#maybe a turkey sandwich

[icewindandboringhorror]

more photo diary posts.. various life images...

[fazcinatingblog]

Tumble, what would be better to make for Christmas? A strawberry wreath thing

Orrrr some easier marble cheesecake maybe decorated with a few strawberries or something idk (will be done using a circle tin)

[voidartisan]

You ever take inventory of all the food you’ve eaten in the last 24 hours and realize that might be why you’re not feeling so hot rn

[mysadnotsolittlelife]

I successfully resisted yesterday’s binging urges but I’m struggling so much rn

[rnaeborowski]

i'm glad i love vegetarian food so much since my stomach really can't handle meat

[irvingtwo]

What are you going to eat then, boy

I am going to the store.

and stealing.

[hastthouconsideredthetetrapod]

i thought lower dose Concerta would make my appetite better

[l-e-g-i-o-n-losh]

Breakfast was so good but I have to stop eating it so I will be hungry for lunch. Jack planned this perfect bagel sandwich since last week.

[russersprouts]

Gonna have a whopper for lunch and cry in my car

[alihightowers]

writing the beginning and end of your silly story but having no idea what to do with the middle.

[doobea]

I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, arranged marriage, suggestive themes but nothing too explicit (read with caution), characters are all in their mid/late-20s, reader has a small supportive friend group of other smut authors, mentions of alcohol, sex toys, and lots of failed attempts to seduce an oblivious (?) husband, mdni word count: 2.4k a/n: you guys already know that this is gonna be a wild one. is this my debut attempt to write smut but make it a romcom? maybe. this is gonna be a four-part series!!

一 : Oh baby, I be stuck to you like glue ->next.

To say that you’re infamous on the internet isn’t an exaggeration but a truth. No, you haven’t posted anything controversial regarding your marital status and haven’t gotten yourself into a crazy D-List influencer scandal; you’re infamous solely because of your erotica literature and, surprisingly, your in-laws were fine with it.

“Whatever brings home the money.” Your father-in-law would always chime. 

You weren't ashamed of your career, and it practically all started in college when you wanted to pass the time writing for your favorite fandom. In a short amount of time, you had gained a small devoted following on your blog that made a lightbulb switch go off in your head - what if I could do this for a living? And so you did. Fast forward three years, now you are making a comfortable living working from anywhere with a wifi signal available and have over 950k followers on your socials, all under your alias 'YN Finalis'. With that many followers, most people would feel worried about their personal life being breached, but you're not dumb; you like to keep your personal life on, what you like to call, "low battery" mode.

Here's what your near million followers do know about: you’re 24 pushing on 25, you've come from a rather wealthy background, you’re married to an athlete, you’ve written well over 40 original explicit stories, and you have a plethora of sex toys and contraptions in your master bedroom.

What they don't know is: you're in an arranged marriage with Rin Itoshi for the past year, he only sleeps in the guest bedroom, and you're a virgin with a really creative mind.

Crazy, right?

But it's not like you're alone in your thoughts, today was the day when you decided to finally vent to your close fellow internet authors about your sexual frustrations.

"My in-laws keep asking me the same thing every time they call," Your voice reaches your laptop where your weekly meeting was set up on the kitchen counter. "I mean just how do they expect us to have a kid when my own husband doesn't even touch me?" You finish the remaining wine in your glass in dismay as sudden gasps were heard from the laptop's speakers.

"He hasn't initiated sex with you in these last few months?" Chigiri gasps.

"More like in the entirety of our relationship." You cry as you pour out another glass. You pick up your laptop, frowning seeing everyone's solemn looks, and make your way to your living room couch. "I'm still a virgin for crying out loud, like who's still a virgin at 24?"

Probably a lot of people but this is about you, not them!

"Oh my god," Hiori looks like he was going to cry for you. "Maybe your husband's just shy? Could it be he hasn't found the right time for it?"

"But a whole year?" Bachira is next to speak. "No wonder your stories have been popping off, you've been super horny."

