#roll up the fattest blunt

[casreturns]

hey yall…

[plutotheplum]

Felt Good About You

akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: delivering a revised manuscript to your editor turns into something more.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, post-time skip, oral sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, handjob, p in v

wc: 4.8k

a/n: i'm afraid i have the fattest crush on akaashi

also on ao3!

“The romance isn’t working.”

You groan when your editor pushes your manuscript for this week’s chapter towards you. You didn’t need any more bumps in the road, not when you were already running behind on deadlines, with the publishing company breathing down your neck to get the next volume out.

“The romance is fine, Akaashi” you mumble, flicking through the pages of the manuscript to skim through his notes.

“If it was fine, I wouldn’t be here,” he replies dryly.

Akaashi was as blunt as ever. Most of the time you appreciated his honesty, he was the reason for such success with your manga after all, but sometimes he managed to get on your nerves.

“It’s an unnecessary subplot,” he continues, flipping through a couple of pages to show you a few of the panels you had drawn, “there’s just no plausible progression between the two, no chemistry.”

You glare at him. He was really starting to get on your nerves. Akaashi rolls his eyes when he sees your glare, reaching out to flick your forehead.

“You’re already behind on the scheduled publishing date,” he reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest, “and I get the short end of the stick because I’m your editor.”

“The higher-ups love you,” you retort.

You stare pointedly at the small stash of awards that were tucked onto a shelf in his office, the small trophies and plaques a clear display of the company’s commendation for his work. 

“Not enough to let me work in the literature department,” he mutters bitterly.

“I’m right here!” you protest, an exasperated expression spreading across your face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Akaashi murmurs. 

He taps your manuscript a few more times before giving you a stern look.

“Get me the revised version by tonight, otherwise you’ll miss out on this week’s issue.”

You curse him under your breath, giving him one final glare as you gather the pages of your manuscript into your hands. You had come into his office thinking he’d been fine with the story, but now you had somehow ended up with more work than before, and an even tighter deadline.

- 

A few hours later, you end up finding yourself outside Akaashi’s apartment. Guilt had won out in the end, and you figured that it wasn’t fair to let him take the blame for your tardiness. Revised manuscript clutched against your chest, you ring his doorbell.

You can feel your throat dry when he opens up the door. His hair is damp, towel slung around the back of his neck. He’s wearing an old volleyball shirt with sweatpants, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to him looking so domestic. 

Akaashi stares at you blankly, clearly not expecting you. Usually you would’ve just emailed the revised manuscript over to him, not show up outside his door.

“I felt guilty,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing at the awkwardness in the air, “and- and I ordered gyoza so it should be here in a few minutes.”

“Right,” he says after a moment, “you didn’t have to.”

You stare at each other for a moment longer until he sighs, opening the door wider to let you in.

“You’re just as bad as Bokuto,” he informs you.

The mention of the pro-volleyball player makes a smile spread across your face. You had met Akaashi’s volleyball friends a few times when they had enlisted your help in throwing Akaashi a surprise birthday party - which had maybe ended up in a disaster - as well as when you had wound up to a few of their games.

“He’s a sweet guy,” you reply, handing him your manuscript.

Akaashi only hums in response, walking over to his desk. He hangs his towel on the back of his chair before sitting down. You watch as he slips his glasses on, examining the pages of your now edited work.

“I thought you’d try and fight me about the romance,” he murmurs, his pen making a few adjustments here and there. 

“Figured it wasn’t worth it,” you sigh, slumping on the couch in his living room, “you were right, as always.”

He peers over at you, his eyes narrowing as he watches the sulky look on your face. Despite your random bouts of laziness, even Akaashi had to agree that you were a good mangaka whose popularity had built up a loyal reader base. 

“Look,” Akaashi says, setting his pen down, “if you’re that hung up about cutting those scenes, start drafting it now.”

Your gaze shoots up to meet his eyes.

“Seriously?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. 

Akaashi was dedicated, sure, but he wasn’t exactly one to take on extra work. Sometimes  you felt as though he would’ve been right at home in the literature department, editing novels instead of volumes of manga. It was like he worked with you out of obligation, not enjoyment, despite the friendship you had built up over the years.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing his glasses up a bit further to sit better on the slope of his nose, “I’m serious.”

You don’t get to dwell any longer on your editor’s change in mind, the sound of the doorbell piercing through your conversation. Akaashi waves you away when you move towards the door, grabbing the delivered containers of gyoza himself. 

He sits down beside you on the couch, handing you one container whilst he takes the other. For some reason, you’re feeling more on edge than usual. The brush of his arm against yours has heat rising to your cheeks, body growing taut with the way your stomach is swirling with nervousness.

It was no secret that Akaashi was one of the most handsome men in the office, and you had maybe developed a tiny crush on the man, which was now inflating into something that was not so tiny, and much, much harder to control the more time you spent with him. 

“You okay?” Akaashi asks, peering over you.

You don’t trust yourself enough to reply which is why you stuff a gyoza into your mouth and nod rapidly.

Silence lapses over you both as you eat, but you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. You pretend not to notice, trying to engross yourself in the taste of the gyoza and the tang of soy sauce.

Akaashi slouches slightly, his body relaxing as time passes. You can see it in the way his shoulders drop, his thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable.

“Instead of adding romance as a subplot, why don’t you make it into another story altogether?”

You blink over at him, surprised. 

“I don’t have time to write another manga,” you say, shaking your head, “I’d have to find another publisher if I wanted to write something that was purely romance.”

“Shonen manga in the romance genre exist,” he replies, running his hand through his hair, “or you could just self-publish.”

You’d been hoping to avoid the topic of self-publishing. Sure, you knew of it, participated in it even. It’d been used as a creative outlet, to get out some ideas that you couldn’t work on when your success as a mangaka had grown. Besides, it wasn’t like you could tell Akaashi that you had drawn up stories that were, well, inappropriate. 

“But that would be too much work,” you sigh, trying to stop his train of thought.

Akaashi stares at you thoughtfully. The more you spend time with him, the more you begin to regret your choice to come here. Emailing the manuscript to him would’ve been the smarter choice, but you just had to feel sorry for the guy.

“I did read one the other day that had a similar art style to yours.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel your composure slipping. There was no way he could know that you self-published stories that were practically panel after panel of porn. Maybe he enjoyed it? One thought leads to another and you find yourself imagining Akaashi with his hand wrapped around his cock, his head tipped back as he strokes himself.

“What was it about?” you manage to grit out, trying to see through the haze of your indecent thoughts.

“About a couple,” he says simply, “they ended up fucking.”

You can feel the hope swirling in your mind fade. Akaashi definitely knew. 

“Didn’t know you read that sort of thing.”

“I’m a man, aren’t I? Sometimes porn just doesn’t cut it. The story was pretty great too.”

He thought the story was great? You can’t help yourself from perking up, the compliment making you feel warm. 

“I just find it so strange,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

You swallow harshly, mustering up a smile with your trembling lips, “why’s that?”

“The author’s note,” Akaashi says, “the little bunny avatar was the same as yours.”

So, you had messed up. You spy the front door from the corner of your eyes. If you walked, you’d get there in about ten steps, but if you ran, you’d get there in about three - maybe two - strides. Sure, you wouldn’t ever be able to face Akaashi again, but you think you’d be fine with it. Report filed to the higher ups stating creative differences and you’d be able to find a new editor, no problem.

“It’s all probably just a coincidence,” you say nonchalantly, “plenty of people like bunnies.”

“Some of the dialogue was similar to yours, distinct writing and all that.”

You grit your teeth. The man didn’t know when to let go.

“Like I said, coincidence.”

“Right,” he says, nodding along, “a coincidence. Was it also a coincidence that the couple that had sex was a mangaka and her editor?”

You scramble to your feet when he says that. Letting out an awkward laugh, your cheeks heated with embarrassment, you decide that this is the best time to take your leave.

“Have- have a good night!” you say, voice pitching.

Determination has Akaashi’s eyes gleaming and now you’re bolting, feet nearly tripping over each other as you dart towards his apartment door. It seems as though fate isn’t in your favor tonight, Akaashi’s hand curling around your wrist as he catches onto you before you can open the door. You squeak when he slams his hand against the wall, right next to your head as he pushes you up against the door.

“Classic scene,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your meek expression, “you always use it.”

“Fuck off, Akaashi!” you snap, pushing at his chest.

It’s a struggle, but you reach back behind you, hand grabbing blindly for the door handle. He doesn’t let you reach it, catching your wrist and pinning it against the door.

“You sure?” Akaashi asks, his eyes darkened, “or maybe you want me to fuck you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, mouth opening before closing again. There’s nothing left in you, no retorts, no words to get yourself out of this situation. He lets out a sigh when he feels your body relax, his hand on your wrist loosening as he lets go. You stare up at him, biting your lip nervously.

“You should’ve said something,” he says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

“And embarrass myself?” you mutter, picking at the wool of your sweater.

Akaashi doesn’t say anything, his hand smoothing up your hip and settling on your waist. Your eyes widen, arousal shooting through your body as he presses himself closer, his other hand finding your waist. Akaashi squeezes gently and you bite back a whine, eyes drooping slightly as he just squeezes and pets at your sides.

“It was good,” he says hoarsely, “the story, the details, the sex… came to it a couple of times.”

“You- you liked it?” you whisper, voice airy.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, his eyes meeting yours, “liked it… like you.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your cheek, your heart thudding in your chest. You never dreamt it’d come down to this, but you find yourself grateful for Akaashi’s observational nature.

He takes his glasses off, placing them into his pocket. Akaashi’s lips drag across your cheek, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He kisses the corner of your mouth, lips brushing against yours gently. 

“Kiss me, Akaashi” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yeah,” Akaashi says softly, “yeah, I’ll kiss you, baby.”

A contented sigh escapes you as he slots his lips over yours, kissing you gently. The heat between you begins to grow, his hands slipping under your sweater to feel your bare skin. You gasp into his mouth, his hands surprisingly warm.

Akaashi smiles against your lips, his hand running up your back as his kisses turn hungrier, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You let him lick into your mouth, tugging at his hair desperately. Rocking up onto the tips of your toes, you deepen the kiss, pulling him impossibly closer. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, groaning when your nails scratch his scalp fleetingly. You bite your kiss-swollen lip as he drags his lips down your neck, landing heated kisses to your skin.

Akaashi kisses the pulse of your throat, his lips finding their way back to yours. Soft pants fill the air, his smile hazy as he peers down at you. You smile back, head tilting to the side to let him kiss your cheek again.

“You’re such a dork,” he whispers, his eyes twinkling.

“Shut up,” you whine, pushing at his chest.

He grins, his hands grasping yours. Akaashi pulls you away from the door, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. You laugh, legs wrapping around his waist, lips pressing against his as he carries you to his bed.

Akaashi lays you down on his bed and you watch with half-lidded eyes as he pulls his shirt off. He might not have played as competitively like he did in highschool, but you had been there when he had played with his friends. It’d been entrancing to watch the way he had set the ball for his friends, the ball curving through the air cleanly for the spiker to hit.

“‘s not fair how good you look,” you grumble, pouting.

He rolls his eyes, crawling onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

“You look pretty good yourself,” Akaashi says, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater.

You lift your arms for him, letting him pull it off of you. His gaze fixes on the swell of your breasts and you flush, looking away.

“You’re shy now?” He murmurs, a soft laugh escaping him as he kisses your jaw.

“You’re such a jerk,” you huff out.

Akaashi smiles and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to be truly angry with him. He’s patient more than anything, caring and always honest. You’ve never met a man like him, never met someone who could quell your worries the way he could. It makes you want to never let go.

His body settles between your thighs, his nimble fingers pulling your bra free. Your nipples pebble in the cold air and Akaashi leans forward, his hot, wet mouth enveloping a hard bud into his mouth.

You whine brokenly, back arching slightly as he sucks your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. He groans as you run your fingers through his hair, his mouth suctioning around your breast for a few moments before he pulls off with a pop.

His mouth finds your other breast, kissing the side of it, mouthing at your skin. You can feel his tongue caress the underside of it, laving across your breast before he bites gently at your flesh, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours. 

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he whispers against your breast.

You shake your head, mewling when his hand slides up, his fingers pitching at your spit-coated nipples. He rests his head between your breasts, watching you contentedly as you writhe under the onslaught of his touches. 

