#Arm Sleeves With Thumb Holes

[armoraybasics]

All-Day Comfort: Armoray Arm Sleeves with Thumb Holes

In the world of activewear, finding the perfect balance between comfort, functionality, and style can be challenging. Armoray Arm Sleeves with Thumb Holes offer an innovative solution designed to meet these needs. Combining ergonomic design, high-quality materials, and practical features, these arm sleeves promise all-day comfort and enhanced performance for various activities.

Ergonomic Design for Optimal Comfort

One of the standout features of Armoray Arm Sleeves with Thumb Holes is their ergonomic design. The inclusion of thumb holes ensures that the sleeves stay securely in place, preventing them from riding up during movement. The thumb holes are carefully crafted to be comfortable, avoiding any tightness or irritation around the thumbs. This attention to detail ensures that the sleeves can be worn for extended periods without discomfort, making them ideal for long workouts, hikes, or even daily wear.

High-Quality, Breathable Materials

Armoray Arm Sleeves are made from premium, breathable materials that wick away moisture and keep the skin cool and dry. This feature is particularly beneficial during intense physical activities, as it helps regulate body temperature and prevents overheating. The fabric is also lightweight and stretchy, allowing for a full range of motion without feeling restrictive.

Versatility for Various Activities

The versatility of Armoray Arm Sleeves with Thumb Holes is another key advantage. These sleeves are suitable for a wide range of activities, including running, cycling, hiking, basketball, and even gardening. Their UV protection feature makes them particularly useful for outdoor enthusiasts who spend extended periods in the sun.

For athletes, the sleeves provide the necessary compression to support muscles and joints, reducing fatigue and enhancing endurance. The compression also aids in faster recovery post-exercise by improving blood circulation and reducing muscle soreness.

Style Meets Functionality

Armoray Arm Sleeves with Thumb Holes also offer a stylish solution for those who want to look good while staying protected. Available in various colors and designs, these sleeves can complement any athletic outfit, adding a touch of personal flair.

The sleek and modern design ensures that they can be seamlessly integrated into both casual and athletic wardrobes, making them a versatile accessory for different occasions.

A Commitment to Quality and Customer Satisfaction

Armoray is committed to delivering high-quality products that meet the needs of its customers. The Arm Sleeves with Thumb Holes are a testament to this commitment, offering a product that combines comfort, functionality, and style. Customer reviews consistently highlight the excellent fit, superior comfort, and durability of these sleeves, reinforcing Armoray’s reputation as a trusted brand in the activewear market.

Perfect for any activity, from intense workouts to casual outings. Stay protected and comfortable all day long with Armoray’s innovative design.

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[amaranthinespirit]

cowboy!simon riley and city girl!reader when your car breaks down on the side of the road in the countryside

you weren't from around here, it was obvious in the way you dressed, and acted. hell, even the car you drove just screamed that you were from the city.

though if that didn't give it away, maybe it was the fact that your tiny little car was now parked—broken down—on the side of the road. a hand on your hip and the other wiping the sweat from your forehead as the blistering sun beat down on you.

you were convinced you were royally fucked—that you would be stuck to a night in your car. there wasn't any service, and there sure as hell wasn't anyone around.

at least that's what you thought until a massive, dirtied truck pulled off the road in front of your car. you swallowed a knot in the back of your throat that only travelled down to your stomach as you watched a tall, intimidating guy step out from the battered vehicle. his boots kicked against the road, scraping the tiny, loose rocks on the asphalt.

a cowboy hat hung low on his head, a fully black bandana tied around his face that covered his nose and lips, leaving only his dark, daunting eyes to sear into yours. his thumb hooked through the denim belt loop of his jeans, his other arm swaying by his side as he walked to the front of your car, which looked pathetically small next to his.

a quick look under the hood told him all he needed to know—with you and the car. he saw the way your eyes seemed to linger on his exposed arms after he had rolled up his sleeves. the dirt smudges along his skin, the dark ink of his tattoo and the veins that strained as he tinkered through the different parts of your car.

he claimed that he could fix it tomorrow—he didn't have the tools with him! he claimed, but really, they were lying in the bed of his truck, but he didn't want to let such a pretty little thing like you go so quickly. he wanted to have a bit of fun first!

so he offered you a nice stay at his little farmhouse, with the promise of warm food and a comfortable bed to sleep on, and who were you to resist? it was either that, or sleep in the backseat of your car—and you knew which one you would've preferred.

"fuck, such a pretty little thing, ain't ya?" he praises with a beer in one hand, the other veined hand wrapped up in your silky hair, helping your body in pulling back into his cock. the couch creaked and rocked under the consistent shifting weight as he pistoned his hips forward.

the rocking of his hips was restrained in order to not spill his beer—otherwise he would've loved to completely wreck you on his meaty cock.

