#just gettin real silly with it

[lotus-duckies]

extremely good part about the second bbb movie

gopal and boboiboy forcing their friends to feel their pain <3

[aquapede]

man this tutorial character is way too wordy

should i kill him yes/no

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

hate how im now at a point where im legit like kicking my legs and grinning like an idiot over fictional characters SEND HELP

[indiemovies]

i need to get “vomit or cry. the choice is yours.” tattooed

[bratbby333]

gamer!bf sukuna drabble

·:*¨༺ nsfw mdni ༻¨*:·

gamer!bf sukuna who is always sat at his desk, shooting at something

gamer!bf sukuna who will lose track of time and play for hoursss, not even acknowledging your existence until you interrupt his game play with dinner

gamer!bf sukuna who buys you your own gaming set up after catching you playing on his computer when you think he isn't home (he positions your new monitor and gaming chair right next to his)

gamer!bf sukuna who laughs in your face when you ask if he wants to play minecraft with you (how dare you recommend something that isn't violent? silly little thing. do you even know him?)

"so childish... why the fuck would i play that?"

gamer!bf sukuna who feels bad after you pout at him for making fun of you, reluctantly agreeing to play fortnite (the tamest game he'll play)

gamer!bf sukuna who is never not yelling at someone through his headset

"you stupid fuck! ask your mother how my dick tastes"

gamer!bf sukuna who loves when you pull up a chair to watch him play

gamer!bf sukuna who let's you sit in his lap, the controller in your hands with his hands over yours, pushing the buttons for you... the elated grin on your face when you finally kill someone makes his dick hard

"baby! i did it! i got him!" "that's my good girl, now let me reward you"

gamer!bf sukuna who loves that you play animal crossing at your desk next to him while he plays cs:go and valorant, you eventually put on your noise canceling headphones because he won't stop screaming

"what the actual FUCK was that? you're trash. GET OUT OF MY LOBBY"

gamer!bf sukuna who finally agrees to play minecraft with you after weeks of begging, enjoying it more than he thought he would (the face you make when he finally says yes causes his heart flutter just a little bit... but he'll never tell you that, constantly groaning at how boring it is, but playing it with you for three hours)

he runs around killing creepers and skeletons to quell his homicidal ideations instead of helping you build a house "why the hell would we build a fake house when we're literally sitting in our real one?" so fucking sassy for no reason he'd run around collecting a mob of enemies instead, luring them into a pit before sealing it off and dumping a bucket of lava on them, laughing as they slowly burn to death...bro is insane i stg...

gamer!bf sukuna who let's you wear his headset while he plays a 1v1 in a custom lobby, laughing at his opponents obvious anger and frustration thinking they're losing to you (COD is so misogynistic, and sukuna is thoroughly amused when he gets to put them in their place on your behalf)

gamer!bf sukuna who beams with pride when you start picking up on gaming terms

"that guy sucks, he's just camping", you say, brows furrowed in annoyance. "who the fuck did you learn that word from?" "who do you think i learned it from, dumbass?" you retort, a taunting smile on your lips. he just grins, "god, you're so fuckin' sexy. but drop the attitude before i fuck it outta you."

gamer!bf sukuna who attempts to teach you how to play call of duty, battlefield, and cs:go

"you'll get better, doll. just keep tryin'"

gamer!bf sukuna who refuses to admit that he actually enjoys playing minecraft with you, hoping you'll suggest to play it first

gamer!bf sukuna who looks down from his monitor to see you kneeling under his desk, head between his legs, sucking him off while he's on discord talking to his friends; tangling his hands in your hair, biting the inside of his cheek when you deepthroat him unexpectedly, his hips bucking off his chair. "you dirty fuckin' girl, it's like you want them to hear" he moans out. his friends erupt in laughter after hearing him, but he doesn't want you to stop. exhibitionist!sukuna has entered the chat

"you can stay and listen if you want, at least im gettin' some unlike you virgins"

gamer!bf sukuna who fucks you rough when he loses a game

"god you're so fuckin' tight for me" he groans, his grip tight on your hips. he looks down to watch your pretty pussy suck him in. you squirm, his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you with every trust, whining as he pushes your head into the mattress, his strokes unrelenting. "uh uh. don't move...stay right fuckin' there n take this dick, brat."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

author notes: hehehe...this was super fun to write. if you have any requests, send them here! if u wanna be added to my anon club, drop an emoji with ur submission and ill add u to my pinned post ☺︎

i've already written longer, smut-filled stories of gamer!bf sukuna,,u can read them here and here and here

thank u liking, commenting, and reblogging...it makes me kick my feet n giggle when i get the notification ♡

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[killakalx]

kal i’m here for the second time today reporting from the darkest, nastiest part of my brain to share bsf!dick grayson thoughts 🎙️ you’re laying down with your best friend, leg thrown over his hips, js sitting in comfortable silence on your phones. occasionally he’s rubbing your back, every once in a while you share what you’re looking at with quiet giggles. you readjust, and suddenly the seam of your shorts is pushing up against you just right. immediately you feel bad — you can’t use your best friend to get off, that’s just wrong. a little empty headed and itching to chase the feeling, the horny, irrational part of your brain wins out and you adjust again, subtly. you keep making small, seemingly unnoticeable movements ‘til dick asks, “are you not comfortable?” you shake your head, keep still but he can feel the tension in your shoulders, hiding a smirk behind his phone. he knows exactly what you’re doing, and fucking loves it. he lets you think he hasn’t noticed, continue with those little twitches of your hips that make your eyebrows furrow. “you gettin’ off on me?” he’d ask so casually, and it would take herculean effort on his part to keep from laughing at the way your eyes widen and you freeze up. before you can fumble your way around some inadequate apology, his hand is slipping just barely under the waistband of your shorts, resting on your lower back and giving you a little nudge. “‘s okay, i’m not mad, keep going.” he’s grinning, phone abandoned with a laser focus on the way you hesitantly start grinding against him, growing a little more confident after his reassurance. he’d be happy to help, but he’s relishing in being used to get you off in such a juvenile way. i’m sick in the head, i know, but i can’t stop thinking abt him.

— 😵‍💫

YESSS BSF!DICK GRAYSON IS MY SHIT.

bc i’m a whore for thigh riding just think about you laying on your tummy and he’s sitting up a little further against the pillows. one leg over his and at first you start off a little far away from him. after so many silly posts you just had to show him though, you’ve inched closer. he sees the little movement in your hips and he’s engraved that night in his brain so deep that he knows you only move like that when you’re tryna get off.

“what would you do without me, huh?” he’s teasing you and urging you closer, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take the chance. greedy hands are pinching your hips and ass while he makes you keep going, then he’s tensing his thigh just to fuck with you. “y’want me to keep doing that, pretty thing?” ugh you should be ashamed of how fast you start nodding at him.

“mhm,“ you’re assuring him and you get cut off when he actually does it. buckling over and closer to his face, arms around his neck and now he’s just being mean when he leans his head away to stop you from kissing him. “friends don’t kiss on each other,” all while he’s guiding you back and forth and bouncing his leg. bastard.

in his defense all his attention is on the wet patch on his sweats, soaking through your shorts just from this. nonnie you are so right when you say he’s into it, the fact that you got desperate enough to even try getting away with grinding on your bsf. dick grayson as your bsf has made you cum without his cock plenty of times, just bc his ego blows up.

“ohhh, you gonna cum?” YES. yes yes yes. now he’s letting you get real close to his lips, forehead against yours as a gentle hand keeps your eyes focused on his. it’s somehow something much more intimate than kissing, still making you whine when you clench around nothing and ruin his thigh. and yeah there’s no second thoughts, he’s already tryna make you cum again after that shy little giggle once you remember why this happened in the first place. nonnie, if you’re sick then i’ve got a chronic disease.

[katsu28]

through the lens

pairing: jamie tartt x reader 

summary: a richmond win, a trip to ola’s, and a camera is all it takes to find out how jamie tartt really feels about you

warnings: swearing ofc, reader is afc richmond's team photographer, 2.5k

a/n: humbly inviting begging anyone and everyone to drop ted lasso requests from this list or this one in my inbox <3 i write for jamie, roy, sam, dani, and isaac! now pls enjoy the result of my jamie tartt brainrot 

The atmosphere in the locker room was positively electric. 

AFC Richmond was fresh off their first win in a very long time, and everyone was beyond ecstatic, buzzing with residual adrenaline and pride on a game well played. All the players were in a huddle in the center of the room, jumping at each other with nothing but pure joy in their eyes. 