“A- Akaashi,” you whimper, hips bucking, “want- want more, please.”

“So polite, baby” he coos, his hands groping at your breasts. 

He pulls away from you and you whine, lifting your hips for him when he peels your pants off. There’s a moment of silence and you’re anticipating the feel of his mouth on your body, only for him to let out a low laugh. 

“Bunnies til the end, huh?” Akaashi asks, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.

Your brows furrow, not quite sure what he’s talking about until you prop yourself on your elbows and see that you’re wearing a pair of bunny-patterned panties.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, slumping back down onto the bed and slinging your arm over your eyes.

“They’re cute,” he smiles, prying your arm away from your face, “just like you, baby.”

Akaashi grasps one of your legs, bringing it to his mouth as he runs his hand along the length of it, kissing the sole of your foot and then your ankle. A soft hum leaves you, watching as he kisses up your leg, his kisses feather-light.

You run your fingers through his hair as he kisses the little bow on your panties, his nose pressing between your clothed folds to breathe you in.

“Pussy’s soaked through,” Akaashi murmurs, pulling back to look at your dampened panties.

“‘s your fault,” you slur, trying to push his face back to where you want it.

“All my fault,” he agrees, his tongue licking up over your panties, “guess I’ll have to take care of you then.”

You nod, trying to stop the little twitches that shoot through your body. Akaashi lets his mouth latch onto you, trying to suck the slick that’s soaked through the fabric of your panties.

“A- ah!” you pant, fingers fisting his hair as he squeezes your hips, his face nuzzling deeper between your thighs.

Akaashi’s lithe fingers pull at your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

“Always so pretty, baby” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds to expose your pussy.

He moans when he sees the translucent strings of arousal that cling to your folds, his tongue darting out to lick up the little strings. You whimper when he kisses your clit gently, watching as he rubs the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit. Thighs twitching, you shift, trying to tilt your hips a little higher so you can feel his mouth on you.

“Ask for it,” Akaashi says, his cheek pressing against your thigh as he stares up at you.

“‘m not- ‘m not asking for it,” you retort, glaring at him.

“Bet it’d feel good,” he whispers, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

You whine when he just keeps his tongue there, saliva dripping from the tip of it and onto your pussy. He makes an obscene noise, gathering some more saliva, spitting on your cunt.

“All you gotta do is ask,” he coaxes, his arms wrapping around your thighs, “clit looks so achy… makes me wanna kiss it better.”

“P- please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Akaashi smiles up at you, his eyes twinkling.

You’ll have to get him back for his teasing later, but right now you can’t wait.

“Please lick my pussy!”

You squeal when he latches his mouth onto you again, his tongue lapping over your wet pussy. He groans and you tug at his hair, thighs squeezing around his head as he laves his tongue over you greedily, letting his tongue dip into your hole before he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Legs kicking out, you let out a strangled noise as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Akaashi lands the filthiest kisses to your clit, alternating between sucking and little pecks, while he’s sunk two fingers inside of you. They curl up inside of you, grazing your sensitive spot perfectly. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, your wanton noises filling his bedroom.

Akaashi presses his face deeper, his fingers crooking. The feeling of his mouth in tandem with his fingers has you whimpering and whining, airy noises spilling from your lips at his ministrations. You might not ever be able to go without him ever again.

He holds you in place as you thrash, the overwhelming feeling inside of you building and building. Akaashi slips his fingers out of you in favor of devouring your cunt again, licking through your velvety folds, his tongue swirling before he presses it inside of you. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls. 

You blink down at him dazedly. There’s a light flush covering his cheeks, his mouth glistening with your wetness. He opens his mouth to say something else but you ignore him, pushing his head so that his lips are flush against your cunt. Akaashi lets out a muffled laugh against your pussy, his tongue licking over you again.

Hand squeezing at your breast, you bite your lip, losing yourself in the caress of his tongue. He laps over you, again and again, pressing sloppy kisses to your clit. 

“Gonna come,” you whisper, feeling the softness of his hair under your palm, “gonna come, ‘kaashi.”

He tilts your hips a little more, rising up onto his knees with your legs slung over his shoulders. You squeal again when he shakes his head, tongue dragging from side to side before he plunges it inside of you, his thumb pressing against your clit at the same time.

Your thighs squeeze tightly around his head as you come, loosening after a while when twitches rack through your body. Akaashi squeezes your thighs, lets your legs slip from his shoulders as he kisses your trembling thighs. 

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Akaashi kisses your cheek and wipes the stray curls of your hair away from your face. A soft sheen of sweat covers your body and he hums, smoothing his thumbs over the underside of your breasts.

He lays down beside you and you curl up beside him, eyes catching on the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Need some help?” you murmur, fingers dragging down his chest.

“If you don’t mind,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him.

You smile, kissing his jaw gently as your hand slides past his navel, disappearing into his sweatpants. The weight of his cock is heavy and hot and Akaashi moans softly when your hand curls around his length.

“Ask for it, ‘kaashi,” you whisper, voice lilting.

“You’re such a brat,” he mutters.

“Use your manners, Keiji.”

His eyes widen when you use his name and you grin, landing a soft kiss to his cheek as your breasts squish up against his bicep. You squeeze around his cock and he lets out a soft whine, his hips bucking.

“Fuck- fuck hah-,” Akaashi grits out, “stroke my cock, baby, hm? Please?”

You hum softly, beginning to move your hand. His thick cock twitches as you stroke him, your wrist rotating.

He pants softly, his head turning to meet yours. You smile, running your fingers through his hair, brushing the soft strands out of his eyes. Affection bursts inside of you, heart fluttering as the flush on his cheeks deepens.

His brows have drawn together and you smooth your thumb over them, peppering soft kisses over his face, leg slinging over his as you pull down his sweatpants to free his cock completely. Akaashi’s cock has filled out, pre-cum smearing across his abdomen. You caress the head of it, giggling when he lets out a broken moan as you rub your thumb against the tip.

“You look so handsome,” you say, stroking his cock a little faster.

Akaashi smiles and you dip your head, kissing him. He groans, his hips chasing after the feeling of your hand around him as you kiss. Your hand tightens a little, squeezing at the tip of his cock. Pre-cum wets your hand, soft gasps escaping Akaashi as you let your tongue slip into his mouth.

“Keiji,” you whisper, lips brushing over his, “Keiji, will you fuck me?”

You squeak in surprise when he manages to grab onto your waist, lifting you up and placing you on his lap. His cock is snug between your folds and you whine, dragging your hips along the length of it, biting your lip as more pre-cum leaks from him.

“Sit on my cock, baby” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your thighs.

You nod, shifting a little so that you’re up on your knees. Akaashi watches as you grip the base of his cock, moaning when you rub his cock against your pussy, letting it catch on your clit. Akaashi’s head tips back as you sink down, whimpery, little noises leaving you as your pussy swallows up his cock.

It’s so thick inside of you, fitting so snugly that you clench around him. Akaashi wraps an arm around your waist, bringing your front flush against him. He lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, his arms tightening around your waist. You can feel him move, his feet flat against the bed as he bends his knees.

“K- Keiji!” you wail when he begins to fuck up into you.

Akaashi grunts, holding you against him as he moves his hips, rutting up into you. His hands grope at your ass, gripping your ass tightly as he moves a little more forcefully. You bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck, pressing sloppy kisses against his skin as you smooth your hand over his hair. 

“Is this- fuck,” Akaashi grits out, “is this what you imagined when you drew up those panels?”

You nod, too far gone to cling onto the remnants of your stubbornness. 

“Yeah?” he whispers, “imagined me fucking up into you, huh?”

“Y- yes!” you cry out, body squirming when he lands a heavy spank to your ass.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.

A soft mewl leaves you at the praise, your hips swaying back lazily to meet his thrusts. The sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoes through his room, your wetness leaking around his cock and coating his balls.

Your body rocks against his, your hand gripping at the sheets beside his head when he adjusts his grip on you, planting his feet a bit firmer against his mattress to thrust into you harder. You gasp at the sensation, sinking your teeth into his shoulder when his cock hits deep inside of you.

Akaashi hisses at the feeling of your teeth, spanking your ass again before you clench around him with a scream, body shuddering on top of his as you come. 

“Baby, baby, you gotta let go,” he rasps.

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing your hips down so that it swallows his cock all the way to the base.

“Inside, Keiji.”

He groans, his hands kneading at your hips roughly. You can feel the twitch of his cock, a satisfied coo leaving your lips when he comes, spurts of his hot cum filling you up. Akaashi’s hips stutter, thrusting into you unevenly as his cock jerks, more cum flooding your pussy.

You both pant, chests heaving. Akaashi rubs his hand along your back and you emerge from the crook of his neck, a drunken smile on your face.

He laughs hoarsely at your expression, cupping your cheek to guide you into another kiss while his cock softens inside of you. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you don’t mind, losing yourself in the heat of his body as cum leaks from your pussy.

“How long have you known?” you ask, tracing the slope of his nose.

“About a month,” he murmurs.

“A month?” you scoff, hitting his chest, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Akaashi grins, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss across your knuckles.

“That would ruin the fun.”

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “it was hardly fun, Keiji.”

“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he whispers.

You laugh when he flips you onto your back, moaning softly when you feel his cock beginning to harden again inside of you.

“Put- put your glasses on,” you whisper, head tipping back as he rolls his hips into you.

Akaashi reaches over to dig his glasses out from the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, pushing them up to sit comfortably on his nose.

You clench around him at the sight, biting your lip as you give him a pleased smile.

“Knew you had a thing for ‘em.”

He grabs at your legs, moving them so that they’re pressed against his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulders.

“Use this as inspiration, baby,” Akaashi smirks, “I’ll even edit it for you.”

[willsimpforanyone]

Could you do a percy x nike!reader where the reader challenges percy to a sword fight and percy loses and the readers all cocky about it. And then percy decides to teach the reader a lesson and doesnt stop fucking her till she says hes a winner and like since reader is competitive she gets overstimulated? I need therapy what the hell is this ask

bestie we all need therapy here don't worry ur safe here

i'm gonna do an established relationship because it's just easier that way, and this is a she/her reader with feminine terms used

percy is a little bit of a mean dom, but he still checks in with the reader to make sure she's okay

-------------------------------------

The man at the end of my blade was glowering at me like it was his job.

Percy's green eyes were reflecting in the shine of my sword, but I didn't need a mirror to know my smile was even brighter. I tapped the flat of the sword against his jaw.

"Sorry, babe, look like you need a little more practice," I grin, nodding towards a pair of 8 year olds fighting with blunted blades. "Maybe you should ask them for help?"

He rolled his eyes, capping Riptide and knocking my sword away from him. "I went easy on you."

I sheathed my sword at my side, raising my eyebrows at him in disbelief and smirking. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did," Percy hisses, and I laugh at the behaviour of a stroppy teenager coming from my boyfriend of 20 years old.

Walking over to the burning offering bowl at the entrance to the arena, I drop in a little something as a 'thank you' to Nike. "You're drenched in sweat, you put actual effort into that fight, you're just bitter that someone might be able to beat you."

Rolling his eyes again so far back in his head I'm sure he's about to give himself a headache, Percy slings his arm over my shoulders as we walk to his cabin. "You're my girlfriend, I had to let you win, I'm a gentleman like that."

"Bullshit!" I cackle at his obvious attempts to dismiss his loss, but that would mean dismissing my victory and I would never have allowed that. "I'm a child of Victory incarnate, did you really think you could win when I have the spirit of winning in my blood?"

"We get it, you won, the whole world gets it," he sighs, dragging his feet. "Can you shut up about this now?"

I shake my head, still grinning like the fattest cat that had the cream already and has just discovered the can of tuna. "Absolutely not, I think it would be basically blasphemy if I were to stop talking about my victory over the most powerful demigod of our generation, mother would strike me down where I stand."

"Sounds like I'll just have to make you shut up." Percy drags me inside his cabin, slamming the door behind us and shoving me against the wall. His hand comes behind my head so I don't smack it on the wall and the butterflies in my stomach go insane at the caring gesture even when I'm pissing him off.