"gon' hafta keep ya around, ain't tha' right?" he grunted before taking a swift sip from the bottle.

when the beer got to the end of the bottle and he set the glass down, you were in trouble. with a swift movement, he had pulled out enough so only the angry tip of his cock teased your hole, slick with your arousal before driving his bulbous dick back into your sensitive pussy.

his hips pounded against your ass, turning your flesh red as the sound of skin slapping together carried through the house. his balls slapping against your glistening pussy with every slamming thrust, the sensation making your eyes roll back. he was determined to make a mess of you—more so than he already did.

his fist clenched harder around your hair as the other went to your shoulder, a bruising grip against your flesh. he growled at the mindless moans spilling from your lips, only making him even more driven to fuck you brainless.

and don't worry, he will.

[princessbrunette]

prisoner!rafe was finally, finally being released, and you just didn’t know what to do with yourself. you barely slept the night before, deep cleaning the house, re-choosing the perfect outfit, making snacks to lay out for him. you felt like your brain wasn’t even working anymore at this point, but what you did know — was that it was about damn time he came home.

you see him at the gate to tannyhill, dressed in the outfit he got locked up in and you feel like you’re dreaming. he’s filling his clothes out more than before, the grey long sleeve shirt now straining against his arms, chest and back — his thighs even seeming to push against the material of his khakis with each step. a million things are running through your head as he approaches, like what the first thing he wants to do might be.

maybe he’ll want to walk around, observe everything at tannyhill that you’ve moved around or adjusted to fit your comfort whilst he was gone. perhaps he’s starving, and you’ll be rushed into the kitchen to start an early dinner. rafe could be tired, and want to slump right down for a nap— or maybe rant about the last day he had locked up.

he’s suddenly infront of you and you’re frozen, staring up at him with big doe eyes before you grab eachother simultaneously, pulling one another in for a bone crushing hug. rafe grips your cheek, kissing you so violently that there’s spit and gloss all over your chin and teeth clash before he pulls away — eyes darting all over your face. what he says next confirms what he really wants to do first. moreso, who.

“yeah uh, take these fuckin’ clothes off before i rip ‘em off. alright?” it’s almost a threat, but you practically vibrate in excitement.

the two of you race inside, and by the time you’ve reached your bed you’re only wearing your skirt, panties and bra. you approach the bed excitedly, stomach bursting with butterflies but apparently it’s not quick enough for rafe’s liking because he effortlessly lifts you under the arms and tosses you onto the bed like you’re nothing, your squeal muffled into the pillow. he’s chasing you up the bed on his knees, and when you try to push yourself up by the hands to readjust yourself — rafe shoves you back down.

your skirt has ridden up to your waist, and when you helplessly glance over your shoulder from your arched position — rafes pulling his cock out all with one hand.

“look uh, i might… i might not last as long as i want to, alright i— i was locked up for a long time. my balls are god damn blue. i’ll… make it up to you.” he winces, slowly jerking himself as you lock eyes. rafe is careful not to overexcite himself.

your brows furrow, reaching back and peeling your panties to the side — revealing the soaked folds that have been waiting nearly a year just to feel him once more. “d’nt care rafey, want you to cum inside.” you whine, and he swears he nearly busts then and there.

“sssshiiiit.” he sighs out in a whisper, letting go of his own shaft to spread your glossy cunt with his thumb, appreciating the fat lips and tight holes. “bet you kept that shit so tight for me huh? holding out for your man n’shit, that right?”

“yes daddy. only want you inside.” you moan, arching harder for his viewing pleasure and he hums, his fat tip gracing your entrance.

“well you’re gonna get just that alright, hold on t’somethin’.”

knowing what he’s like, you scoop a pillow between your arms, hugging it close and sinking your teeth into the plush white. it had been too long, the stretch was going to be lethal.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Daddy/mama/brat etc…., overstimulation, breeding/creampie, riding, wall sex, full Nelson, mirror sex, praise/degradation, some mind break/dumbification, mention of a belly bulge (from satoru’s cum and cock), begging, possessive, size kink, squirting, knife play (no blood or cutting)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 my pussy ✨ / @unknownspecies @renhoeku @venus-xxoo

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Lining Kento up with your sensitive wet little hole. Losing your mind over how thick he is. Too big for your fingers to touch. “My hungry little cock sleeve missed me this much? Barely letting me take my clothes off before your licking the sweat off my cock and trying to take me in your soaking wet cunt.” Messaging your cheeks with his large rough warm hand. Holding your hip, slowly swiping his thumb in small circles.

You can’t get enough of how it feels to be touched by Kento Nanami. His touch is firm, gentle, warm, comforting and exhilarating. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you non stop daddy!” The pinch in his brow smoothes, a lazy smirk tugging on his slips.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, his thick fingers sinking in your hip’s squishy crease. Kento roughly sliding you down on his fat, veiny cock. “Who am I?” Roughly smacking your ass, once, twice, your cunt clenching on the third.