You try to hold back your drunken sniffles. "I just don't understand! It's not like I'm ugly or anything, plenty of people wanted to date me back in college! He comes home to a clean house, I make fantastic meals that aren't just a ham and turkey sandwich, and for his past birthday I even gifted him an all-paid trip to Okinawa!"

"Shit," Shidou whistles, "I'd fuck you if you made me a ham and turkey sandwich."

"Not now for jokes." Hiori scolds and his tone softens when he speaks to you, "Outside of sex, has your husband been good to you?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. "God, yes. He's so good to me you have no idea."

It wasn't like Rin was neglecting you in other forms of intimacy. Hugs and brief kisses were frequent both in and outside of the house. He loves holding your hands, shopping for clothes with you, giving you forehead kisses, and kissing you 'good morning' and 'good night' every day. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, other than the occasional 'I'm irritated and I need my space' phase that required a whole evening to himself - but that was beside the point.

"Have you guys even talked about it?" Hiori continues.

"Oh god, absolutely no, it's an arranged marriage for fuck sake. What if I come off too strong and he doesn't even see me like that? Then the whole marriage will just be awkward!"

"But he's willing to do all those other things you listed down, maybe he is just shy." Bachira retorts.

"You think maybe he swings the other way?" Shidou asks but it's genuine this time.

A long period of silence falls over everyone as they try to figure out what they could help you with. But ultimately this was your husband to figure out, Rin wasn't married to them and they don't even know who Rin Itoshi was.

“Ah, whatever!” You swirl the wine in your glass around, frowning at your sullen reflection. “Maybe we’ll just end up adopting a baby instead of having one, maybe his parents won’t be able to tell the difference. And maybe I’ll just have to resort to reading other smut to satisfy my lack of intimacy. Chigiri, when is that next chapter coming out?”

A few clicks are heard from the other side of the screen before he says, “You’re in luck, I’m about to have my friend beta read this and it should be up by tonight.”

Perfect, you thought.

Chigiri, whose online username is RedPanther, has the third most followers on the adult website that everyone in the group was a part of. He's known for his works centering around the tropes 'forced proximity' and 'enemies to lovers', often the smut he writes will include a steamy threesome that has some sort of pegging involved - but that's always towards the second to last chapter.

"Oh!" Bachira calls out your name with a smile, "Aren't you working on a new story yourself?"

“Remind me again,” Shidou leans forward, "what's this one about?"

You find yourself feeling slightly lighter now that you've vented and the topic has shifted to something you're more confident speaking about. After a few seconds of rummaging through your Word documents, you drag the file labeled "I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - rough outlines & ideas.doc" to the group chat. Rarely do you ever share your creativity flow with other people but, after your unwarranted trauma dump, you figure it was better than nothing.

"Funny enough, it's loosely based on my marriage." You confess sheepishly, "This is my way of coping with it, I guess."

"Nothing wrong with that." Hiori chimes in, "It's free compared to having a shitty therapist!"

"Damn woman," Shidou's pink eyes dart back and forth from the screen, eyebrows furrowing up and down as he makes his way through your well-detailed outline. "you need to get laid, ASAP."

You click open your story file to follow along. In the tags section, you listed: Arranged marriage, unrequited love/one-sided, brat tamer, BDSM, choking, spanking, spitting, breeding kink, cum slu–

Okay, maybe Shidou is right (which is a surprise), you do need to get laid. But it's also okay to get slightly defensive for the sake of your ego, right?

You playfully roll your eyes at your group mate. "Ok ok, no need to judge that hard coming from the person who literally writes degradation kinks for a living!"

"Well, I think this story will be your best one yet!" Chigiri and Bachira both flip you a thumbs up over on their end of the call.

After a few more exchanges of small story updates in everyone's life, you all decided to end the call since it was getting rather late in the afternoon and you have yet to get started on dinner. You briefly thank Chigiri for his upcoming update and hop off, just in time before you hear the familiar sounds of the front door opening.