I barely have time to open my mouth before his lips are on mine, stealing any words I was about to say. My hands fly to the back of his head, keeping him kissing me and tangling in his slightly sweaty black hair. He perpetually tastes like sea salt and I moan very quietly.

It takes a second for my brain to kick into gear again, but I smirk against his lips and whisper into his mouth. "You'll have to do better than that, loser."

Percy growls. "Oh, I plan to."

The wall is suddenly no longer behind me and I shriek in surprise and glee as he drags me to throw me onto the bed, immediately pouncing on me and pinning me to the bed. His fingers work deftly to undo my belt and he sets my belt and sword carefully on the floor, along with my shoes.

Now free to do as he pleases, he dips his head into the crook of my neck, yanking at my sweatpants and dragging his nails down my legs along with the waistband, throwing them off. Without hesitation, he strips me of my underwear and I moan, a permanent smile living on my face.

"This feels more like a reward than a punishment, I won't lie," I smirk, leaning up on my elbows and looking up at him.

"No one asked for your opinion," he sighs, promptly shoving two of his fingers in my mouth. "Use your tongue for something worthwhile, hm?"

Unable to do anything else, I wrap my lips around his fingers, sucking and covering them in saliva. I teasingly bob my head a little, looking him directly in the eyes and taking his fingers as deep into my mouth as I can.

He smirks, shaking his head at my obscene behaviour. "Dirty girl." He pulls his hand away, inspecting his spit-covered fingers. "Good enough."

Clearly determined to render me incapable of speech, he immediately swirls his middle finger over my clit. My whole body jerks, upper body almost thrown forward at the sudden sensation. "Shit-"

Percy grins, drawing delicate but deliberate circles and radiating smugness. "Nothing to say? Is that all it takes to make you shut your smart mouth?"

Well, I couldn't let him think he'd won this round. I swallow harshly, flicking my hair out my eyes and smirking. "I could suck your dick if you wanted," I breathe out, voice thick with condescension. "Sort of a participation prize."

He scowls, and pushes two fingers into my pussy. The sudden feeling shoots through my body like electricity and I gasp, one hand flying to grip at his wrist. My head gets thrown backwards and a low moan comes from low in my throat.

His digits pump in and out at a speed I wasn't expecting and for a good minute, there are no words in my head. Not a single thought, just pleasure vibrating my bones and removing my ability to think.

"There we go," he purrs, other hand rubbing gently over my hip and stomach. "The attitude was unnecessary, huh?"

I laugh breathlessly, one hand gripping the wrist of the hand abusing my now-soaking pussy, the other raking through my hair. "I... I still won..."

"For fucks' sake-" Percy shuffles down the bed until his head rests between my legs. No ceremony, no anticipation, just his tongue against my clit as his fingers crook and stroke at my velvety walls.

The sudden increase in stimulation drags me bodily into my climax, orgasm rocking through my body and rendering me speechless. I slap a hand over my mouth to muffle my long, drawn out moans... and then my squeak of surprise as he doesn't stop.

"P-Percy?" I stutter, hips instinctively twitching away from him under his relentless attack.

Instead of answering, his eyes simply flick up to meet mine with a filthy smirk on his lips. His fingers don't stop, tongue lapping up my come as he scissors me open slightly. My thighs start trembling, and the hand that was over my mouth finds its home twisted into Percy's hair as he buries his face between my legs.

He doesn't let up, working his jaw and tongue over and into me. My sensitivity has every nerve on edge and it takes a slightly humiliatingly short length of time for my next orgasm to flood through me.

To his credit, Percy doesn't protest at the definitely painful grip I have on his head, withdrawing his fingers and cleaning me up with his tongue. Shakily, I lean back up on my elbows and look down at him, panting slightly.

"Whoa," I breathe, pulling him up from between my legs and pressing a messy, sloppy kiss to his lips. Then, because I really, truly do not know how to shut up... "Hell of a reward, baby, I'm glad you admitted I won."

The growl of frustration comes from low in his ribcage and with a delicious shiver, I realise I've fucked up.

"Admit I went easy on you." His voice is right in my ear, and without looking I know he's stripping down, the sound so familiar I instinctively part my legs like a Pavlov effect.

I shake my head, still panting and still trembling. "No, you didn't, I won fair and square, I beat you."

To his credit and my utter adoration, he pauses as he slips a condom on and looks directly at me. "Are you okay?" He asks, voice soft and sweet.

I kiss him quickly and nod. "Mhm, yeah, I'm okay."

The sudden switch back is unbearably attractive and he nudges his cock against my sensitive folds, the tip nestling just barely inside. "You're my girlfriend, I would feel bad if I won every single time we fought," he hisses. "I was being sweet and you're throwing it in my face." His cock slips in just an inch.

I'm already clenching down on him, feeling my own wetness trailing down over my ass. It's a struggle to be coherent when my whole body is poised to feel him. "N-No, you weren't, I won, you're just being a bitch."

Another inch inside and I gasp, every sense heightened and nails clinging into his shoulders desperately. "Say I let you win."

I shake my head, but I'm beginning to forget what this faux-fight was about. "Mm-mm, never."

Percy clamps a preemptive hand over my mouth and shoves himself completely inside me, my pussy swallowing him whole. My eyes roll back in my head and I cry out into his palm, feeling deliciously, perfectly full and I'm pretty sure my brain starts leaking out of my ears.

"Then I'll fuck the words out of you," he murmurs into my ear. His other hand pins my hips to the bed as he starts pounding into me. I couldn't stop my body moving if I had the presence of mind to try, forcibly being dragged through overstimulation into that place where nothing else exists but Percy and the feeling of him inside me.

"Come on, baby," he coos, voice slightly unsteady. "Say it, and I won't drag another three orgasms from you."

That... that would break me. I'm out of my mind with just the two, I can't imagine how little I would function after five.

I can already feel my third orgasm building shakily in my lower stomach, pussy fluttering and convulsing around Percy's cock as he keeps up his rhythm. My pride wars with my common sense, wanting to stick to my victory versus knowing how utterly dedicated Percy can be at wringing orgasm after orgasm out of my poor body.

Percy adjusts my hips slightly and the angle knocks my pride out of my head. My lips form the words against his palm still over my mouth and he smirks, moving the hand to tangle his fingers in my hair.

"Something to say, gorgeous?"

I mumble the words, eyes closed and voice shaking.

Percy shakes his head. "What was that? A little louder for me, baby."

"...you went easy on me," I moan out, cheeks bright red and hands coming to hide my face. I don't need to see the smug fucking grin on his stupid handsome face, I already know it's there.

"Oh, good girl," he purrs, hips unrelenting against mine and sneaking a hand in between our bodies to thumb over my clit. "Just give me one more, one more and I'll stop, can you do that?"

I nod, clinging to him and moaning against his shoulder. "Mhm, I can d-do that."

"Good girl, I know you can," he murmurs, voice soft and burying his head into my neck. "It's okay, I've got you."

His switch to sweetness and patience sends my head reeling and I fall apart under him, muffling my scream of his name by biting into his shoulder. It only takes a few more thrusts and his hips stutter and still, a low choked moan smothered into my neck as he comes, filling up the condom.

Coherency is a distant memory and I can only focus on breathing, senses swamped with Percy. He litters kisses over my neck and jaw, whispering praise into my skin that I can barely focus on.

I whine in discomfort as he pulls out of me and he kisses me hard as a distraction, only moving away from me for a moment as he discards the condom before returning. He lays on the bed with me, wrapping me up in his arms and snuggling both of us under the bedsheets.

"Hey, you," he whispers, kissing the crown of my head. "How're you feeling?"

I respond in mumbles and nuzzling my face into his neck. Percy laughs softly, nodding and stroking up and down my spine.

"It's okay, that was too hard of a question right now, my bad."

---------------------------------

god i hope this was good, thank you for requesting!

[disgustingtwitches]

Drug dealer bf 141 but stoner!reader? 👀

MDNI

Yesss, all of them would have very different reactions

Ghost- Doesn't want to be around drugs in general, he doesn't touch his work and definitely doesn't touch weed. It makes him disassociate. He feels less in control of his body and mind, he thinks about things he's pushed down for years. Oh, and he hates the smell too. He'll make you smoke outside in a designated smoking robe that you have to keep in the mudroom. He tolerates being around you when you are high, but really doesn't like when other people are high around him. He also hates it because it gives you cottonmouth and he hates dry head.

Soap- Are you kidding me? This man is buying a zip a week for the both of you. Are Russian creams a thing in the UK? Because if it is he's smoking it. He's got you rolling the fattest blunts in the world and he fucking faces it. Notoriously bad at passing the joint because he'll just hold onto it and talk for forever. He put you onto dabs. He has like an actual rig and everything. You'll both be high watching some show on the couch and he'll turn to look at you with bloodshot eyes and those blue ass irises like ʘ‿ʘ and you'll either be scared or die laughing because of his stupid high face.

Gaz- So he loves science right? He also loves cooking (like, actually cooking with food and stuff). This man makes infused butter and milk and whatever else you want to cook with. He prefers not to smell like it, so he'll make it at a friend's place, but yeah! He finds it hilarious when you look at him all glassy eyed, staring at him like he's the hottest thing this side of the milky way. Showed you how to make a gravity bong because it's the most effective way to get high, it takes a smaller amount of weed to get you really high. Supportive boyfriend yay!

Price- He loves seeing you happy and he loves that he can give you the best weed around. He'll let you help harvest the buds, dry it, trim it, cure it, then smoke it! It's a very rewarding process for him, he loves when you get all giggly and stare at him half lidded with those pretty, pretty eyes of yours. Sometimes his shit is so strong you have to breathe manually, reminding yourself to inhale and exhale. He likes shotgunning smoke back and forth between you two while you sit in his lap, kisses getting sloppier and sloppier until his hand moves up your thighs and you melt in his arms.

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART NINE.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: another invite to a party was not what you were expecting from your former crush…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMOKING WEED, mention of intoxication, swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,652

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: you guys must hate me right now😂

i promise (lol) i’ll have a fic out soon! i’ve been struggling so that’s why i haven’t been as active, but i’ll try my best to be :)

“𝐈’𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘,” 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 says, waving at the smoke that exits her mouth.

“paige, it’s fine. the pits were three weeks ago. i’m over it. i’m alive, aren’t i?”

she frowns with a nod. paige wanted to hang out with you today since you didn’t have anything going on, so you planned a sleepover with just the two of you. her dad is out of town with her brother, leaving her alone for a few days. you guys are sitting in her living room at the moment with the TV portraying a shitty netflix movie she clicked on, even though you aren’t paying attention to it.

after a second puff, she hands you the blunt. you inhale deeply, the smoke flowing through your body with ease. “anything new going on? more specifically chris related?” she smirks.

“no,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at the girl. you told her about what he did the night of the pits, and she's not letting go about how she thinks you like him.

you don’t.

“that’s boring.” she mumbles. “anything else? not chris related because you’re lame.”

“my cousins are coming tomorrow; my mom told me this morning. they’re staying with monica for a few weeks, who is their best friend since they’re close in age. she lives right next door to us.” you start, putting the blunt between your lips once more. “she’s a family friend i’ve pretty much known my whole life.

“hm.” she hums, falling silent and looking around the room before speaking again. “are you sure you don’t have at least a little feelings for chris?”

“no. we just started being friends again!” you argue. “ask that again and you’re earning a slap across the face.”

she laughs, adjusting herself to where she leans back on her elbows. “is that kevin butler texting? i remember you having the fattest crush on him when we were in middle school.”

confused, you stare at her to see she is looking at your lit-up screen on the coffee table. “shut up.” you snarl, rolling your eyes intensely. “i bumped into him at the pits.”

she gasps, sitting up as fast as lightning. not going to lie, it made you flinch a little. “do you like ryan again? or is this like a love triangle? now things are getting good.” she props herself on her knees to feed into the gossip.

“no, i don’t like kevin.” you say, which is somewhat of a lie.

“please, please, please answer it.” she begs, handing you the phone. you can tell the drug you two inhaled is starting to take over. you snatch the phone from her and open up the message.

“i hope you know i’m coming with you to that party,” paige says, peeking over your shoulder.

“chris is going to hate me.” you say lowly, locking the phone and placing it back where it was before.

she knits her eyebrows together. “why? he doesn’t control you.”