Firmly grabbing your hips, guiding your tight hot cunt on his cock. Sliding your hand down his rock hard, cheilsted chest. Sinking your nails into his abs when he flexes, the lines deepening. “Tell me or I'm stopping, who’s fucking your tight cunt into a sloppy mess?”

You whine, “Daaaadddy isss! Daddy’s fat cock is stretching my cunt out, reaching so deep. I can feel your veins pulse, the shape of your head, nnnn you’re so deep! Right there daddy please keep bouncing me on your cock! You’re so strong!” Wrapping your arms around Kento when he stands.

Softly tugging on his soft blond hair, scratching his freckled backside. “You’ve been such a beautiful house wife, it due time I make you a mama.” Your cunt throbs, fluttering around him at the thought.

Needing one arm to hold you up, he wraps grabs a handful of your hair. Pulling your head back, looking up into his beautiful face, relaxed in pussy drunken bliss. He croon, “Am I your big strong daddy? Does my beautiful mama love it when I fuck her like a slut?”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

You’re helpless in his firm grasp, your legs pinned by your sides by his muscular arms. Toji’s large hands are clasped behind your head forcing you to look into the vanity mirror. “Look at ya sloppy little cunt, it was so small now it's taking my monster cock like it’s made for it.”

His cock always looks too big to fit, yet your soft squishy cunt takes him perfectly every time. You’re split open in a perfect circle, your puffy lips dragging along his cock when he pulls out. His heavy balls bouncing with each thrusts memorizing.

He gruffily demands, “Who’s slut are are you?” Your cunt flutters around his cock, spasming, gushing thick cum. Squirting all over his bed, some of your slick trickling down soaking his cum filled balls.

His cock head hitting your already aching bruised cervix threatening to do deeper. Could he? Loudly moaning, “Daddy’s! I'm daddy’s slut! Please! Please cum!” He groans, his fat cock’s veins throbbing.

He glides his cock out, “Fuck! Ya daddy’s little slut huh? Keep talkin’ like that and ya gonna make me cum too quickly. N’ after I made sure to jerk off with your panties so I can last longer in your lil super soaker.” Effortlessly sitting up, easing you out of the full Nelson. Holding you up, lining his cock up, gliding himself into your soft, squishy cunt.

Curling your toes, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping. “Too much! Please don't stop wanna be a good girl for Daddy! Please! Cum! Daddy! Please! Cum daaaaadddy!” Attempting to wiggle off Toji’s thick cock, your attempts are a pathetic shifting of your hips.

Toji stands up, fucking his thick, veiny cock into you harder. “Damanding little brat, after I cum I’m taping a vibator to your clit so I can smoke n’ have a drink watchin’ you whine and cum till your lil cunt breaks.” Tightening his grasp on your thigh, grabbing your hair holding your head still.

“Watch daddy fuck his cunt into a gapping cum filled mess.” He groans, looking handsome balls deep in your cunt. His thick arms, broad chest, and muscular thighs, Toji is a massive beautiful man having his way with your cunt.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Tightening his grasp on your neck, pinning your thigh to the wall. Your other leg hooked around Satoru’s waist. “Dont even need to listen to you beg, your cunt is doing it for you. Hear how wet she is? Your little cunt keeps on cumming, soaking n’ gripping my cock.” Your cunt loudly squelches when he glides his long veiny cock in.

“Seems like no matter how much I cum my cock is keeping getting hard again. It’s all your fault. Sending me those sexy pictures and videos of you playing with yourself making my cock and balls ache.” Some of his thick cum is dripping out, your stomach’s bulge grows when he stuffs you with his cock.

Loosening his firm grasp on your neck, grabbing your other thigh. Pinning it and leaning back looking down watching slowly his thrusts down. He croons, “Aw I filled my your little cunt is too full of my cum, it's all dripping out no matter much I fucked it deeper!” He groans, it’s breathy ending in a needy whine.

Barely catching your breath, whimpering “Daddy please! I can't cum anymore!” Rapidly picking up speed with each hard thrust, till he’s moving faster than than the machine he’s gotten to watch you get fucked with.

Leaning in close, grabbing your chin, tilting your head back. His messy white hair falling into his beautiful sky blue eyes you swear have clouds in them. “Oh you can't? That’s too bad my poor little princess will have to keep taking Daddy’s cock in her broken little cunt anyway.” Roughly kissing you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tasting of sweets and your cunt.

Biting your lip, stopping when you cry, your cunt clenching his sensitive cock. You can feel his veins throbbings, he’s close but that doesn't mean he’s done. Tilting his head back, his beautiful neck covered in lipstick and red hickies he won’t cover.

His jaw drops, he drops his head, pressing his forehead to your’s. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck! You’re getting so tight! Mmmm you’re daddy’s little slut, my beautiful whore. Tell me who I am when I’m fucking your cunt into a sloppy mess.” Leaning back, stroking your clit with his thumb.

