#where is your 90s hair and clothes?

[lehguru]

CALLING THEM MY LOVE + ONE PIECE MEN

characters: rosinante, doflamingo, shanks, marco, crocodile

warnings: heavily self indulgent in like... 90% of those, not proofread

donquixote rosinante always uses soft nicknames for you, so you thought you could use them with him too. "my love, is law okay?" you expected his back to turn to you, but the man simply stayed like that. "rosi?", you approached him and he let you wrap your arms around his waist. he turned around and you felt something wet fall on your face. 'you never called me your love before.' his voice sounded so soft, he wrapped his arms around you too and placed a kiss on the top of your head. 'i love you.'

donquixote doflamingo is unpredictable; you always wanted to use pet names with him, but you don't know how he would react to it. one day, he walked in your shared bedroom looking absolutely tired and mad. "doffy? are you okay, my love?" his shoulders visibly relaxed and his usual wide grin creeped up on his face. 'oh?' he cooed and motioned with his hand for you to come closer. 'your love? baby, you flatter me.' his hand came up to hold your chin and he chuckled.

shanks and you aren't exactly official. everyone in the crew knows that you "belong" to their captain, but neither shanks nor you made things official. that's why you completely caught him off guard when you murmured: "shanks, my love, where did you put your dirty clothes?". he looked at you shocked, but he soon smiled widely at you. 'darling, ya know you don' have to wash my stuff. c'mere.' with his only arm, he pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. 'love ya'. the crew around both of you started cheering and cooing. shanks started laughing loudly and tried to dismiss them, but you felt him give your hand a tight squeeze.

you had injuried yourself a little during a battle, but marco immediately pulled you to the ship's infirmary when you two got back. you knew it was useless to say you didn't need it, so you just let him tend to your wounds. when he was over, he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and you murmured, "thanks, love". he chuckled loudly and messed up your hair. 'no problem, sweetheart.'

crocodile was feared by so many people, even among his "friends"; but you, you know you are on his soft and sweet side. "my love!" you exclaimed, entering his office with a dish you just prepared, "can you taste this for me?". his eyes went from rough and cold to slightly softer when you stopped right by his side, holding out a piece of the meat you made for him to bite. he bit it and groaned softly. 'it's delicious, angel.' you smiled at him and kissed his cheek, making him smile for a second, before turning back to his papers.

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[vaspider]

Last year I wrote about what happened at Pride when a couple of kids didn't understand why us older folx were so bitter about Reagan.

This year, I have something a little softer.

Someone who looked a little older than me came up to the booth wearing a pink t-shirt proclaiming him one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, San Francisco chapter. As I was ringing him up, I asked if he'd been involved for a while.

"Yes," he said, "for a bit," in that way us middle-aged people do when we're sort of wincing and feeling old.

"Okay, well," I said, sitting at my register in my queer booth full of queer clothes and patches and pins, topless in public for the first time. (I had pasties on for my own comfort bc I was working, but I live in the city of the Naked Bike Ride, and I took full advantage). My baby brother and both of my partners ran around behind me, my brother wearing a loose tank top that makes his scars visible.

"I need to tell you that you all helped keep me alive."

He blinked at me as I continued, "I was a kid in high school in the early 90s. I lived in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, and what you all were doing was so loud and so out there that even I heard about your work. It was one of the things that kept me alive. So thank you, and please thank the rest of the Sisters."

I heard about them through people in my parents' church complaining about them, and then I sought more information through the beginning of the internet, through newspapers, through anything I could find. I found the cover of Newsweek that one of the Sisters was on. I read about their "exorcism" of fundamentalist preachers whose books sat on the shelf in my parents' basement and probably still do. I saw how loud and colorful and unapologetically queer they were.

The knowledge that someone was out there, so full of defiant joy, refusing the shame that people kept trying to put on them? Oh, that kept me alive. I saw them, and I knew I could make it through. I wrapped my hands around that knowledge, and I held on so tight.

It took me a long time - a long, long time - to unwind most of it for myself and get to the point where my fat butch ass was sitting bare-chested in the July breeze, looking up at him as he held out his arms and said "you're actually giving me chills." I answered, "I mean every word. You helped keep me alive. So thank you."

I never know what to say when people come up to me in public and tell me that I helped them or changed their life in some way. I appreciate it, and I genuinely love the people who apologized for "fanpersoning" at me last weekend, I just never know what to say. I'm incredibly grateful that the Sister I spoke to was incredibly gracious, saying "usually we give blessings, but I feel like you blessed me." Another member of the party let me pet their tiny dog, who was not very interested in me, and that's okay. It was an overwhelming day. Then, they moved on.

Me? I'm still sitting with the fact that I looked last weekend into the faces of people who didn't know they were holding my head above water, and that I got to tell them the work they do matters. It's a rare thing to get to tell someone, "You saved me," and I'm treasuring it.

Last weekend, I wore my new battle vest with nothing underneath it, unless it was too hot, and then I just sat in my chair, chatting and ringing ppl out with my skin free to the air. I decided last year that top surgery isn't for me, but that also I'm going to love this body unapologetically, and it's no less a transmasculine body because the soft new dark hair on my belly isn't accompanied by pink scars along my ribs.

I didn't get here on my own. I got here because someone else cut through the undergrowth ahead of me so I could take another step forward. Here I am, decades later, still taking step after step, one at a time, and trying to lay paving stones behind me.

Last weekend was another step along that way, another step through unwinding the fear and shame and sadness that my parents and their church built into me. Another step out of hating myself for hiding parts of myself for so long, for acting out in other ways to distract people from my queerness, for feeling so much guilt when other people tell me I'm brave, because I know how much of myself I hid for how long because I was a coward, because I was afraid.

Another step into expiating stigmatic guilt.

[meangirls-imagines]

Jealous, much?

18+ only. Smut ahead.

regina was pissed.

not mad, pissed.

she couldn't believe what she was seeing. 

from her spot in the kitchen of whatever football player's house, she could clearly see gretchen grinding on y/n y/l/n.

it's not like she had the right to be mad at y/n. all she was to regina was a good hookup when aaron couldn't get the job done, which was 90% of the time. but regina couldn't help but feel anger and jealousy stir in her stomach. janis was right when she said regina was the apex predator of north shore, once she caught you, she refused to let go.

having become tired of seeing the two grind with each other, she decided to end it. finishing off her drink, she flipped her hair and made her way over to the pair. "gretchen, i heard jason was looking for you. you might wanna go find him." the girl gasped and ran off, looking for the sleazy boy. 

y/n sighed as her dance partner ran off. "god, you can't let me have some fun?" regina took gretchen's place, smirking at how y/n was blatantly checking her out. she turned and began to grind her ass against y/n's front, making the girl groan. "you know, i'm no expert, but i don't think your boyfriend would like this gina."

regina felt heat shoot to her core at the sound of the nickname coming out of the girl's mouth. the blonde continued grinding on y/n, pulling the hottest sounds out of the girl's mouth. after the song ended, regina grabbed y/n's hand, pulling her up the stairs and into an empty bedroom. upon entering, y/n pushed regina up against the door, connecting their lips in a steamy kiss. 

teeth and tongues clashed as the two made out against the door, y/n finally pushing regina on the bed, pushing the girl's dress up to her waist and burying her head in-between her legs. 

regina ended up walking (limping) out of the bedroom and back to her boyfriend, who didn't even question anything. 

the next day at school, regina couldn't stop thinking about y/n. unfortunately for her, she had no classes with the girl, only being able to see her at lunch. when she did finally see her, anger boiled up in her once again.

she was sitting next to gretchen when she finally caught sight of y/n. she was a few tables down from the plastics and saw that y/n was sitting awfully close to some girl named ashley, (according to gretchen). from what the blonde could see, ashley was running her hand up and down y/n's arm, purposefully pushing out her chest. 

regina was steaming, no one was allowed to touch y/n like that besides her. 

wait, what?

regina shook the thought off, getting up to get some cheese fries and a diet coke. walking back to her table, she would pass y/n and ashley. smirking to herself, she grabbed her diet coke and "tripped" spilling the can's contents on ashley, soaking her with the sticky liquid. the girl screamed and ran off to the bathroom, leaving a stunned y/n and smug regina behind. y/n looked up at the blonde and glared, before running off after ashley. 

regina stood there, floored. why would y/n run after ashley when regina was standing right there?

later that day, after regina got home, she got bored and decided to text y/n to come over.

queen bitch👑: come over.

hottest person alive🥵: can't. hanging out with ashley.

queen bitch👑: ditch her and come let me sit on your face.

hottest person alive🥵: no.

regina was reaching her anger limit and decided to spice things up a bit. she unzipped the jacket she was wearing and pushed her breasts up with her arm, making them look bigger.

queen bitch👑: 

please. i need you. 

hottest person alive🥵: give me an hour.

regina fell back on her bed out of breath and sweaty. y/n kissed her inner thigh softly before standing to her feet, putting her clothes back on. regina watched with a pout on her face as the girl got dressed. "where are you going?" y/n sighed. "since someone was extremely demanding and needy, i have to make it up to ashley." regina scoffed at the mention of the girl.

y/n took notice. "are you mad or something?" regina scoffed once more. "no, why would i be mad that you're choosing to hang out with that skank rather than stay here with me." y/n looked at the blonde girl shocked. " ashley isn't a skank. she's actually really nice and i'm kinda excited to see where things go." regina sat up at that.

"what do you mean where things go? what about us?" y/n was the one to scoff now. "what do you mean us? there is no us. you have aaron, or did you forget?" regina rolled her eyes. "this isn't about aaron, we are talking about us." y/n shook her head. "again, there is no us. you're too scared to come out so there has never been an us. i'm not your property." 

regina felt her heart break at how sad y/n sounded. the girl spoke up again. "you know what? this was fun while it lasted but i don't think we should hook up anymore regina. you have aaron and i am hoping to have ashley. i'm not going to let you ruin it because you're jealous over a relationship that was nothing more than fucking. and until you can come to terms with that, don't talk to me." 

with that, y/n walked out of the door, and out of regina's life. 

it had been a few weeks since the incident and y/n hadn't left regina's mind. the queen bee couldn't stop thinking of the girl and how much she fucked up. she had broken up with aaron the day after the incident. shockingly, he took it okay. he had his eye on someone else anyway and couldn't figure out how to break things off. 

everything had affected regina's behavior at school, the girl being more bitchy than before, especially towards ashley. gretchen had been keeping regina updated with y/n and ashley and how they were progressing, but she did drop a bomb on regina one day at lunch. 

"you know, i heard that ashley and shane have been hooking up behind y/n's back, ashley only got with y/n as a bet." regina's heart dropped at the news. she knew that bitch was slimy. y/n hadn't spoken to her since d-day so regina had no idea how to break the news to her. luckily for the blonde, she wouldn't have to. 

an hour later, while sitting in her english class, regina got a text from gretchen.

gretch: y/n found out about ashley and shane. her and shane got in a fight and they both got suspended.

regina's stomach sunk reading the text. she immediately grabbed her bag and got up, ignoring the teacher's calls. she sent a text to the plastics group chat informing them that she was leaving and for them to drive themselves home. 

she hopped in her jeep, heading towards her destination. 

she pulled in to y/n's driveway, thanking the lord that she was home alone. she got out of her car, heading up to the front door and letting herself in. she found y/n sitting on the couch in her living room, staring at her hands. the blonde slowly approached the girl, kneeling in front of her and gently grabbing her hands. y/n seemed to kind of snap out of her stupor, looking at the blonde blankly. 