“i know, but i don’t want him to drag me to his house again.” you bite your lip to nibble on it. “that’s embarrassing.”

“chris doesn’t have to find out. you are your own person and you make your own decisions, no?” she says, patting you on the chest.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 afternoon the next day. when you get there, you see two recognizable cars in the driveway. you sprint up the stairs and enter through the front door, to be greeted by numerous voices overlapping each other. the pitter-patter of paws slam against the wood floors when you shut the door. “oh!” you say in a startle as chichi jumps onto his hind legs to put his front two on your thigh. his tail wags as he greets you with smothers and barks while you pat his head.

peering around the wall, chichi zooms back into the living room. your cousin bethany — who gave you your journal all of those years ago — and her husband dillon are sitting on the floor in front of where your mom and dad are seated. your other cousin amalia and her husband james are on the other couch, their six-year-old twins playing with toys on the coffee table. “y/n!” oliver, one of the twins, exclaims. he runs over to hug you.

“hello, people. fancy seeing you here,” you say, sitting on the floor alongside bethany and dillon.

when your mom said everybody, you thought she was exaggerating, but she meant everybody.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 scurrying through your closet to try and find a perfect outfit for tonight. you usually don’t care about that certain thing, but you have a good feeling about kevin’s party in less than two hours. you groan loudly as your bedroom door opens. “is everything okay here?” bethany asks, peeking her head in.

you nod. “yes!”

“alright, then. i was sent to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

“i’m not eating right now. i’m going out soon.” you exhale sharply, still tearing your closet apart.

she raises a brow, intrigued. “where are you going?”

“out with friends.” you smile nervously, rubbing the sweat off of your hands on your pajamas, looking in the pile of clothes some more to see if a decent outfit will magically appear out of thin air. she gives you a suspicious look, checking to see if anybody is around before closing the door. “who’s the boy?”

“there is no boy.”

“you don’t get dressed up to ‘go out with friends’.”

you sigh in defeat. “fine. i was invited to this party and i want to dress nice, but all i have is bum sh— stuff; and i’m running out of time. the party is in less than two hours.”

she brings her finger up to her chin to think for a moment. you can see a lightbulb go off in her head. “let me make a call.” she pulls out her phone, her nails clicking against the screen. “monica works in fashion. she’ll have stuff to fit, i’m sure.”

speaking of the devil, monica appears at your house in minutes. it’s like you blinked and here she is, her tall figure kneeling in front of the bag she places down and pulls out two dresses. “you don’t seem like the type to wear fancy shit, so i brought these that i know you’ll look good in.”

the dress she is holding in her right hand is a red silky v-neck with stitched openings going up to the stitching that separates the chest from the bottom. the other one is a simple dress that is holographic. you tilt your head to think as you look from one to the other. “my mom is going to kill me if she sees me wearing one of these.”

she giggles, her long hair with blonde highlights falling over her shoulders when she does so. “oh, we got that covered.” she says matter of factly, pointing between her and bethany.

“hence why i am going to help you leave without her seeing, and covering up for you while you’re gone. you’re nineteen years old. you have to live a little, but safely. even if you have to lie from time to time.” bethany says, eyeing her best friend.

“just out of curiosity, does your mom know you snuck out?” you say because this plan seems too good to be true.

“oh, god, no. i’d still be grounded.” she shakes her head and you laugh out loud. “amalia and i used to have each other’s backs all the time when we were your age, younger, even. now, it’s time i have yours.”

you smile at that. she’s so cool, despite her being in her early thirties. amalia is a few years older. after some consideration, you point to the red dress. “that one.”

“good choice.” monica starts. “go to the bathroom and put it on.”

you get up from the floor and go to the restroom which is only a few feet away from your room. taking off what you’re wearing, you slip into the dress. you hum, checking yourself out in the mirror for a few seconds. it fits your form perfectly, your body looking better than it has ever looked in your nineteen years of living. you smirk at this boost of confidence. the more you look, the more you realize how short it is. the weird thing is, you don’t mind.

you look phenomenal.

walking back to the girls with a twirl, you hear bethany audibly gasp. “holy shit. you look stunning!”

“i feel it.”

“ooh, la la. what’s going on here? a secret fashion show?” amalia chirps while coming up behind you, cocking an eyebrow slightly. she goes over to monica to greet her before continuing. “it’s not that you don’t look gorgeous, but why? you got a date?”

“y/n here is sneaking out to go to a party.” bethany grins, patting you on the shoulder.

“no fucking way.” amalia gasps. “y/n, my most introverted little cousin, is sneaking out to party?”

“please don’t tell my mom,” you beg with a hint of worry that she’ll snitch.

she scoffs. “who do you think i am? this is a very special occasion i have to take part in… ‘cause girl, you are rocking it in that dress.”

you giggle as bethany sits you down at the vanity. she grabs her makeup bag that’s in her purse and leans in front of you. monica is scavenging your bedroom to look for jewelry, and she finds some that can match. amalia hovers above you and her sister.

bethany finishes the makeup look after a few minutes and monica hooks you up with a matching necklace and earring set that is silver, all of them giving an approving look. bethany looks at her watch and smiles. “you made it just in time. have fun.” she winks, ushering you to the entrance of your house.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns

[smileyerim]

lifestyles of the rich and famous

Your coworkers are really tired of hearing you pine over a guy who doesn’t want you, so they decide it’s finally time to do something about it. Thankfully the hot young son of the country club’s owner just walked in the door and sat at your bar.

main pairing: rich boy!johnny suh x bartender!reader

minor pairing: fuckboy!jaehyun x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, slight angst !!MDNI!!

length: 8k

warnings: adults having sex, smoking weed, drinking alcohol, vaping, jaehyun is a lying fuckboy

net tags: @kflixnet @neowritingsnet

if you repost or translate my work i’ll feed you to the metaphorical sharks (aka angry tumblr writers)

You’re a simple girl with simple desires, you like to think. You’re not demanding, nor are your dating requirements long or difficult to meet.

So when the guy you’ve been seeing for a couple of weeks decides that now of all times is the most appropriate time to begin speaking to you with short responses and leave you on read for hours on end, you’re pissed.

So much so that you feel validated enough in your desire to tell him off to your friends/coworkers but they seem to have differing opinions.

“I mean, he’s not your boyfriend Y/N.” Doyoung, always too blunt for his own good, says and it makes a groan escape your chest as you let your head fall onto Yerim’s shoulder in a painful thud.

“Thanks, Doyoung.” You say, speech mumbled against Yerim’s cotton polo uniform.

“You need a rebound. Let this inconsistent and slimy motherfucker go.” Yerim says and you hum in response, still leaning into her shoulder from your position behind her back.

“I don’t want another guy, I want Jaehyun.”

You’re startled into standing up straight by the reverberating banging sound of a hand coming into contact with the metal table separating you two from Doyoung.

“Too bad,” Doyoung says, looking directly into your eyes “He’s not yours so just let it go!”

You stare back with wide eyes and Yerim interjects, turning to lean against the table behind her and face you.

“He’s right, babe. It’s time to let him go. You don’t deserve to be led on like this.” Yerim says with her usual gentle tone of voice and you frown, looking down at the ugly shoes your boss forces you to wear behind the bar.

“You’re right. You’re both right.” You say, turning to give Doyoung your scariest look, “You’re incredibly cruel about it, but you’re right.”

—

Sure, your friends may have been right about your need to leave Jaehyun in the dust and move on to bigger and better things but you’re weak and never claimed not to be.

That’s why you choose to spend the last five minutes of your thirty minute break in the corner of the staff restroom taking and then deleting what feels like fifty Snapchat pictures.

Emerging from the restroom you’re immediately faced with Yerim with her arms crossed across her chest, staring you down in the way that communicates that she knows exactly what you were just getting up to.

“Either you just took the fattest shit of your life, or you were just texting Jaehyun.”

You don’t respond, brushing your shoulder on hers to pass her and clock back in.

—

With your last customer served her jack and coke, you decide it’s finally time to check your phone again. Forty five minutes is enough time for a man to come to his senses, open your Snapchat, and respond with an overly enthusiastic compliment and apology for being so unavailable, right?

Before you can even allow your phone to scan your face, it’s being snatched out of your hand.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim, hand chasing Yerim’s in an unattractive and unsuccessful flail.

“No, you aren’t doing this.” She chastises with one finger pointing at you. She’s somehow slipped your phone to somewhere you can’t spot it with a quick scan of your eyes up and down her now apron-clad body.

“You can have it back after your shift.” She says and you roll your eyes at her, leaning your hip uncomfortably into the short fridge behind the bar.

“Come on Yerim, that’s in three hours. What if he responds and asks me to hangout? That won’t be nearly enough time to get ready and by then he will have made other plans and-“ you ramble your embarrassing train of thought.

“Hush, you’re embarrassing yourself in front of a cute guy.”

You frown, arms crossing your chest as you follow Yerim’s line of sight to a bar stool behind you currently taken by oh- an extremely attractive guy with long brown hair tucked behind his ears. He’s waiting patiently for... well, you.

“Go serve him.” She says once you whip your head back over to face her again.

“Fuck.” You groan, grabbing your sanitizing towel and pretending to wipe down the bar in an act of stubborn defiance to Yerim and procrastination.

You know him, you’d be a fool if you didn’t. He’s what some would call a country club celebrity with how he’s gained recognition for being the best singles tennis player and for his last name being on the front of the building. His family photos are littering the hallways, a particularly precious photo of him as a kid with a half melted ice cream cone is situated on the front door of the child care center.

His father owns the country club, and he is much cuter in person than he is in his old family photos. He doesn’t visit your bar ever, so you’re intrigued to know why he’s here.

“Oh,” Yerim says stepping into your bubble and combing her fingers through your knotted hair, “go fix your hair first.” She says and you roll your eyes, hand blindly grasping at your back pocket in search of your cell phone.

“Here,” she says, handing you her bulky iPhone with some Sanrio phone case, “go in the back.” You roll your eyes again at her mistrust of you before following her orders, quickly rushing into the kitchen and pulling up her front camera to inspect your appearance.

Emerging from the kitchen, you feel a pair of eyes on you immediately and you look right back, making unexpected eye contact with the handsome man who’s been waiting. You flash him your brightest customer service smile before rushing over to stand across from him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he waves you off in dismissal of your apology before smiling at you, “what can I get for you?”

He’s still smiling a very polite smile, his eyes shining with kindness and it makes you weak in the knees. Working at a country club comes with a lot of perks, but those perks were bought with a price. The price being dealing with the type of people that belong to a country club, the rudest and most stuck up wealthy people in your town. You don’t meet people like him so often, genuinely kind people.

“I’ll take a vodka soda with extra lime whenever you find the time.” He smiles at you again and you actually feel your knees buckling at his kindness.

“Premium or well?” You respond out of habit, your brain fogging with his presence. He shoots you an unbelievable look that makes you both laugh. Forgoing an immediate response, you shake your head and scoff at yourself when you grab a glass to pour ice into.

“Top shelf, duh, sorry again.” You apologize as you press the sparkling water button on your soda gun.

“Stop apologizing so much!” He says and you look up from his drink to catch his kind eyes staring back at you in a way that makes you want to blush.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You say, now in front of him situating the lime wedge on the side of his glass.

He takes a sip before responding. “I just know how understaffed you are.”

You lean an elbow up on the bar, “I didn’t know it was that obvious.” Your cheeks flare up with another blush.

“It isn’t!” He clarifies, hand coming down to grab at your forearm in reassurance. You ignore sparks that shoot from his contact with your skin.

“I just-“ He says, removing his hand to play with the branded cocktail napkin under his glass, “sometimes they actually put me to work around here and I know how small your staff is.”

You hum, pensive frown on your face as you look around. You are short staffed.

“So what work do they make you do?” You tease, not really wanting this conversation to end.

“Dad tries to put my accounting degree to work by making me do our books every once in a while, but more recently he’s got me planning for the new garden. As if I would know anything about landscaping.”

You laugh at his charming joke, taking a moment just to steal a quick once over his appearance. He’s wearing a blue polo with some brands insignia stitched onto the breast pocket, a watch you’re assuming is very expensive from a luxury brand on his right wrist, and a tennis racket cover placed on the barstool next to him. He’s handsome, of course, with his kind eyes and long brown hair tucked behind his surprisingly pierced ears.