"I'm back."

"Welcome back, Rin!"

You can't help but feel slightly embarrassed and guilty that you were essentially gossiping about your husband's lack of sex drive to your friend group, which he hardly knows about, when he comes home with a large bag of takeout and your favorite coffee order. Rin is dressed in his typical workout outfit, which consists of a black form-fitting t-shirt and grey sweatpants that were just loose enough that you can still make an outline of his 'magic jewels', as Bachira likes to write.

"Baby, you didn't have to." You quickly grab the items from his hands so he can set down his gym bag.

He hums in response, briefly kissing your forehead before making his way into the kitchen to fetch a tall glass of water. "You've been cooking all week so I wanted you to take a small break," Rin says with a smile.

Your ears go warm and mimic the smile back, “Thanks, how was practice today?”

He sighs through his nose and wipes away the remaining sweat-covered bangs sticking to his forehead. “Rougher than usual but nothing too crazy. Isagi was more annoying compared to yesterday.” Rin says with a small pout.

“Boo,” You stick your tongue out in agreement, “how dare he annoys my one and only husband?”

“Oh, shut up.” He flicks a finger to your cheek and lets out the slightest fake scoff.

After hydrating, Rin announces quietly that he’ll come back to eat as soon as he takes a shower and darts to the guest bedroom. And with that, you’re reminded of your odd predicament.

He is a good husband and knows that you care for him and vice versa. When both sets of parents first introduced you two, it was awkward and you knew from reading his background that he wasn’t the most sociable of people but you were, and still are, patient. This arranged marriage was more or less a business deal between fathers; your father held the CEO title at a top entertainment company in the nation and Rin’s father wanted to secure the spotlight for the growing star athlete. Rin didn’t say much during that meeting, and neither did you.

Your first kiss with him was also on your first date. It was at his apartment, both of you shared the same hobby of playing horror games, and you were sitting thigh to thigh on his two-seater couch. You were dying multiple rounds in, fingers bruised from button-mashing and mind-busied with inappropriate thoughts as you kept stealing glances at your painfully attractive fiance. It didn’t take long for Rin to notice because it was stupidly obvious. He sat his controller down, took one look at you, and asked, “Do you want me to kiss you?” with a weird little smile that was seemingly almost out of character from what you knew of him. And the kiss was … awkward to say the least. You remembered him leaning down and you were leaning up, mashing lips and a little bit of teeth together. No amount of research that you had done days prior could’ve prepped for that. And it was almost as if it was his first time kissing too, but you fixated on your inexperience than pay any mind to his mysterious relationship track record. 

One year later and you’re still stuck at first base.

As if on cue, you feel your phone give out a series of buzzes in your back pocket, already knowing that it’s from your online penpals. You break out from your thoughts and scroll to the top of the messages:

Bachira M. [BluntBangs] “You should try seducing him tonight!” Hiori Y. [ChoppyCyan] “You remember reading Chigiri’s fan favorite short story - “Till Death Do Us Part”? There was this one scene where the characters had to share one bed because the other bedroom got ruined by a leak! Maybe you can “accidentally” make that happen too?” Chigiri H. [RedPanther] “I remember I had a fun time writing that scene. You should definitely try and flirt with him, y/n.” Shidou R. [HornyDemon] “And if your husband won’t fuck you then I will /jk” Hiori Y. [ChoppyCyan] “Shut up you’ll fuck anything that has a pulse”

They weren’t necessarily wrong. You didn’t want this dynamic to potentially go on for another year or even for the rest of your life - trying wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? 

You quickly fill up a pitcher of water then peer into the spare guest room and notice warm lighting bleeding through the cracks coming from the bathroom door and the sounds of running water. With Rin still busy washing up, you take the liberty to start messing around for your impromptu operation. You weren’t exactly sure when or who suggested sleeping in separate bedrooms to start but, to your knowledge, this is the first time that you’ve actually sneaked around in his room.