"gina? what are you doing here?" regina's heart fluttered at hearing the familiar nickname. "i heard what happened with ashley. i wanted to check in on you and make sure you were okay." y/n shook her head chuckling. "since when do you take care of me?" regina sighed and kissed y/n's bruised knuckles gently. 

"since i figured out i'm in love with you." y/n froze. regina was in love with her? the blonde noticed her silence and looked up at y/n nervously. she wasn't expecting to drop that bomb on y/n so soon. y/n took a shaky breath. "you love me?" regina nodded. "i think i've always been in love with you, but i've been worried about keeping up a certain image that i just denied those feelings for you. but then we started hooking up and the feelings got stronger."

y/n noticed a few stray tears running down regina's cheeks. she reached up and cupped her cheek, gently wiping the tears off her face. regina sniffled and continued.

"i know it's toxic of me to think this but i thought if i kept you close with the hookups, that i could have the best of both worlds. but then you ended things and i lost you and i realized that i didn't wanna go on without you. so i broke up with aaron and was going to go after you but then i thought you and ashley were happy. and i didn't want to take that happiness from you. but i really am in love with you. and i want to be the one who makes you happy. to be the couple that every gets jealous of. i'm so sorry for what i put you through. just please give me a chance."

y/n couldn't take it and pulled regina into a passionate kiss. this kiss wasn't like any kiss the two had shared. the other kisses had been more of a hunger, desire burning in the pit of their stomachs. this kiss they were sharing now, felt like a missing puzzle piece was sliding into place. the two poured their feelings for each other in the kiss. 

regina got up, not pulling away from the kiss, straddling y/n, her hands automatically going to the blonde's hips. the two eventually pulled away to catch their breaths. regina began to trail hot, wet kisses down y/n's neck, leaving marks for everyone see. y/n threw her head back, giving regina more access. 

the blonde began to slowly grind on y/n's leg, searching for friction. y/n noticed and guided the girl's movements, slowing her down. regina whined into y/n's neck, the girl shushing her softly. "shhh baby. slow down, i wanna savor this." regina turned into putty at the pet name, listening to the girl as she rocked her hips slower.

y/n thanked the heavens above that regina decided to wear a skirt today. she flipped the skirt up. y/n smirked at the sight of a lacy, black thong barely covering regina. she pulled the girl down directly on her thigh, the blonde letting out a moan. y/n guided regina to grind at a steady pace, the blonde letting out soft whimpers at the feeling.

"you're so beautiful gina. so perfect. and all for me aren't you?" regina nodded as y/n's hands guided her to pick up the pace. "yes. yes, all yours y/n." y/n smiled, beginning to kiss down the blonde's neck, leaving her own marks. regina felt the bubble of pleasure sitting in the bottom of her stomach grow. 

y/n smiled at the sight of the queen bee being putty in her own hands. y/n slid one of her hands between regina's legs, gently rubbing her clit through the flimsy fabric. regina gasped at the feeling, throwing her head back.y/n smirked. "god, i wish you could see yourself right now baby, you look so perfect." regina sped her movements up, chasing her high.

y/n could tell she was getting close, so she began to help her out by applying more pressure to her clit. "i want you to cum for me regina. make a mess on my thigh." regina couldn't hold it anymore. the bubble popped and her orgasm washed over her in waves. y/n helped her ride it out, the girl gently shaking on her thigh. 

"good girl. so beautiful. so perfect." y/n continued to rain praise down on regina as as she gently picked the girl up and headed to her room. she laid the blonde down on her bed and went into her bathroom to grab a wet cloth. she came back and gently cleaned regina up, shushing the girl's soft whimpers. 

she then threw the cloth in her hamper before going to grab some sweats and a t-shirt for the blonde. after a few minutes of gently rag dolling regina into the clothes, she grabbed a water bottle from her mini fridge and a power bar, urging the blonde to take.

water drank and power bar eaten, regina laid on y/n's chest as the girl stroked her hair. y/n spoke up. "will you be my girlfriend gina?" regina sat up slowly, turning to y/n. "if you think i was leaving here without becoming your girlfriend, you are crazy. of course i'll be your girlfriend you dork. you can't give me that amazing of an orgasm and expect me to not scoop you up."

y/n laughed and pulled the blonde girl into a soft kiss, cementing the unspoken promise of love between the two girls.

[lymtw]

Aftercare with Gojo where he focuses on kissing life back into your limbs after a particularly rough session with him.

He showers with you. No round two, no sexually stimulating touches, just him being as soft and delicate with you as he can. Satoru spends a lot of time reassuring you as he scrubs your body, telling you that you're just as pretty as you were before, even with all these marks on your skin, but, regardless of his words, he keeps scrubbing your skin, as if trying to bring back some of the purity it had before things got animalistic.

He requests that you stay as light in clothing as possible because he will be examining your body. Normally, you just stay in your underwear and a bra because with these examinations comes Gojo checking every inch of your skin. You get to lay back and relax while he thoroughly goes down your body, massaging your tender muscles and overall rehabilitating you.

He brushes his fingers against the dark marks on your neck and your chest, feeling the love that went into putting them on you to begin with. As his eyes trail down the rest of your hickey-littered, unobserved body, he realizes he loves you so much that it's taken a physical form on your skin.

You are not the only one who leaves scratches behind. Satoru does, too. He looks at your ribs, inhaling at the sight of four red, long streaks that trail from your ribs on each side, to where he can no longer see, on your back. He leans down and kisses the bright lines, like doing so would heal you in an instant. He does the same for the nail indentations he left behind on your waist and on your hips, kissing the aftermath of being so driven with pleasure that he had to take it out on your beautiful skin. He finishes up massaging your lower body. Your thighs, which were also bruised by his lips, your knees which had rug burns on them, and a thrown in ankle massage for the harsh grip he had on it before.

You feel like you're in another place when Satoru looks after you this way. Almost 90% of the times he does this, you fall asleep when he has you flip over to examine your back. This was one of those times when his touch felt so heavenly and light against your skin that you couldn't help but rest your eyes, resulting in your slumber.

Satoru's hands run down the expanse of your back. He undoes the clasp of your bra, not able to see the point where his scratches end until the material is moved. It's expected for you to leave these red trails behind on him, but he's in shock at the ones he left on you this time. He traces the lines, the slightly swollen skin warm to the touch, and his revitalizing kisses return to soothe the sting.

Satoru can see choppy patterns of his nail indentations on your lower back, a warm hand rubbing them to try to make them fade. He can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing now, a soft smile drawn on his features. He rubs little pressurized circles into your calves, watching you to make sure he's not pressing too hard. He ends the examination with some finishing touches on your achilles tendons and your heels.

"Baby," Satoru coos, laying on his side, facing you. You're still laying on your stomach, little puffs of air escaping your slightly parted lips. His fingers trail down your spine, past the undone clasps of your bra. "Baby..." he tries again, this time running a thumb across your shiny, saliva coated bottom lip.

"Mm..." you hum, not opening your eyes.

"You okay?" He asks his hand playing with your damp hair, softly.

"Mhm," you nonverbally confirm.

"Okay," he finishes. He turns his lamp off and scoots closer to you, his arm and leg draping over you like a makeshift blanket.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster - 

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

[bettysupremacy]

mike def calls his partner 'baby' like 90% of the time. never their real name, just 'baby' not even 'babe'

Yes and the moment he doesn’t call you baby.. somethings wrong.. like call 911 cause this isn’t Mike Schmidt in your home. And Abby knows it too.

“Can you,” he starts, trailing off as he reads from his book at the dinner table. Something catches his attention and he pauses. “can you.. hand me my drink, y/n?”

You stand in the kitchen, soaked to the elbows in sink water. It’s not often you do dishes alone, usually next to Mike who’s murmuring about sharing water later too, but tonight’s been slow, and you don’t mind this labor of love if it means he gets to read.

“Woah,” Abby stops dead in her tracks, slowly pulling out of the fridge to eye where you stand paused. “Are you two fighting?”

“What?” Mike startles, looking up from his book.

She doesn’t say anything, eyeing the both of you warily.

“Why would you think that?” He pushes.

“You called her y/n.”

“That’s her name.” He defends, looking to your pinched eyebrows. “I’m not mad, we’re not arguing.”

She’s unconvinced. “Okay.”

“We’re not.” He presses firmly, looking to you confusedly for confirmation. You only blink, dropping a fork to sink slowly into the filled basin. Rather wetly, you pull your hand out of the suds to motion Abby closer. She obliges, cringing something awful when you touch her hair.

“You should go shower.” You murmur, dropping a kiss into her hair.

“You just gave me one.” She grimaces, ducking out of your grip to head towards the bathroom, though, there’s no argument ready to be quipped.

“Hey,” Mike inches closer, grabbing the cloth to dry your arms.

You eye him as he works the rag over the valleys of your arm. Cautiously, you ask “You’re not mad, right?”

“No!” He laughs, squinting his eyes into yours. His laugh is affectionate, you can’t help but to soften in his hands. “No, I’m not mad.”

“We’re not arguing?”

He snorts, quickly putting on a serious face at your frown. “We’re not.”

“You had me worried.”

“Cause I said your name?”

“‘Y/n’ is not my name to you.”

He laughs at your impression of him. “I’m sorry, baby,” he makes a show of the nickname. “won’t happen again.

[corvidcrossbow]

It's late when I'm writing this and I'm sleepy and I'm (again) thinking about Daryl falling asleep during sex.

Not in a mean way; say like he comes home from a run pretty late in the evening or night, you get him some food then help him through a shower and maybe a massage that ends in both your clothes gone and missionary.

Your bodies are about as intertwined as they could be; your legs hooked behind his back, arms around his neck and shoulders, his arms curled around your torso and head buried into your chest and crook of your neck.

He keeps murmuring about how much he missed you, how warm you feel, how good you smell, how soft your skin is; just how much he loves you. His thrusts are slow, almost lazy, kisses accompanying his words of admiration.

He's purring again, completely lost in you, melting into the feeling of your body beneath his cause it's the most comfortable thing to ever exist. His body's on autopilot to maintain his movements, but eventually his brain drifts a little too far to keep it up and he just falls asleep in your hold.

You whisper his name just once to check his consciousness, confirming that he's gone, then smile to yourself and resist your chuckle as to not rouse him. You brush hair back from his face, tenderly tucking it behind his ear with sweet little goodnights and a kiss to his forehead; to which he subconsciously cuddles closer to you. You watch him for a little, then fall asleep yourself.

Daryl groggily wakes up a couple hours later (he practically never sleeps more than a few hours without waking up), disoriented from drifting off mid action. Awareness trickles back to him, remembering what he was doing, only now pulling out of you and shuffling to the space in bed beside you, accidentally waking you in the process.

He tries to get you to go back to sleep, but is a little distant which just wakes you more. Truth is; he's embarrassed. In his perspective – from things he's heard and been told – falling asleep during sex is not only bad, but insulting: essentially saying you're disinterested and find it so boring you snooze.