“Well I’ve been a bartender since college. So I wish I could be of more assistance, but I can’t offer any help.” You quip with a sigh and he smiles back.

“You have your degree, huh? What’re you doing here?” You find it charming that he’s actually engaging you in conversation.

“All I said was that I was in college, not that I finished.” You say, slight embarrassment lacing your voice.

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t finish.” He says and you shoot him a look urging him on to explain further.

He smirks at your offense before continuing, “We wouldn’t have met if you didn’t work here, and I don’t know about you, but I’m quite enjoying your company.”

A blush creeps it’s way up your neck, a coy expression on your face as your head drops down to stare at the sanitization bucket behind the bar.

“Gotta go, I have a tennis lesson in fifteen.” He says, standing and taking another sip of his drink.

“See you around.” He says with a final look and you nod, waving him off.

No more than 30 seconds after you watch his tall figure leave the restaurant, you see him slowly jogging back towards the bar.

“What’s your name?” He says, wrist resting on the back of the barstool opposite of you.

With a grin you tell him your name and he replies with a warm smile.

“I’m Johnny.”

“Nice to meet you, Johnny.” Your voice light with affection.

He nods at you, reaching into his wallet and digging out a five dollar bill, throwing it on the bar and ignoring your shouts of protest as he leaves the restaurant for the final time.

Later that evening when you check your phone after Yerim slides it at you from across the bar, you notice that Jaehyun still hasn’t opened your photo.

Surprisingly, though, you don’t care nearly as much as you expected to; with the thoughts of a very tall and handsome tennis player in the back of your mind.

—

Johnny comes by a lot more often after your first interaction, and you’re just a little too aware to pretend like you don’t know what for. He comes in, same bashful smile on his face as always, sits down, waits patiently for your attention, spends at least an hour or two chatting with you, and then leaving a five dollar bill on the bar.

Today’s no different, except that it’s been 98 hours since Jaehyun last spoke to you and you’re feeling antsy for attention.

“Johnny, hi!” You chirp out, leaping up out of your stool to walk over to the same section of the bar he always sits at.

“Someone’s a happy girl.” He snickers as he sits down.

“Yes she is, how did you know?” You tease, teeth sinking into your top lip.

“So what’s the good news? What’s got you so happy?” He says, smile painting his face. He thinks you’re cute.

“My favorite customer walked in.” You say, cheeky smile on your face as you look dead into his eyes from beneath your eyelashes.

He pretends to be touched, as his hand flies up to press against his chest in an overly dramatic way that makes you laugh and drop your flirty act.

“I have a proposal for you.” He leans in, eyes sparkling.

“What is it?” You blush.

“Let’s go swimming tonight!” He whisper shouts.

You tilt your head in confusion when you look up at him, “the pool closed at 4.”

“Not when you fucking own the pool, Y/N!” He leans in, eyes anticipating.

He’s so cute this way, and it feels really nice to be wanted when you’ve been getting ignored so obviously by the man you think you want.

It’s a no brainer.

“Let’s go!” You say after rolling your eyes and Johnny stands up on the foot bar of the stool, hands up in the air in victory.

You giggle as you swat a dry towel at his now exposed lower torso to encourage him to sit back down. Once he’s sat, he clears his throat and looks around with wide eyes in fake suspicion, and it just makes you laugh harder. For a moment your eyes meet as you two laugh, and it forces the butterflies in your belly to awaken and flutter in their cage.

He seems to have felt the moment shift too, as his smile falters for a second before going back to his wide grin.

“I’ll be back when you’re done.” Johnny says, grabbing his drink, tossing a five dollar bill on the bar, winking, and then quickly exiting the bar.

Two hours later, the bar is absolutely dead with zero customers in sight. You still have ten minutes to go of your shift, yet you’ve already completed all of your closing duties, just sitting by and waiting.

“Damn, what did you do to everyone?” The familiar voice shouts from the entrance of the bar and you smile. Finally, you think.

“You’re early, I still have a couple minutes to go.” You pout as he approaches the bar.

“Seriously? But nobody’s here. Let’s just go.” He draws out the ‘o’ sound, leaning his tall body over the bar to get in your face.

“Johnny, I’m not breaking two staff rules tonight.” You wave him off and he lets out a humph sound as he sits.

A mischievous smile then moves over his face as he opens a wallet, and hands you a twenty dollar bill.

You grab it between your pointer and middle finger and eye him suspiciously, “What’s this for?”

He smiles even wider, he’d wanted you to ask. “I wanna buy my favorite bartender a drink on the last ten minutes of her shift. Is that okay?”

You smile, waltzing over to the cash register and opening a tab. If Johnny wants you to enjoy your evening, who are you to stop him from making that happen?

Forty minutes and two more drinks downed, the two of you are finally tip toeing down the cobblestone path to the pool deck.

Johnny looks over his shoulder at you with a playful glint in his eyes as he hushes you.

“Whatever happened to ‘there is no closing time, I own the place!’?” You chastise, weak fists coming in contact to the back of his shoulder.

“I- oh shit,” he says, arm flying out to stop you in your tracks, but of course you drunkenly stumble right into his arm anyways.

He’s got a focused look on his face, and his chin is tilted up as if he’s listening out for someone. The coast is clear, obviously, when Johnny begins walking now with you two side by side.

“I may have fibbed about the no rules thing.” You roll your eyes at him in the dark. Of course he lied about it, you wouldn’t be here sneaking around after sundown if he wasn’t.

“No fucking shit.” you snap, but quickly dissolve into drunk giggles when he makes an offended face at you. He’s been doing that a lot lately, making you laugh uncontrollably and feel giddy like a little girl with a crush.

“Gimme your jacket.” Johnny says and you frown, immediately shaking your head no. The evening breeze is just a little too cold for your liking.

“Come on, I gotta get the gate open.” He whines, gesturing towards the locked gate in front of you.

With another frown on your drunk face, you shimmy your athletic jacket off your shoulders and hand it to Johnny, who quickly grabs the jacket by the two arm holes creating a makeshift hook. He uses his height to his advantage (and frankly, for your visual enjoyment) to lean over the gate and Macgyver the door to open with one swift pull of the jacket over the stem of the door handle.

The view is great, you must add. His t-shirt has ridden up a bit exposing a small sliver of his midriff and seeing him use his height so smoothly is making you feel weak in the knees. You can’t help it, you’re drunk and a very attractive man is being just so manly in front of your eyes.

When the door pops open, you let out a squeal of excitement and he laughs, pushing the door open for you to step in before him.

“So that tiny fib about no rules really was a big fib, huh?” You tease as you strip off the oversized tee shirt you were using as a coverup.

It takes him a moment to respond, he’s a little distracted by the sight of your body to have heard your teasing remark.

“I— uh, sorry?” He says, bashful smile on his face as he strips out of his own tank top, and approaches you with a flirty smile on his face.

He’s close enough to touch you, but he doesn’t, and that makes your breath catch in your throat. He’s got a look on his face that you don’t recognize, and that bothers you a bit, but you brush it off.

You’re the first to run away and plunge into the deep end of the pool, your ears filling with the roaring sound of your body splitting the previously still water. Before you even have the chance to notice the cool water causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, Johnny’s jumping in after you, sending suffocating waves in your direction.

You squeal again, swatting the water towards him when he resurfaces, and running away towards the shallow end so you can stand on your flat feet.

He follows you, of course he does, and soon enough he’s standing in front of you with his whole upper body exposed above the water. You aren’t sure how you’ve never taken long enough to notice his height before, but it’s definitely on your radar now.

“Hey.” He smiles down at you, droplets of water dripping down from where they had collected on the end of his long dark hair.

“Hi,” you whisper up at him. The tension from before is here again as you stare up at him. Like before, he’s close enough to touch you, and you desperately want to feel his hands on your waist, but he doesn’t. Too afraid of what this would mean, of where you are now and where things may be going.

Fuck, you think, you might like Johnny.

You’re a simple girl with simple emotions and simple responses to those emotions. So what do you do at this realization?

Well, you splash him right in his stupid handsome face, of course.

He retaliates almost immediately by stepping back and splashing you with far more aggression than you did with him.

“Hey, you’re not playing fair!” You scream as you swat blindly at the water, too afraid to open your eyes and get water in them. You’ve already got a mouth full of chlorine from the laughing you’re doing, you don’t want the stinging feeling in your eyes too.

“You started it!” He shouts from the other side of the pool, not letting up, even for a moment, for you to breathe.

“Truce! Truce!” You call out over the noise, stumbling over your own feet below the water, gently floating back until your upper back is resting against the cold and hard concrete edge of the pool.

He begins to laugh when he sees your panicked face, moving in closer to you to tease you up close.

“Man, you fucking destroyed me. How can someone be good at splashing water?” You exclaim, defeated.

A smile is still on his face as he slowly takes a couple extra steps into your space.

“Tennis, baby.” He says, exaggerating his point by mimicking a down swing, hand dipping below the water and splashing up at you again.

You let out a screech, “I called a truce!”

He just chuckles, hands coming up in defense as he steps in closer with a playful look on his face. His eyes dip down to the cleavage exposed by your bikini top, only for a moment, before flicking up to look into your (still panicked) eyes.

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his destination, toes almost touching below the water. His hands come up on either side of you to rest on the edge of the pool, your faces nearly inches apart. If the cold water of the pool hadn’t cooled you off so much, you’d be blushing like crazy. Your heartbeat does pick up again as he looks down at you.

Is he about to kiss you? He looks like he wants to, and you aren’t sure if you’d have the willpower to stop him if he tried.

Jaehyun crosses your mind at that moment. Sure, you aren’t official, but you think you'd like to be. How would he feel knowing you’re having a late night crime date with the wealthy son of your boss?

With the unmistakable look of want that flashes across Johnny’s eyes, you feel yourself begin to crumble. If you had wanted your brain to go back to Jaehyun in this moment you aren’t sure you’d be able to, too entranced under Johnny's spell. How can you still smell his woody cologne even after he got wet? Maybe that’s just his natural scent. The prospect of that being true sparks a fire of desire in your belly.

He’s leaning in now, figuring he had given you enough opportunities to push him off and away from you.

Of course, as if the universe is sending you a message, you hear another voice pierce through and pop the bubble you’ve created with Johnny.

“Hey, what’s going on in there!”

—

You haven’t been able to get last night off your mind, pulling all of your best distraction techniques out.

You tried to speak to Doyoung, but he had told you that your credits for emotional support friend had run out for the month, so that was a bust. You had tried to focus on work, but today was slow with the weekend just around the corner. You had even resorted to scrolling on Instagram, but then an ad for a pool cleaning company had come up, and your brain went straight back to the almost-kiss that you and Johnny nearly shared.

You hadn’t tried one thing though, but you think it would be a pretty shitty method.

Fuck it, you think, Johnny had left you wanting the company of a warm body and you know just the person to text.

Y/N: hey

Y/N: its been a min

You sit anxiously, biting at your freshly done manicure. This was one way to get your mind off of him, overwhelming anxiety and anticipation.

Jaehyun: ik lol sorry. u kno how work gets

Thank God, you think as you type out your next message.

Y/N: can i come over tn? i wanna hang out.

He responds almost immediately. He knew exactly what you were asking him for.

Jaehyun: ya. see u then ;)

Having the plans solidified with Jaehyun doesn’t feel the way you had originally thought they would, a sneaking feeling of guilt coming up over you.

What’s gotten into you? It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten who you’re pursuing.

It’s still Jaehyun, right?

It must be, since he’s the guy who you’ve been going out with for weeks, and have cried endless tears over. Johnny is just a friend. A friend who almost kissed you last night, but ultimately just a friend. You shouldn’t feel guilty for continuing to pursue Jaehyun, he’s the guy you want.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

—

The sky is dark when you finally pull up to parallel park in front of Jaehyun’s house. You’re nervous for some reason, your palms slick against your steering wheel. It’s even more embarrassing that you didn’t have time after work to change, so you’re sitting in your usual white tennis skirt and club branded polo shirt.

You can hear shouts when you first approach the door, the noise startling you so bad you question if going inside is even the right choice. You decide the best call is to just text him that you’ve arrived.

Almost immediately after you hit send, you hear a loud hushing sound and a voice whisper-shout, “Shut the fuck up! Haechan, shut the fuck up. I have someone at the door.” and then a chorus of teasing “ooh”’s from the other voices.