You start with the closet, opening its double doors and seeing his clothes all hung in order and by color. His sneakers and cleats were all stored in separate clear cases in the bottom corner while there is a small center shelf in the middle that holds his cologne, deodorant, and moisturizer. He’s neat, you think to yourself before deciding that it’s probably best to leave his belongings alone and focus on ruining something in the room that was less personal. Next is the carefully made bed with extra fluffed pillows, then the freshly well-kept plants on the window sill, followed by the small framed photo of your wedding day on the bedside table. Guilt immediately rushes over your consciousness.

“No, this won’t do either.” You groan, suddenly feeling like this is the dumbest thing on earth now. “I should just give up.” 

“y/n?” Rin’s voice calls out and you snap your head towards his direction, soon to be met with a series of incoherent sputtering from the male as you realize that he’s completely wet and naked.

“Oh my god!” Hands and pitcher fly to your redden face as you try to come up with an excuse but nothing comes out the way you want it to, “I-I uh–water! I thought you needed more water–I’m sorry!”

You hear him scrambling around the room, most likely searching for a towel to cover up his impressive lower half. “You’re fine,” Rin’s voice sounds flustered and unusually high pitched, “just give me a second–”

“N-No I’m sorry! I don’t even know why I’m standing here I should just go and–” Closing your eyes might’ve been the worst choice all day because soon your body meets the wall and soon the floor, spilling the pitcher’s contents all over you in the process. 

Your phone vibrates again, text reading:

Bachira M. [BluntBangs] “Did it work?!”

[atlasllm]

deadass "gas station from utah" fills me with so much joy like dya think cwilbur would support me slathering a bacon wrapped hot dog in squeezy cheese and buying a cheap refrigerator turkey sandwich and getting some cheesy nachos as a side for my cheese slathered hot dog

[lettuce-seize-the-day]

.

[katebishopsbow]

ENIGMA • OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing: oscar piastri x reader (18+)

summary: your best friend's brother seems to always be keeping a friendly distance from you. intrigued by how reserved and quiet he is, you devise an evil little plan to make him lose control and uncover the facade behind his polite smiles and curt greetings.

warnings: sexual content (minors dni), sub!oscar, praising, corruption kink, finger sucking, spit, handjob

word count: 3k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Oscar Piastri is an enigma, a riddle you yearn to solve.

You see him occasionally whenever you visit your best friend’s house, purposefully lingering later in the night to catch a glimpse of her brother coming home from practice. He would give you a small smile, and make some light conversations with you and his sister before excusing himself upstairs in hurried steps.

He is always so quiet, so shy and closed off, always keeping a friendly distance from you as if getting too close would burn. It intrigues you more than anything, and maybe a wicked part of you wants to unveil the secrets hiding behind that facade of polite smiles and friendly greetings. You want to see him lose control – to be the one to make him lose control.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Oscar comes home from an exhausting day of practice – muscle sore, completely starving, and in desperate need of a quiet, relaxing night. When he enters the kitchen to get some water, he’s surprised to see you there alone wearing a rather flimsy top that reveals more skin than usual, with his sister nowhere in sight. “Oh – hey,” he greets politely like he always does, shooting you a half smile as he trains his eyes on your face instead of your revealing neckline. 

What a gentleman, right? 

“Hey, Oscar,” you return the smile, your mind already coming up with a devious plan to break his resolve. “Is Olivia here?” he asks as he glances around the house, searching for signs of his sister since the two of you are almost always inseparable. “Something came up. She told me to wait for her here, said she’ll be back in an hour,” you say to him, to which he answers with a quick nod of his head, “Oh, okay, cool.” Classic Oscar, always so reserved and never uttering more than a few words to you. Yet this only manages to fuel your desire to discover what’s hiding underneath and watch him lose his composure.