“You’re my-my! Nnnn!” You’re too cock drunk to get the words out. Whining, your cunt spamsing the intensity of your sore, sensitive cunt cumming for an unknownth time too much for you.

Satoru croons, “My my what? You said it? Whined it so beautifully it almost made me cum. You’re so fucking adorable, sexy, beautiful and needy, who else better to make me a daddy?”

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Holding a knife to your neck, fucking your your sloppy cunt like he hates you. Suguru’s harsh, quick thrust too intense for your poor sensitive cunt to take. Closing your eyes, “Daaaady nnnn you feelsooogood! You’re cock! Nnnnn you’re!! Ahh!! Daddy!!” He fucks you harder with every word you utter till you’re a whimpering mess.

Dragging the sharp knife’s tip down your neck, between your breasts. Slowly sliding it closer towards your nipple, grabbing your jaw. “I need you to look your daddy in the eyes beautiful, it gets me off seeing the sexy look on your pretty face when you cum, let me see you cum for the tenth time.” You’re so close.

His pierced tongue, his thick fingers and his beautiful fat cock have spoiled you. Swiping the cool knife over your sensitive nipple. “Ahhhnnn dadddy.” You can feel the strong vibrations of your butt plug in your cunt.

His thick, being cock stroking all the right spots. “Squirt on Daddy’s cock.” Gushing on Suguru’s thick cock, soaking his balls hitting your ass. Slick trickling down to the toy pulsing in your other hole. He relentlessly, fucking you through your intense high.

Your mind shattering, eyes rolling back. Suguru groans, “That’s it! Good lil’ cock slut!” His smirking, groaning he knows how beautiful he is.

Holding his long, luscious hair back, thick longs framing his beautiful, angular face. A hungry, cocky smirk on his parted lips, the pink flush of his cheeks. And the loving passion in his warm honey brown eyes.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, stopping your pitiful attempt to run away from Suguru’s cock. “Where you going? Daddy isn't done with you yet, you got me hard for another round now ya gotta be a good girl n’ take it.” Setting the knife aside, grabbing your hair leaning down.

He’s too tall forcing you to look up. Using his weight and his firm grasp on your hip to keep you pinned beneath him. Legs spread for him to beat up your sloppy cunt with his hard cock. You can't believe he is all your’s.

“Nnn I can take it, wanna take daddy’s fat cock, wanna be filled with your warm cum. Please daddy, you didn't fill me up last time. N’ I've been good! Wanna! Wanna feel you cum, please!” Letting his hair go, swiping it to one side to make a thick curtain.

“That’s why you’re daddy’s good girl huh? Nnnnfuckmamafuck tell me who’s gonna make a beautiful mama.” His thick veins pulsing he’s so close.

Oreo creampie m.list

[alchemistc]

Donato spots it first - Tommy's been fidgeting with the just-too-short sleeves of his shirt for the past ten minutes, fingers curling into the ends of the arms, thumb sliding along the hem like maybe he could make them long enough to fully cover his wrists just by thinking really hard about it. It's stretched tight across his shoulders, the neck hole feels too high, biting into his skin, and Tommy is absolutely certain it's been hemmed in at the fucking waist, because he can barely keep the damn thing tucked into his pants.

(The cost of having those fucking magnificent gazelle legs is apparently torso space.)

"You shrink your shirt in the wash again, Kinard?"

Tommy's been begging their vendor to switch to a jersey blend for years because 100% cotton undershirts are a goddamn bitch and a half to maintain.

Tommy thinks about ignoring the question entirely. They've been razzing him for weeks about the way every single smile line in his face has been putting in overtime lately.

And then she gets a closer look at it. The merch is usually the same cross-department, but every once in a while some probie will get stuck with the task of ordering a few extras to have as backups around the station and they'll go a little too hard on customization. Like, for example, the one he'd picked off the top of his clean laundry basket without looking in his rush out the door this morning.

Lucy's eyes narrow. She reaches forward, pinches the 118 emblem blazing across the breadth of his shoulder, takes in the color and sturdiness of a shirt he definitely can't play off as being old enough to have been from his own time at the One Eighteen.

Donato grimaces so mockingly Tommy nearly warns her that her face'll get stuck like that. "Christ, Kinard, how fucking domestic are you two?"

(Three days off together after a week of getting by with random texts, their schedules nearly opposite, and when Evan had stared at his overnight bag on day two and realized he didn't have any spare undershirts he'd pouted up a storm about the fact that if he had to go back to his place it didn't make a lick of sense to turn right back around to Tommy's, so Tommy had just thrown Evan's dirty undershirt in with the rest of his own laundry. And then prompted Evan to throw all his other stuff in the wash too. Halfway across the city, Evan is definitely rolling too-long sleeves over his palm with the tips of his fingers and Tommy does not have time to think about how much he likes the idea of that )

"He doesn't even know my how I take my coffee," Tommy snipes, like that avoids the question, and across the locker room Johnson slams his locker shut with a snort.