Of course you catch onto this without him even needing to say it, but still persuade him to explain it himself since it's part of working with him on getting better at freely expressing his feelings and being honest. He keeps apologizing, saying he didn’t mean it like that at all and he was just really beat from the run; if you wanted to restart right now he's willing (he definitely feels like he disappointed you and assumes you're upset with him) (again that stems from preconceptions, not actually you)

So you shift up against him, wrapping him back in your arms and saying you understand he was really tired, and that's okay. He didn't hurt your feelings at all. In fact, you love that; the fact he fell asleep – that he felt so safe and comfortable with you, even during such a vulnerable thing, that he fell asleep.

He's confused. I mean… you were having sex, and seemed to be enjoying it, then his exhaustion essentially ‘ruined’ the moment, and your pleasure (this was early on enough in your relationship that he's still wrapping his mind around the fact you're in love with him, and not the sex – you love that too obviously, but that's not why you're with him. He struggles a lot with seeing relationships as 50/50, rather more 75/25, or 90/10 even, where he's most of the weight. It all stems from his upbringing and experiences, and feels he has a debt to be constantly repaying you simply because you're claiming you love him – he just feels like if he's not meeting expectations he set, he's not good enough, and if he's ‘fumbling’ in something as crucial as sex that's a major problem) (I gotta stop that here or ima get off track)

But anyway, you continue to correct and reassure him, running fingers through the roots of his hair, holding him to you and periodically peppering kisses to his head, temple, jawline and such while you speak, lulling him to rest again.

It takes him a little while to accept that what you say is true, as do most things you reassure him about. A lot of the earlier chunk of your relationship was spent undoing the intricate knots of negative thinking patterns and thoughts that wove into his mind throughout his life – all this being one of them.

He comes to accept it eventually, along with other things, and can now just cuddle up with you in intimate positions, but not actually having sex, and fall asleep in each other's embrace.

Yes your Honor, I am guilty of loving non-sexual cockwarming where you just stay like that to feel connected 😔🤞

(I swear I will post a req fic soon I needa lock in 🗿)

[blarshwritezz]

Hi can I request yan stalker x pervy male reader, where the reader purposefully sleeps naked, leave their window etc in the hopes thaf stalker yan would take pictures of them can the reader also have a habit of going into alleyways and spaces were there aren't alot of people in the hopes that stalker yan would grope or even just take them right there

Reader: oh no, I hope no big strong INCREDIBLY HORNY psychopaths are in this alleyway where I'm all alone and defenseless...ahem, I SAID-

Yandere Stalker x Pervy Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, stalking, NSFW

You've been dealing with a stalker for months now. He'd sneak into your room at night, take pictures of you, even steal your things sometimes. He'd send you "gifts" like wilted flowers, or pictures of you covered in what you were 90% sure was cum. He'd send sexy articles of clothing.

All this has been going on for months...and he hasn't even fucked you yet! Seriously, what more could you do?! You've been sleeping naked, leaving your windows open and all your doors unlocked, wearing the clothes he gave you, frequenting dangerous and isolated areas, everything! But not once have you woken up late at night to him even touching you!

Life was so unfair like that.

So tonight, you had a plan. You've gotten so much sleep lately, and had the day off, that tonight you wouldn't be very tired at all so you could wake up and finally confront him!

It took nearly an hour for him to finally get in, and you had to admit, he was discreet. You barely heard his soft steps on your floor. When he was finally close enough that you could feel his hot breath on your neck, your eyes shot open and you grabbed his arm.

He struggled, stopping once you asked why on earth he hasn't absolutely demolished your ass yet. Why he hasn't even groped you!

"Wait...what?" He was confused. You...wanted to have sex with him?

"Well why else would I sleep naked and leave my windows open?"

"I thought you were hot."

"Aww, thanks. Now if I'm so hot then fuck me. Come on, I'll be a good boy~" You teased. He was all flustered, it was pretty cute.

With the way you were laying, you were easily able to feel his bulge on your ass. It was definitely bigger than you expected. All the more exciting.

"I'll even-" You were cut off by his fingers being shoved down your throat.

"Don't speak. The only noise that I want to hear from you is moaning got it?"

You nodded, moaning around his fingers. He smirked before pulling them out and lubricating his cock with them.

As he did, you flipped over so your shoulders were on your bed and your ass in the air. He got behind you, smacking your ass before stretching your hole with his cock.

He wasted no time, pounding into you like an animal in heat. Exactly what you've been craving. You wanted him to fuck you until your mind went totally blank. You wanted your skin to be sticky with his cum. To be fucked absolutely raw.

"Good boy...taking this so well." He growled in your ear as your moans echoed off your walls.

He didn't let up for even a second, occasionally spanking you. Just until his red handprints were covering your ass. Maybe even a bruise or two.

His cock twitched inside you as he hit all the right spots to make you scream with pleasure. You could tell he was already getting close to climax, the first of the night. Thinking of it put you on the edge too.

He took a fistful of your hair tightly in his hand, holding your face down into your pillow, practically suffocating you. Finally, only after making sure to kindly jerk you off too, he unleashed his load deep inside you.

...only to start again after only 5 seconds.

Hope this was okay! Writer's block acted up like halfway through lol

[evie-sturns]

no one has to know what we do - Chris Sturniolo

summary: ever since you met the triplets in 3rd grade, youve had been closest with chris. you've never admitted it to anyone but you've been madly inlove with him for a few years now. the triplets 20th birthday comes around, they celebrate by inviting the friend group to their house for the weekend, what happens when you and chris are left alone in his bedroom, will things stay the same, or will you two be forced to sneak around.

contains: smut, fwb!chris, sneaking around friends, swearing, fluff.

------------------┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐-----------———-

♫.. no one has to know what we do, his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room..♫

I've known the triplets since i could walk, marylou and my mom met in highschool so i've grown up around the nick matt and chris my whole life. ive always been closest with chirs,

but i hate to admit the fact that i've been thinking about him differently, a lot differently. i've never though about matt in that way though, even though they're practically the same. it's something about chris's hair, i've always wondered how my fingers would feel laced through his brown locks while he rests between my thighs.

6:39pm, friday night.

i push open the sturniolos front door to find nick, chris, matt, madi, nate, and several other friends from highschool, hannah, grace and yolanda, leaning on the counter, all laughing with eachother.

''hey!!" chris says with a wide grin, running up to me and wrapping his arms around me. "chrisss" i smile back at him.

this weekend is the sturniolos birthday, they've invited madi, me, nathan, and 3 other friends round for friday night, saturday and sunday, for those three nights chris and i are sharing a room, alone.

he grabs my small tote brag i brought and chucks it into the spare room. i walk into the kitchen and greet everyone else, instantly getting dragged by nick into the living room.

"we're watching the grinch." madi declares, "fuck no! its the middle of fucking august" nick yells back, nate chimes in, adding something to the debate.

before i can open my mouth i feel a cold hand grab my arm, its chris.

my head swings around, my hair hitting his neck. "c'mon" chris says, taking me over to the couch and throwing himself down and patting the spot next to him. i flop next to him, cuddling close to his side as everybody else piles down, "so we're watching the grinch?" madi says with a cheeky smile, "no." nick instantly replies, switching the tv on.

the intro song to rapunzel blasts through the small room, a loud cheer comes from the 7 other people around chris and i.

i'm basically frozen, my mouth won't move and i can feel my heart pounding out of my chest. sure, chris and i have been friends forever but god hes been so physical the past few weeks its been hard to hold myself together.

"you okay?" chris whispers down into my hair.

"yeah!" i chirp back

"you seem nervous"

"im not."

im 90% sure he knows.

"im sorry this movie is ASS." nate says, interrupting the movie. "gotta say, i do kinda agree with you." madi replies, "i told you the grinch was better!" she says, earning a boo from nick.

nick leans over to me, "go get a boardgame from chris's room cause these fuck heads aren't happy with rapunzel." he tutts.

i heave myself up off the couch, "chris where do you keep your array of boardgames" i scoff, shaking my head with a smile. "first of all i dont have 50 boardgames i play" he laughs as he walks over to me.

i walk upstairs towards chris's room, him closley behind me still yapping about the fact hes not that big of a fan of board games.

i open the large wooden door to chris's room, the familiar sight filling my vision.

chris shuts the door behind us, i don't question it, he probably just wants to keep his room air conditioned. i look back at him,

"so where are the-" i start but get interrupted by chris's hand on my jaw, he looks at my lips then my eyes, then my lips before slamming his onto mine.

i kiss him back. of course i do? i've practically dreamt about this moment since i was 16.

"i know i make you nervous y/n" he rasps into my lips, his second hand grabbing my cheek as he walks us back, our lips still connected as my back hits the wall, pinning me down slightly with his mouth.

he pulls away for a second, scanning my face for a readable expression. "chris" i breathe out, running my hand through my hair.

"im sorry, im so fucking sorry i shouldnt've done that-" he starts, taking a step back, "chris." i interrupt him, reconnecting our lips.

"you make me nervous, really fucking nervous." i say into his lips, his hand finds its way to the back of my head, his fingers intertwined in my hair.

suddenly the door to his bedroom rattles, i instantly pull away, my head spinning round to look at the door which is being pushed open/

madi, matt, nick and 3 of our other friends walk in, all laughing with each other about god knows what, i scramble towards the closet, looking for any board game i can.

i pull out the despicable me version of 'game of life' which has several minions on the front. a small laugh exits my mouth before i join the small circle which has formed on the floor with our friends.

"y/n...." matt says with a laugh, grabbing the board game off me "despicable me?" hannah says with a scoff

"im sorry! chris doesn't have the collection of board games i expected!" i tease back.

"it'll be okay!" grace says, a somewhat optimistic smile painted across her face.

chris joins the circle of friends on the floor, sitting down opposite me. hes got a small panicked expression, his lips red and raw, his cheeks a deep pink. his eyes are fixed on mine.

"so whos gonna roll first?" nick chuckles.

(8:45pm)

madi won the boardgame about 30 minutes ago, i've been laying on the floor of chris's room with all of our friends, execept for chris.

he disappeared while everyone was celebratings madis 'epic' win.

"we've gotta play truth or dare.." yolanda says, "like the corny middle school shit you know?"

nick claps his hands with a goofy grin, followed by matt rolling his eyes but later agreeing.

"nick, truth or dare" grace laughs,

i stand up off the floor, walking out of chris's room while everyones distracted watching nick try to do a head stand.

the wooden stairs creak as i jog down them, i swing open the back door and im met with chris. he's sitting on the outdoor bench, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

his head shoots up to look at me as i walk over to the bench, sitting under it.

"hey!" he says smiling, then putting his phone down on the armrest.

"how was despicable me game of life?" chris nudges me in the arm, a stupid smile on his pink lips.

"shut up!" i scoff, flicking his arm softly.

a silence fills the air, only sounds of distant cars vaguely humming in the background. chris runs a hand through his brunette hair, his long fingers peeking through the strands of his hair.

"um-" chris clears his throat.

"chris.." i whisper i start, then get off by his voice

"i dont think i'm ready for a relationship."

my heart sinks.

i didnt even say i liked him like that to his face?

