Now was the time!

Zoraida made her move.

Smooth as silk, effortless as women centuries before dropping their hankies to signal want of attention from a nearby potential suitor, Zoraida shifted, purring. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable, baby..."

She then uncrossed her mile-long legs & parted them, miniskirt riding up & revealing herself to be completely nude below her dress.

Robert was gobsmacked.

He fell upon his knees in shock. Mouth agape. Was she going to head downstairs with him with her quim so bare? Was that what she intended? He didn't know. He was never sure of anything with her. He hated it. He was so unused to it. And he loved it!

He intended to walk over to her. But he couldn't control his legs exactly. Instead, he ended up semi-crawling to her on his knees, ending up kneeling at her feet.

Zoraida grinned down at the "Golden God" at her feet. She parted her legs wider, manicured hands splaying on her hips & slowly pulling her skirt upwards, revealing more of herself. A neat little triangle at her mound gave him even more of a hint - alongside that ever-present conspiratorial glint in her eye - of just exactly what she had in her mind.

"What do you think, baby? You like?" She cooed, tangling her fingers in his hair & tousling it.

Robert nodded mutely, gulping & fighting back a growl. "B-B-Beautiful..." Was all he could manage to stammer out, eyes fixed on the prize before him.

"Thank you, baby. I'm so glad you approve." Her free left hand slid down from her hip, down her thigh & came back to caressing his jawline. "Do you mind if I test your shaving? The job you did? Up close?" She punctuated her last words with a little clench of her walls, letting him see the quiver her lips made thusly.

"W-W-What exactly did you have in mind, luv?" Robert asked with a lick of the lips at the sight.

"Mmmm, what is that you say all the time?... Ah, yes!" She gently lifts his chin to have him meet her gaze as she teasingly mimics his accent. "Give us a kiss, luv..."

"It would be my pleasure, luv..." Robert snickered despite himself. His hands rose up to brace her hips once more, pushing her skirt all the more higher. He leant in, nestling closer, meeting her lips in long-awaited tender kisses.

Zoraida lifted her legs, resting them on his shoulders. She reclined back, purring happily as his lips met hers. The smile on her face grew to a Cheshire Cat level, just as he purred in kind.

He inhaled her scent deeply, purring once more against her, making her sigh. His tongue parted his lips to lap at her slit. At the same time his hand drifted between his legs, massaging himself softly through his jeans.

At times he found he had to pause his ministrations, already needing to stave off his orgasm just a wee bit longer.

"Mmmm, yes..." Zoraida crooned, crossing her legs around his back once more. "That's it, baby..." She gazed down at him with a smile. "You're the best, baby... I've been thinking of this all morning."

Zoraida then reclined back on the pillows as he lapped her up. "Mmmm, yes... This is heaven, Robert." She crooned. "Relaxing on a big plush bed in a big swanky hotel suite with a sexy blonde harmonica player displaying his skills yet again between my legs. Oh, yeah. I could get used to this."

Robert just chuckled against her, making her moan softly. "Why didn't you say so, darlin'? All you had to do was ask..."

Indeed if Zoraida was quickly becoming accustomed to him paying tribute to her as such, she wasn't the only one. Robert himself was becoming quickly endeared of the position. Burying himself between her thighs gave him ample time to contemplate how to wax lyrical about his beloved beauty later on. How to worship her onstage as well as in bed. His freewheeling goddess. His lovely one.

She tousled his hair, gripping & tangling her fingers in his famous locks. She rocked her hips up to meet his mouth as he tasted her for the first time back to barefaced.

The way he purred between her legs made them tremble. She cupped his head in her hands, meeting his searching blue gaze with her own deep brown eyes hazed with lust. "Mmmm, fuck Robert. God bless your harmonica for teaching you such skills."

Robert just chuckled as he pressed his tongue up the part of her lips & tickled her clit. Her hips jolted & flinched. "I aim to please, my lady..." He grinned, pressing a kiss to her clit.

"You idiot..." She laughed. "You're lucky I'm so fond of you..." Ruffling his hair, she blew him a kiss. "Cute, baby."

"Baby? I'll show you baby!" He huffed.