All you could do was try your best to capture the moment without getting in the way of the festivities, which you somehow managed by climbing up onto one of the benches in front of the lockers as you snapped picture after picture of the team getting their celebration on. Nobody really paid you any mind throughout, until you turned your camera on one Jamie Tartt, who was already looking right at you the second your viewfinder focused on him. 

He beamed, lifted his hand up in a small wave, and for a split second you thought he might’ve started to make his way over to you, but he was caught on the shoulder and redirected by an overjoyed Dani Rojas. You swiveled away from Jamie and towards where Colin and Isaac had started some sort of chant that you could barely make out over the ruckus. 

Focusing on them gave you the chance to let your heart rate settle back down after sharing that split second moment with Jamie. It was pathetic, really—pining over someone like him.

More of a silly little crush than anything, you knew it would never lead to anything because you’d rather a sinkhole open up in the middle of the road and swallow you up than tell Jamie that you liked him. But that didn’t stop your feelings for him from growing. He’d come back to AFC Richmond someone different—sweet and empathetic and the biggest supporter of his fellow Greyhounds—which made it that much harder to keep your crush under wraps. 

Hell, Keeley had figured it out within weeks of his return and accidentally let it slip to Roy. He’d very gruffly assured you that he hadn’t told a soul, but you were sure that the whole team knew about it by now. Everyone except Jamie. You’d never been so glad for his thick head. 

“Alright, I know y’all are excited about the win, I am too but listen up!” Coach Lasso’s voice cut through the commotion, hands waving over his head to get his players’ attention. At the drop of a hat, every single one of them fell quiet, eagerly awaiting what their beloved coach had to say. 

You were looking forward to it too, not only because a Lasso signature speech was always a great opportunity to get raw, unfiltered photos of the team, but because he always had something positive to say, no matter what the outcome on the pitch had been. The amount of love and care Ted Lasso had for his players was his strong suit, and it showed in everyone’s respect for him. 

“I’m real proud of what all y’all did out there on the pitch tonight. I know I say that after every match and I mean it every time, but this one is just a little bit sweeter. I appreciate every single one of you boys more than you could imagine,” He continued, looking to address each person. They looked like kids again, giddy with glee as they soaked in their coach’s praise. 

You took shot after shot of everyone in the moment, so enveloped in your craft that you didn’t notice someone had come to stand beside you until you let your camera hang. That was when you noticed Jamie, inching closer with an innocent look on his face until he saw you looking down at him. 

“Hiya,” He said, playfully nudging your leg with a cheeky smile. “Gettin’ a good view up there?” 

“Shouldn’t you be listening to your coach?” You shot back, fighting the urge to pick your camera back up and take a shot of his lopsided grin and stupidly endearing twinkle in his eye as he looked up at you. 

“Nothin’ I haven’t heard before.” Jamie shrugged, but he turned back around to look at Ted.

Even though he wasn’t paying attention to you, it was hard not to pay attention to him. That was a problem you’d increasingly been running into, not being able to focus when Jamie was around. You thought you’d had it under wraps, but it seemed like you’d developed a sixth sense for whenever he wandered into your vicinity. And lately, that sense had been pinging a lot more than usual. 

Maybe you were reading too much into things, but it seemed like Jamie had been popping up everywhere you went in the facility. Granted, it was mainly the pitch and the locker room hallways, but it flustered you all the same. One brief conversation about even something mundane like weekend plans or the weather paired with a smile and a cheeky wink before he disappeared around a corner and you were left wondering what you’d been doing in the first place. 

Ted was closing out his speech by the time you’d remembered you were actually supposed to be doing your job right now. You jerked out of your thoughts, snapping a few photos of the coaching staff before he finished up for the night. “Now go ahead and let loose, golden goose!” 

“I’m pretty sure it is geese, Coach,” Sam chimed in, giving him a good natured smile.

“You know what I mean! Go have some fun, celebrate, all that jazz. But not too much fun because I expect to be seein’ y’all bright and early tomorrow morning for practice. Remember, the early bird gets the worm! See, I know I did that one right.” With that, Ted waved the team off, retreating back into the coaches’ office with Coach Beard on his heels and leaving them with all their pent up energy. 

“Sam says we’re all going to Ola’s to celebrate!” Bumbercatch exclaimed, drawing a roar of approval from the rest of the team. 

“You comin’ with us?” Jamie asked you hopefully, tilting his head to the side a bit. Warmth bloomed on your cheeks at the prospect of him wanting you to tag along. “Catch the festivities, give the people what they want?” 

Oh. He was asking because you were their photographer. Not for the other foolishly hopeful reason you were thinking of. Of course. 

“Yeah, I’ll tag along. Gotta catch you boys in your natural habitat, don’t I?” 

Jamie’s mouth lifted into a cool smirk. “‘Course you do. You can catch a ride with me, if you want.” 

“Oh! Um, only if it’s not too much trouble.” You could only hope you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt.

He nodded, extending a hand up towards you to help you down from your perch. You accepted it maybe a bit too eagerly, because your step down from the bench put you a little closer to Jamie than you’d planned, barely a few inches between the two of you. You swore you almost stopped breathing when his chest brushed against yours as he inhaled a sharp breath. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, and it almost looked like he was as stunned as you. 

You both mumbled an apology, words tumbling over each other messily as you stepped apart. His hand flew up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. Yours went straight for your camera, busying yourself with a few random buttons as if it were a defense mechanism. Neither of you could look at the other for a good while, not until you got into Jamie’s car and were on the way to Ola’s to meet the rest of the team. 

“So. What’d you think of the game?” 

“S’good! You did great, Jamie,” You exclaimed, excited now. It was true, Jamie had been on fire tonight with a goal and two assists. “All of you did great.” 

“Should I pose for ya next time? Give ya a proper action shot?“ He sounded only half joking. “M’trusting you to make me look good, y’know!” 

“Posing is overrated. I like the shots I get when you lot get out there on the pitch. They’re natural.” 

“But what if I make a stupid face when I pass the ball? Those can’t be any good.” 

“They’re called candids, and I happen to think they look better than your promotional shots.” 

“Bullshit! I looked sexy in those shots and you know it.” 

While he wasn’t wrong, you had a point to prove now. Taking a deep breath, you counted to three in your head before picking your camera back up, swiveling in your seat and snapping one, two, three pictures of him. 

Jamie’s brow furrowed at the shutter clicks, giving you a confused glance over in your direction. “Oi! What’s that for?”

“That’s a candid.” You said simply, ignoring your heart pounding a million miles a minute against your ribcage. You flicked through the photos, pleased to see that they’d come out just as you suspected—perfect. 

“Not even getting my good angle, some photographer you are,” He muttered, giving his head an overexaggerated shake. 

“All your angles are good, Jamie,” You scoffed. “And you don’t need me to make you look good, ‘cause you’re doing it just fine on your own.” You didn’t realize what you’d said until a beat later when he looked extremely delighted, but every part of what you said was true. 

Even caught off guard and driving, Jamie Tartt looked unfairly good. The lights off the dashboard washed over his handsome face in a warm light, making him look softer than the harsh lights of Nelson Road did. 

On the football pitch, he was tough and cocky, mouthing off to opposing team with the sole purpose of getting under their skin, and the lighting reflected that. He was Jamie Tartt, a striker with a right foot kissed by God, one of the greatest footballers in Richmond history. In this car, here with just the two of you, he was at ease. His guard was down, his facade gone. He was just Jamie Tartt, a boy from Manchester. That was the Jamie you’d grown some not-so-small feelings for. 

Ola’s was definitely quieter than any pub in Richmond would’ve been, though you suspected that the team rather enjoyed it this way. They loved and appreciated their fans, but it was nice to be surrounded by friends as opposed to being gawked at the whole night. Even so, someone had turned on music with a heavy beat that thumped through the restaurant and everyone was having a good time. 

It was the perfect opportunity to grab a few more quick shots of the team and you took it gratefully, milling around the place for a bit snapping pictures here and there before coming back to your seat to flick through everything. You had to see what you could give the PR team to put on Richmond’s socials. 

A pint of beer slid in front of you drew you away from your camera, but it was mostly the smiling Jamie who’d slid into the chair next to you. He leaned in a little closer to be heard over the chatter of the restaurant, bracing his arm on the back of your chair. 

“D’you ever stop working?” 

“Meaning?” 

“Nothin’ bad! I just mean…every time I see ya you’re nose deep in that camera, barely get t’see your face.” 

“The point of my job is to see your face, not mine,” You joked, growing more nervous at the way he was looking at you, like he meant he actually wanted to see your face more instead. Jamie’s expression softened into something fond, knee bumping against yours gently, fingers brushing against your shoulder. His touch sent a feeling not unlike static shock through you, racing through your veins and sending your heart thundering loudly in your ears. 