"Because you've been using his increasingly more desperate attempts to figure it out as some weird intricate mating ritual for three months now."

"It's about --."

"--the journey, not the destination," they both interrupt, eyes rolling, and Tommy doesn't bother to try to hide the grin in his face.

"He just wants to get it right so bad."

Donato's face is unimpressed. "Ugh. Can you please stop being so smitten right in front of me? I'm gonna throw up."

Tommy leans in for the kill. "Your wife ever buy you flowers, Johnson? Because I've been trying to decide how much thought went into the arrangement he brought me on Saturday, and I figure -." He dodges the palm Johnson extends towards his face with a bark of bright laughter.

---

Evan 2:15 PM

Boyfriend privileges are a SCAM

Evan 2:15 PM

Why is YOUR NAME on the back of this shirt? There's no way that's standard

Evan 2:16 PM

Chimney's being homophobic

Evan 2:19 PM

Nvm Gerrard saw it and now I'm just sad he didn't actually have a heart attack about it

[lovegasmic]

heyyy so what do you think of afab reader who is a prostitue x mafia boss sugar daddy pookie pookie bby sukuna (wow that was a mouthful) ty! (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

mdni. no pronouns!, daddy kink, size kink, he just uses his hand to keep you upwards ( no choking ) ( during → ) mirror sx, suku has tattoos hell yeah, there's actually some character development here I'm proud ( from being a dick to not so much )( he's so in love ), n he's low-key possessive<3

Sukuna’s daily visits to the city’s most luxury club —under his possession of course— wasn’t something new, with pretty girls perched on each one of his sides, tiny dresses and way too over-touching hands. he didn’t mind them though, neither he gave a fuck about them, the only thing Sukuna felt was amusement, amusement of allowing each girl to think they had a chance with him.

the sleeve tattoo on his right arm peeks from under a perfectly fit cuff, adorned by a golden watch that glimmers under the golden light as he leans forward to take a sip of his whiskey, a soft click of his tongue and a swirl of his finger is enough for his bodyguards to take said girls out, an endless rotation in which you took part.

but you’re not his favorite, —or at least, that’s what he told himself— no, Sukuna doesn’t partake in favoritism, if his guards escorted you to his private suite more times than they would to any other girl, who never lasts inside the room longer than 10 minutes, no one will admit it. it’s an inside gossip, they say the boss is in love, Sukuna admits he’s in love with the tight squeeze of your cunt, in love with the pretty moans you let out, with how eager you are to please his most wicked desires, he wants to keep you to himself, to adorn you with the most expensive jewelry, but certainly that’s not love, right?

the necklace he chose definitely compliments the beauty of your skin, and jingles oh so prettily when he’s pounding into you from behind, “aw, look at you” he mutters in your ear, almost imperceptively due to the loud sticky sound of his heavy balls smacking against clit, one of his hands rests on your neck, arms flexing and muscles bulging under the dark ink of his intrinsic tattoos, making you watch your own fucked out image in the golden rimmed mirror, clenching and keening at the sight of his large hand holding your dainty neck, “i knew this color would suit you” he smirks, meeting your eyes through the reflection for you to mewl.

your vision almost blurs from the intensity of Sukuna’s merciless thrusts, forcing your body to jolt up and down at the same time his back and thighs muscles clench at the way your cunt sucks on his cock, so tight it’s imposible for him not to make a mess right underneath your meeting bodies.

“say ‘thank you, daddy’” Sukuna urges, switching his thumb to resting on your collarbone to parting your lips slightly, rubbing on your tongue and inner cheeks.

“t-thank you... ah, daddy! ngh!” you manage to moan through whimpers, by this point your eyes are filled with tears, unable to see the lewd sight in front of you properly, yet Sukuna forces your eyes to remain still.

a slight change of angle in his hips and the man is able to see how your face contorts from pleasure, fucking you hard with soft ‘ah, ah’ s coming from your puffy lips. “that’s right, baby, only daddy gets to see you this ruined, only daddy can fuck your tight cunt” Sukuna grunts on your neck, cock bullying your tiny pussy at the same speed one of his thumbs rubs on your clit, urging your orgasm to coat hil whole.

“m’ cumming!” you get to squeal, earning a chuckle from him at the way your walls clamp around his cock, pulling him impossibly deeper as he continues to fuck his fat cock into your spasming cunt, allowing his eyes to travel through the expanse of your trembling body and slick oozing from your hole, making a puddle on the sheets right underneath your thighs.