"Well what else am I to say?" Zoraida laughed again. "You look adorable with your lips so glossed like that. All flushed. It's a look. It suits you. Like your post concert glow. Only I like this one better..." She shifted, pulling her skirt up higher so as not to get it wet.

This allowed him a better look at his handiwork. And boy, was he thankful for the sight! The sight of her lick slickened quim made him lick his lips & purr. "Mmmm... So do I, luv..."

"Then, please... Don't stop... Daddy..." She added the last word as a smoky voiced punctuation for effect.

And boy, did it have it's effect!

The word jolted through his body from tip to toe. From lion's mane to tail. The throbbing between his legs getting that much keener. Now at last he undid his belt & Landlubbers, undoing the fly to let little Robert breathe some. He panted as he began to stroke himself softly. At times he found he had to give the base a squeeze in his continued attempts to stave off any oncoming eruptions.

"Well... Since my lady sees fit to ask... So nicely..." He purred in kind as his dimple popped. "The least I could do is oblige..." In the next instant his lips re-met hers & his tongue continued its explorations to her crooning & sighing & hair gripping approval.

Zoraida mewled, bucking her hips up to meet his seeking mouth. His heat-seeking mouth. His purrs against her lips as they yet again learned to part for his searching tongue was the epitome of heaven for her. She knew she had always thought so before. But now she was sure. This was the life.

His Roman snub nose rubbing against her clit made her jolt before crooning again. "Mmmm... Heaven indeed." As she gave his hair another ruffle, manicured fingers giving him a little post-shower scalp massage.

Robert for his part held fast to his position. He held her legs around his shoulders. His still slightly work-roughened fingers massaged her soft thighs. Tongue delving deeper eliciting hisses & groans of approval. "Mmmm, baby... Sweet as always... Sweetest little baby..."

Zoraida just giggled. His words sparked an idea. Brushing back a few still-damp curls that decided to fall in front of his eyes & obscure both his & her view, she cooed. "Robert... Look at me..."

Clearly taking this as "his moment", Robert shot her a look that was all smoke & embers. Lion's fire. Leonine fire & lustful burning. "Mmmmm?..." He purred against her, knowing it would vibrate against her. And it did, earning another hiss & moan.

A hiss & moan she punctuated with doe-eyes meeting his gaze & a softly mewled. "Daddy..."

Now Robert growled.

His fingers gripped her hips & his arms braced her thighs closer to him.

"Ooohhh... Have I found a nerve? Have I struck a nerve? Have I?... Daddy?..." She teased.

Robert's only response was another growl & to bury himself deeper within her thighs, curling his tongue deeper within her.

She squealed at the move & bucked her hips, toes curling. "Oooh... It seems the man "hailing from the land of ice and snow" is feeling in a mood to conquer again." Zoraida giggled, loving to tease her leonine young companion. "Why don't you come up here & show me how much you want to conquer me? How much you want to claim me. That is... If you think you can... Daddy..." She uttered the last word in a seductive hush, smirking down at him.

The gauntlet was thrown.

And knowing Robert as she did, she knew just what that would do to him.

In an instant, Robert leaped to his feet. He did away with his Landlubbers in a flash. Any faster & he would've torn them from his body with brute strength. His sizeable length dripped with excitement. Wept with it. Adding to the little pool of pre-cum it had already drizzled between his legs on the floor.

But just as soon as it was fully revealed to her eyes, it was hidden once more. Robert came to cover her with his much larger, leanly muscular body. He embraced her. Wrapping her in his arms. His lips slanted over hers, searing a kiss that was colored in her flavor.

Zoraida didn't know if he thought he'd shock her with that. Or test her. Either way, she rose to the challenge. She returned the kiss with just as much passion, just as much fervor, just as much feeling as she held him close. Enveloping him just as much as he enveloped her now. All silken skin & soft minidress to his lean hard body.

"You intoxicate me..." He rasped gruffly.

"Mmmm... Words can't express what you do to me..." She smiled, still playing with his hair. Always playing with his hair. And he loved it.