You were suddenly aware of just how close he was to you and leaning closer still, so close you could see a smudge of dirt from the pitch on his neck that he’d missed, the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. 

“S’shame. Got a face too pretty to be behind the lens all the time. Prettier than mine, even.” 

“Stop it,” You mumbled, but there was no real force behind your words. Jamie thought you were pretty. It made you feel giddy inside. 

“No, you stop it. You’re stunnin’.” He insisted, looking entirely sincere. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“M’not. I mean it.” Jamie shook his head vehemently. You pressed your lips together, denying it still. “You don’t believe me. Here,” He was quick to grab your camera off the table carefully, leaning back a bit and hitting the shutter button determinedly. You’d barely managed to stretch an arm over your face before the flash went off. He squinted at the tiny screen, studying it for a few seconds before smiling proudly. 

“Think I finally know what’s so good about those candids you keep talkin’ about. That one’s a keeper.” He was firm in his words, turning the camera around to show you the picture he’d taken. Part of your face was obscured by your outstretched hand, but you could see most of your smile and a gleam in your eyes that you didn’t know you had until this very moment. You liked it. 

“D’you wanna go on a date with me sometime?” He asked hopefully, fiddling with the edges of his shirtsleeves. Warmth flooded your cheeks in an instant. “A proper one, where I can come by yours and ring your doorbell and give you flowers and all that shit.”

“Someone give Lust Conquers All a ring, ‘cause Jamie Tartt is a changed man!” You shouldn’t have been cracking jokes right now. It definitely wasn’t the time, but you couldn’t help yourself. It escaped before you could take it back. 

But Jamie just rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, alright, have a laugh. You didn’t say yes.” 

“I also didn’t say no.” You pointed out, scooting a few inches closer to him. He returned the gesture, sliding towards you until your knees pressed together. You were inches away from each other, again, but this time it was different. This time, you knew how he felt about you.

“That’s still not a yes.” He said softly, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been as close to him as you were right now. 

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. “How’s that for a yes?” 

“S’good. Missed the mark though. Should be more like…” He trailed off, sneaking a quick peck to your lips before grinning sheepishly. “That.” 

“Sneaky boy.” You rolled your eyes, but your tone was anything but annoyed. “Good thing you’re cute.” 

He preened at your compliment, giving a little self satisfied smile. “And a good photographer?” 

“Decent. If football doesn’t pan out, maybe I could make you my assistant.” 

“That mean I get to spend all day with you?”

“If you can handle it.” 

Jamie’s lips quirked up into a soft smile and he kissed you again, a little longer this time. His hand moved up your shoulder around the back of your neck tenderly, a blooming warmth against your skin. “I’ll manage.” 

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[baby-tini]

Continuing on the pushing at their hand thing you did... (WHICH WAS SO FKN HOT BTW HOLY SHIT!!!) How would all Mikey timelines react to a reader running from it...

(PLEASE DON'T EVER STOP WRITING, I'LL BE SO MAD IF YOU DO 😡😡😡)

I promise I won't, I'll keep at it until I'm 60, thank you baby

Toman\OG Timeline- As soon as he feels you grabbing at the sheets and using them as leverage in order too get away from him, he roughly pulls you back against his hips and bottoms out, holding you there. His hands tightly gripping your hips as he grinds his hips into your ass, you really thought you could run from it, huh? That's real cute of you baby, but you're gonna stay just like that, with your ass in the air as he pushes your face into the pillows while he fucks you, he doesn't wanna hear that bullshit, you took it before, so you can take it again. He'll make you take it again if he has too. But he doesn't have too do that, right pretty thing? ...Yeah, that's right, 'cause you're gonna behave and you're gonna let him fuck you, aren't you? That's right, now you're gettin' it, he doesn't wanna be mean, but he will be if you keep pulling your hips away from him.

"I know you're not trying too get away from me, are you baby?... I didn't think so, so why the fuck are tryna pull away from me?"

Manila- You really thought he'd let you run from it? No baby, you couldn't possibly be that stupid, could you?... he didn't think so, so why are you jerking you hips forward baby, hm? It's okay, if it's really that difficult for you too just lay there and take it, he'll do it for you. So he does, he pushes your face into the soft pillows as he pulls both of your arms behind your back, putting them in a cross and using them as leverage too fuck you backwards on his cock. Using his other hand too fist your hair and pull your head back, making you look at him, spit drooling down your chin as you look up at him. Moving the hand in your hair to your face and giving your cheek a couple pats as he lets go, letting your head fall forward, moving his hand down to your hips and giving a couple swats to your thigh, squeezing at your ass as he he leans over you, whispering the nastiest shit in your ear as he watches the tears stream down your cheeks.

"The fuck did I just tell you about running from me, huh? You love this dick any other time, so why you runnin' from it now?"

Kanto- Who the fuck do you think you are? No, no, no, see, that's not how that shit works baby. You don't get too run from him, you're just supposed too lay there and take his cock, let him fuck his cum into you until it's spilling from your cunt, let him fuck you until he's satisfied, this isn't about you, silly girl. It never was. He could careless if you're crying, soaking the pillows with your tears as your tongue hangs out and there's spit dripping down your tits as you sob, harsh pants leaving your lips as you try too get out of his grasp, one of your hands reaching behind you in an attempt too push at his chest. You wanna get handsy? That's fine, he can do that too, lets see if you really can't take it when he's pushing on that bulge forming in your stomach, let's see how you feel then.

"Keep your fucking hands to yourself, you're gonna lay there and take it until I'm done with you, do you understand?"

Bonten- Oh you're pulling away from him cause you can't take it little thing? He'll make sure you really can't take it then when he reaches a hand down and starts rubbing at your clit, rolling it around with his thumb and index finger, as he fucks you from behind. You really can't take it now, huh? Yeah, he thought so, 'ts too much now, huh? Yeah it is, so you're gonna let him do what he was doing before and you're not gonna complain. 'Cause if you do, he'll make sure it's really too much for you, he's not against fucking you 'till you pass out. Grabbing your hands as he leaves harsh slaps of the fat of your ass, spreading you ass apart as he watches his cock fill you to the brim, the little cries you let out everytime he bottoms out is his favorite. The little sucking sound you make when saliva overflows from your tongue as your eyes squeeze tight and you almost rip at the sheets with how hard you're pulling at them.

"Aww.. it's too much baby? Are you sure? Because I think it's not enough, actually, what do you think?..You're not even crying yet though.. my sensitive little thing."

Street Racer- He's so sweet about it, he's not let you run from it, but he'll ease up. Slowing his pace as he lifts your chin up so that you're looking up at him, his other hand wiping at your tears as he leans over you, leaving soft kisses on your cheeks as he pets your hair. One of his hands running down your back, rubbing your shoulders with his thumb as coos in your ear, telling you how good you're doing, how he just wants too make you cum baby, he can tell you're close. You only squeeze him like that when you're close, let him make you cum baby. His voice is so soft and sincere as kisses your forehead. Moving the damp pieces of hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ears before his hands move back down to your hips, and he starts moving again. Leaving soft kisses on your shoulder blades as he moves your hips back against him. If you really can't take it though, that's okay, he'll let you ride him, letting you move at your own pace as he brushes soft touches over your arms.

"Shhh.. don't cry.. I know baby, too much? You want me too slow down? Or do you want too ride me? You wanna do it yourself... alright baby hold on."

[kira-fluff]

"can you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

pairing: osamu miya x reader (haikyuu!!) a/n: unfortunately based off a true story. tw: anxiety, bullying, swearing, threatening

you sidled yourself in a seat next to your good friend. "heeeeey 'samu~" you grinned.

"what do ya want?"

"can i not just want to greet my amazing friend?"

he gave you a skeptical look and you blanched. "well, uhm..."

"if it's my food ya want, yer not gettin' it." he grumbled, selfishly sucking more milk through his straw.

"can you be my boyfriend?"

comically, osamu proceeded to spew the milk in his mouth out in shock, nearly missing atsumu who sat across the table, much to both of their dismay.

wiping some milk from his mouth, osamu managed to choke out a strained, "yer for real..?"

you blinked, then flushed, "i-i-i meant for pretend, i mean it!" you bit your lip, "there's this girl who recently decided she doesn't like me. i'm not sure why... but she started telling rumors and lies about me to other people.....including her boyfriend. and...and.. he's super intimidating..." you looked away, "'samu, he came up to me the other day and said that if i mess with 'his girl'... that i'd 'regret it'....'samu, i'm scared. it's silly, right? but.. but it would just make me feel safer.."

a warm hand fell on your shoulder, "'s not silly. 's a threat. do ya want me 'ta take care of him?"

you shook your head quickly, "n-no! i just... i need you to just.. pretend. i know it's weird, but it would mean a lot to me, okay?"

osamu eyed you up and down before saying, "why me?"

your eyes widened and you once again couldn't look him in the eye. after all, it'd be pretty lame to confess after he so blatantly shot you down a few minutes ago. "well, you're my best 'guy' friend. and you're pretty much built like a greek god--"

he smirked, amused, "ya think 'm built like a greek god?"