"come with me." he declares, standing up abruptly grabbing my hand and pulling me inside.

everyone's hanging out in the living room, nobodys really paying attention to rapunzel anymore. nicks head shoots up "y/n come over!!" he smiles at me.

"we're gonna go get ready for bed, super tired." chris speaks for me. i run over to nick, giving him and matt a goodnight hug before returning to chris. he grabs my hand firmly then pulls me upstairs into his room, slamming the door shut behind us

my heart thumps as chris looks down at me, his hand reaches out for my chin, his other hand firmly gripping my waist as his fingertips lightly squeeze my waist. i stare at his lips, he stares at mine before colliding them for the second time today.

without another word his shirt is across the room, his necklace resting on his chest. my shirt follows, ending up somewhere around the room. "chris" i moan lightly into his lips as his hand snakes round to my back, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the floor.

he frantically rips off his sweatpants, i shimmy my shorts down my legs.

the air surrounding us grows hot as i fall back onto his bed, "chris- we can't, nick always tells me that he'd kill me if i even though about his brothers sexually, i mean-" i ramble, but chris cuts me off.

"no one has to know what we do." he whispers, his hands intertwined in my hair.

my eyes switch from chris, to the amount of our clothes scattered across his room, the same room chris and i grew up in.

i nod "okay." a smile creeps across my face.

chris pulls off my panties, throwing them ontop of his desk. he pauses for a second, his eyes exploring every inch of my body. "oh my god." he mutters, "you okay?" he asks quickly while he pulls down his boxers, his hard length springing out. his dick is strangely perfect, "yeah, more than okay.." i whisper, my eyes fixed on his cock.

he nods "you've done.. this before right?" chris laughs slightly. "yeah- yeah" i giggle. "you're so pretty." he says, stroking his length while his eyes stare at my exposed body.

"ready?" he asks, his tip lightly pressing against my hole.

i'm not even fully processing whats happening right now, the boy i've secretly been practically inlove with for a few years is now about to fuck me.

"very." i tease, gripping the sheets for support. he pushes into me, a low whimper escaping his mouth "squeezing me so well." he stutters, bottoming out in me.

i let out a string of moans as i arch my back off the bed "so good, doing so good." he says, his thrusts rapidly increasing in pace and intensity. his fingers lace into my hair, tugging lightly but not painfully.

i let out a desperate groan "chris- fuck!"

he reaches a hand down and presses on my lower stomach, feeling how deep he is inside of me. "you feel me?" he says in between thrusts.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my vision fogged.

"i said you feel me?" he mumbles, his hair flopping with each time his tip hits my cervix.

"yes! yes-" i blurt out,

chris grabs my throat, pinning me down to the bed.

my eyes open in shock, a few short breaths exiting my mouth.

"finish, finish for me."

and with those words i do, i clench around him and release my built up orgasm. chris instantly lets go of my throat being careful not to push me too hard, he pulls out, painting my stomach with warm streaks of white.

"fuck...." he groans, throwing his head back.

i catch my breath as chris collapses next to me, he pulls me ontop of his body as he strokes my hair.

"you did so well." he whispers into my hair.

after a good 10 minutes of laying in silence i break it,

"um chris.."

"yes?" he replies.

"what are we.. now."

another silence fills the room "i dont know." he says, a bit of guilt in his voice.

he starts "i mean if you give me a few weeks we can put a label on us or we could just stay friends and forget this happened but i dont know if i want that because i really enjoyed this but i mean we could be friends with benefits-"

i interuppt his rambles "friends with benefits!?" i say with a small smile.

"if you want, could be fun like sneaking around.."

i nod frantically at chris's words "i'd like that."

-

(saturday 5pm)

after yesterday nights unexpected encounter chris and i have kept our promise, this whole day everyones been hanging out at the pool but currently we're in the bathroom, and hes fully inside of me.

"fuck-" he mumbles, slamming into me as i sit on the countertop. my bikini bottoms are pulled to the side as he pounds into me repeatedly, "close." he warns.

i clench around him, the knot in my stomach snapping as i release around his length with a scream of his name. he pulls out, orgasming on my thighs.

"you okay?" he asks, panting as he wipes my thigh with his hand.

i collide our lips together "yeah." i mumble into his mouth.

a few seconds pass before we pull away, he helps me down off the countertop as i catch my balance.

he grabs my hand and unlocks the bathroom door, he guides us both back to the pool, rejoining all our friends like we weren't fucking each other 3 minutes ago.

i lay down by the poolside, my legs shaking slightly from the intensity of the past events.

chris sits down next to me "you got a little something." he whispers with a laugh, quickly reaching down and wiping my thigh where we missed a spot.

(1 month later)

a month ago today chris and i were sneaking around at his 20th birthday party, for the past 4 weeks we've been meeting up at each other's houses, hooking up every time we get the chance. we didnt speak about anything, i think hes happy staying friends with benefits even though i want more, ive needed more for 3 years.

11:32pm

i roll over in bed, checking my phone one last time before i fall asleep. suddenly my phone frantically vibrates,

its chris?

i pick up the phone "chris its late..." i groan into the phone.

"i need to talk to you, can i come over.. please?" he asks innocently, "okay if you want to just talk, im so tired."

i hang up, after a couple minutes i hear the rumble of chriss car in my driveway, followed by his footsteps upstairs. he swings open the door to my room "hey!" he says nervously, jumping into bed beside me. "you alright?" i ask, holding his hand.

he stays silent for a few seconds, before starting.

"i think im in love with you?" he blurts out.

"you- what?" i repeat, confusion painted in my voice.

"i know, but for the past few.. years? ive liked you- alot.. and i dont just want you to be my fuck buddy anymore, i want to be more."

he takes a deep breath, i stay silent in shock.

"i feel the absolute exact same Christopher." i say, looking over at him.

"do you wanna.. make things official." he asks quietly.

i roll over ontop of him, smothering him in kisses "yes!" i laugh, wrapping my arms around him. relief washes over his face.

we lay still for a few minutes, "can i stay the night?" he asks with a laugh, "please do." i reply, my eyes fluttering shut.

we lay in silence for a few minutes, but a small laugh exits his mouth.

"yeah?" i smile into his chest.

"nothing it was just painfully obvious i was head over heels for you, how did you not guess" he laughs

"chris, im sorry but i was terrified to make a move purely because of how it wasnt obvious." i say, planting the 84th kiss of the night on his face.

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

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

A hand dynamometer. A device to measure a person's grip strength. Your friend bought it off from somewhere during one of her impulsive shopping sprees. She lent it to you for the day.

You tried it out yourself, squeezing the handle as hard as you could and having your whole arm contracting. You were lukewarm with your results, your strength fell into the average category. Nothing more, nothing less.

You kept it away, forgetting about it for a while and your friend did so too. It's almost like she gifted it to you.

Until one day, you were searching for something from your drawers. You stumbled upon the dynamometer again.

You were curious about Yves's grip strength, he's quite lean and built. His readings must be high, but you wouldn't know until you've tested it on him.

So you went back out to your living room. Yves was folding your laundry neatly, it was warm and fragrant as he did it for you earlier. His fingers smoothened the wrinkles delicately, caring for everything you own.

Yves didn't have to do your chores, but he insisted because he said he loves doing it. Especially when it's in service to someone he loves to death; you.

He did offer to let you move in with him. Although it was tempting, you didn't want to feel like you're taking advantage of his willingness to take care of you. It would be even worse if you lived with him, Yves would become your full time maid! It feels unsettling despite Yves's reassurances that he's enjoying doing such tedious tasks.

"Yes, my love?" He asked while picking up a stack of shirts to be returned to your dresser; It's arranged by colour and makes it aesthetically pleasing to look at. Yves reflexively used a hand to tidy the strands of hair away from your face.

You presented him the device.

"Ah..." Yves smiled charmingly as he picked it up from your hands. You knew he knew what it was, this is something you've appreciated about this relationship. It's as if he would read your mind and words aren't necessary to convey your wants at times. It saved you a lot of energy and you felt... Special. It's something no one has ever made you feel before except your new partner.

Yves barely gave it a squeeze before you heard a defeaning crack that made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. It also made Yves's green eyes widen in surprise too.

He slowly uncurled his slender, delicate fingers from the handle. "Oh?" Only for the gadget to fall apart, shard by shard, screw by screw and spring by spring. It crumbled like a scone to the floor, miscellaneous pieces bouncing off everywhere and landing on the tip of his high heels.

Your jaw was slack, just how strong is he? You remembered using all your might and maybe about to burst a vessel in your eye from the power, just so you could get an average score. Yet, Yves is leisurely holding your neatly folded clothes in one hand, while the other merely gives the dynamometer a light compression at best- and he obliterates it.

He sets your clothes back down into the clean laundry basket before kneeling on the floor to pick the debris up.

You asked him how he is so strong.

"I am terribly sorry for breaking your handheld dynamometer, dear." He spoke, picking the sharp pieces up first, so you wouldn't get cut. "But it was already faulty before I could even perform a fair test." Yves continued

That made a lot more sense. Because that device can handle up to 200 pounds, or 90 kilograms. To make it shatter like that, Yves would have to at least double, triple or even quadruple its maximum limit. And within a blink of an eye too? Without breaking a sweat or grimacing? It's impossible that Yves possessed superhuman strength to do that. Right?

"Where did this come from?" He asked, rising up to his full height as he carried the broken dynamometer in his deceptively dainty hands. "It isn't of good quality."

You told him it came from your friend, you have forgotten to return it to her and it seems like she has forgotten to ask for it back.

He cocked an eyebrow. "The one who regularly partakes in flagrant overconsumption?"

Your eyes darted around, trying to defend her. But ultimately, Yves is right. She buys more than she can afford. And she tends to visit sites that sell for cheap, but in horrible quality.

"That explains its... Intolerance." He brought the mangled dynamometer to your eye level. Yves sighed before chuckling, "I'll replace it as soon as I can."

Yves kissed you on the forehead before walking past you, so he could reach the trash can to dispose of the broken dynamometer.

You didn't catch the second, silent sigh of relief, though. He thinks he's getting sloppier, Yves was trying to impress you by achieving a grip strength comparable to those of elite athletes. But he was much stronger than that, Yves was supposed to control the contraction of his muscles to not scare you off. But he must have gotten distracted by your presence, all he could think of was how kissable your cheeks were and his cuteness aggression must have gotten the better of him. That damned device was actually functioning perfectly fine.

You seem to buy his coverup. But regardless, he must do something about his near uncontrollable urge to squeeze you out of sheer love and affection.

He dusted his hands off and turned around. Yves caught a glimpse of you carrying your folded stack of clothes back into your bedroom.

His eyes tracked your every movement, big or small. Cherishing and memorizing each sequence. Yves's face may be unreadable, but his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand and the momentarily dilation of his pupils could tell a story of a thousand words about his rawest feelings towards you.

[v4mporino]

ask game

1. whats your favorite thing in your room?

2. how tall do you wish you were?

3. what color is your hair?

4. whats a rare fear that you have?

5. are you single?

6. has your heart ever been broken?

7. what was your favorite thing as a kid?

8. favorite coping mechanism?

9. whats your favorite love language?