As proof, in an instant, Robert reared back, lifting his hips. His eyes locked on hers, hands clapping on hers, pinning her to the mattress. Rather than fighting it, she welcomed it. She let it happen. She allowed it. Robert knew that. Knowing her, he knew it couldn't occur any other way.

And as he reared back, he lined up his hips, sizeable erection pointed on target & in one smooth move, sheathed himself back where was quickly becoming the place he most loved being. Deep inside her.

"Nngghhh... You intoxicate me..." He repeated with a low groan as he felt her walls greet him with a squeeze. No truer words were spoken. Indeed.

Though at times his heart clenched with love for & the pangs of missing home & family. Maureen. Carmen. Even blasted Strider.

And pangs of regret for yet another betrayal laid at Maureen's feet...

Something about Zoraida...

Something in her...

Within her...

It made it so easy to be around her. With her. And certainly within her.

So easy to fall into bed...

So easy to fall...

To fall...

To fall...

Deeper & deeper...

Drunker & drunker...

More and more intoxicated...

With what? On what? He had no clue. No earthy clue. He just supposed it had to do with her. With this woman. With this woman. With this unearthly woman. This goddess. This present. This prize.

May God forgive him.

May his mother forgive him.

May Maureen forgive him

He couldn't help himself.

And so it was that Robert continued to sheath himself within her. He kept her pinned for the first few thrusts. Rutting into her with abandon. Conquering her as spoken. Claiming her. Penetrating her as she did him.

Zoraida for her part welcomed him. As soon as his hands shifted off hers, her arms wrapped tighter around him, as her legs embraced him once more. She let him conquer. Let him claim. And let him pierce as deep as he wished.

He was a man possessed.

Possessed by her.

As was proved by his lips returning to hers immediately. Searing hungry kisses onto her welcoming lips. In between the kisses they were a symphony of sighs meeting pants. She nipped his lower lip when he got lost in his own chorus of moans, making him chuckle & devour her anew.

The feeling of her tightness constricting around him even more drew more animalistic grunts from him.

"Mmmm, Zoraida... Baby... Mmmm, baby... So close... Christ..." He mumbled against her lips between more nibbling kisses.

"Mmmm, me too..." Zoraida cooed sweetly, cupping his chin as she kissed him to keep him right where she wanted him. As if he wanted to be anywhere else! "Mmmm... Bring me home, daddy... Bring me home... Bring me home so we can finish... Mmmm, together..."

No sooner had the words left her lips than had Robert surged deep within her anew. Her legs crossed behind his hips, crossing at the ankles. The X they made marking the fact - alongside her curled pink painted toes - that he had found her spot.

"Unnnhhh... Yes... Yes, baby... Right... Right... Right there..." Zoraida crooned. Her hands shifted to cup the back of his head & neck. Her fingers once again half tangled in his hair, half scoring into his back & shoulders.

What was that you called me before, luv?... Say it again?" Robert asked, accenting the question with a very sharp thrust.

It elicited the right reaction.

Zoraida crooned once more.

Purring out.

"Mmmm, daddy..."

"Yes..." Robert hissed as his hips snapped faster & faster.

Zoraida's legs tightened their embrace as she repeated his new favorite word - his new favorite nickname - in a series of purrs & mewls amidst soft nuzzles and more soft kisses.

At the same time, Robert was lost. He struggled to meet her in the kisses, as he so wanted to. But he was lost. Lost. Lost in her. Lost in pleasure. His pleasure. The pleasure she gave him. Lost in a series of moans & softer albeit still stage-like cries. Her own private concerto.

His back arched to mimic & meet hers as it did the same. The lovers met belly to belly. The beast with two backs had now fully formed. Robert lost in a tidal wave of pleasure building. Zoraida following in tow. Stolen away in its sway. His sway.

She cheered him on along the way. Cooing & panting out sweet nothings to him amidst mewls & moans of her own. Robert losing himself & telling her "Say it again" each time he heard her call him his beloved name of "Daddy". Nails scoring his back as his hips snapped faster & faster. Zoraida as ever coaxing another mind-blowing release out of him like only she could.

At last, just as he aimed for he reached it.

He found what he was looking for.

The promised land.