"i'm still here, guys, keep the flirting to a minimum," piped in atsumu.

you both turned in unison to him, identically saying, "shut up, 'tsumu."

you cleared your throat, "anyway, you're bulky and strong and could definitely beat him in a fight."

"obviously."

"so will you help me... please?"

osamu's resolve seemed to waver the longer your stared into his eyes with a begging expression. to be honest, the moment he'd heard that some guy was harassing you, he was beyond pissed off and was ready to agree to just about anything you asked of him. but, once he found out that you had also wanted to be his (albeit, pretend) girlfriend? it seemed like the perfect opportunity to show you what it could really be like.. and how much he loved you.

"i guess." he said, his cheeks slightly flushing.

it shocked you that he had agreed. after all, this is osamu you're talking about. he scarcely looked your way, much less harbored any idea of you being his girlfriend. and yet here you were, walking down the halls, holding hands. he avoided your gaze, though you knew him well enough to know he wasn't annoyed with you, just embarrassed, which you had expected.

what you hadn't expected, however, was that girl. you call her that girl because you honestly didn't know her name. only that she despised you. you frowned, recalling the numerous times your friends walked up to you telling you she'd said you were "annoying" or that she was surprised you were ever invited to anything what with the way you make everything about yourself. you knew your friends meant well but a part of you wished they'd never told you. you weren't exaggerating when you say that you are a "drama-free" person. you seemed to always be the last one to hear the gossip going around and certainly the last to spread anything. it upset you that despite your best efforts someone had decided that you were irritating enough to make comments to others about. you tried to not take things personally, you really did, but when you'd heard her talking about you while you were in a bathroom stall, it took all of your strength to hold back your tears. unfortunately, because you're drama-free, you also aren't the most confrontational person. rather, you preferred confrontation when the other people didn't seem to take anything anyone ever did personally. you thought back on yourself, searching for anything you could've done wrong to bother her but after much consolation from friends, turned up nothing. still, a part of you felt like it was all your fault. maybe you could've tried harder to be extra kind to her?

you were broken out of your thoughts by a squeeze to your hand. making eye contact with that girl, she rolled her eyes and turned, walking the other way. osamu looked down at you in concern as your brows furrowed in a hurt expression.

"do ya even know her?"

"..no."

"then why should you care what she says or thinks?"

"because, 'samu, it's not that easy. i can tell myself it doesn't matter and that i shouldn't care but that doesn't make it so. it doesn't rewire my brain to stop caring about what other people think. no matter how hard i try."

he was silent for a moment, contemplating something.

then, he lightly caressed your cheek with the palm of his hand, smiling softly. "i guess i can't change yer mind... but i can remind you that the people who are actually worth yer time won't make some round-about shitty way of telling ya they have a problem with ya."

you smiled warily, though he had to admit he said exactly what you needed to hear. besides that, you noticed you'd definitely chosen the right guy - his acting skills as your boyfriend were superior. your eyes wandered around to the gaze of your fellow peers as some cooed not-so-subtly at osamu's public display of affection.

your gaze returned to his as he eyed you up and down. "ya sure yer alright?"

"positive."

"ya know it's okay not to be fine all the time."

you laughed lightly, "thanks, 'samu. but really, I think I'm okay. i just can't think about it or it'll make me all upset again."

"wanna come over tonight? thankfully i'm makin' dinner and not atsumu," he grinned.

you conservation switched to various other topics as you both walked down the hall before he had to go to volleyball practice.

-

"didn't i tell you what happens to bitches who mess with my girl?" a gruff voice called behind you.

you froze, regretting the fact that you neglected to bring your phone with you during your lunch break and were subsequently now completely alone with some gorilla-faced man who spoke gravelly like he wasn't in high school at all. slowly turning, you cowered, "i-i don't think i did anything wrong.."

immediately his fist slammed against your locker. "obviously you fuckin' did if my girl is tellin' me you've been a fuckin' problem!"

"i-i-i don't even know who she is," you defended, moving your hands to shield your face in fear.

"bullshit."

you screamed as you felt a hand tightly grab your wrist and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the impact of a fist. after a few moments, you opened them, shocked to see osamu standing in front of you, shielding you from the gruff boyfriend.

"get a load of this guy," osamu smiled sardonically, "getting involved in his girlfriend's drama because she can't handle it herself? you must be her hero."

the man grit his teeth hard, winding up for a punch that osamu immediately countered, without breaking a sweat.

"you take that back you fuckin' piece of shit!" he growled, aiming for a blow to osamu's kneecap. "how the fuck does a prick like you even know this stupid bitch anyway." he continued, seemingly adding fuel to the fire.

osamu's eyes widened with a fiery rage, "you don't get to talk like that about my girlfriend." within seconds, the man was pummeled to the ground and osamu's fist connected against his face repeatedly until you pulled osamu away.

as if the situation wasn't already at its worst, that girl came running down the hall. "you BITCH! how dare you do this to my man! i fucking knew you were a rat." she paused for a moment before letting out a shriek of laughter, "oh? what's this? there's no fucking way you managed to get a boyfriend. what, you finally found someone willing to fuck you for a price?" she giggled, "osamu miya, was it? tell me, how much is she paying you to play pretend?"

osamu ground down on his teeth dangerously as he eyed the girl with contempt. "I'll have you know that i asked her out and was lucky enough for her to say yes."

she forced out another laugh, "then you're both pathetic! a match made in heaven."

you willed the tears to stay in your eyes, not wanting to give the girl the power of knowing that she hurt you, that she made you cry. you whispered something even you could barely hear.

"what was that? finally apologizing to me?"

you narrowed your eyes, looking her directly in her own as you raised your voice, "I said 'LEAVE US ALONE!'" you screamed with all you had in you.

she smirked, seemingly only a little fazed by your outburst. "fine, I'll leave. as soon as you prove you guys are actually dating. 'cause, like, there's no way, right babe?!" her boyfriend grunted out a laugh from his position on the floor.

this is the end. you thought. i'm gonna have to confess that i made this whole thing up and then i'm never going to hear the end of it. you sent a worried look to osamu who was already inches from your face. you tried to back away in shock, but his hand found purchase on the small of your back. he pulled you in tightly before taking your chin in between his index and thumb. his eyes conveyed a message you couldn't quite decifer.

yet, the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. it wasn't at all the sort of chaste or reluctant kiss you were expecting, but one filled with hunger and desire. you returned in equal force, intertwining your fingers in his gray-brown locks. you could've sworn you'd heard a guttural groan as you shifted your leg in between his. when you at last separated, the girl and her boyfriend were gone. it was just the two of you.

osamu looked down at your lips once more before meeting your eyes. "hey."

you laughed breathily, "hey."

"do ya wanna date fer real?"

you answered with another eager kiss.

[14dayswithyou]

I'm going to be a little evil :3c /silly

*I have stolen all of their headwear, leaving only FROGGY HAT in his closet.*

"Boy it sure is chilly today. Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay [REDACTED]?"

✦゜ANSWERED: I believe in froggy hat [REDACTED] supremacy 🖤🐸

He knew. Of course he knew. [REDACTED]'s security system alerted him the second you stepped foot into his apartment, and it took the dark-haired hacker almost all of his willpower not to rush home and see you. But alas, he had other matters to attend to and messes to clean up here. Things he couldn't risk putting on hold, lest he pay the consequences for them later.

So, [REDACTED] settles for watching you through his cracked phone screen as you try to sneak your way around his apartment. They didn't really understand why you felt the need to be so secretive; you knew your boyfriend would be out for the day, you had his spare keycard and access to the entire 14th floor, and [REDACTED] had made it explicitly clear early on in the relationship that everything he owned was yours completely. Nothing was off limits to you, and that included every inch of his living space.

...And even himself.

Curiously, they watch with keen interest as you quietly slide the door to his walk-in closet open and take in your surroundings once more — making sure that you really were alone in his dimly-lit bedroom. But barely a moment passes before you stride in with a newfound purpose, unzip your backpack, and begin to stash all of his caps and beanies inside.

Well, alright then. If you decided he no longer needed those items, then so be it. He was never one to deny you anything.

But in retrospect, you were honestly doing [REDACTED] a favour. He genuinely didn't really need those items in his possession anymore — especially considering how he had no real reason to conceal his identity from you after all these years of being together.