With a friendly smile, you gesture at the tray of chocolate cupcakes on the counter in front of you and say, “I brought over some cupcakes. Try them!” Oscar’s eyes almost light up at the sight of the sugary treat. The only things he has eaten during the day are a protein shake and a turkey sandwich he packed this morning that did nothing to keep him full, so the boy immediately picks one up and gives it a huge bite, eyes widening at how delicious they are. “These are good!” 

How cliche, you think as you stare at the chocolate frosting at the corner of his mouth. 

“You have a little something on your…” you let out a giggle as you point at his lips, and with an embarrassed grimace, Oscar hurriedly wipes at his mouth with his hands. He’s about to bring his thumb up to his lips when you suddenly stop him, grabbing onto his wrist mid-air as he tilts his head in confusion. “Uhh – what are you…?” he questions with a puzzled look and furrowed eyebrows, and his words fall to silence when he watches you slowly bring his hand toward your face.

Oscar feels like he’s suffocating, like his head is being submerged in deep waters as your lips slowly fall open, tongue darting out to give his finger a kitten lick, just to test his reaction. He supposes he should be tugging his hand back, pushing you off of him frantically, but he feels like he physically can’t, or maybe he simply doesn’t want to. 

So when he doesn’t pull away in disgust and freaks out like a part of you expects him to, you take it as a sign to continue your devious little plan. Oscar can feel his stomach drop, his breath catching in his throat like all the oxygen has left his body, especially when you smirk and envelop his entire finger into your mouth. 

“What are you doing…” he asks in a breathy groan as he tries his damned hardest to recompose himself, holding back the desperate urge to moan at the way you hollow out your cheeks and suck until the tip of his finger just grazes the back of your throat. Fuck, why the fuck does this feel so good already? Something about the haze in your eye makes a chill run down his spine – dangerous and a little twisted, and it’s enough to make Oscar want to surrender himself to you in whatever ways possible, in whatever ways you’d take him.

Every rational thought inside his head is telling him to stop, screaming at him to put an end to whatever madness this is. This is insane, absolutely ridiculous, and you two really shouldn’t be doing this. His sister can be home at any minute, not to mention that he definitely shouldn’t be doing such sinful acts with his sister’s best friend. Unfortunately, his body is betraying him and the tightness in his pants is a clear enough indicator that his facade is starting to crumble. He’s losing control and he knows it, and maybe it’s about time that he realizes how utterly screwed he is. 

When you finally pull off of him, a string of spit connects his finger to your glossy lips, and Oscar almost moans at the lewd sight. “Fuck…” The sigh that falls from his lips makes you smile, because while he will never admit this, you can tell that he’s secretly enjoying whatever you are doing to him. 

Feeling courageous, you move closer toward the boy until your bodies press directly against each other, feeling the radiating heat from his skin through the layers of clothes he has yet to change out of. You lean in to plant a kiss on his neck, and another, and another, suckling on the delicate skin until a purplish-blue bruise begins to form when you feel Oscar wordlessly tilting his head to allow you more access. In the corner of your eye, you can see him biting down on his lips as if he’s trying his hardest to stifle his sounds, and you can’t have that, no. 

You need to hear him, to listen to the way you’re affecting him while drinking in every little whine and plea of his until he comes. So you allow your hand to slide, trailing along the soft lines of his chest and abs until it reaches the hemline of his jeans. Oscar squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation, waiting for you to touch him where he needs you the most, yet that feeling never comes. “What?” he asks breathily when his eyes flutter open once again and is greeted by a grin on your face he would only describe as evil, calculative, as if you have everything planned out in your mind already – which isn’t exactly far off from the truth.

“You want me to touch you, Osc?” you say to him, voice sweet and mellow, knowing damn well what his answer is going to be. The bulge over his pants is rather prominent, and it must not have felt very nice under the confinement of his jeans, but you just want to hear him say it. You need to hear him admit it, that he wants this, that he wants you just as much as you want him – and also just to tease him a little.