Her silken legs wrapped tight around his hips as her velvet walls clenched & spasmed around him. Nails digging in & marking burning trails up his shoulders as she gasped. "Yes!... Robert!... Daddy!..." One last time before she melted & trembled in the throes of her own release. Shattering under the weight of his own passion. Their connection going so deep it pierced her to her core & made her unravel in his hands.

At the same time Robert roared befitting his leonine self, rivaling his onstage wails as he too found & was thrown headlong over his peak. He erupted inside her, melting her from the inside out as well.

He burned for her.

He was molten.

So was she.

Two stars.

A rock star & his heavenly body.

Collapsing on top of her, Robert locked his arms around her, crushing her to him. Stars had collided & now they were dancing behind each of their eyes. Leaving them breathless. Dizzy. Panting in the afterglow.

"Mmmm... Darlin'... I know we had planned on lunch but... Let's go down later... Postpone it to dinner maybe?... I don't know about you but I'm just knackered... You really wore me out..." He laughed, shifting onto his back so she could rest on his chest.

Zoraida giggled at him, weakly swatting at his chest. "Mmmm, okay... Dinner sounds good. I suppose it's best... After all... I'm still weak in the knees after all that... You did a number on me too it seems..." She met his lips in a tired kiss before meeting his gaze & purring out once more. "Daddy..."

Robert groaned & swatted her in kind. One large hand lifting up & giving her a well-placed spank on her rump under her dress, making her yelp. "Yer gonna get it for that later, luv!" He chuckled, making a mental note for when he was a little less "knackered".

"Mmmm... I look forward to it... Wouldn't have it any other way..." Again her hands cupped his freshly shorn jaw as she took his lips in a sweet if sleepy kiss which he happily returned.

She wasn't the only one...

They both did...

For as ever, Robert knew that one thing he could count on with his beloved & treasured Zoraida, the heavenly body that lay beside him, was to expect the unexpected...

He wouldn't have it any other way...

~

Hope you guys enjoy~!

As ever this is forever under construction~!

[drabbles-mc]

Don't Mention It

Javier Peña x F!Reader

For Day 9 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: infidelity & in public

Warnings: 18+, language, smut, oral (m!receiving), public sex, infidelity

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Y'all I truly don't know what came over me with this but we all get to profit because of it lmao.

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @thesandbeneathmytoes @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You weren’t so disillusioned to think that what you were doing was right, or a good idea at all. You’d been told in the past that you had an affinity for making bad choices. So, you figured you might as well stick to what you’re good at. Besides, everything felt so treacherous all the time—if you could grasp at a few pleasurable straws, nothing was going to stop you from doing so. You could handle adding one more secret to the pile, one more bad idea to the list.

Javi wasn’t ever one to discriminate when it came to who he let in his bed. The list of things that you knew about him was exceedingly short considering you’d only known him for a couple hours, but you knew enough to know that if you pitched a good enough offer, he wasn’t going to turn you away. He didn’t say any of that. He didn’t have to—you saw the way his eyes raked up and down your body at the bar and you immediately just knew.

And that was how the two of you found yourselves in the alleyway behind the bar. He had you pinned back against the wall of the building behind you, his hands unable to find one place to settle and instead traveling all over your body. They ran up your thighs, pushing up the skirt of your dress in the process, then over the thin fabric of it, grazing over your chest and then up the side of your neck until he was cupping your face, fingers raking through the hair at the nape of your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders, trying to pull him closer and closer still.

Neither of you were fazed by the fact that you could still hear the conversations being had just on the other side of the wall. All it was going to take was one person peering through the curtains and out the windows and you two would be caught. On top of all the other reasons what you were doing was a bad idea, that should’ve definitely been a big one on the list. If you’d been second-guessing it at all though, the feeling of Javi’s teeth tugging at your lip would’ve been enough to erase all of your worries.

You felt him push his knee between your legs, driving them farther apart as he continued to kiss you. He brought his hand from your face and back to your legs. You felt his fingers sweep back up your thigh under your skirt, teasing you as he dragged his fingertips over the flimsy lace of your panties. You tried to push your hips into him, tried to win yourself a little more friction, but he knew what you were going to do before you even did it and kept his hand at just the right angle to keep you from getting what you wanted.