He could never forget about that pivoted moment in time when you opened up to your beloved hacker about his rather... intense need to watch over you 24/7. And after you had scolded him multiple times for stalking you from darkened corners and alleyways outside your apartment complex, [REDACTED] had all but tried to change his ways. To better themselves for you.

After all, you deserved nothing less.

Glancing back at his phone once more, [REDACTED] takes in every little movement you make as you continue to tuck away his belongings; down to the turn of your head and the flex in your muscles. Not a single twitch or glance goes unnoticed under his watchful gaze — and had the dark-haired man not been so enraptured by your ministrations — he surely would've noticed that it was just about time for him to start packing his tools up and head home.

Home, in time for the date you had planned for the evening.

But the way you purposefully moved around his closet had [REDACTED] in a trance. You were extremely methodical about the things you were swiping from his shelves; neatly packing away all of the headgear, earmuffs, and scarves on display (and even the ones hidden within the depths of his drawers!). Yet... One single item remained in the aftermath of your wake.

Atop one of the lone shelves in the corner, it sits, isolated from the rest of its kind. Worn out yet well loved; it was no more than a novelty item your boyfriend had originally won for you from a crane game. But even after their constant insistence that you should keep it, you rebutted it all by saying it'd look better on him instead — all while pushing the cute, froggy hat back into his hands with a teasing smile.

("If you keep bleaching your hair like that," his real name falls from your lips like sweet nectar, "All of your hair will fall out. When that happens, you can use this to keep your bald head warm!"

"...When that happens? Hmph. You're gettin' cheeky." With a smile of his own, your boyfriend reaches out to gently pinch your cheek. "I haven't touched m'hair in ages.")

So after watching you be so meticulous with the items you were "robbing", the hacker couldn't help but wonder what your main motive was. Why leave that silly, little frog hat alone unless... Did you want him to wear it? You knew [REDACTED] would never say no to you — let alone to a frivolous request — but admittedly, they did find it rather endearing to watch you put in all that effort just for him.

Just like how he used to be... Back before you opened the curtains of his life and brought sunshine into his heart.

Gone are the days of "Ren", when [REDACTED] had to snoop around your apartment just to get any sort of inclination of what your type and interests might be. No longer did [REDACTED] have to "borrow" some of your old clothing to keep himself company on lonely nights; to put them over his pillow and pretend like it was you he was holding close to his chest. He no longer had to steal your presents and tokens out of spite and jealousy — only to return them days later once they noticed how upset it made you.

Too caught up in reminiscing about the past, [REDACTED] had almost missed your swift getaway from his bedroom. Living up to your nickname, you glide down the staircase and across his foyer as if you sprouted angel wings on your back and stroll into the elevator, before closing the door and pulling out your phone.

And just like clockwork, [REDACTED]'s camera feed gets replaced by the bright red and green call buttons that shake and taunt him at the bottom of the screen — alongside the personalised caller photo of you smiling towards the sunset ocean with [REDACTED]'s jacket atop your shoulders. The dark-haired man leaves no room for pause before he's swiping his finger across the screen and eagerly anticipating the sound of your voice.

You greet him in that casual, nonchalant tone of yours, and [REDACTED] had to resist the urge to start recording the call — to save the addictive timbre of your voice for when he needs to hear it the most.

"Man... It sure is chilly today, don't you think?"

There's the familiar sound of tacky elevator music playing in the background, and part of [REDACTED] thinks you're purposefully calling him right now to let him in on your (not so) secret escapades... To let them know where you are.

Or perhaps you were already aware that he knows, if the way you were glancing up at the elevator camera was anything to go by.

Regardless, you don't give away any other telling signs as your beloved hacker watches you through the camera. Your bag is still carefully slung over a shoulder, while one of his old, black university caps received the pleasure of being fiddled with in your hand. Your voice returns once more, and it causes a grin to form on his lips.

"Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay?"

There's a newfound teasing lilt in your tone, which has [REDACTED] latching on to your every word with bated breath and scrambling for a reply.

"'Course. Wouldn't miss our date for the world. 'N make sure y'stay warm too, angel." Without missing a beat, he easily takes his place in your little game. "Wouldn't wanna misplace your jacket 'n get cold now, would we?"

Your pixelated smile on the screen gives everything away.

You hear the unmistakable sound of [REDACTED]'s sports motorbike before you see it; watching the corner of your street as he appears from the darkness like a phantom.

And like the gentleman that he is, [REDACTED] doesn't make you stray far from the safety of the streetlamp either. The moment your boyfriend pulls up in front of you, one of his large hands reaches around your waist to draw you near (almost as if he'd gone years without being in your presence), while the other makes quick work of the latch of his helmet. In one swift motion, he pulls it off and rests it against the tank—

Only to reveal that cute, pastel green frog hat sitting atop his head.

He can't help but smile when you do; clearly pleased that he went through with your silly request. At that, you let out a low hum of appreciation as you lean against your boyfriend's chest, and [REDACTED] returns the favour by bending down and pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your head as well.

"...Think y'could give this unworthy prince another kiss, love?" Your beloved boyfriend leans in closer until your lips are millimetres away from touching, "Otherwise I might stay cursed t'live in this froggy form forever."

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“Rosy”

A/N: I swear ideas hit me at the most random moments ever 💀 after not writing for a bit and coming back to a kinda awkward work situation, it felt good to write something silly and hot! I admittedly was thinking of my wife @strang3lov3 (who also made this sexy lil mood board) when I wrote this 🤭 enjoy!

~word count: 1.6k~

Summary: pornhub sent you a package containing new sex toys that just hit the market! Joel wants a tutorial on how the rose toy works ;)

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, use of sex toys, established relationship, teasing, flirting, real intimacy, oral (f!receiving) adult content, mentions of the porn industry, potential succession spoilers, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

“Personally, I think the rose toy is the most affordable oral pleasure toy on the market. While it doesn’t entirely replicate the feeling of oral sex, it comes pretty damn close in my opinion.” You spoke sweetly in front of the camera that was positioned at the foot of the bed.

Pornhub had personally sent you a box of new sex toys that had just hit the market and they wanted you to post a review of the toys to your instagram reels (safe for work, of course). From suction cupped dildos, to rabbit ear vibrators, you had a plethora of toys to try out. And while this was originally planned to be a solo content video…that all went to shit when Joel strolled upstairs, dripping in sweat from the top of his head all the way down to his toes. Shirtless, glistening tan skin that was begging to feel your hot tongue drag across it.

“What’re you up to, baby love?” He rasped, strong back leaned against the doorframe, broad arms crossed against his chest, damp towel draped across his shoulder.

“Filming some content for the hub. They sent me a package of new sex toys that just hit the market.” You looked over at him with a small grin.

He hummed in response, pushing himself off the side of the door and strolled into the bedroom. “S’that so? Mind if I take a look at what we got goin’ on here? Maybe you and I will have to try somethin’ out later.” He said suggestively with a coy wink.

“I tried the rose toy out after my shower earlier. It’s actually pretty neat, and for the price point, I think it’s a decent replacement for the real deal.” You patted the spot next to you on the bed, not caring about the fact that he was still drenched in sweat. Neither you or Joel were shy when it came to bodily fluids.

“Ohh. Is that the toy that claims to be comparable to gettin’ eaten out?” He sat down alongside you, taking the rose shaped toy from between your hands and studied it with an amused expression on his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He chuckled, looking over at you with a small grin playing on his lips. “Care to give me a tutorial on how this ‘lil sucker works?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at your boyfriend's cheeky request and gave him a light shove to the shoulder with your hand. “How about you cut past the formalities and just say that you want to see my pussy, Joel.”

He laughed, warm and deep, rumbling up his chest as he met your challenging gaze. He leaned over, brushing his thumb across the plump flesh of your lower lip, “sweet girl, I always want to see your pretty pussy, but m’curious. Wanna see what all the fuss is about over this rose toy.”

“You’re that curious, huh? Well, I suppose I could give you the tutorial on how it works, baby. But I’m lazy and came already, mind helping me out?” You batted your lashes at him flirtatiously just as he leaned in to land a quick peck on your pretty lips.

“Course I can. Cus’ I know how much work it is for ya to take off those flimsy ‘lil panties of yours.” He quipped teasingly. “I’ll do all the work for my girl. Jus’ lay on your back and guide me through it, ‘kay?”

“God, I love you so much.” You mumbled into his lips, kissing him sweetly with your fingers gently scraping through the patches in his beard eliciting a low hum to vibrate up his chest.