Oscar nods his head, wishfully hoping that this is somehow enough since his ego won’t allow him to say anything more. To no avail, you shake your head at his silent response. “Yes or no, baby?” The nickname has him inhaling a shuddering breath, his head becoming foggy with lust and the burning need to be properly touched by you. It hurts – he’s so hard and his jeans are so tight, and all he wants is your fingers and lips around him. 

All he needs to do is say the word, just say that he wants it and you will give him everything he needs and more, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud, he just can’t do it. Maybe it is his headstrong personality, but Oscar doesn’t beg for anything. He never has to beg for anything that he wants, he simply works for it and gets it. Good grades, his parents’ approval, sponsorships, karting and race wins. He doesn’t beg – never has and never will – but god does he want to get on his knees and beg for you right now.

He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s having an inner battle within himself, so you decide to be nice and give him a little… push. “Please, baby, please let me touch your cock. Let me make you feel good, Osc,” you pout your lips and look at him with the most desperate, pleading eyes ever, and he swears he is genuinely going to pass out.

Oscar likes to think he is in control most of the time, laid back and calm even in the most unpredictable times. Nothing can ever faze him, and he takes pride in that. But as he stands here before you, pushed back into the kitchen counter as you beg to jerk him off with the prettiest pair of eyes, every ounce of inhibition and self-control has suddenly evaporated from his body. 

So he lets himself go, and he lets you take – whatever you want. “Please, I want it,” he gasps out a strained whine as he returns the same pleading expression, shoving whatever “I never beg” principle he used to have to the very back of his mind and lets himself have this, lets himself have you. “Good boy.” Your words coax a breathy moan out of him, loud and unashamed and almost pornographic. You haven’t even properly touched him, and yet he already feels like he’s been completely taken apart by you, with every single part of his body humming in anticipation.

“Unbuckle your pants for me, baby.” Oscar doesn’t need to hear it twice, rushed hands fumbling with his belt to pull down his zipper, his eagerness endearingly funny. He looks at you with awaiting eyes after he’s done, trying his best to be patient as he waits for your next instructions. Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, you slowly slip your hand into his pants, delicate fingers wrapping around the length of Oscar’s erection. Fucking finally, he thinks to himself.

His face contorts in pleasure when you begin tightening your hand, giving him a few unhurried, lazy strokes up and down his cock. “Argh… holy fucking shit…” Oscar isn’t normally much of a swearer, but he can’t seem to control himself nor the words spilling from his lips when your fingers feel so good around him. 

He lets out a displeased whine when you abruptly remove your hand from his jeans, staring at you with dazed eyes as you bring it in front of his mouth. “Spit,” you order, and Oscar being the good boy that he is, immediately obliges, gathering the saliva in his mouth and letting it dribble down to your palm. “That’s my good boy.” Using Oscar’s spit as lube, your hand returns to its original placement and begins moving, this time with much firmer strokes.

Oscar’s eyes snap close at the electrifying sensation, and he feels like his brain is melting inside his head from the overbearing pleasure that envelops him. Every muscle, every bone, every fiber of his entire being tingles with nerves, and your hand feels so warm and slippery and tight and so, so fucking good. He wonders if he’s dreaming, if he’ll suddenly come to his senses and wake up from whatever fever dream this is with a sticky mess under his covers.

The thing is, you have always been gorgeous. Oscar has eyes, and he cannot lie and say that he has never ogled at you when came over to their house and had your back turned, or that he never allowed his mind to wander in the late hours at night as he thinks about you indecent ways – ways a boy should never think about his sister’s best friend. He knows how wrong this entire thing is, with your fingers around him as he moans at how good you’re making him feel, but he doesn’t ever want to stop. So he prays, ever so solemnly to whatever higher power out there that this is real, that you are real, and please please please he just needs you to stroke him faster.

“Please, faster, I need – I need more!” 