Sukuna’s orgasm doesn’t take long in arriving, with a huffed “you’re fuckin’ mine” and making sure to be buried as deep into your pussy before filling the condom with his cum, maybe he’ll give his darling a creampie later on, for now, you’ll have to conform yourself with daddy’s black card.

he still won’t admit you’re his favorite, the girls are long gone and now it’s just you, sitting prettily on his lap with a strong arm around your waist, a smirk no one has ever seen before is now present on his face, but don’t get him wrong, Sukuna is still as ruthless and cruel as ever, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little more space in his heart for you.

[okwonyo]

（ 标题 ） BILLIARD LESSON.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀ he is willing to do anything as long as you ask.

( 엔하이픈 성훈 ) ୨୧ f .. r 700 fluff established relationship ── kissing skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

jiah says ⠀⦂ ⠀a quick something i wrote because i am very happy today ><

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

“you look like you need some help.”

you can’t contain the smile spreading on your lips as you eyes wend to the man’s face. his belt wrapped around his tiny waist and his jeans that go well with it, his shirt and his leather jacket, and that smirk plastered on his angelic face.

he states as if he just realized it. as if he wasn’t the one who dragged you to that game despite your protests and affirmations that you weren’t good at it. you knew from the moment he started to play that he knew exactly what he was doing.

still, you play the game.

you plant the bottom of the billiard cue on the floor, holding it with your two hands like they do in the movies, “show me?”

in lieu of a proper answer to your offer, sunghoon leans his billiard cue on the tabe and makes the said furniture hold it before he begins to walk your way.

your eyes follow as he walks around the table to finally be close to you.

the sight of him taking his jacket off and yanking it on the first chair in his way sends shivers down your spine. but, the sensation is nothing compared to the warmth that fills your whole being when he rolls up his sleeves, showing off his strong hands and forearms.

your heart starts to beat in your chest when he slides behind you. pressed against and close to you, the weight of his body is almost felt on yours. fingers curling around the billiard cue tighter, you mentally beg your knees to give up.

leaning in, mouth next to your ear, he finally answers, “all you had to do was ask.”

then your mind goes completely blank. the echoes of his words only resonating in your empty-like head. his hot breath against your skin and the weight of his deep on your stomach— the tons of butterflies it made hatch out of their cocoon.

all you had to do was ask.

the electric shock of his hands finding your hips makes you grasp a bit of reality.

he pulls you closer to him before making you both walk closer to the game’s table. one of his hands finds your shoulder before sliding down your arm and wrapping itself around your wrist, putting your hand on the green tissue.

he leans forward, resting his entire upper body on your back and making you bend over the table in full ninety nine degrees. his iris meeting your orbs as he does so. his palm on the back of your hand. his chin next to your shoulder and his breathing sinking down to your core. the thumb of his free hand rubs against the spot it is positioned on.

all you had to do was ask.

you wonder, if you asked, would he kiss your shoulder. you imagine him ditching the game and holding your waist as he slowly approaches his lips to your neck. you can imagine him kissing your cheek, each kiss getting wetter and lingering more as he approached from your mouth. you can imagine him turning you around easily and finally—

the sound of a ball being hit by another one and falling in a hole drags you out of your daydreaming.

sunghoon’s turns his head to you with a proud smile that you can only try to return with confused look, was it you who did that?

the man’s weight on you is already missed when he goes back to a normal position. you face him, head tilted up in the slightest because of the proximity. he looks down on you and is so pretty.

and because all you have to do is ask, you do: “kiss me,” although it comes out more like an order than a question, he supplies without thinking. like always.

he kisses you breathless. with his hand on the back of your head and the other on the table, steadying the both of you. he kisses you as he leans back up, so you are on your tiptoes and tries to sit on the table.

he kisses you like he knows you have been fighting the urge to do so. he kisses you hot and tender and loving. he kisses you the way you like. he kisses you the way you want to be kissed because all you have is to ask and he will do anything.

and when the kiss is broken, when you are both gasping for air and slowly getting your senses back; you can tell he was waiting for that.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[heartkaji]

WINBRE BOYS + THIRSTY TWEETS !

inc : sakura haruka, suo hayato , ren kaji, togame jo contains explicit language + celeb au

SAKURA HARUKA !

“ume’s left ballsack says : do you think sakura’s pubes are white or black or are they divided into both like his hair ?”

kill sakura now.

he’s a red cheeked mess of sweat & nervous system shivers. he’s practically hyperventilating as you laugh beside him, melting into a puddle of molten blush cheeks & ultraviolet bone. he shakes at a frequency not unlike ultrasound.

“oh my fucking god sakura—well ? what do you have to say to the fans ?”

you elbow the quivering boy. if you were any less of the devil you are you’d forcefully refuse the question or at least answer it in his place—you did know the truth firsthand after all. but you’re the serpent in the garden & seeing sakura squirm is like an apple down your throat. sakura is still blinking eyes & flushing nose & palms bleeding sweat bullets so you’ve had to grab the phone from his hands in fear it might fall from the way they quake & quiver.