It makes you smile at the boyish charm of Jaehyun caring, and that’s how he finds you when he opens the door. He’s barefoot and wearing grey sweatpants and a white tee shirt with a stretched out neckline from years of wear. His hair is wet, and his eyes are drooping like he had been smoking.

“Hey, babe.” He says and invites you into the now quiet home. You follow him down the dark hallway until you finally see on your left is a living room full of 6 men, all splayed out on different mismatched pieces of furniture, some MMA fight playing on the TV. The stale scent of marijuana lingers in the air, reinforced by the big blue and green water marble design bong on the coffee table.

“We’ll be in my room.” Jaehyun addresses the crowd, and a loud response of ooh’s and laughter get thrown in your direction. Jaehyun pushes you gently towards the hallway to the right of you, and you hear snickering from Jaehyun and more hushed whispers.

“Ignore them, they’re fucking weird.” Jaehyun whispers in your ear from behind. You can’t help but agree, but wonder if he has the self awareness to know that he’s acting just as weird as they are.

His room looks exactly how you expected it to, with a king sized mattress sitting atop a tall box spring on the floor directly adjacent to the door, a dresser across from the bed with some Netflix show quietly playing on the large TV. There’s purple LED lights stuck unevenly to the perimeter of the walls.

From the moment that the door is shut and locked, his hands are low on your hips. Your heartbeat picks up in speed at the contact, turning around to face him.

“Hi.” He says, smug smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you. It’s a gentle peck, and it makes a blush creep up and land on your cheeks. You hope the dim lighting hides your color.

“Hey, it’s been a while huh?” You jab, hands coming up to rest the palms of your hands against his firm pecs. You can feel his heartbeat through your left hand, it’s steady and slow cadence contrasting to your fast and hard heartbeat.

He raises one eyebrow at you, his hand trailing down to grab at your ass, “Come on baby,” he growls out before nudging his way into your neck to press a warm kiss to the space next to your carotid artery. “Don’t be like that. You know I’m busy.”

You melt at the feeling of his tongue poking out and licking a small stripe up your neck, sucking in the skin immediately after.

Confusingly, Johnny crosses your mind, and the idea of him seeing you with a hickey on your neck embarrasses you so bad that you tell Jaehyun not to mark you.

“Boring, but okay.” Is all he says before grabbing you by your hand and leading you to lie down on his bed.

You’re putty in his hands the moment he has you both naked. His skillful hands, mouth, and dick take you down like you’ve never been taken before. You’ve never moaned that loud or experienced such pleasure at the hands of a man. It’s so good, it makes you wonder why you didn’t do this earlier, but then you remember that he’s never invited you over before.

He’s never wanted you here before now. That must mean something, right? That he waited until after you had already gotten to know one another before having sex with you?

That means he likes you and wants to take you seriously, right?

In the afterglow of your orgasm, your head lies uncomfortably on Jaehyun’s bare chest. You make quiet and unfamiliar chit chat with Jaehyun until you’ve both caught your breaths.

Although you just had the best orgasm of your life, the post-nut clarity is hitting you like a bus, his hands feeling too foreign around your body, now suddenly hyper aware of the smeared remains of cum on your back drying down.

“Hey, uh, I hate to be that guy but I have a really early meeting at work tomorrow so,” he says, cold hands tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Oh,” is all you say, suddenly feeling far too embarrassed of your naked body in front of the man, “do you want me to leave?”

He just frowns and takes a moment to read the look between your eyes before sighing loudly and looking away, his focus now taken by Money Heist playing on the TV near the foot of his bed.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he lies and you can see right through it with the way his arms are slowly letting go of you, and how he won’t look you in the eyes.

“I just have work, baby. You get it right?” He says, and you have no choice but to nod silently, ignoring the deep sting in your chest and the tightness in your throat. It’s odd that although the one thing you want to do is run, him asking you to leave makes it hurt.

You get dressed quickly and awkwardly as he lies on the bed, fishing a vape out from his bedside table drawer and taking a few big hits, eyes staring straight ahead at the TV.

“I’m gonna go now.” You whisper, one hand on the door in a silent beg that he would hurry up and get dressed to walk you to the door.

He looks over at you, charming smile on his face as he sits up and awkwardly crawls across his bed to sit on the edge in front of you, his soft dick on display. You’d find him pathetic if you weren’t under him five minutes ago.

He leans in and places a hard and emotionless kiss to your lips. His kisses now feel nothing like they did earlier today, and you wonder if post-nut clarity could really be this powerful.

“I’ll see you.” He says, eyes scanning your body up and down.

You roll your eyes the moment you’re not facing him, and walk straight out his front door, ignoring the whoops and hollers from his roommates who definitely heard you and Jaehyun.

None of them seem to mind that you’re unaccompanied, or as if they were expecting anything different. Then again, why should they care? Jaehyun never introduced you to them.

When you finally slide into the drivers side of your car, and your cold and wet panties make uncomfortable contact with the inside of your upper left thigh, the sensation alone is enough to make you burst into hot tears.

Later that evening when you’re lying in bed after a long, hot shower and a motivational phone call with Yerim, you send him a text.

Y/N: we shouldn’t see each other anymore.

Read: 2:46AM

—

Johnny finds you the next day crouching behind the bar with your forehead in your hands. You didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night, and you’re feeling hungover after the whirlwind of confusing emotions you’ve felt over the last couple of days.

“Tough shift?” He says, eyes glimmering with amusement as he looks down at you hiding behind the bar.

“The worst.” You say, standing up straight and grabbing a glass to make him his usual drink.

“Wait,” he says, hand grabbing your wrist as you go to pour the soda in the iced glass.

“I have something that might chill you out. Wanna join me when your shift is up?” He says and you smile, reading right through his invitation and nodding with an appreciative smile on your face.

The “thing”, of course, is a perfectly rolled joint. You can’t help yourself but smile at his playful look as he presents it to you as you both sit in the front seat of some random golf cart overlooking the sunset as it falls down over the man-made lake that is central to the entire property.

He sparks it up for you in the way only a gentleman does, laughing at your antics when you pinch your fingers in a silly way to urge him to pass the joint onto you.

After a couple of passes back and forth in silence, only the whooshing sound of the breeze and the occasional tapping sound in the background as golfers across the way tee off, Johnny opens the conversation.

“So, miss Y/N,” you ignore the butterflies that erupt when he says your name in that way, “what made today so difficult?”

Ah, that. Your fuzzy brain thinks. You aren’t quite sure yet if you’re ready to divulge the details of your failed fling to your blooming crush, but you know what they say, intoxicated words are sober thoughts. And he’s right here offering to listen in a way that your friends are too fed up with you to listen to anymore, so you decide to tell him.

“I broke things off with a guy I’ve been seeing for a while.” You decide to keep it short and leave out all the embarrassing details.

“Ah,” he says as he stretches out, his arm coming to rest on the seat back behind you, deciding to let the joint die out. His arm is not around your shoulder, but a part of you really wishes it was.

“He sounds like an idiot.” He says, eyes drooping as he gives you a silly high smile.

You scoff, “He’s not an idiot for not wanting me.” He’s an idiot for other reasons, but you aren’t willing to share that just yet.

Johnny looks away from you and back out to the sunset, “Nah, he really really is. You’re a catch.”

The butterflies in your belly erupt as you swallow, staring at the side of his face with no thoughts of what to say next crossing your mind.

“Thanks.” Is what you finally croak out, reaching for the dead joint sitting on the short dashboard in front of you. When you lean back to light the joint, there’s something blocking your back from hitting the seat.

You look over at Johnny, your shoulders brushing his elbow and forearm from behind you. He smirks and gives you a side eye before snaking his arm up so that it rests across your shoulder. You don’t say anything at the new warmth and weight of his arm on you, so you just smile into the joint as you bring the lighter up to the end.

Johnny clearly isn’t reconciled with your conversation, so he continues with his compliments. He's hoping with everything in him that you pick up on his hints so he doesn’t need to continue to be so bold.

“You deserve a guy that’s gonna stick around.” He says, grabbing the newly lit joint from your fingers.

You scoff once more, scooting over to be a little closer to him on the seat as he takes a long drag, letting the slight spring breeze carry the smoke away out of his lips as he exhales.

“Try just a guy to stick.” You say with a dry chuckle, “we weren’t even official.”

Johnny hums and nods his head in understanding, passing the joint back to you.

“You fuck him?” He asks, and you choke on your hit. Coughing out the smoke in an unattractive spittle.

“What did you say?” You ask, now facing Johnny fully in the seat, staring between his pink and spacey eyes.

“I asked if you had slept with him.” Johnny nods, speaking slower than before. He looks as if this comment is no big deal to him, like this is casual conversation between you two.

Before you even think about it, you feel the flirty words leave your lips, “And if I did?”

His eyebrows raise as he grins at you, suppressing a laugh. He had gotten exactly what he wanted, “Was it good?”

You break eye contact this time, looking over the lake, “Maybe.” You shrug.

“See that explains why a stunning girl like you would stay with a loser like him.”

You say nothing in response, choosing to stare ahead at the golfers across the lake, the oldest gentleman of the pack teeing up his very poor shot.

Johnny takes a pause before speaking an unwelcome comment, “You need a guy that’ll stick around and dick you down.”

You scoff out another laugh, looking at him again with a disbelieving stare.

“Oh yeah? Where would I find that.” You spit the last word with bitterness, head falling to look at the hangnail you had been picking at between passes of the joint.

“Here, actually.” You stare at him in shock before he clarifies further,

“Like... me. I’m offering myself up. Only if you want, I mean.”

It takes you a minute to process what he says before it finally hits you, and it hits you hard.

You’re usually the overthinking type, if that wasn’t obvious enough, but for the first time in your life you decide to finally make an impulsive decision. You owe it to yourself and your vagina, you figure.

When your lips hit his, it takes him a moment to process what you had just done, but soon enough he’s kissing you back with a passion that makes you moan embarrassingly against his lips. He’s a soft, yet passionate kisser, allowing you to show him the ropes before taking the lead and kissing you exactly how he likes.

He’s also a surprisingly dry kisser, choosing to wait longer than you usually would to use his tongue on you. Even after a couple of flirty swipes of your tongue across his bottom lip he doesn’t give in, choosing to show you his softer side first with the slow and meaningful passes of his lips over yours.

It’s like a switch gets flipped when he does finally decide to allow your tongue to enter his mouth. He grabs you instantly by the back of your neck and waist, and pull you closer into him as your tongues dance. You moan, feeling like putty already in his hold. You’re far too overwhelmed by the feeling of the best kiss you’ve ever been given to be even tempted to touch him yet, your hands sitting prettily around his neck, allowing the pressure and the closeness to be decided by him.

His hands fumble a moment before they find your hips, moving gently over your ass to grab a hold of the back of your upper thighs to situate you on his lap. The change in position gives you an opportunity to lean back and steal a look at the man beneath you.

When you had first met Johnny you had initially only recognized his handsomeness and not much else. That’s how it began, attraction and nothing more. Overtime, however, you’ve gotten to actually know more about Johnny than his regular drink order at the bar, and what began as a simple attraction slowly grew into genuine interest. So by being here, in the lap of the man that you’re interested in, aren’t you repeating same old mistakes?

Are you repeating the same mistakes you made with Jaehyun?

“Baby,” Johnny says, reading your expression after you had stared at him for a little too long.

You hum in response, still a bit caught up in your head.

“I’m not just trying to hook up here. Do you know that?” He says, hands leaving your ass to rest gently on your waist. You frown in response, shaking your head ‘no’ to his question.

“I told you before, you need a guy who can dick you down and stick around. I wanna stick around.” He says, an embarrassed smile resting on his pink cheeks.

“What?” You say in response, and he just lets his head fall back against the seat in frustration.

“I like you, okay?” Your jaw drops, “and I also want to fuck you right now. So can we do that?” You laugh in response, fingers threading to hold him by the back of his neck, leaning him slightly into you.

“We can definitely go do that.” You giggle and he quickly smiles, leaning up to press a quick peck to your lips before swiftly (and awkwardly) moving you off of him so he can start up the golf cart and drive you both, as quickly as possible, back to the lobby of the country club.