“Love you more, baby love. Now, chop chop. Gonna run us a nice relaxing bath later with a freshly rolled joint.” He kissed you once more and gently patted the inside of your thigh with that big warm palm of his. “Might need you to rub my back later. Lifted a bit too hard at the gym with Tommy.”

“Whatever you want, baby. I’ll happily soak in the tub with you and rub your back afterwards.” You slowly detached your lips from the shared kiss, scooting yourself back against the array of pillows and plopped down on your back, thighs already spread to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

“And we’ll order whatever take out you’d like and catch up on the episode of Succession that we left off on. Need to find out if Roman and Gerri are gonna fuck, or if he just likes to be degraded by her.” He added with a chuckle, maneuvering himself to rest on his elbows between your spread thighs.

“God, Joel. Don’t stop! Keep talking dirty to me like that!” You said playfully, peeking down at him just as he looped his thumbs into the elastic band of your panties and slowly began to pull them down over your hips.

“You’re a piece of work today, y’know that baby love?” He shook his head with a grin, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of your thigh, nipping at the plush flesh playfully with his teeth. “Roman Roy getting degraded really get you goin?’”

“Absolutely. He’s fucking sexy, and I would let Kieran Culkin do absolutely heinous things to me.” (Me too girl, me too). “Now, there’s a button on the side, and basically the center part suctions in air around your clit imitating what oral sex feels like. Only downside is that you have to place it directly against your clit otherwise you don’t get that sensation.”

“Fascinating.” He mused, pulling your panties down over your ankles and tossed them to the side. “It vibrates too, right?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, reaching behind you to adjust the pillows behind your head so you were more comfortable. “Another downside is that it’s pretty fucking loud. Not that we have to worry about that sorta thing here, but if someone is buying it to be discreet? Probably isn’t the right choice for them.”

The evidence of your prior orgasm was staring Joel right in his admiring gaze, puffy lips, glistening folds and a bead of pearlescent cum dripping from your weeping hole. It was a sight that he was certain he’d never tire from. He pressed the on button, listening to the device whir to life. “Does it have multiple settings as well?”

“Yeah, it does. Eight I think? I’ve tried them all, but I’m old school when it comes to that. I also didn’t believe that it could get me off in less than five minutes, but it sure gets the job done.”

“Less than five minutes? Damn, okay, little rose toy. I see you.” He rasped, brows furrowed as he gazed into the center opening of the toy, trying to decipher how the mechanics of it worked.

“Yep! I was pretty shocked myself, but it doesn’t compare to your tongue, Joel. There’s no competition there.” You reassured him, but then again, Joel never found himself to be intimated or threatened by sex toys.

“Don’t doubt that for a second, baby love.” he chuckled. “Want me to play with ya a little, or just let the toy do all the work?”

“So tempting, baby. But for the purpose of science, I just want you to see how it works up close.” You said softly.

“Sure thing, baby love. Whatever you want from me, pretty girl s’yours.” He spit a glob of saliva right into the center of the toy as he was curious to see how it would operate with the excess moisture. He placed it between your thighs, first gently gliding it between your folds, and then dragging the suction part of it over your clit. He dropped his head down, getting up close and personal with your pussy so he could see the little device suckle on your clit.

You let out a content sigh, relaxing further into the comforter as your body slowly began to buzz back to life, the nerve endings in your clit tingling and pulsing from the moderate sensation. “Yeah, just like that.” You spread your thighs further, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks from the sight of Joel intently studying your pussy. “But you see what I mean about the noise level? It’s not very discreet at all.”

He shook his head, licking his lips as his eyes flickered from between your thighs and up to your face. “Yeah, it’s not very discreet at all, huh? I get the appeal, though. It’s feminine, dainty, shaped like a flower. Looks extremely pretty sucking on that sweet little clit of yours, baby love.” He rasped lowly, tone dripping in arousal.

“Joel.” You warned, eyes narrowing at the smirk slowly creeping over his lips.

“What?” He chuckled. “M’jus’ makin’ an accurate observation based on the view I’m gettin.’”

“Yeah, but somehow—someway, everything that leaves your mouth sounds fucking hot. Feminine, dainty, shaped like a flower? Are you trying to kill me, Joel?” You asked playfully, keening your hips forward when the suction part of the toy slipped off your clit.

“Thought we were jus’ doin’ this for science, baby love?” He teased, “Unless…your pussy wants somethin’ a little more than what this toy can provide.” He trailed off, eyes staying locked on yours.

“Damn you, Miller.” You huffed, throwing your head back as you muttered under your breath, “Well, maybe just for science, we should compare the toy to the real deal?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He winked coyly, pressing the off button and tossed the silicone toy in the direction of the box laying on the bed. He wasted no time to grab the underside of your thighs, pulling you down further with your ankles locked around the back of his head. The second his tongue swirled around your clit, and his lips wrapped around the bud and sucked inwards, that little flower shaped toy could not even compare to Joel Miller and his skillful tongue splitting you open and making you sing his name.

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[drchucktingle]

bud in a lineup

interesting thoughts of chuck today i would like to share in thread. it is no secret i have always found inherent queerphobia and ableism in the trot of folks saying ‘well how do we KNOW chuck is actually queer and neurodivergent he could be some scoundrel hidden away under mask'

i have talked on this many times as buckaroos probably know, gettin riled up about gatekeeping and all that. but today chuck was thinking on specific part of this argument (which often comes from progressive and liberal buds, strangely). part of: we cant trust a MASKED PSEUDONYM

over my years seen so many comments saying ‘listen bud i want to believe chuck is who he says and is truthful about his queerness and autistic trot but i just cant because he has hidden his identity and wears a mask’ and to that i say this...

if i did not use a pseudonym or wear a mask, exactly what tests would you use to determine if my way was neurodivergent? would my face show you? would my voice? what about queerness? would you chart my relationships on a graph? have me fill out a survey of inner thoughts?

the assumption that queerness and neurodivergence are things you judge about others by looking at their face without some pink mask, or voice without an accent, is a deeply queerphobic and ableist notion. yet i have seen this many times. ‘HOW DO WE KNOW? WE CAN’T SEE HIS FACE’

anyway buds just something to think on. perpetuating idea that these are things you can pick out of a lineup is silly. if i was to take of my pink bag and stand before you your perception of how valid or invalid my neurodivergence is would change ZERO PERCENT

and like chuck has said before, maybe we should just not be judging whether or not others identities in these realms are valid or invalid anyway. maybe gatekeeping buds in need of a home or a path to expression is harmful, mask or not. okay buds that was my thought LOVE IS REAL

[venus-haze]

Pretty Tied Up (Otis Driftwood x Reader)

Summary: Or, the perils of working at Red Hot Pussy Liquors.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This takes place between House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects. Based on the Guns N' Roses song. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Armed robbery and implied kidnapping. Sexually explicit content that involves extremely dubious consent and sadism, gags, bondage, groping, and gunplay. Otis is pretty much his own warning. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Having regulars at a liquor store was a double-edged sword. You got to know some customers well enough to like them, but over time you’d notice they looked increasingly worse for wear as they came up to the checkout with their usual purchases. The exception, of course, were the Fireflys, who you always found unsettling, despite Baby’s attempts to seem affable. 

“My brother likes you,” she said one day, leaning against the counter as you rang up three bottles of vodka and two six-packs of beer.

“RJ?” you asked, glancing at her brother standing a few feet behind her.

RJ was always nice enough. Didn’t say much. Tall. Burly. Strong. Ruggedly handsome. You’d be open to going out with him.

She laughed in her usual high-pitch that always toed the line of being spine-chilling. “No silly! I’m talkin’ ‘bout Otis.”

You stared at her blankly. “Who’s Otis?”

“You know, long hair, blue eyes, scruffy ol’ beard. He came in here the other night. You must’ve made one hell of an impression. He won’t shut up about ya.”

Oh yeah. Him. Bought a bottle of whiskey and a stack of hardcore BDSM porno magazines. ‘You ever look at this stuff?’ he’d asked, eyeing you as you put a magazine with a nude, distressed-looking woman suspended by intricate ropes on the cover into a brown paper bag. When you first started working there, you could hardly stomach the sight of the rougher fare. As time went on, you found yourself hesitantly intrigued. ‘Gotta have something to do besides go to church on Sundays,’ you replied, earning a wicked grin from him. 

“That’s nice,” you said.

She snickered. “My brother’s not nice.”

“Is this everything?” you asked, hoping to move the interaction along.

“Hey RJ, you gettin’ anything else?” Baby asked over her shoulder.

He shook his head, approaching to pick up the crate you put the bottles in.

Baby handed you a wad of cash. She almost always overpaid, letting you keep the change, which was most of the reason you humored her antics in the first place. “Thanks darlin’! See ya real soon!” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, keen to something you were yet to be aware of.