Looping your fingers into the beltloops of his jeans, you pulled him towards you with more force than he had been expecting. He stumbled half a step before he caught himself, but you got what you wanted as he leaned into you, his fingers giving you one blissful moment of friction.

“Please,” you begged, determined to keep your voice down to a whisper.

“Don’t worry,” he told you, his voice low as he brought his mouth next to your ear. You could feel his breath against your skin and if his hand hadn’t already been between your thighs, you would’ve been clenching them together. Pulling your panties to the side, he said, “I’ve got you.”

Your body had been ready for him, wet enough for his fingers to slide into you with no resistance. He cursed quietly under his breath as he pushed them into you, eyes closing as he reveled in the feeling of you.

It was only the moan that slipped past your lips that brought him out of his trance. Regardless of how good you sounded, how much he wanted to hear what other noises he could pull out of you, he knew it wasn’t the time. It certainly wasn’t the place.

Reaching up, he used his other hand to clamp down over your mouth. The action pushed you harder against the wall, not enough to cause you any pain, just enough to give you another shot of excitement. He could feel it in the way you clamped around his fingers. You wrapped your hand around Javi’s wrist, grip tight but you didn’t try to remove his hand. It was a helping hand you knew that you needed.

Javi couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You looked so good like that, pinned between his body and the wall, skirt pushed up to your hips. Your hair was no longer perfectly in place but in Javi’s opinion it looked even better now than it did before—it went well with the sheen of sweat that was starting to glisten across your skin. He watched the way your eyes would open and then flutter shut as his fingers began to move faster. You held tighter onto his wrist, and even in the low light of the back alley, the shine of your wedding band and the glisten of the diamond attached to it seemed blinding.  Javi knew that he probably should’ve felt some semblance of guilt, but it was hard to feel anything of the sort when you were soaking his hand as you came.

Pulling his hand away from your mouth, he rested his palm against your chest for a moment, feeling the harsh beat of your heart. You saw the way his tongue slid across his bottom lip as he stared at you for a moment. His moment of admiration was brief as he went to drop down to his knees, desperate to bury his face where his fingers had just been.

You reached out, balling your hand into your shirt to stop him. He froze, confusion flashing across his face as he tried to anticipate your next move. It felt too little too late to get cold feet on what you were doing.

Pulling him in, you kissed him hard on the lips before maneuvering the both of you so that he was the one with his back to the wall. Your lips were still on his as you let go of his shirt, immediately setting to work on his belt. Before you even undid the buckle you could feel how hard he was, and the thought of that alone made you weak in the knees.

You ended the kiss, lips still close enough to be brushing against his as you spoke. You pushed his pants and underwear down in one motion, just low enough to give you the room that you needed as you said, “Your turn.”

Before he could try to say anything, you were already on your knees in front of him, lips wrapped around the head of his cock. His head dropped back against the wall, eyes falling shut as he felt your tongue run down his length. Your hands held his thighs, nails digging into them just slightly the more of him you took.

“Fuck,” he muttered, only able to keep his voice low because he was afraid that you’d stop if he was any louder.

He brought one hand to cradle the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly at you as the only form of encouragement he could muster. He wanted to thrust into you, pull you closer to him, but he didn’t want to do anything to ruin the rhythm you’d found for yourself. You hummed deep in the back of your throat as your lips slid down his length, and suddenly Javi found himself quietly cursing at a god he hadn’t believed in for a very long time. Whatever you were doing with your tongue in that moment could only be the devil’s work.

You felt the way he twitched inside your mouth, and you found yourself picking up your pace because of it. You’d been thinking about this since the second he’d bought you a drink, the moment that he flashed that slick little grin your way. Moving one hand up, you flattened it against his hip, dragging your nails along his skin. You heard him mumble out a warning, giving you the chance to pull away, but instead you took him deeper, earning another string of curses out of him as he finished.

The second you pulled your lips off of him, Javi was pulling you back up to your feet. He slammed his lips against yours, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and causing the feeling to disappear from your legs. He got your back to the wall once more as he lifted one of your legs and hooked it around his hip.