—

Johnny doesn't give you long to take in the sight of his luxury apartment before his lips are on yours again. He has the same passion from before, but slightly elevated. Like he had worked himself up on the drive over.

When he picks you up, and tosses you lightly down on his plush leather sofa, you notice something. The absence of purple lights. When Johnny later picks you up and carries you to his bedroom, you make another note. A bed with a bed frame and headboard.

When you both reach your peaks of pleasure, you don't feel regretful and dirty, you feel alive. When you step into the granite tiled shower, you don't feel gross, you feel giddy when he joins you. When you fall asleep with your head on his chest, you don't dream of Jaehyun, you see flashes of Johnny.

—

The next morning when Johnny walks you out to your car, kisses you on the forehead, and tells you to text him when you get home, an unmistakable feeling washes over you. 

The overwhelming feeling of something very big, and important beginning. 

Jaehyun’s reaction to finding out about Johnny and Y/N

a/n: sorry there’s no actual smut, I decided at the last minute to drop both sex scenes for the overall plot and flow. if you’d like me to post the sex scenes as one shots lmk and I’ll get on it! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated :)

taglist: @dazzlingsya @oopstoshi @neolovely @hopefulchick @thysrs @oimqrks @lydinews @xiaomeilovespizza @got-sum-badhabits @inbluehour @shiningnono @soonnypeach @onlyrosyjohnny @reader221 @matchahyuck @9763vill @svntdream @johnbananaa-blogg @multifandombtvhh @jeonwonuniverse @justineasian

[sl-ut]

cool with it

YAY ANOTHER BLURB!!! BUT OMG I THINK THIS IS THE MOST NASTIEST SHIT I’VE EVER WRITTEN THAT DOESN’T EVEN INCLUDE REAL SMUT!!!! KICKING MY FEET AND BLUSHING RN

content warnings: very nsfw (no actual smut but just barely), voyeurism (ellie and jesse are both little pervs in this), smoking weed, all characters are high, swearing, reader is implied to be bi (or at least comfortable being sexual with or around men)

ellie thought very little of it when dina pulled y/n out of her grasp, tugging her to squeeze into the dirty old chair across from the sofa that the auburn haired girl was sitting on. jesse had taken up the spot next to her, bickering back and forth with her as she struggled to roll the fattest blunt anyone had ever seen, jesse attempting to talk her out of potentially wasting any bud. 

ellie thought very little of it when she could no longer hear the chittering and giggling of the two girls, instead focusing on swatting her best friend’s hands away and she groggily folded the paper. she really didn’t even think that much of it when she first heard the gentle smacking noises and girlish moans that she knew all too well. honestly, if it weren’t for jesse slapping her arm and gesturing across the room with wide eyes and a hanging jaw, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the fact that dina was shoving her tongue down her girlfriend’s throat.

both girls seemed to be on cloud nine, neither pulling apart for more than a short breath or even taking a glance over at their respective partners, both of whom were watching in utter disbelief and awe. 

dina’s hands were wandering across every inch of y/n’s body as she could reach, which y/n’s found purchase in dina’s dark locks that, for once, were left hanging loose around her shoulders. y/n’s bottom lip became trapped between dina’s teeth, pulling a weak whimper from her throat as she pressed her body closer to the girl’s. 

“should we…” jesse started, though he could barely finish his sentence with how entranced he was by the scene. he shifted in his seat, reaching across and pulling a spare cushion onto his lap, very indiscreetly covering up how much he was actually enjoying this. 

part of ellie wanted to be mad, how dare dina go after her girl when she’s so clearly under the influence, and how dare y/n makeout with someone right in front of her own girlfriend? still, that part of her was almost non-existent in comparison to the other part that was getting so much enjoyment out of this. she felt the wet spot in her boxers growing rapidly, and she felt the sudden urge to move closer, to force your faces together more firmly. 

“i mean…” she glanced over at his very quickly, “i’m cool with it.”

the boy nodded excitedly, “yeah, me too.”

the pair turned away from each other, their red-rimmed gazes falling on their girlfriends as dina moved her attention down y/n’s throat and began mouthing at the low neckline of her tank top. she grinned wickedly at the reaction, her long fingers curling around her thigh and grazing her covered heat. y/n sighed wantonly, her hazy stare falling over to her girlfriend. 

her hooded eyes showed only three things: exactly how much the weed was affecting her, how much she was enjoying dina’s mouth moving lower and tugging one of her hardened nippled between her teeth, and concern for how her girlfriend was feeling about all of this. recognizing her confliction, ellie leaned forward, elbows pressing into her knees as she sent her a curt nod, a silent keep going. 

though, none of them seemed aware of exactly how far it would go as dina began forcing the girl to rub herself against her thigh, smirking at ellie across the room as she asked her the night-changing question.

“ellie, can i pretty please eat your girlfriend’s pussy?”

[bunny-extract]

HIIIII can I put in a request for task 141 + Alejandro for a reader who smokes a lot (like weed and is kind of a chain smoker) and how they would act while high?

did someone post a copy of my diary ,,, i got obliterated while writing and hardly remember these sooo if they’re a lil self-indulgent you can’t blame me!

141 & Alejandro x Stoner!reader

est. relationships, mostly …sfw but they’re high and in love what can i say mdni

Captain John Price rolls the fattest, filthiest spliffs, there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.

When he splits the skin of one of his cigars and sprinkles globs of mossy green throughout you, for maybe the first time in your life, think you should say no to a blunt. It’s a behemoth of a thing, and he takes his time wetting the leaf on his tongue before deftly, delicately putting it back together. His fingers are sticky with crystals and you want - not for the first time, not by a long shot - to suck the aged taste of cigar off of each one.

Price catches you staring, an eyebrow raising in cheeky greeting when you bring your focus back to him. The tips of his fingers brush against your anticipating lips, and you’re half high before you even taste him off the leaf.

Whatever shit he’s getting, it is strong. You have to tap out before the thing even begins to burn properly, wordlessly trying to communicate that when you bury your face in his shoulder. His amusement is smokey, seen in the creases at the corner of his crescent eyes, contouring his cheeks. Smooths his arm over you to keep you tucked in while he cuffs away.

Price likes getting to a state of couch-lock when he smokes, valuing tenfold the luxury of sitting still when it’s not on his belly looking down a scope. If not for the help he’d be wired, mind racing, surely aching, even if he won’t admit it. Price groans up and down like he’s got grandkids, swears it’s for laughs and not because he is old and weathering—not at all.

(“What about the knee popping, sir?” — “Come lay over them and tell me, sunshine.”)

Woof. Price needs more than just a bit of weed to turn off. Few orgasms ought to do.

—

Simon “Ghost” Riley doesn’t smoke weed, but is particularly fond of teasing you about the habit. He’s just a lover boy who likes bullying his schoolyard crush. Pretty typical.

It isn’t your fault while waiting for him to pick you up you took a few pulls from your pen, maybe hitting it a little more desperately when you heard his bike purr around the corner of your street.

Through his balaclava and helmet, Ghost can smell that burn cart you refuse to get rid of on your mouth, eyes paying close attention when you fit the offered helmet on, shyly smiling when you can’t get the clasp into the right spot.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he chided, words coming through the built-in headset where the bass of his voice was felt right against your ear. Sinful fucking investment you didn’t even have the chance to steer him away from. Simon knew what he was doing—yours is the nicer one, anyway.

Ghost was quick to swoop into your space, knocking your knees apart to insert himself as close as possible. “Already smoked yourself stupid, hm? Need me to do everything for you?”

Your eyes roll, maybe flutter. Head screaming yes, yes, yes.

The tugging on his gloves caught your attention, the reveal of his long, notched fingers churning anticipation behind your navel. Your skin was burning even before his hands made contact, firm but gentle while lifting your chin, teasing where they lingered against your pulse, the center of your throat.

“How can I be sure you’re not just gonna fall off? Having a hard time standing upright,” he mocks, pushing your legs further apart. Your hand reaches out, clutching his jacket to balance yourself

“Be nice to me,” you plead, tone sweet, a bit helpless. Ghost has always pretended it had no effect on him, but he’s been sloppy and you’re too sharp for your own damn good. “C’mon, I’m sensitive when I’m high.”

“I’ve noticed,” he muttered back, the blunt tips of his nails drawing a down the hollow of your neck. You can still feel how the shiver that knocked up your spine pushes you further into his hands. Orchestrated with an intimate knowledge of your strings.

It’s the half-there look that always gets him, every bit of dreamy and dumb. He knocks his helmet into yours, trying to pull himself away. You spot the pink along his cheekbones when he helps you onto the bike and smile. Beneath his layers of protective padding your fingers found the familiar wave of his happy trail, locking your hands there beneath his jacket. . “Forgot my gloves. You don’t mind, right?”

He was never that good at hiding it.

—

John “Soap” McTavish’s only experience with the stuff was the dry, seedy ditch-weed nabbed by the sewers outlets in his hometown. Curbed him from the habit, not that he didn’t find is indulgences elsewhere. Honestly, he thought the stuff didn’t work on him.

Shrugs when you offer him an edible and just stares at the little gummy in the center of his palm.

“This all I need?” he’d asked. “That’s all you need,” you answered.

Then again ten minutes later. “Should I feel it yet?” — “No, Johnny.”

Twenty. “I think I feel it…” — “Probably not.” — “Yeah, no. Sure they’re not duds?” — “Careful,” you chimed with sage warning. “Say that now and you’ll be on the moon.” — “Bleedin’ counting on it, bonnie.”

It’s a good hour later while you’re both splayed on the floor playing Smash Bros that all of a sudden Soap starts actually being funny. For half of his banter you aren’t entirely sure you can unravel the English from his Scottish, accent thickening tenfold, while the other has you incapacitated, writhing on the floor.

Soap is certain that shit they lit on fire in a water bottle was literally just a bunch of weeds.

Johnny’s got a good sense of humor, but it’s impossible how funny he is high. He doesn’t realize the comedic timing he has sometimes, making his already theatrical expressions even more fantastic. It coaxes you from the giggles to that kind of full-belly laughter leaving you watery eyed and gasping for air. Leaves him looking flushed pink, chest puffed with pride and eyes practically lit up with little hearts.

Johnny had grabbed your ankle, dragging you toward him with only half his strength behind it. “And what’re you laughing at, aye, bonnie? What’s ticklin’ ya?”

Game forgotten, Soap ducks to your ankle to kiss, then the back of your knee. Keeps you squirming when he grazes his chin over the curve of your ass, small of your back. Crawling up your body until he’s stretched over you and can whisper in your ear,

“Don’t stop yet, love. Sweetest fuckin’ noise I’ve ever heard.”

He’s slumped to the side of you, the edible starting to roll over him in dizzying waves. Happy little noises leave his half-parted lips while your nails follow the planes cut by corded muscle across his arms, barely tickling the dark hair there on every odd pass.

He might feel a bit bad for letting you dote over him while he just lays there, but greened is an understatement. Soap understands your sage bit of warning earlier. Feels it from the weightless, blinding surface of the fuckin’ moon.

—

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick likes to take ‘walks’ when he smokes. This is a hike, Garrick — Keep up, love, or this is all mine.

A true gentleman, Kyle already has a perfect pearled joint tucked behind his ear when you meet up. He lights it between your lips and wipes the tears off your cheeks when you get overconfident and hold it wrong, making you cough. “Easy does it now,” he’d sooth, a touch smug. He always is when you agree to go along with his ideas. There’s just always a catch, you know it.

The trail you follow is simple, the wire of his headphones stretching between you, a playlist of songs you’d collected specifically to show each other in your ears. While your eyes are lost in the oversaturated scenery, Gaz is studying the way your lips move along to the music, the curve of your nose. You pass the sweetened paper back and forth until resin is staining the filter and your heads are as syrupy as the smoke.

Kyle keeps a hand tethered to you at all times, like a boy with a balloon. His smooth fingertips are a pillar of support against the fleshy back of your arm, barely there but exactly what you need to keep upright.

Depending on what he’s smoking it’s either endless chatter or deep, musing silence until he’s a bit more back in his body and less in his mind. When it’s the former you’re always treated to his quick wit, and expectant of the most beautiful bullshit prose about leaves blowing in the wind, or the meaning of life, and insists it isn’t just because he’s high. It is very much because he is high.