Two nights later you were working the store alone. Your coworker Billy didn’t even have the decency to call and let you know he wasn’t coming in–or quit. He just didn’t show up at 9:30 when he was supposed to, and your phone call to his house was met with a busy dial tone. Asshole.

It’d been a slow night anyway, but you would have appreciated the heads up, or at least another body in the place when the front door was kicked open.

“This is a robbery! Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot!”

Despite the bandana covering the bottom half of his face, you knew who it was right away. Long, graying hair and piercing blue eyes that were burned into your memory from his last visit to the liquor store.

You lifted your hands in the air. Your manager had told you on your first day that there was always a possibility of this happening. Better to just let them take whatever cash and booze they wanted and report it to the police once they left. ‘Don’t go playin’ hero. We got insurance.’

“Keep those hands up,” Otis said, slowly approaching the counter. “I’m gonna walk back there, and you’re gonna open the register for me.”

You nodded, eyes glued to him as he slithered around the counter like a snake, gun steadily pointed at you. 

“Go on,” he said.

With a trembling hand, you opened the register, the cash-filled drawer popping open for him. He pressed the gun to your temple, instructing you to put the cash in one of the brown paper bags by your side. You tried not to glance at him too much while you stuffed the paper bag with the money, finally pushing it toward him and sticking your hands up again.

“Alright, now turn around.”

“Wh-What?”

“I ain’t got all night.”

You glanced at the door. No way you could make a run for it, but maybe someone would walk in and be able to do something.

He followed your gaze and let out a cruel scoff. “Ain’t nobody coming through that door who can save you. I’m the closest thing to salvation you’ll ever get. Now turn the fuck around.”

With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, freezing when you felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of your head. His free hand grabbed your ass through your jeans, his strong grip almost painful as he squeezed each cheek. “Wonder how much it’d take to make you bruise?” he mumbled, almost to himself. He squeezed again, harder this time, as if he were trying to dig his fingers into your flesh. “Too much work when I can just cut into ya.”

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded, though hearing your own voice, you weren’t quite sure how convinced you were that you didn’t want him to do his worst. Knowing what you did about the Firefly clan, the rumblings around Ruggsville about the strange family–it would be pretty damn bad.

“C’mon now, mama. You led me to believe you liked it rough,” he said, voice gravelly and low as he slipped his hand between your legs from behind, rubbing the rough denim material and your cotton panties against your pussy, the friction hitting your clit in just the right spot for you to let out a shameful moan. Your hand flew to your mouth, the other clenched in a fist as you tried not to give him the reaction he wanted. Didn’t want to prove him right. Show him how curious you were. You didn’t even have it in you to fight back, not when you were on the edge, so achingly close until suddenly you weren’t anymore.

You nearly whined when he pulled his hand away, horrified at yourself, your reaction to his groping you. He grabbed each of your arms, roughly pulling them behind your back and tying your wrists together with something itchy and uncomfortable that dug painfully into your skin as you fruitlessly tried to free yourself from the secure knot he made. What the fuck did he use? Your eyes widened at the carpet burn-like sensation that’d begun to sting your skin. The roll of twine beneath the register. You used to secure some customers’ more sensitive purchases sometimes. 

Fingers and cloth forced their way into your mouth until you were gagged with the bandana Otis had pulled off of his face. He turned you around, looking you over with a slow, satisfactory nod. “I was having trouble getting over this mental block in my art. Started drivin’ me crazy. Y’know, they showed this nature documentary about a group ‘a lions a while back. How they protect and provide for their families, stalk their prey and go in for the kill–do you ever think about how we’re the only species where killing is taboo? For the rest of the animal kingdom, it’s just nature, part of the circle of life. There was a scene where the lion saw a gazelle from way across the savannah, and it was like nothing else existed except for its prey. It couldn’t rest until it tore that damn thing apart. That’s how I felt when I saw you.”

You shook your head frantically, your pleas of mercy muffled by your gag. Fat tears blurred your vision until he morphed into something monstrous, straight out of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“I ain’t gonna kill ya,” he said, roughly petting your head, “not yet anyway, that’d be a waste when I’ve barely even started.” He gave you a mean grin as he grabbed a hold of your hair by the roots. “I got a lot planned for you. Those magazines gave me a lot of ideas too.”

He lowered the gun, dragging it between your breasts and further down your abdomen until he reached the waistband of your jeans. Using his other hand, he unbuttoned and unzipped them with alarming ease, pulling them down until they fell to your ankles. Your breath hitched as he pressed the barrel of the gun against your cunt, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing stopping him from being able to slide it inside of you. 

Still, the cool metal sent a shiver through you as he rubbed it against your clit, black spots creeping into your peripheral as you hyperventilated through his sadistic experiment. He was hard. That much you knew, but what frightened you, perhaps most of all, was how wet you had become since he tied you up. Your skin still screamed against the rough twine that’d been cutting into your flesh, soon to draw blood as you kept struggling.

Your hips jerked, pressing the gun barrel closer to your pussy that was eager to betray you and clench around it if he just pushed past your panties and shoved it up there. You didn’t want him to do that, not in your right mind. But no one in your situation could be considered in their right mind, could they?

“Don’t fight it,” he encouraged gruffly, blue eyes piercing through you as he watched your knees threaten to give out as you neared orgasm. “Give the devil his due, mama.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails threatening to break through the skin of your palm. Then he did it. Slipped the barrel of the gun past your soaked cotton panties. Your brain short-circuited in a rush of terror and thrill at the sensation. You came, eyelids fluttering shut, a guttural moan tearing from your throat and pushing through your gag. Your limbs felt like ghosts, incorporeal parts of you that could only offer a vague sense of feeling compared to the sensation that overwhelmed your body, pleasure and adrenaline coursing through your veins all the same.

Gun be damned, you collapsed against the checkout counter, unable to support yourself any longer. Your chest heaved, unable to catch your breath with the now saliva-soaked bandana still shoved halfway down your throat. An astounded whine escaped your lips when he brought the gun up to his nose and sniffed. “This is it, mama. This is the devil’s salvation.”

He wasn’t making any damn sense, or your brain was too fuzzy to comprehend what he was saying. All you knew about the devil was from the Bible and that stupid Dr. Satan story people regurgitated like spoiled food. If Otis was the devil, you’d believe it, though.

The sound of a car door slamming shut made your eyes widen, and you glanced over your shoulder, your muffled screams of either help or warning to however was approaching.

“Sorry about this, darlin’. We’ll have a lot more fun later,” he said, hitting you across the face with the gun, sending you to the brink of consciousness. 

The bell on the door faintly jingled, and the last thing you remember seeing was a large, familiar figure walking towards you.

“C’mon and help me get ‘er in the car,” Otis said just as you passed out. "Don't forget the cash."

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Hiya, how about “eyes meeting from across the room” and “a subtle wink” with Dew and Phantom/Aeon?

Hello! This is what happened one night at a fancier bar. :)

“Think our little Bug’s got a crush.” Swiss murmurs under his breath, lips tracing over the rim of his beer bottle.

“No shit.” Dew mutters back, too focused on flicking his thumb in just the perfect way to light his joint. He doesn't want to look up through the window yet, into the building. Doesn't want to meet the sparkling amethyst eyes that have been following him around the bar since they decided to stop in and one drink became three became five. Dew’s sitting comfortable with two beers in his stomach, followed by good old fashioned tavern food, carb-loaded and filling. He just wants a little bit more, he thinks, finally sparking up the top of his finger and lighting the little roll. Something that will make him feel dopey and happy.

“It’ll be good for him to make the first move.” Dew continues after a deep inhale. “Since everyone around here can't keep their hands to themselves.”

“Hey, that's not true.” Swiss tells him with a rich chuckle. “My Rory girl switched keys without telling me and was waiting naked in my room a few nights ago.”

“Oh good for you, stud.” Dew snorts. “You hear if Aeon's been brave enough to approach anyone yet?”

It's silly to gossip like this. They're grown adult hell spawn. But he can't deny the warm feeling of camaraderie in his chest when Swiss sidles close to whisper his next words into Dew’s hair.

“Rory said he wants to impress you.” Swiss confides. “He's just waiting for the perfect moment.”

“Well he better be quick.” Dew says, finally looking into the building. “I'm not exactly known for my patience.” It's warmly lit with a fireplace, dark wood accents and cracked green leather on the stools, studded with tarnished brass. Real nice place. Different from the dive bars they've patronized in the past. Aeon's easy enough to find, his lanky form on a couch in a conversation pit, laughing easily at something Cumulus said. Like he can sense it, and he probably can, the quint glances up at the perfect moment, meeting Dew’s lidded gaze with his own full of mischief and planning. He taps two fingers against his lips, blows a little kiss and winks.