10. how often do you get nervous?

11. if you had three wishes, would you use them?

12. if you could be fluent in any language which one would it be?

13. where do you wish to live?

14. what’s something surprising about you?

15. when did you last shower?

16. when did you first join tumblr?

17. do you want any tattoos? if so, where, what, and why?

18. whats the most prominent dream youve had?

19. whats your dream job?

20. whats your ideal date?

21. what do you wish you could do better?

22. what country would you live in if you could?

23. whos the best person you know?

24. have you ever walked into something you shouldnt have?

25. whats your favorite holiday?

26. when have you been most embarrassed?

27. whats your favorite halloween costume?

28. what are you best at?

29. do you know how to tie your shoes?

30. do you have siblings?

31. if you could know one thing about the future what do you wanna know?

32. whats a dealbreaker for you?

33. whats your favorite current class?

34. how many people have you dated?

35. how often do you wash your hair?

36. do you daydream? what about?

37. where do you go to be alone?

38. which parent do you like more?

39. whats the one standard you hold yourself to?

40. whos voice do you enjoy?

41. if you could announce one thing to the world what would it be?

42. whats one thing you wanna do but havent yet?

43. what do you wish you never did?

44. do you believe in life after death?

45. do you prefer book over movie?

46. whats your favorite season?

47. whats your favorite time of day

48. do you have a beloved stuffed animal?

49. whens a time you wish you acted differently?

50. what’s something you wish that you never bought?

51. do you have your own room?

52. whats your favorite book?

53. who’s someone you hate?

54. whats your best hottake?

55. whats your favorite game?

56. whens a time you felt real genuine fear?

57. are you a morning person?

58. do you drink enough water?

59. how different are you from the little kid you used to be?

60. do you enjoy tumblr?

61. have you ever had a tumblr experience that made you wanna delete the app?

62. whats your least favorite game?

63. were you a markiplier fan?

64. how do you respond to compliments?

65. whats something that would make you fall in love?

66. do you believe in marriage?

67. do you have a crush on someone?

68. do you like tumblr?

69. were you a voltron stan?

70. whats your favorite ship?

71. whats your favorite song?

72. do you like loud crowds?

73. have you ever created conflict on purpose?

74. how do you sleep?

75. do you bite your lips?

76. do you use chapstick?

77. do you have any pets?

78. what color are your eyes?

79. what’s something you wish you could change about yourself?

80. have you ever had surgery?

81. whats your least favorite animal?

82. whats something that youre really bad at?

83. do you have an sqishmellows?

84. do you enjoy fast food?

85. do you like soda?

86. what grade are you in?

87. do you wear any jewelry?

88. what socials do you use?

89. whats your lowest grade in school right now?

90. whats the latest youve stayed up till?

91. did you ever have bangs?

92. what trends did you hate?

93. whats your favorite item of clothing?

94. do you like dinosaurs?

95. whats your opinion on body hair?

96. whats your least favorite time?

97. do you make a wish at 11:11?

98. do you have your phone on military or regular?

99. have you ever been to church?

100. are you lgbtq?

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Could you write a story with 90’s slash where he’s drunk and is being all lovey and touchy in front of the rest of the band? And the band is surprised seeing him like that? With like fluff but also smut?

A/n: There isn't a whole lot of fluff but it is there in parts, I'm sorry I really suck at writing fluff lol but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

Warnings: Smut, Slash is drunk, oral(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You’d dropped by the studio with lunch, a regular routine you’d fallen into. It’s become so regular that the guys started chipping in and making requests, multiple stops at a time even. You didn’t mind if it meant getting out of the house and getting to spend time with your boyfriend, Slash.

This time, however, you walked in on a very different scene.

Slash was sitting in a chair, his guitar on the ground beside him and he couldn’t reach it. Instead of standing up to get it he just kept lazily reaching for it over and over again.

He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his other hand, half empty and it was still cold. There were a few empty bottles on the floor around him.

Duff came over and took the bags of food from you. “He was like this when he got here.” He said, his voice quiet so Slash didn’t hear, not that it would really register with him.

You let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “Figured.” You chewed your cheek and went over to Slash, taking a seat on the armrest of the barcalounger he was on. You pulled his hair out of his face to get his attention. “Hey baby, what are you doing?” He looked over at you and it took a minute for him to register who you were but when he did the biggest smile came to his face.

“You’re here!” He gleamed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. “Missed you so much!” He said as he littered kisses all over your face, you couldn’t help but giggle, even though his breath reeked of alcohol.

“It’s only been a few hours?” You said, looking up at him with a raised brow.

“Oh, shut up, that’s too long!” He whined, a pout tugging at his lips. Slash always had been super pouty. You threw an arm around his neck and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“The fuck is this?” Axl’s voice boomed, though he didn’t seem mad. You glanced around and noticed that all eyes were suddenly on you two.

“What do you mean?” It’s not like they didn’t know you two were in a relationship and it’s definitely not the first time you’ve been affectionate with Slash.

“Slash has feelings!” Steven exclaimed, a wide smile on his face.

“We’ve never seen him so...” Duff trailed. “Cuddly?” You shrugged and relaxed back into Slash who stared at you with nothing but fondness in his dazed eyes.

“Why don’t you stick around?” Axl asked. “Keep him in check so we can actually get work done.” You agreed and everyone got back to work.

Except for Slash.

He refused to let go of you for even a second, which made it much harder to play guitar. He zoned out and wouldn’t speak at all. All he did was nuzzle into you, kiss you and run his hands over you, crossing over more and more sensitive spots.

Slash drunk wasn’t your favourite, but him being so openly affectionate was sweet to you. You told yourself it was because he wanted to do it when he was sober but just didn’t have the courage to. It made sense since the main cause of his drinking and drugging was because he was introverted and it made it easier for him to exist with humans.

What started as innocent touches quickly turned sexual as he kept trying to get his hands under your waistband, constantly pulling and tugging at your clothes, kissing your neck and shamelessly grinding his crotch on your ass.

You tried to get him to stop but he wouldn’t, saying he just loved you so much and how he needed this, needed you. The band around you guys kept laughing at it which only spurred Slash on.

It crossed a line when you looked away and Slash lifted your top, revealing your chest on the one day you didn’t feel like putting on a bra.

You pulled your shirt back down and got off of him. “The fuck is wrong with you?” You scolded, glaring down at him. He looked right back up at you with nothing but desire. But he seemed confused, like he didn’t know what he did wrong.

Slash stood and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I just wanna love you.” He mumbled, words slurring together.

“Come on,” Axl teased, “just let him love you.” The rest of them were all giggling as well. You rolled your eyes and stormed off, angrily dragging Slash behind you, ignoring how he stumbled on his own feet to keep up with you.

Outside their studio space was a long hallway leading into many more hallways and a few more studios but among them were janitorial closets and other small rooms for little things scattered between. Perfect for you to push Slash into.

You locked the door behind you with the intent to scold him but he was already on his knees and tugging on your waistband again. “Slash, are you kidding me?”

“No.” He answered in a cheeky tone, big smile and giggling as he pulled your pants down. You should’ve stopped him but you didn’t want to. His touches bothered you in front of everyone but you couldn’t say no when he could make you feel so good.

Slash pulled your panties down and licked between your folds, licking up your slick before focusing on your clit. He couldn’t stop giggling which only sent vibrations straight through you. Your hands buried in his curls as your hips bucked to meet his lips, bordering riding his face. He didn’t even seem to notice, getting off on giving you pleasure.

You caught him palming himself through his leather pants so you kicked his hand away. “Only good boys get to cum.” You said, voice breathy as you continued to push his face into you. His hands gripped your thighs, needing to occupy them somehow so he wouldn’t touch himself he pushed one finger into you before adding another.

The small closet quickly filled with your moans and Slash’s muffled giggling along with lewd noises. You were sure that if anyone passed by they would hear but right now you didn’t care as your first high crashed down on you and you held Slash’s lips to your clit as you gushed on his face.

You pulled away and Slash’s body relaxed. He’d been holding himself up on his knees but he let himself hit the ground, now looking up at you like a proud puppy.

[deathbecomesthem]

Kiss the Cook 4 | 2.3K

linecook!Eddie Munson x server!reader

Summary: It's just you and Eddie working on a lazy Wednesday morning. Until an unexpected guest throws a wrench in the gears.

A/N: This might seem a little out of place in this current series, but it's an older piece I wrote many moons ago. Based on a mostly true Thanatos server experience.

--

As usual, you leave the cream colored coffee mug at the prep station next to the fruit cup that Eddie’s prepared for you. His back is still turned, he’s throwing down a case of bacon to fry off before opening. This time of the day, his clothes are clean and fresh and his hair is still damp from his morning shower. His hair is pulled up in a bun that sits a little higher than normal, and it gives you a good view of the fine hairs at the back of his neck. Little soft curls that cling to his skin just above the place where his shoulders work underneath his crisp white shirt. 

The tattoo there has always been something that you’ve noticed, but you’ve never gotten the chance to really see it until now. It’s a sword, the hilt of which can barely be seen through the curls that rest at the nape of his long neck. The blade looks sharp enough to cut, and it reaches straight down his spine. You wonder about it, and hope there’s a day when you’ll get to see the tip of that blade, wherever it may be.

You’re thinking about reaching out to touch his neck. - let your fingertips feel the skin and hair - when he turns away from the grill and the meat that’s already begun to spit. He seems totally unaware of your gaze, even now with his profile in full view. You could already be sitting on the curb out back puffing through your pre-opening cigarette, but this is a rare thing getting to study him so intensely in a quiet moment.

“You gonna stand there and stare all morning, or do you wanna go smoke before this place turns into a zoo?” You can feel heat in your face immediately, and hope he doesn’t turn to look at how you’re reacting to his teasing. You were caught, but also, he was letting you look. Your stomach does a flip at the thought of it, and you wonder how long he’s known that you’ve been taking all of the sly glances you can.

“I was just waiting for you,” you spin on your heels and head towards the back door before Eddie can look at you, “whenever you’re done screwing around with your meat, I’ll be out here.” Eddie’s low giggle follows you through the back door. The 90 seconds between when you sit on the concrete and when Eddie opens the back door to join you is enough time to consider that he was flirting with you. Openly. That’s new. You think it’s new, anyway. Maybe you’ve just been missing it.

It’s with a heavy sigh that Eddie sits down next to you on the low to the ground curb, his long legs extended so his knees don’t sit up high under his chin. He’s long, like a stretched out cat dressed in his still clean black denim and cotton shirt. He’s close enough for you to smell the soap that still clings to his skin from his morning shower, and the deodorant he must have put on directly after. 

“So. I’ve been thinking about something.” Eddie’s fumbling hands are reaching around in his apron pocket while a Camel dangles from his lips. You extend your green Bic, flame lit, to his cigarette. Eddie smiles around the paper filter, his eyes flick from you to the end of his cigarette where the cherry burns to life. “Thank you,” he whispers on an exhale, his full focus back to you.

“What have you been thinking about Eddie?” You push your shoulder against his. As always, it’s a way to connect your bodies in a mundane and friendly way. You think it might be your imagination, but you could swear you can feel his body heat through his and your own layer of clothing. He’s gotten shy now, eyes focused on the asphalt parking lot in front of him. His long fingers are twirling the lit cigarette around while you wait for his answer.