“ what the fuck kind of question is this ? where are your parents ? guardians—?”

“baby, that question could apply to you too.”

“shut up !”

SUO HAYATO !

“slut4suo69 says : i need to know what’s under suo’s eyepatch. is he blind ? does he have some cool sexy scar ? does he have no eye at all ? not that i care. i’d fuck the shit out of his empty eye socket — three holes are better than two !”

“oh.”

you burst out laughing. this is the first time you’ve seen dagger mouthed suo hayato speechless. his mouth is hung agape as he seizes the phone from your hands & reads the tweet over & over again as if it’ll cause the digital ink to melt off & fly away. each time he reads his mouth gets drier & you swear you can see blisters bruling on his tongue.

“this is the most vulgar thing i’ve ever seen.”

“so true ! now answer it.”

you tuck your hair & dip your head over suo’s shoulders to get one last look at the tweet before facing the camera.

“though i can’t match your freak with the whole eye fucking thing, i too, slut4suo69, would absolutely love to know what’s under my boyfriend’s eyepatch.” you bat your lashes at the bedazzled brunette & loop an arm around his elbow. “the fans & i wanna know, suo. do tell.”

“i’m pretty sure i’ve told you this before, angel—“

“aht aht ! no thousand year old dragon bullshit, hayato. we promised to answer all the questions truthfully, remember ?”

suo heaves a sigh, breath heavy & chest tight as you rest your head on his arm. his thumb traces lazy swirls & zig zags over your knuckles.

“i see. if the fans wanna know, who am i to refuse, hm?”

REN KAJI !

“isagi solos your fave says : i need kaji to suck me the way he sucks his lollipops. hear me out y’all—his tongue swirling over your clit, teeth grazing your folds as he—“

“aight that’s enough,”

you giggle as kaji pulls out the phone between your palms. you reach over his lap for it, pathetic attempts to grab the device from his hands while kaji raises it higher & higher. his palm burns against your stomach to keep you away.

“i fucking hate the internet, bro. don’t y’all have hobbies ? friends ? occupations ?”

you’re giggling & snorting as kaji cusses out the camera. “and i swear, word to my mother that whoever wrote this is is like, twelve. what in the wattpad is this ?”

kaji pulls out the cherry red sucker resting in his cheek. “this shit don’t even taste sweet anymore, man.” he flings the candy angrily into a silver can sitting across the set.

you bury your head in the sleeve of his jacket, a red nosed, puffy faced mess of sweltering eyes & plum heavy cheeks. your snorts are muffled in the linen of his sleeves. “heaven knows i love my fans but fuck, i cannot wait for some of you to rot in hell.”

“god ren,” you clap your hands in between teary eyed giggles. “i’m trying to breathe baby please stop..!”

“fuck no. you horny bitches need to be euthanized. eradicated. like hello ? is this what our lord and savior jesus christ died for ? are these the kind of sins he repeatedly has to forgive ? he’s better than me for real cuz i can’t take this anymore.”

kaji walks off the set but you’re too busy wiping tears & sniffling nose to follow. “somebody ! tell him to come back..!”

TOGAME JO !

“kubzscouts is my wifey says : fellas is it gay to want togame jo to slide into you slowly, teasing your entrance with light strokes as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear like ‘you can take it baby, that’s a good girl’ as his big fat coochie crusher69 slips into—jo i don’t want to read this anymore.”

you look up at him with pretty peach painted lips bent into a pout. his palm stops teasing at your thigh momentarily before picking up again, “m’ not quite sure i want you to read it either, pretty.”

you report the account without even waiting for togame’s approval. he cracks a smile when he notices your cherry drenched cheeks & red dyed ears.

“someone seems jealous.”

“and i know that someone isn’t me jo, so which of your other a-b-c-d looking ass bitches are you talking about ?”

togame whistles playfully, palms trailing further up your thigh. his touch is a ghost burying your nerves in sap & soil. you pretend your skin doesn’t ache from the way he draws hearts on your knee.

“now, now. i think we both know i’m a loyal man, yeah ?”

“who’s we ? kubzscouts over here is describing bedroom you with awful precision.”

he lets out a boyish laugh. “she missed a few things, though. don’t i always kiss it first ?”

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[ikarakie]

the first time wayne meets steve is actually far before the events of '86. in fact, it's in winter of '85.

he's on his way back from work when he pops a tire. he's pissed off, it's cold, still dark, and the beginnings of fucking snow are falling around him, and he doesn't have a spare. the nearest payphone is probably three miles walk, and he's just readying himself to make the journey when, miraculously, a pair of headlights turn onto the back road.

the car slows to a stop behind wayne's, and he's struck by how fucking nice it is. a brown bmw 733i, one he thinks he's seen around a couple times. when the driver steps out, he realises that, yes, he has seen this car. because the boy behind the wheel is the harrington boy, and wayne curses every god out there.

he expects some snark. a good attitude and for the kid to make him grovel for help or outright deny any assistance. instead, he approaches with these wide bambi eyes, the absolute picture of concern.