Now how could you ever say no to him when he looks so good writhing in your arms like this? So you pick up the speed, pumping his cock in faster strokes and occasionally thumbing against the slit when you reach the head. “Does it feel good, Osc?” Oscar frantically nods his head at your question, gasping out strings of barely coherent curses under his breath, “Yes, yes, fuck! It feels so good, so fucking good…” 

“Good boy… I bet it does,” you lean down to brush a kiss on his jaw, relishing in the whiny moans that never stop spilling from his raw, bitten lips. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Oscar nods again, eyes rolling to the back of his head whenever you draw teasing circles over his frenulum. but you want to hear him say it, to admit that he’s yours. “Say it,” you repeat yourself, purposefully slowing down the movements of your hand as you await his answer.

“I’m your good – boy!” he breathes out in a groan, wanting more than anything to be good for you. “That’s right, baby, you’re my pretty boy,” you whisper into his ear, and it’s nothing but the truth. With his hips bucking up into your hand in a desperate chase of pleasure as wonton moans never stop falling from his parted lips, Oscar has never looked prettier. Not the kind of pretty that makes you want to take him out to dinner and kiss him under the moonlight, but the kind of pretty that makes you want to take him apart and put him back together, to ruin him and make his eyes roll to the back of his head until he remembers nothing but your name.

You can tell Oscar is getting close with the way his breathing picks up and how he frantically grabs onto your hips just for something to hold onto. He’s jerked himself off before, plenty of times, but he has never felt anything like this – how you’re able to turn him into a malleable, whimpering mess with just a few deft strokes. It’s unfair how stupid-good your hands are, Oscar thinks to himself. Somehow he can’t find it in himself to be upset about it though, not when he’s too occupied with falling apart in your arms. 

“You’re gonna be a good boy and come all over my fingers, Osc?” Oscar barely manages to nod, making an almost begging noise in the process, and perhaps he would be embarrassed if it isn’t for how fucking turned on and insatiable he feels. “Yeah? You’re gonna come for me and watch me swallow every drop, baby?” Fuck, he is definitely not going to last when you’re muttering straight-up filth into his ears. 

When his eyes flutter close, he lets his imagination run wild the way he always does when he lies in his bed, hand stuffed into his pants while fantasizing about his sister’s best friend. He imagines you getting on your knees, opening your mouth with your tongue sticking out and waiting patiently as he spills all over you. He imagines your face covered in his come – so filthy and sinful – and you scoop them up with your fingers before sliding them inside your mouth. He imagines coming inside of you, warm and tight and so perfect for him. “I wish you were inside me instead, Osc,” you breathe into his ear, and that’s when he feels himself tipping over the edge.

Broken gasps and breathy whimpers are all Oscar can manage as his body overrides with pleasure – pure and utter euphoria that sends strikes of lighting down his spine. The pace of his hips stutters, and he thrusts up into your fingers once, twice, until his come splatters all over your hand, making a complete mess. Lines of white trickle down between your fingers, and he’s still desperately trying to catch his breath when you lift your hand and bring it to your lips. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he groans at the filthy sight of you sucking your fingers clean, lapping up his come and swallowing down everything with a teasing smirk.

You gently thumb at the streak of white that has spilled from the corner of your mouth, swipe it away and bring it to Oscar’s lips. Eager to please and obedient as ever, he parts his lips and lets you push your finger into his mouth, licking the taste of himself away. “You’re so good for me, baby,” you praise him softly, rubbing teasing circles over his glossy lips upon removing your finger. Oscar pouts, silently looking at you with eyes that say “Please kiss me” and you just have to reward him after everything, right?

Slowly, you lean in and press a kiss on his awaiting lips, feeling the way Oscar’s mouth falls open so willingly and melts into you without second thoughts. He isn’t a particularly great kisser, but it’s precisely his unskilled and inexperienced movements that make him so, so addictive. The thought of being the one to ruin him, to teach him all the ways you can make him feel good, to be the one to uncover his facade and make him lose control is exactly why you will never get enough of him. Now that you’ve seen him lose control, you don’t think you can ever stop. You can never stay away from him, and neither can he.