You keep a Notes page to write down all of his delirious predictions and proclamations, both brilliant and absurd. One definitely outweighs the other. You and Gaz cannot agree which that is.

—

Alejandro Vargas doesn’t smoke, and is pretty intolerant to the stuff. He’s got neither the time or desire for it. The Colonel, famously, doesn’t even drink, love.

This is all information you learned after you found yourself in his lap, a half-smoked joint tucked behind the ear his lips were barely moving against, whispering what you could only half translate. A lot of ‘I want’ and ‘you have’ going around, hot and promising when they moved over your thrumming pulse. It had you giggling, trusting his broad hands to keep you upright while you turned to jelly against them.

The talk catches you quick enough, and though you’re a little embarrassed the news struck with a wash of emboldened delight when Alejandro sought you out again and again.

There’s no pressure from him to cut your habit, but you stick to edibles and blasting through carts in the bathroom instead, always making sure to cover up the scent.

Alejandro is, unsurprisingly, aware every time you do it. His nose is too sharp not to be able to pick it out, and though he hates the smell of pot, Alejandro found himself drawn to the lingering, heady mix of it on your skin since that night, seeking it out on the collar of your jacket, against the corner of your mouth. It’s rare these days that he catches it, but when you join him in bed after a small walk around the backyard, he finds himself wishing you hadn’t blown the smoke downwind. Makes him think of that night, and he breathes against your ear again, heavy.

“What am I going to do with you, pajarito.”

From where you lay against him, your fingers traced the word over his flank. It was cute, little bird. You’ve been called that before.

Your voice was thick with sleep, eyes barely closed when you asked, “Do I look like a bird, Ale?”

The hand still tracing the word is pressed against his lips, humor rumbling and coy when he kisses your knuckle, the flat of his teeth felt between his split smile. Not an answer, but you took it for one, and drifted.

Against your ear, Alejandro half-whispered low in his throat, “It isn’t your features. It’s because you get high like you have wings.”

Through your sleep, you smiled. Checks out.

[vngelicc]

sbd!jk headcanon: when they were young and dumb in college, jk and oc used to kick it in his dorm room smoking together while listening to deftones, arctic monkeys, or nirvana. jk would be propped up against the headboard with his arm loosely wrapped around your waist while you laid your head on his chest listening to the music all buzzed out from your high. leads to some steamy sex while change or come as you are plays in the bg. number one song tho to fuck to was knee socks. fun fact oc is the one who taught jk how to roll the fattest blunts ever, she’s a expert roller and still got it to this day <3

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Papas' Happy Incest Funtime Hour

Spite. Crack. Incest. Marijuana. They all come together in...whatever the fuck this is. If you choose to read this, you have no one but yourself to blame.

(also readable on AO3)

Terzo awoke with a yawn, then stretched his sexy body, pushed away the covers, and hopped out of bed.

"Oh boy!" he said, in Italian because he is Italian, "I can't wait to engage in some incest!"

After a sexy shower, in which he scrubbed his entire sexy body, Terzo then dressed up in his sexy King Gustav 3 of Sweden suit—which was an odd choice, because Terzo is Italian, but making sense is for losers—and headed out the door.

As he did so, he ran into his brother, Secondo, who was bald but also very sexy, but in a bald kind of way.

"Hello, little brother," said Secondo, in Italian because he too is Italian, "How are you this morning?"

"I am great, big bro!" Terzo replied, in Italian, because as I mentioned previously, he is Italian. "I was thinking of engaging in some incest today!"

"What a coincidence! I was thinking of doing the same thing! We should find Primo and ask if he wants to join us!"

"Excellent!" Terzo clapped his little Italian hands together. "Let's go!"

So off the two Italian brothers went, in search of their older brother, who is also Italian.

They soon found him, in his room, where he was smoking the fattest blunt you've ever seen.

"Hello, my little brothers," he said, in Italian because he too is Italian. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," Terzo said, "For starters, you can rolls us some blunts."

"Consider it done," Primo replied.

"Next, you can engage in incest with us, if you want."

Primo nodded. "Wonderful idea. Let's do that."

Primo then proceeded to roll two blunts almost as fat as his own, then stopped for a moment, thought, and rolled another one.

"Who's that one for?" asked Secondo, in Italian, because he is Italian, like I said before.

"This one is for Copia," Primo replied. "If we're doing incest, we should invite him, too. And give him a blunt."

"Excellent idea!" Terzo cheered, Italianly. "Having our long-lost bastard half-brother joining us will add an extra spice and kick to the whole affair!"

"Exactly," Primo smiled.

The three Italian brothers took a few minutes to smoke their fat blunts, then they left Primo's room and went looking for Copia. They found him in his room, which is where he was.

"Hello, brothers!" he greeted them warmly, and in Italian, because he is Italian too. "What brings you here, to my room, which is where I am?"

Terzo strutted over to him, Italianly. "We were wondering if you might be up to engaging in some incest with us."

"I sure would be!" Copia jumped up and clapped his hands together, smiling broadly and Italianly.

"Good." Terzo grinned. "We have also brought you a fat blunt, rolled by Primo, the master of rolling fat blunts."

"Oh boy!" Copia took his specially rolled fat blunt, rolled by Primo the master of rolling fat blunts, and smoked it. He smoked it for a good few minutes, getting stoned as fuck. Italianly.

After Copia decided that he was high enough, he set the fat blunt aside, then clapped his hands together. "Okie dokie! Who wants to do some incest?"

"We do!" Primo, Secondo, and Terzo screamed in unison, and in Italian, because they are Italian.

"Yay!" Copia flung his hands up in the air like an excited man who was excited.

So, without further ado, all three of the Italian brothers, who are Italian, stripped their clothes off and started having sex with each other. Incestuous brother sex. While high. Which is fine, because they worship Satan who is evil and bad, and he approves of such things.

This only lasted for an hour, though, because they got hungry. So they called up a local pizza place and ordered some pizzas. In Italian, because they are Italian and thus speak that language.

The end.

[ribchillz]

i wanna roll up your art and smoke it like the fattest blunt known to man /pos

thanks homie u know what up ur now the designated sacrificial lamb

[noodlebearsstuff]

i just wanna see a slytherin!harry fic where he's friends w all the houses and the puffs are having a 'party' and harry bakes his 'special' brownies and leaves them out on his bed while he showers

the others think its just one of his fan-made sweets, and eat them all.

the pureblooded boys of their year are all high off their asses and the second harry gets out of the shower to put on clothes, draco immediately whines about how hot harry is and how he wants to ride him until he cant remember his own name

the best part though? blaise would be sitting there unaffected and harry would question him and then blaise would just get up, grab a baggie from his trunk, and start rolling the fattest blunt harry'd ever seen in his life and just start huffing at it

[starsandhughes]

Quinn would be your biggest hype man the entire time you were rolling a blunt. I can just hear his voice, “That’s my fucking girl.”

especially if it’s in a circle! he’d be like “my girl rolls the fattest blunts, none of you even come close to her skills”

he also finds that extremely hot and loves to watch your hands at work because he knows your hands will be up to other things by the end of the night

[kermit-emoji-writes]

Accident (Eddie Munson)

Pairing: Modern! College! Eddie x fem!reader

Warnings: I like kinda describe reader as being curvy like way at the end of the fic, drug use (weed), cursing, besides that nothing else just fluff lol

A/N:I got this idea from watching this video lol

The first time you contacted Eddie outside of school matters was a complete accident.

Eddie sat in his dimly lit dorm room. The smell of marijuana filled the room as a half smoked blunt dangled from his lips. Metallica from Eddie’s small speaker filled the room, guitar chords faintly filling the silence.

As he took another puff his phone pinged. I was from you. Your message only contained a YouTube link with no context provided. Pressing it he was redirected to the YouTube app, he didn’t think before a video of a gecko started dancing along with accompanying music.

“Lady hear me tonight

Cause my feeling is just so right

As we dance, by the moonlight

Can’t you see you’re my delight”

Eddie’s eyes glazed over as he watched the 3 minute video in full, mesmerized by the tiny dancing lizard.

As the video came to an end he went back to your text conversation.

‘Lol’ was all he texted back. Had he been of sober mind he would have put more effort in and not respond to anything as lame as just “Lol” considering he had the fattest crush on you. You both only had each other's number because you were assigned to work on a project for class. Once the project was completed he wanted to ask you to hang out but he was too nervous.

You texted him back immediately.

‘FUCK’

‘Didn’t mean to text you sorry lol’

Eddie smiled.

‘Don’t be sorry’

‘It was cute’

You didn’t text him back after that to his disappointment.

The next time you texted him, Eddie was high once again. This time he had company, Steve. The boys were idly talking until Eddie’s phone pinged.

‘Got my toes done’

‘How do we feel about the black french tip?’

Accompanying the text were a picture of your manicured toes. “Holy shit.” Eddie said out loud. “Who is it?” Steve asked. “Remember the girl I had that history project with?” The lanky boy replied. “Oh yeah, the one you have a massive crush on?” Eddie narrowed his eyes at Steve. “It’s not massive, shut up.”

Steve rolled his eyes back at Eddie. “Whatever, what did she say?” Eddie passed his phone to Steve. “It’s just her toes? I’m pretty sure she meant to send this to one of her friends.” Eddie groaned. “Even her feet are pretty, Steve.”

The former jock scoffed. “Ew, man. You’re into feet?”

“You aren’t?”

Steve shot him a look of disgust and handed Eddie’s phone back to him. The metal head texted you back.

‘Pretty feet’

He received an answer immediately.

‘OMG’

‘SORRY DISREGARD THAT’

Eddie chuckled.

‘It’s no biggie’

‘Did you get your hands done too?’

Eddie received a picture back. It was your manicured hands posed to show off your nails. Your fingers were done to match your toes.

‘I like black on you’

Steve leaned over as Eddie texted you. Eddie sighed. “Everything about her is so perfect.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t blow your load next to me.”

Steve was promptly shoved.

The third time you accidentally texted Eddie sent him on an emotional roller coaster.

Coincidentally you had a knack for contacting the boy every time he had a blunt in his hand. Once again he sat in his dorm with Steve engaged in idle conversation.

Eddie’s phone pinged.

‘Got the dress’

‘What do you think?’

Along with the texts you sent 3 pictures of you. It was of you in various poses wearing a black long sleeve ankle length dress. It hugged your curves perfectly and the neckline dipped down enough to showcase your décolletage and the swell of your breasts.

The picture in particular that took him out was one with you posed to the side, he stared at the round fleshiness of your ass.

Steve stared at Eddie with a concerned expression. The metal head’s mouth was hung wide open. If Eddie didn’t blow his load before he was sure it was about to happen now.

“Man you have to see this.” Eddie passed his phone to his friend. “Holy shit.” Steve said aloud, his expression mirroring Eddie’s. Steve passed the phone back. “Don’t be lame Munson.”

Steve’s words fell on deaf ears.

‘HOLY SHIT YOURE SO GONGEOUS’

‘GEORGEOUS’

‘GORGEOUS’

‘WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME’

‘PLEASE SAY YES’

‘IF WE GO ON A DATE WILL YOU WEAR THAT PLEASE’

‘YOURE SO FUCKING PRETTY’

‘NO YOURE BEAUTIFUL’

“What the fuck?!” Steve whispered harshly. Eddie turned to him with a wide grin.

You replied back.

‘OMG’

‘I’d love to!’

‘I think you’re beautiful too’

‘I saw a cute place around that we can go to’

“I can’t believe it.” Steve started. “You just scored a date…” Eddie had the biggest smile on his face. “She thinks I’m beautiful…”

“I gotta tell Robin.” Steve promptly whipped out his phone to gossip.

[maginxlia]

@noriken You got me thinking

Shinji The type roll the fattest most perfect blunt, put on some Dex Gordon or Miles Davis and eat you out for hours.

His tongue lapping between your folds, teasing your clit with each delicate graze. his long talented fingers curling up inside you making you arch against his easy chair

He only stops to roll another blunt or put on another album. His hair in his face as he sways back to you before gripping your knees and opening your legs back wide “ Keep them Open I’m not finished with my meal yet” He smiles while blowing smoke at you before handing the blunt back to you.

[aphrocheesiac]

Homie rolled up with the fattest blunt