“Well,” the word comes out in a higher pitch than normal, he clears his throat, “well, I was thinking maybe we could go out sometimes. Just you and me, like uh -” he brings his eyes back to yours, gauging your reaction, “- I’m sorry, I’m shit at this. It’s ok if you say no, I don’t want it to be weird at work or anything.”

“I don’t know how anything could be weird when you haven’t actually said anything outside of wanting to go out. Sure, Ed, we can go out. We’re friends aren’t we?” You can’t hold back the snicker that laces your words. Eddie’s so cute, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are pleading. He looks like a boy instead of the 26 year old man that he is, and he’s begging you for mercy.

“You’re torturing me on purpose, and it’s not nice.” No, it’s not nice, but it’s having its intended effect. Eddie wants to take you on a date, and you can’t care that the words are too hard for him to say when his face is so close to your own. When his lips, oh he can definitely see that you’re looking at them, are so pretty. He’s close enough that you can see the stubble across his top lip. Fresh shave this morning, but the light of the sunrise is starting to make the tiny hairs sparkle.

“I’m sorry, Ed,” both of your cigarettes are burned to the filter, and you know it’s at least a couple of minutes past opening time. You can’t find it in yourself to care. You have a wild thought about asking him to flick work with you. To go for a long walk and hold hands. Your thoughts get wilder when you notice his eyes flick down to your mouth as if in question. Unconsciously doing the same thing your own eyes have been doing to Eddie’s lips. Are we going to kiss out here on this curb while the sun is still hiding behind the trees?

Your thought is answered and the moment is broken. The sound of a familiar voice mumbling a curse accompanied by a fist loudly knocking against glass. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s 3 minutes past opening, and Jimmy is right on time as always. The retiree that sits at the corner of the counter for the first hour of the diner’s business, and has been doing so since the week of the grand opening 15 years ago, is ready for his morning’s coffee. 

“Sorry, Jimmy, I’ll be up front in 30 seconds!” You shout around the corner of the building from your spot on the curb, neck craned in the direction of Jimmy’s grumbling before slapping your knees and standing up. You look down at Eddie and find that his gaze has returned to the tree line beyond the parking lot. He lets out a chuckle and pulls out another cigarette while you pat the top of his head in goodbye. By the time you get Jimmy's coffee and cruller, Eddie will be inside to fry up his eggs. You wonder, as you step back in through the metal door, whether the words between you and he will mean anything, or will be forgotten as the day moves forward.

–

You’re perched on a barstool at the counter, Jimmy is the only company you have when it happens. Eddie’s smoke break took longer than was reasonable, and you stepped out of your assigned role to make two sloppily fried over medium eggs for the old guy. You didn’t mind, you assumed this was just one of those mornings. Sometimes, Eddie is pensive. You only wished there was a way to relieve him of his duties for the day so he could get a real break. 

The sound of the back door opening draws your attention towards the kitchen while your hands mindlessly pull out a knife, fork, and spoon to roll into the paper napkin in front of you. Immediately you realize something is wrong, because the familiar sounds of Eddie stomping are replaced with a choked off scream and - possibly the sound of a scuffle of some kind. 

“What the hell -” before Jimmy can’t get out his thought, he too recognized that something was wrong in the small hallway that holds the back door and bathrooms, Eddie’s high pitched yelling freezes you in your spot. A split second later, your fear has you on your feet and sprinting towards the cacophony.

“Motherfucking son of a bitch!” Eddie hollers before throwing open the swinging kitchen door, narrowly missing your face. A small red blur passes in front of you before you catch sight of Eddie. He is standing in front of the men’s room door with his shirt pulled half over his head and his apron tangled in his arms. Your brain cannot make sense of the sounds and sights you’ve just experienced, and then you hear the voice of another man shouting at the opposite end of the restaurant.

“Christ Almighty!” Jimmy sounds less frantic than Eddie did a moment ago, but no less surprised. Your feet are moving again, letting the swinging door close on the disheveled line cook. Your mind is working to make sense of things when you round the corner to enter the dining room and find your foot skidding against something slick. A quick look down tells you it’s - what the fuck - bird shit.

There’s a bird loose in the restaurant. A bird. And the two men here are screaming messes.

You head back to the dining room and grab a broom before you make your way into the dining room to save an old man from the bird menace. The crashing of silverware tells you that things are not chill, and you’re ready for it. You think you’re ready for it until a flash of red feathers swoops down at your head as you remember to step over the spot of shit left on the linoleum. 

“What the fuck.” Your attempt to bat the bird away from your head with the broom, it’s a cardinal - you can see it clearly now, results in you breaking a bulb in one of the hanging lamps that are throughout the dining room. Glass rains down on your shoulders, and you have at least enough sense to shake it off rather than use your fingers to brush at it. “Can birds have rabies?”

“No!” Jimmy answers your rhetorical question from the opposite end of the dining room. You see that his coffee mug and plate of eggs are spilled on the floor next to his abandoned barstool, “but this one is fucking possessed! I flew right at my head like it was out for blood!”

–

The battle of the bird vs. Eddie Munson lasted 2 hours. Casualties included one lightbulb, a glass coffee urn, a set of salt and pepper shakers, a ceramic coffee mug, a tray of donuts (bird shit), and the ceramic plate that held Jimmy’s poorly made over medium eggs. You and Eddie tried and failed to catch the terrified creature dozens of times before opening both the front and back doors and returning to the spot at the curb where Eddie almost managed to ask you out on a date before the chaos began. It took less an 5 minutes for Mr. Cardinal to find the exit, swooping down at Eddie’s head as a final “fuck you”.

“What did I do to deserve that bird’s rage?” Eddie’s hair is a mess, and you can’t help but wonder if he had managed to do something that has resulted in this avian vendetta. “I say we clean up and call this day a loss. Charlie can kiss my ass if he has a problem with it.”

“Charlie won’t care. We already lost breakfast to a bird.” Your words came out with a giggle. Eddie caught the itch of laughter. The post bird drama hysterics had you both hunched over in gasping laughter until the thought of your lost wages made your smile fade. “I’m gonna make Charlie pay me kitchen wages for today.”

Eddie hummed in agreement with the sentiment. You certainly deserve it, especially considering what it will take to get the bird shit out of your non-slip footwear’s sole. When you go to stand, finally deciding it was time to clean and get as far away from the war zone as possible, you’re stopped by a soft grasp of Eddie’s calloused hand on your forearm. You look at him and find his gaze firmly on yours, and not looking out past the tree line. 

“How about we clean up and go out to lunch somewhere? My treat?” A battle well fought has given Eddie the nerve to ask the question he’s been wanting to ask for months. Even now, when he knows your answer, butterflies’ wings beat in his chest as the silence after his question is asked fills the air.

“Ok. But only if we can get some ice cream after.”

[piqued-curiosity]

It’s really sad seeing women make videos making fun of how their former selves did their makeup (example: “how I looked doing my makeup in 2016”, “we all thought we did something with the 90’s blue eyeshadow”, etc.). Because they act like the problem was them not knowing how to do makeup…instead of recognising that the problem is that trends change constantly, and women are expected to relearn how to paint their faces to keep up.

They don’t seem to realise that the makeup they’re wearing in these videos that they deem to be “better” and “right”, will be subjected to the same mockery the looks they laugh at today are. One day, they’ll all be laughing at “soap brows” and “e-girl blush” while wearing the current trend. And then they’ll mock that trend in a few years.

It’s a never-ending cycle of makeup looks going out of style, and being deemed Bad for it. In the 90’s and 2010’s you thought your makeup looked great, so did everyone else. You laugh at it today, thinking your 2020’s makeup looks good. Do you think you won’t be laughing at it in 2030? Do you not see where this is going?

Women’s faces are a trend. Men look back at pictures of their younger selves and may cringe at their hair or their clothes, but their face is the same and never the subject of mockery. But women? Women’s faces change because makeup changes. Women don’t just cringe at the clothes and hair of their younger selves—they cringe at their faces. It’s sad.

The only way to stop this is to stop wearing makeup. That tik-tok trend makeup you think looks good? I promise you, it will be a joke in ten years. Maybe even five. And the reason this keeps happening isn’t because you were bad at makeup back then. It’s because all the looks you worked so hard to get good at looked ridiculous all along—you were just blinded by trends. Today they’re “soap brows”. Tomorrow when the novelty wears off, they’ll be what everyone else sees—ridiculously brushed up eyebrows. Today it’s “e-girl blush. Tomorrow when the trend dies away, it’ll be what everyone else sees—sickly looking.

What I want to get at here, is that it breaks my heart to see women fall into the never-ending cycle of learning to paint their face a certain way because it’s the trend, then having to learn a new thing in a couple years when that trend becomes a laughingstock. And saying “wow I was so stupid back then, but I know better now” every five years.

Faces are supposed to be timeless. Let’s keep it that way.

[notjustjavierpena]

Buzzing

A/N: Hiya! We are not talking about the fact that remote controlled vibrators were probably not a big thing in the late 80s or early 90s. Imagine they were for the sake of the plot. Enjoy!

Summary: Orgasming! At The Grocery Store. Need I say more?

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (minors DNI), remote controlled sex toys (under clothing), semi-public sex, voyeurism, established relationship, filthy dirty talk, unprotected P in V sex, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare, rough sex.

Word count: 4.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47656051

Buzzing

The idea of a remote controlled vibrator had been a joke at first, something stupid about Javier making you hump the nearest object in public, but seeing it in its little box made something stir in the pits of your stomach. It wasn’t anything special in terms of looks; just a thin, silver and simple bullet. Though you knew what kind of power that it could hold over you despite its limited size, and more importantly how powerful Javier would be with its controller in hand. The thought had almost made you dizzy back then, your heartbeat drowning out background noise from how loud it was in your ears.

And it was making you dizzy now.

The automatic doors to the store slid open for you and your boyfriend, who was pushing a shopping cart with a neutral expression despite the risky secret being held between the two of you. It was new territory for you to do stuff in public, but it was territory that you were comfortable exploring with Javier.

Underneath your floral dress, neatly tucked into your white cotton panties, the silver bullet was buzzing silently against your sex. The tip was securely pressed against your clit, sometimes sending a spike of pleasure to your cunt when you took a step forward in just the right way. God, you could imagine how great it must feel to press your thighs together or even cross your legs.

It wasn’t visible on your face, but only because the tingling sensation was at its lowest and you had gotten used to the feeling on your way here in your shared car.

Despite not having the need to make any noises or faces to reveal yourself to the world, the sweet buzz had the back of your neck warming up with a blush, even with your hair in a ponytail. Your dress felt claustrophobic, clinging to your skin when you walked, and your nipples were incredibly hard and sensitive underneath the fabric. You tried blaming it on the air conditioning and the refrigerated area, which you hadn’t even passed through yet.

“You’re not fooling me,” you jumped a little at Javier’s voice. He was looking straight ahead, steering the shopping cart around the store with an incredible sense of restraint. After all, his body would give away his aroused state in a much rather explicit manner than yours. You found yourself grabbing the metal, holding onto the side of the basket to ground yourself.