“Javi,” you panted when you separated your lips from his. You looked around, knowing that you were both quickly running out of borrowed time, the illusion of privacy was going to shatter sooner rather than later.

“I know,” he murmured against your neck.

“We’re gonna—” your sentence got cut short, breath hitching when you felt him pull your panties to the side again, dragging the tip of his cock along the length of your slit. Your protests fell by the wayside as you gripped readily onto his shoulders. “Oh my god,” you said quietly, lips pressed against the side of his face as you spoke.

“One more, sweetheart,” he practically begged as he pushed into you until his hips were touching yours. “Give me one more.”

You weren’t going to tell him no, not when he felt so good inside of you. You couldn’t come up with any words so instead you pulled his lips back to yours, kissing him hard enough and hoping it would get your point across. He started to thrust into you, and you could feel the whine building in the back of your throat. You tried to fight it, but the tighter he gripped onto your hip, the faster he thrusted into you, the more difficult it became.

You both heard the sound of side-door of the bar being swung open, the wood clattering against the frame as he swung shut behind whoever had just walked out. You and Javi were frozen, each holding your breath as you listened for what direction the footsteps were going to head it. It would only take a few strides for whoever it was to find the two of you—that was the door you’d both snuck out through after all.

Javi pushed into you just a little more, just because he could, because he wanted to be just a little cruel. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried not to whine, still listening for the sound of retreating footsteps. Finally, after what felt like the longest fifteen seconds of your life, you heard the person start walking—much to yours and Javi’s relief, they were walking in the opposite direction from you.

Once the only sounds were the music and conversations coming from inside the bar, Javi let out the breath he’d been holding. He pulled almost all the way out of you before quickly pushing himself as deep as he could go, getting a choked gasp out of you.

He kissed your jaw, lips dragging until they were by your ear. “You did so good.”

You felt your limbs start to go lax at that. You tried to burn those words, his voice, into your brain as he continued to thrust into you. You hooked your leg tighter around his hip, hand tangling into the sweaty curls in his hair before gripping them tight. “Tell me again,” you plead.

The groan he let out at the desperation in your voice was sinful. He kissed you hard on the lips, his breath mixing with yours as he said, “You’re doing so fucking good for me.” He felt the way your leg was shaking, the way your walls started to spasm around him. He started to snap his hips faster, harder as he felt you teetering on the edge. “You gonna give me some more?” he asked, fully knowing the answer.

Like your body was responding to his question, you came around him seconds after he asked. He pushed into you, pinning you to the wall with his hips, using his body to keep the both of you upright as he braced one hand on the wall beside your head.

Javi wanted to drag this out. He wanted to bring you back to his place so that he could really see what you could do. He wanted to hear every moan and cry that you’d stifled down, wanted to know all the ways you could say his name. But he couldn’t. He knew that he couldn’t.

He pulled out of you, separating the two of you far too soon for his liking. Both your feet were on the ground once more, your skirt falling back into place, but he could still see the shaking in your legs. He quickly pulled his pants back up, eyes on you as he redid the buckle of his belt. He watched the way you readjusted yourself the best you could given the fact that you had no real way of knowing what you looked like. You carefully wiped the sweat from your face, felt to make sure your hair was as in-place as it was going to get.

He was waiting for you to show some sign of remorse, to not be able to look him in the eye. He didn’t have any guilt about what the two of you had done, but he also wasn’t the one who had a dutiful husband waiting for him at home. Or maybe he wasn’t that dutiful, since you were out on a beautiful night like this alone, fucking some man in an alley that you’d only met a couple hours before. Javi supposed that it didn’t really matter—what was done was done.

And on top of that, when your eyes met his all he could see on your face was a satisfied smile. You toyed with the thin strap of your dress, the gold rings on your left hand still seeming blinding in the scattered light coming off the lampposts. There was something about the lack of regret in your features that made Javi want to kiss you and start the whole dance over again. He wasn’t going to take the time to think about what that said about him, or about you considering you looked like you were about ready for another round if he was going to give it to you.