“Until next time, pretty boy.

[thatfizzyyyy]

literally craving the most basic white people food rn

[steddieas-shegoes]

sounds like a date

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is sharing food' rated g | 743 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting

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"Can I have a fry?" Eddie asked with his mouth half full of the last fry he'd stolen off Steve's plate.

"Why didn't you just get your own fries?" Steve asked, handing him a fry from his plate.

"Because I only wanted a couple and you always share with me," Eddie shoved the fry into his mouth.

That was true; Steve always shared his food when they were having their usual date night at the diner. In fact, he pretty much only got fries because he knew Eddie would want some.

He preferred just eating his turkey club sandwich and smiling over at Eddie who always ordered two milkshakes because he could never decide on a flavor, a cheeseburger, onion rings that he complained were soggy every time, and a chef salad for balance.

Eddie never finished his food, or the milkshakes, but he always finished Steve's fries.

So it became an unspoken routine, something Steve wasn't even sure Eddie noticed even after months of doing it. Robin said he was a sap for doing it, but he didn't care.

"How's the chocolate shake?" Steve asked as Eddie dipped another stolen fry into it. "Good with the fries?"

"Yeah, but the strawberry is better. They didn't add extra chocolate syrup this time," Eddie half-pouted, as if he didn't complain about their lack of chocolate in the chocolate shake every time he ordered it.

"Can I have a sip of your Coke?" Eddie asked after another minute of stealing fries from Steve's plate.

Steve wordlessly handed his cup over, surprised it took him this long to ask for it. He usually asked way before he'd even started on the fries.

Eddie, as expected, took a few large sips, almost draining the rest of the drink.

"Why doesn't the waitress ever bring us napkins?" Eddie asked as he set the cup back down in front of Steve.

Steve handed him one of the napkins he'd grabbed from the table they passed on the way to their own. The waitress did always forget to bring them, so Steve prepared.

"You're so good to me," Eddie smirked, brushing his foot against Steve's ankle under the table.

Steve was pretty sure the waitress knew what was going on between them and just hadn't bothered to say anything, and the rest of the diner was empty. Their date night was pretty late, right after Eddie's Hellfire night with the kids that always seemed to go longer and longer. It was damn near midnight now, most of the town in bed, the rest up to no good somewhere else.

It was peaceful, being here with Eddie like this.

It was a look at a future they could have, at least a version of it, though neither of them planned on staying in Hawkins forever.

Steve slid his plate of the few remaining fries over to Eddie and wiped his hands on his napkin. "Finish 'em. I'm done."

"You didn't even eat any," Eddie pointed out before grabbing another one.

"Wasn't that hungry, I guess."

"Mhm," Eddie smirked knowingly, but didn't comment further.

"All set for the bill?" The waitress came by to ask, tapping her pen against the pad of paper. "Who gets it tonight?"

Eddie pointed at Steve, like he did every single week they did this.

Steve took the bill from her hand like he did every single week.

He pulled out his wallet, grabbed the $10 in cash he always kept there for date night, and handed it back to her.

Eddie waited until she walked away to pull out his wallet, grabbing $2 for a tip.

"You know at some point, you may have to actually pay for a date," Steve said as he slipped his jacket on.

"Maybe," Eddie shrugged, like he knew Steve loved paying for their date, made him feel like he could provide. Eddie joked it was his inner caveman. "Maybe I'll just take us on a nice road trip with all this money I'm savin'."

"Oh?" Steve froze.

Eddie looked back at him, beaming smile.

"Yeah. Next month sound good to you? A tour of diners across the midwest. Every night is date night. All my treat," Eddie suggested, like he'd already had this planned for a while. "I'd love to steal your fries in new places, Stevie."

Steve felt himself blushing, somehow always surprised at the lengths Eddie went to to make him feel so loved.

"Sounds like a date."