“I don’t need to be fooling you, just everyone else,” you replied confidently but the shakiness of your breathing told him you were anything but. You mirrored him and stared ahead too. You could hear shuffling after that.

The buzzing went up a notch without warning and it made your pussy clench, clit sending signals to make your whole lower body flutter. You sighed, reaching up to touch where your neck met your shoulder, but that was all you allowed yourself.

Something was building albeit slowly. Occasionally, Javier left your side for a moment to pick something out from a shelf. You couldn’t follow, scared to let go of the shopping cart in case it was the way you gripped it that was holding you in line. When he came back, he scanned your face and gave your hand on the cart a squeeze.

The brain fog that you were experiencing was making you doubt how many settings the little vibrating device had. Right now, you had experienced two but you were certain that it had much more to offer. Not that you were going to ask Javier about it.

“Did you need anything specific? I already got the coffee beans that you like,” Javier studied the shopping list that the two of you had made before heading out the door. He kept looking from the list to the cart’s contents and back again, still seemingly unaffected.

“No, don’t think so,” you mumbled shakily as you both continued down the aisles.

Javier reached into his pocket, a neutral expression on his face. He fumbled for a moment, and then suddenly, the buzzing of the bullet really took off. Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noise that came out of you as you clenched around nothing. You felt slick pool slowly in your underwear, making the cotton fabric stick to your cunt.

“Oh Jesus,” you slowly blew air out of your mouth. Javier checked to see if anyone was around to notice you.

“You look so hot, sweetheart,” Javier praised quietly as he walked by you, “Are you okay? Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered and finally dared to let go of the shopping cart. It might help keep you distracted to help with the grocery shopping, and so you went to look at the list over Javier’s shoulder.

The plan worked for maybe two minutes. Soon, you found yourself crouching down by a stupid merchandise stand at the end of the candy aisle. All it had taken was a tug somewhere deep inside of you, your womb clenching as your orgasm built slowly towards a crescendo.

People were staring but you hardly noticed. Javier parked your groceries to approach you, watched your shoulders tense as the position only strained your panties against the bullet even more. It was torture against your clit, enough to make you want to buck your hips and enough to make your pussy feel empty.

Javier’s strong hand rubbed between your shoulder blades to soothe you. He must’ve looked so sweet from afar, playing the good boyfriend and smiling politely at the people passing by you whilst sending you strange looks.

“Just a little lightheaded,” he responded when a white-haired lady asked if you were okay, “Morning sickness, you know how it is.”

“Oh yes. Poor thing, I’m glad she has such a sweetheart of a boy with her,” she had replied with a kind smile before moving on with her shopping.

“Fuck you,” you had moaned pathetically when she was out of earshot. You had already considered jumping the nearest shelf to fulfill the prophecy of your ongoing joke about this sort of play.

Javier leaned down over you. To others it must have seemed innocent enough, especially because he kissed the top of your head before helping you to stand, but having an excuse of being so close gave him the opportunity to whisper filth to you.

“You might as well not fight it, I’ll walk around in here until you gush in your pretty little panties,” he said quietly. You bit your lip and breathed out through your nose. He wanted you to come in here, and you knew then that you would, “I can see how close you are. The skin of your neck is so red. Bet your panties are soaked. I can probably see your cunt through them now. Is that right? Is she that wet for me?”

“Yes, yes, Javi,” you could say nothing more; he was right and he was cruel. You wondered where in the store it would be the least risky to have him touch you because you fantasized about his thick fingers inside of you at this point, them beckoning the rising pressure in your stomach to reach its peak. Nobody deserves to feel as empty as you were right now.

But Javier was already heading for the cash register with all of your groceries. He was ready to leave you there, coming undone and having to find him a minute later with shame burning up your neck and on your face, when he found out what had happened whilst he wasn’t watching you. You decided against that happening.

Carefully, you walked after him and from the back of his head, you could see that he was listening for you. You could also see that he was reaching into his pocket again, rummaging around like someone looking for their wallet but you knew what was coming. No no no— He turned the remote up without warning just like before, fished out his wallet afterwards to keep up the act of the regular, vanilla couple.

You could imagine the smirk on his face as he heard you nearly stumble but luckily managing to grab a shelf. Cans tumbled to the floor, and you gave the back of his head a death stare. God, you wanted him inside of you.

The bullet wasn’t buzzing anymore; it was pulsing in a rhythm that drove you close to an orgasm in so little time that you found yourself panicking slightly. It was like your heartbeat was in your clit, going faster and faster as if you were running towards something and that something was so close that you bailed on Javier in the middle of the main aisle.

Quickly, you went to the nearest side-aisle of stuff that people usually left alone, so you could have just an illusion of privacy. You must’ve looked insane as you practically ran into hiding in plain sight.

Behind you, Javier followed like a hungry predator, groceries forgotten. He only just managed to push you against a shelf before you whimpered as your cunt erupted into a rapid series of pleasurable bursts. You pushed your thighs together, completely at the mercy of the waves of your orgasm washing over you and the bullet not stopping its sweet torture to your over sensitive clit.

Before you could moan, Javier covered his mouth with yours to silence you. He kissed you slowly and gently through the aftershocks of your high, holding a hand over your mouth afterwards to let you enjoy the experience of the bullet not relenting, as if it had its own purpose of making you wet your underwear even more then and there. You suppressed a sob that would have been so loud that the whole store would know what was going on, only whimpering pathetically against the now damp inside of Javier’s palm.

“Fuck, you are so hot. When we’re home, I swear…,” Javier praised as he put his free hand in his pocket to fumble with the remote. He accidentally pressed the wrong button and your pussy clenched hard again as the vibrator went insane. You were briefly terrified that you were going to have another orgasm in the store, eyes rolling back into your skull whilst you fought back a panicked cry… but then the bullet stopped altogether. Thank heavens.

“What I wouldn’t get to taste you right now,” Javier whispered as you both just stared at each other. He removed his hand carefully. His face was so close to you that it would give you away if anyone saw you, so you moved slightly and looked away with burning cheeks.

“Listen,” he caught your attention again, “I know your sweet little cunt could’ve handled more but… Didn’t want to overwhelm her since we’re heading back soon.”

“Javi,” you looked at him in disapproval, cheeks completely flushed now and your pulse loud in your ears. Slick was soaking through your panties, smearing your inner thighs slightly.

“I want her all to myself, baby. Don’t worry,” he just continued, “I’ll pay here, carry all our shit to the car and then I’ll drive us home, so I can fuck you until you’re cockdrunk. You don’t have to do a thing.”

“Please,” you said pathetically, not trusting yourself to protest in case he would turn on the device again, “Yes please.”

It happened so quickly after that. You felt like you were walking around in a bell jar, noises being just that; noises, and they were indistinguishable from each other in your post-orgasmic bliss. Around you, Javier finished everything up and guided your motionless mind through it all.

Time passed in quick slow motion. You were suddenly in the passenger seat of the car, slick still pooling around your opening and most likely staining the skirt of your dress now too. You didn’t even want to think about the fabric of the car seat.

Javier walked around from the back of the car, having finished loading the groceries into the back. He got into the front seat, keys jingling as he put them in the ignition and then turning on the engine.

You quickly reached out to turn up the cold air conditioning, desperate to cool down your body temperature from your grocery store escapades. Javier chuckled beside you and you wondered briefly why he hadn’t put the car in reverse and taken you home yet.

“You know. I think you can handle one more,” he told you. Your head snapped to the side to stare at him.

“Javi,” you felt embarrassed as you moaned.

“One more, that’s all,” he reassured you, reaching into his pocket to actually fish out the remote and you cursed at the size of the thing; that such a small device could almost bring you to tears. You gulped but it didn’t stop him from pressing its buttons and forcing it to draw another orgasm from you, “Just so you’re all ready and soaked… red and waiting when we’re home.”

And then he drove whilst you writhed on the passenger seat. You hoped that he was at least hard underneath his denim pants, looking at him out of the corner of your eyes to see if you could see the outline of his cock. You could.

“Fuck,” you groaned as pressed back against the car seat, reaching up to sheathe your fingers in your hair. He was right there but you couldn’t have him.

At a red light, Javier’s hand left it the steering wheel to touch you. He pushed the fabric of your dress between your thighs so he could cup you around your cunt, feeling the bullet buzz along and making your orgasm approach faster.

“Mierda,” he swore as he felt the rhythmic pulses, “it’s really going crazy on you.”

“No shit,” it was your first attempt at being snarky, but your tone of voice was not matching your words. You found yourself whimpering as the hand removed itself again.

“No need to be rude, you’ll get my dick soon enough,” he snickered, putting both his hands on the steering wheel again. He looked so composed but you noticed his knuckles turning white.

You chuckled breathlessly at his tiny scolding, but all you could hear was his promise of what was to come. You came after that with the thought of his generous cock; the thought of it seating itself slowly in your pussy so you could feel every ridge of the veins. The hand in your hair came down between your legs as if it would make a difference.

“That’s my baby,” he praised, “I’ll turn it off when we’re home.”

What? You looked up to see how far home was from your current location, sighing in relief as you found it to be less than a minute away.

You were the one who had to lock the car and open the front door after two orgasms, because Javier was carrying a bag in each of his hands. He had been kind enough to turn off the bullet, but it was still making you struggle with how your walking made it nudge at your swollen clit with each step you took. It was like defusing a bomb to even insert the key into the keyhole,

When you finally managed to open the door, Javier pushed past you as you threw the keys onto the table in your entrance hall. You followed him into the kitchen not long after, but where you expected to find him putting away your groceries, you saw the bags carelessly on the kitchen counter.

“Those need to be refrigerated,” you pointed out but Javier was soon all over you, and you could hear how ridiculous you had sounded as he kissed your lips with a bruising force. Automatically, you threw your arms around his neck and shoulders.

“Need you right now. Everything else can wait,” he mumbled against your mouth, running his tongue along your bottom lip until you let your mouth fall open for him to explore. It was only his to explore, you wanted to let him know, moaning softly as you tilted your head to deepen the meeting of lips.

His hands were on your hips, bunching up the fabric of your sundress slightly as he steered you towards the kitchen table. He slid his palms around your body, cupped the rounding of your ass so you could feel the hem of your dress ride up and tickle the back of your knees. Then he pulled you against himself, never once breaking the kisses that he was giving you.

You breathed sharply through your nose as you felt his hardening bulge poke into your hip. Your hands went to his belt, frantically pulling to unbuckle it and then going for his fly with shaky hands. It was the first thing that broke the string of kisses as the both of you looked down between you.

Javier’s hands came to rest on yours, helping you to steady them so you could finish what you were doing. You yanked his denim jeans down and followed with his boxer briefs as well, subconsciously licking your lips as you finally caught the first glimpse of his impressive erection. Your fingers wrapped around his length instantly.

“Shit,” you could hear him whisper.

“Thought you’d been neglected for too long,” you whispered back, stroking him languidly and feeling the tug in your core. It almost hurt to not have him inside your cunt already; you couldn’t imagine how he felt at this point. The restraint that he had shown as you trembled in the grocery store aisles was hot and worth being rewarded, “You want to fuck me?”

“You want me to fuck you?” He challenged with a shuddering breath but then nodded, “Yes— I want to feel you.”