Against his better judgment, Dew’s nose twitches in the way it always does when his pack mates do something adorable.

“Oooup.” Swiss grins, fangs flashing in the light. “Think it's tonight.”

“Maybe.” Dew says, turning away. His body is floating pleasantly, mind going blank. He looks up at the sky, admiring the stars and hardly notices the way Swiss starts rummaging in his pockets for something.

“It's a sure thing.” He says, tapping his key card against the railing. “He traded with me before left the venue.”

Dew considers this information for a moment. Thinks about the way Aeon grinned at him. The way he's been peacocking around for attention ever since their first show together.

“I think I’m alright with that then.” He finally says with a soft smile. “Won’t Aether just love to hear about it.”

“Won't he just.” Swiss says with a wide grin. Behind them, the heavy wooden door is pushed open and none other than Aeon joins them on the little patio, drink of his own in hand.

“Hey guys.” He says amicably. “Enjoying the night?”

“Just gettin’ started.” Dew mumbles, exhaling a long stream of smoke. Don't scare the guy, hey. Aether says into his mind, a recollection from the day before they left. I'm putting a lot of faith in him as my replacement.

So far he's been living up to expectations just fine. He can't wait to tell Aether all about it, as Aeon jostles in between them, saying something about a certain constellation. An invisible tail strokes up his calf and Dew smiles in anticipation for whatever happens next.

[blueywrites]

The Munson Dunkin' AU

endgame Eddie Munson x fem!Reader. no use of y/n. all fluff (for now...)

You watch the new guy working the Dunkin' drive-thru window feed a donut to a raccoon. (1.4k)

Inspired by this Tiktok 'cause Eddie really fuckin' would, and we all know it. Thanks to the Coven for talking this silly AU through with me!

tagging @newlips 'cause I have a feeling she might be interested in this one 😘. also, this is written especially for my loves @abibliophobiaa and @ghost-proofbaby🌻

-

You know everyone who works the drive-thru window at the Dunkin' Donuts closest to your apartment. Or, at least, you thought you did.

When you started your first job as a legal assistant at a small but reputable legal firm, the morning routine you’d enjoyed throughout college drastically transformed. Now, every weekday, your alarm blares so early in the morning it’s practically inhuman. You stuff yourself into dowdy office wear, complete with panty-hose and kitten heels (no rocking the boat with your fashion choices if you want them to take you seriously). And then, you must take your little cobalt-blue Honda Civic and brave the dreaded commute into the city, all in the name of ‘becoming a real working adult’.

So what began as a small indulgence to settle your nerves your first week of work quickly became a daily pick-me-up, a little reward to yourself for 'gettin’ out there and doin' the thing.' Now, you stop at Dunkin' every morning at just after seven to pick up your caffeine fix before heading to the office. 

In the last month, you’ve encountered all the early morning drive-thru attendants and recognize them now by voice and manner, though not by name. There’s a pale girl with bright blue eyes and short deep brown hair, voluminous and cut to her narrow jaw, wavy locks framing a small, dimpled chin; a guy with a square face and hazel eyes, sporting finger-tousled bangs that chicly graze one dark brow; and a tanned guy with perpetually half-lidded eyes and pleasantly rounded nose and lips, whose face is framed by a long sheet of shiny, jet-black hair. 

It’s obvious who’s working the window on a given day when you hear their greetings at the speaker, which are all very distinct from each other.

The greeting could be chipper and corporatesque, very by the book: “Welcome to Dunkin’, how can I help you?” That one never varies, not even in tone or inflection— she’s so precise, sometimes you wonder if maybe she’s playing a recording or something.

It could be warm and schmoozy, a little overly-familiar but charming all the same: “Well, hey there! How’re you doing today?” It’s nice, but then you have to quickly pivot from your order to say ‘Good, how about you?’, otherwise you feel like an asshole.

Or it could be just one long, semi-coherent slur of a question: “S’up, can I get you somethin’?” Same, dude, you think whenever you get that one. It’s way too early to be awake, and yet here we both are.

It could be any of those options, and today, as you roll up to the speaker, you receive that first greeting. But it’s in the wrong voice. Where you expect something upbeat and crisply feminine, what you get instead is raspy, brash, and decidedly masculine.

“Welcome to Dunkin'. What can I get you today?”

It’s not a voice you recognize, but you don’t particularly care. Automatically, you provide your order, and without any fuss, he confirms your total. Same order, same total, same morning routine as always. That’s all that matters, really. You don’t visit Dunkin' for the bustling social scene, after all. 

As you round the corner of the small, boxy building, the drive-thru window with its little orange awning slides into view. That is what you’re rolling steadily towards when a flash of movement near the opposite curb draws your eye to a curious sight: a raccoon. Utterly confounded, you stare at the gray creature— fuzzy and plump like a spool of scratchy yarn— as it inches forward on its tiny dark paws. 

Yes, your apartment is in the suburbs, and yes, there is a thick line of trees to that side of the parking lot, so it isn’t that shocking. But you’ve never actually seen a raccoon outside of roadkill splatter on the road, and you certainly weren’t expecting to see one visiting a Dunkin' Donuts. Because that’s truly what it appears to be doing. As it emerges from the treeline, slinking over the curb and onto the asphalt, its nose turns up toward the drive-thru window; those beady eyes remained locked on clear plexiglass, the apparent source of its fascination. 

It is seven in the morning, you reason, so there's a possibility that you might just still be half asleep. But when you blink, expecting the creature to clear from your vision like a mirage, it doesn’t go anywhere.

This is actually happening, then. You purse your lips as you consider and confirm your musings with a bobbing nod that no one sees. Yup. This is, for sure, the weirdest goddamn thing I've ever seen.

In fact, you’re so confounded by what’s happening that you’re still rolling forward in your car, drawing ever-closer to the animal at the same time it edges farther into your lane. It doesn’t seem to notice your approach. Instead, the raccoon shuffles forward a few more steps, and then— more peculiar and alarming than if it had done pretty much anything else— it stretches like a slinky, rising onto its two back feet. Its neck disappears into its shoulders as its arms outstretch, like it’s reaching for something that isn’t there.

This is the final nail in the coffin for your composure.

“What in the fuck?”

The sound of your own voice startles you out of your dazed stupor, and your heart leaps into your throat as you realize how close you’ve coasted toward the raccoon. Hastily, you slam the brake, jerking your car to a stop to prevent it from pancaking the oblivious creature. 

All is motionless for a moment. And then, in a perversely slow manner, the plexiglass drive-thru window shunts open in a mechanic whirr of laboring motors, crawling until it thunks against the far wall, falling silent.

Considering your alarm and bafflement, it’s more a relief than anything when, after a brief pause, an arm abruptly thrusts through the window opening. Its appearance solves the mystery: the arm is pale but heavily-inked, ending in a thin wrist and a big, broad hand that holds a pink-frosted donut.

The raccoon reaches higher as the arm stretches further, both straining toward one another until those tiny human-like paws close around the offered confection. Then, the animal hunches down to a squat, billowing out in a puddle of bristly gray fur. Its snout quivers as it sniffs the donut, walking its paws along its edge, slowly rotating its prize as you look on in wonderment.

That inked arm has retracted now, but you barely notice. Your long commute and stuffy attire and early morning wake-up have never been further from your mind as you watch the raccoon handle the donut, which is nearly as big as its head. Your confusion has turned to fascination. In fact, it’s kind of cute, you decide as its black paws begin to mound with pink, which smears between its tiny clawed fingers. You hold your breath while, tentatively, it noses at the icing, licking it with a tiny flick of its tongue. 

And then, startlingly quickly, the raccoon snatches the donut in its jaws and turns in a flash of gray and black. It skitters on all fours back across the lane, trailing a fat ringed tail which bumps over the curb as it bids a hasty retreat. 

With a little, final flick, that tail disappears into the treeline. 

It seems, all of a sudden, to have been a privilege to experience this absurdity. And how strange it is that your early-morning exhaustion has suddenly turned to delight— delight which is echoed on the face of the man whose head now pops from the window in a wild mess of brown curls. Pink lips split the pale of his face in a crooked grin. 

“Sorry,” he says, and it’s the same brash rasp that greeted you at the speaker. “Little buddy’s gotta get his breakfast, too, y’know?”

So, as it turns out, you don’t know everyone who works the Dunkin' drive-thru window on weekday mornings. And maybe the social scene has more to offer than you originally thought.

-

I have other ideas for this silly little AU, including some more cameos from familiar faces and a budding romance for our metalhead barista and his favorite customer. If you want more, let me know! ☕️🍩

[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