Javi ran his hands back through his hair, pushing it out of his face and wiping some of the sweat away in the process. He could still taste you on his lips as his tongue darted across them. He wanted to have the right thing to say, and usually he could always come up with something. Not this time, though. He stood there, watching the way you leaned casually back against the wall behind you and studied him for a few seconds longer.

“I meant to thank you for the drink inside, but…” you finally said, a smirk curling the end of your lips.

Javi chuckled at that, shaking his head even though he probably shouldn’t have been amused by it. “Don’t mention it.”

You gave a hum in response as you peeled yourself away from the wall. “I won’t.” You saw it in his eyes that he was scrambling for something to say. But you didn’t need that from him. You’d already gotten exactly what you needed. Leaning in, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “It was nice meeting you, Javier.”

Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yea.” He watched as you turned on your heel and stepped around the corner onto the small dirt side-street where the door to the bar was. He took a couple steps just so that he could watch you walk away, turning into nothing but a silhouette the farther you retreated. “Nice meeting you too.”

[jungle-angel]

The One With The Sex Manual: Part 2 (Frat!Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Rhett's Kamasutra 101 lessons continue

Warnings: Hilariously filthy and depraved sexual acts, smut, references to sexual intercourse, frat boy weirdness etc. See Urban Dictionary for details (lol).

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @sebsxphia

"Alright, so seeing yas ya'll have been studying this chapter thoroughly," Rhett said to the new pledges. "Lets get back into it. Kelso, what position is chapter two, section eight?"

"Camel ride," Danny Kelso answered.

"And how is this performed?" Ravi Sharma queried, trying so hard not to snicker as he scratched it off on the chalkboard.

"Receiving partner lies on his/her side with the uppermost leg forward. The penetrating partner kneels astride the receiver's lowermost leg, thus gaining access to either vagina or ass. Good for pregnancy, or for overweight partners. Experiment, as one side usually gives better alignment than the other for any given pairing," Danny explained.

"EXCELLENT!" Rhett exclaimed. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

"Um.....Professor Abbott?" Stephen Rodriguez said, raising his hand. "What's the Montana Mating Press?"

"I put that one in there," Ravi chuckled. "That's where ya'll make a giant pillow mountain and then fuck your partner stupid in the mating press position while ya'll pray that you don't fall off the bed."

"You've tried this?" Rhett laughed.

"Dude, my people fucking INVENTED the sex manual," Ravi pointed out.

"What's the Screwnicorn?" Joey Castro enquired.

"Ah, Joey, I'm glad ya'll asked," Rhett chuckled. "That's where two partners are crawlin around on all fours with a strap-on tied to their heads, tryin to penetrate each other. That act can be found in the sex manuals of the Phi Gamma Kappa sorority, as it was often performed by drunken sorority sisters."

You had been sitting in the corner, trying to hide your laughter while the pledges busted out laughing, all of them going completely red in the face as Rhett and the others kept going into all the filthy details. They hadn't been wrong. Many a time, you yourself had been witness to The Screwnicorn in the hallways of the Phi Gamma house during a rager.

"Wait, Tony Danza is a sex position?" Flounder asked.

"Yeah that one we don't do," Rhett told him. "If it involves donkey punching your partner, don't do it unless they're a real asshole."

"Ok so that means we skip over Hot Donkey?"

"YES!!!!!!" Rhett told him, his eyes going wide as he gave a fervent nod.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You knew that in a house full of men, there would be sexual depravity, but this was ludicrously funny.

"Alright class is dismissed for the day," Rhett told them. "Make sure next time ya'll bring your manuals and we'll continue. Professor Sharma, Professor Andreola and Professor Dutton will be joining us so make sure ya'll are prepared."

As soon as the pledges had left the room, you wrapped your arms around Rhett's waist, kissing his shoulder hidden beneath the fabric of his blue button-down while a teasing finger found its way into the beltloop of his jeans.

"Ya know," you said. "We've got an extra two days off before the start of spring break."

You could hear the eager, needy purr in his throat as you rubbed his belly a little.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckled.

"My room.....five minutes, we'll have the whole afternoon to ourselves," he groaned as he pulled you around and buried his face in your neck, tickling you with his soft, smooth, freshly shaved cheeks.

And you gladly obliged.