“I want you to shove your big cock in me right here. You must be starving,” your voice was still a whisper. Reluctantly, you removed your hand from him and saw him twitch in the air, “Please.”

He followed through after a string of swear words. With rough hands, he forced one of the grocery bags to the side and bent you over the counter. He pushed you down until your cunt and ass was level with his pelvis, and you grabbed at the surface for purchase. Oh, the anticipation.

The skirt was roughly pulled up over your ass in the next moment, Javier showing little care for the floral fabric. You felt the air hit your wet underwear and bring you a cool sensation against your warm, ready cunt. You could feel the cotton fabric cling around your mound, showing your shape off for him without him having to undress you completely.

Reaching around you, he plucked the bullet from your panties and let it fall to the ground so he could touch you directly without it being in the way. You keened as you felt his index- and middle finger press down on your abused clit.

“Chica sucia,” he growled as you gushed out a new pool of slick. He dragged his fingers through it, then pulled back, fingers still on you, to see the new wet stain on your underwear, “I can see you through ‘em. Should make you come again… just so you’re all newly-sensitive when I give you my dick.”

“Please— baby,” you would take anything that he had to offer, still admiring his restraint that you definitely didn’t possess in the same manner, because you practically humped his hand.

“You really are a dirty girl, aren’t you?” Javier began rubbing your clit in earnest and sent you flying forwards with a gasp, his length jutting into your thigh as you rocked your hips into his strong hand. You pushed back against it, but it only made him falter a little. He was disciplined.

By now, you were panting and begging for him. He was having you on the edge again already and you couldn’t fight it, your walls fluttering with your inevitable high.

“That’s it, let it go. She wants it,” he egged you on, “Jesus, look at you.”

With a shout, you were sent into sweet spasms as your third clit orgasm in a very short time hit you. You could feel tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, threatening to make you lose composure and collapse on the floor.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he told you sternly as your knees were about to give in. He placed a hand on the small of your back, doing quick work of pulling your panties down and pushing his cock into you so he could hold you up by pressing the front of his thighs against the back of yours. His girth was already making you stretch in a way that burned deliciously, and at this point you actually shed real tears.

Normally, you’d prefer him to go slow when entering you, but you were already so slick and soft that you took him easily, walls sucking him in with a pathetic moan as he nudged deep inside of your pussy and threatened to make more tears drip down onto the counter. His hands found your shoulder and your hip, fingers gripping harshly and desperately before he started unceremoniously fucking you.

When was the last time you ever felt this way about a guy? All teenage hormones, gotta-have-you-now and no sense of self, only the thought of your twosome. You cried out at being filled to the brim repeatedly.

Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, flat palms on the countertop not being enough. You felt your knees slamming against the cabinets and probably bruising them, and you stood on your tippy toes to make the thick head of his cock slide over that small spot inside of you. The wet squelching your sex made was obscene.

Javier leaned over you. He drilled into you in a way that forced the air out of your lungs, making you choke on your cries of pleasure and the little air you had left. His hand let go of your hip, moving to your wrist, so he could pull it behind your back. He did the same with the other one until he had both in an iron grip against the small of your back.

The move made you unable to hold up your overwhelmingly sensitive body, and so your face and breasts ended up pressed into the countertop. The coolness soothed your blushing upper body despite the friction against your hard nipples. All this whilst your wet cunt burned with desire for another release, which was tightening like a coil in the pits of your belly, because of the way that your g-spot was stimulated in this position.

“Oh fuck, tightening around me like that. Already?” Javier ground into you impossibly harder and practically made you sing, “Thought your little cunt was done for, thought she was spent, greedy little thing you both are. Let me help you.”

His right hand went down in front of your thighs, between you and the counter. He touched you, felt you up, so he could touch where you were connected as one. You were spread so wide for him, puffy and soft, but the second he found your clit, you tightened and flew forward, “Ngh– I can’t— Javi!”

“You can do it, baby. one more, that’s all,” Javier wrapped his hand around both of your now crossed wrists, yanking hard to pull you down onto his length again. He twitched inside of you and you knew it meant that he was close, breathing labored as he continued to thrust deep inside of you while barely pulling out anymore, “I want you to milk me fucking dry.”

A mixture of your sensitive nipples rubbing against the surface of the kitchen table, the pads of Javier’s fingers against your clit and your g-spot being slammed into made you tip over the edge. Your orgasm came fast but with being so full of cock, it felt much more dragged out and intense than the first three.

You fought to cross your legs but couldn’t with the way that Javier’s cock was in between them, so you were absolutely wailing as the coil snapped and sending you through a tumult of torturous euphoria. He felt bigger than ever inside of you, and your walls clenched around him as he chased his own high.

“So fucking tight,” it took only a few more pushes into your cunt before Javier swore behind you. He filled you, stilled and pulsed, making your head swim even more with each burst of come coating you from the inside. Teenage hormones, huh? Not even heard about the pullout method.

You were both very quiet afterwards except for your struggling breaths. You wanted to break the silence with a witty remark but nothing was going through your head, so instead you just sighed deeply, contentedly, “Fuck.”

“I should’ve given you one more,” Javier said behind you. He reached down to pull out, grunting quietly as he slid out of your heat along with a bit of your mixed arousals.

You chuckled but quickly stopped as you felt too sore to do even that. The emptiness was worse than ever, and your body's complaints in the store now seemed silly, “I couldn’t have.”

Before you started dripping out his come, Javier led you out of the kitchen and into the bathroom to shower. He was gentle as ever, supporting you by holding you with an arm around your waist to keep your wobbly legs secure. None of you felt the need to say anything; not when he turned on the water, not when he washed away the tear streaks from your face, not when he kissed you slowly in the shower cubicle, no, not even coaxed one last high out of you that seemed to fog the shower cubicle more than the hot water and had your legs shaking all over.

Only when you saw him get a cloth from the cabinets, soaking it in cool water before holding it over your cunt to soothe the rough handling of her, you decided to speak, “I love how you love me.”

“Yeah?” Javier looked up at you whilst his hand was still holding the cool washcloth against you. He simply smiled, leaning in to nose along your jaw before pressing a kiss to it.

You wrapped your arms around him, “Yeah.”

Things went on for a few more minutes. You soothed yourself under the comfort of the spray, sharing it with Javier without much trouble as he washed you and himself down with the cool cloth. It felt like your own little slice of heaven.

When you were done, he kissed you deeply and multiple times as he dried both of your bodies. You didn’t want to get dressed, and he accepted that, reaching down to carry you bridal-style into the bedroom.

After you got comfortable in your shared bed and Javier put on a new pair of underwear, he kissed you on the forehead.

“I should apologize to her,” he chuckled as he leaned over you, nodding towards the treasure between your legs, “But what a trooper.”

“I don’t think anyone should apologize here,” you were lying on your side and rested both your hands under your head. You watched him pull the blanket over you, and my God, you were so in love with him that it was ridiculous.

“I’ll go unpack, and pray to whoever that the ice cream is still somewhat frozen,” he informed you on his way out of the room, “Want some if it’s unsalvageable?”

“I want some either way,” you said despite feeling beyond tired.

“Coming right up.”

[kasdeya519]

100 NSFW Questions Ask Me!

Here’s 100 NSFW questions we’ve come up with. Send in some numbers and you get your answer.

1. First kiss?

2. First time masturbating?

3. First sex toy?

4. First kink tried?

5. First time doing oral?

6. First time having sex?

Turn Ons

7. Biggest turn on?

8. Biggest turn off?

9. Quickest way to get horny?

10. Weirdest thing that ever turned you on?

11. What’s the most attractive part of the body?

12. Top 3 places to be touched?

13. Ultimate fantasy?

14. Do you like the idea of a three or moresome?

15. Do you send nudes? Do you like receiving them?

Preferences

16. How much kissing do you like during sex?

17. Sex or masturbation?

18. Spit or swallow?

19. Cut or uncut dicks?

20. Rough or sensual sex?

21. Oldest person you’d sleep with?

22. Loud or quiet partners?

23. How much foreplay do you like?

24. How much teasing do you like?

25. What is too big for you to take?

26. Do you do hookups or only sleep with a partner?

Location

27. Favourite place to have sex?

28. Would you have sex in public?

29. Last place you had sex?

30. Where would you most like to have sex?

31. Do you like spontaneous sex, or do you need to be in the mood?

32. Could you go through with a hookup at a strangers house?

Kinks

33. What’s your biggest kink?

34. What’s your limit?

35. Are you okay with name calling in bed?

36. Would you do any BDSM?

37. Do you prefer to tie somebody up or be tied up?

38. Favourite type of bondage?

39. Do you like orgasm denial/forced orgasm?

40. Do you like overstimulation?

41. Do you like having pain involved?

42. Do you like biting/being bitten?

43. Have you ever been made to/made somebody beg for it?

44. Do you have any strange or extreme kinks?

45. Have any roleplaying preferences?

46. Send a kink with this number. Do you have that kink?

Masturbation

47. Do you own sex toys? How many?

48. Favourite Sex Toy?

49. What do you masturbate to?

50. How often do you masturbate?

51. How often do you use sex toys to masturbate?

52. Do you masturbate with penetration?

53. Do you go for multiple rounds or settle at one or no orgasms?

Oral

54. Do you enjoy giving oral?

55. Do you prefer giving or receiving oral?

56. What makes you orgasm the fastest when receiving oral?

57. Do you have a preferred technique for giving oral?

58. Can you deepthroat?

For people with dicks… (you can answer these when you send an ask)

60. How long and how thick is it?

61. Do you do anal? Top or bottom?

62. Are you circumcised?

63. Do you like your balls being played with?

64. Do you enjoy prostate stimulation? Ever came from it?

65. Where do you like to finish?

For people with vaginas…

66. Do you like playing with your clit?

67. How do you prefer to do it?

68. What’s your breast size?

69. How often do you go braless?

70. Do you finger yourself?

71. How familiar are you with your g-spot?

72. Do you squirt?

Sex

73. Favourite position?

74. How often do you do unprotected sex?

75. How loud are you in bed?

76. Do you enjoy having nipples played with?

77. Do you like/dislike/love/hate cum?

78. How good are you at dirty talk?

79. Do you get sleepy after an orgasm?

Other

80. Do you like wearing/seeing people in lingerie?

81. Do you masturbate or have sex with clothes on?

82. What’s your favourite style of underwear?

83. Are stockings/thigh highs a turn on?

84. Ever had somebody say no to a kink you suggested trying?

85. Do you trim, shave or leave pubic hair untouched? How do you prefer partners?

86. How many orgasms can you have in a day?

87. How many other people know your dick/bra size?

88. What do you wear to bed?

89. Do you eat ass? Do you like having your ass eaten?

90. Try to describe how orgasm feels for you.

91. Have you ever been to a strip club? How was it? If not, would you?

Fun questions!

92. Do you name your genitalia?

93. What would be your stripper name?

94. Any funny sex stories?

95. What food if any would you use during sex?

96. Would you give somebody a sex toy as a gift?

97. What’s the weirdest porn you’ve ever seen?

98. Do you often get horny in public?

99. Ever used something that isn’t made for sex in the bedroom?

100. Have you ever walked in on somebody or been walked in on?