"are you alright, sir?" he asks, perfectly polite. wayne huffs.

"popped a tire, ain't got a spare." he doesn't- doesn't know why he's telling him. really doesn't. but something about the kid makes him falter, makes his steely exterior give way ever so slightly. the boy crouches down to the tire in question, frowning as he inspects it. then nods, grinning. he says nothing to wayne as he heads back to his car, and for moment he thinks the kid's gonna leave him in the dirt. but, instead, he pops the trunk and hauls out a spare, rolls it over to the car.

wayne only watches, fascinated, as he jogs back to retrieve a little set of tools. sits his ass by his tire and starts going at it. he's in a thin, short sleeved tshirt and jeans. he must be fucking freezing- wayne is, and he's got a thick coat, gloves and a hat on.

"what're you doin', boy?" he asks, unable to sound anything but bewildered. the kid blinks at him.

"changing your tire, sir?"

"i ain't got anything to pay you back with." wayne warns, wary. the kid shrugs, continues his task.

"that's okay, i wasn't going to ask you to." he pulls the popped tire off and lays it by his side. "it's just a good thing we have the same size, huh?" he grins, a little shy. wayne has never felt so thrown off in his life.

was this really james and cynthia harrington's boy? would someone of those people's blood really sit in the cold to change a strangers tire? expecting nothing in return? "where's your layers, kid? it's cold as ass out here, you'll catch a chill."

"oh, i gave it to my friend." seriously? seriously? "i'm alright sir, not to worry." he says this despite his red cheeks and reddening knuckles.

he finishes fitting the tire a second or two later, and once he's inspected it, gives wayne an endearingly dorky thumbs up. it reminds him of eddie in all the best ways. "all done, sir!" he collects up all his tools and threads an arm through the hole of the tire, balancing it on his shoulder. "i'll take this for you, i have to drive by the junkyard anyways." he doesn't. wayne knows the harrington's live in loch nora, and that's the opposite goddamn direction.

"you really a harrington?" he asks, not missing the confusion and maybe even slight disappointment he's met with. "just- no offence, son, but i always thought they were nothin' but bad." he deflates even more, if possible. "how did they raise such a kind boy?"

it's such a sudden change, how quickly he's smiling, bright enough to light the damn road if he wanted. it's all bashful and excited, it makes wayne wonder if he's never heard a good word about himself in his life, which seems insane.

"i still got a bit of an asshole gene," he jokes, a little dry, "but i'm trying to be better, you know?" he motions to the tire. "if you can help, why shouldn't you?"

wayne wants to squeeze him, but refrains. thanks him a couple times over and forces the boy to take his hat before he goes, (despite his complaints). harrington bids him farewell and a safe drive home, and he's driving off before either realise they never learnt each other's names.

(wayne finds his out later, though, when eddie meets him at the door, worried that he's late. only after he's walked his nephew through the story three times and sworn up and down, yes, it was true, and yes, it was definitely harrington. steve harrington.

when they meet again after '86, in eddie's hospital room, that boy from all that time ago holding his nephew's hand, he does give him that hug. thanks him, for both this time and the last.

steve wears the hat in winter of '86. it makes wayne smile.)

[shalomniscient]

ohhhhh maiqo the artist that you are………….. [nsft utc—]

cw. strap ons, mentions of fingering and a blow job, size kink kinda

boss form arle and her stupidly big strap, lounging back on her burning throne, legs spread wide with hardly a care. her dark eyes watch you carefully as you approach her, dolled up in delicate lace, a lamb to slaughter. she sees the hesitance in your eyes, and she coos at you, beckoning you forward with a clawed hand.

“come now, pretty little thing,” she says, deceptively gentle, “no need to be scared.”

you swallow, but obey her command nonetheless, stepping forward until you stand between her thighs, and the tip of the strap touches your own. it’s warm to the touch. arlecchino’s hands find the plush of your legs, squeezing lightly, then tugging you into her lap. your knees go on either side of her hips, the length of her strap now resting along your clothed slit.

you shudder at the dull pressure, hands finding her shoulders for support. arlecchino kisses your temple and then, with her hands on your hips, makes you grind against the length of her cock. breathless little noises spill from your lips at the friction on your clit and the pleasure starting to buzz through your veins. sometimes she’ll pull you up a little higher, high enough that the tip of her strap bumps against your clothed entrance, making the ruined fabric of your panties stick even more to your pussy as you gasp.

“arle—“ you whine, but she shushes you with a kiss.

“patience, sweet thing. i need to ensure you’re ready—i want you to cum on my cock, not break on it.”

her words alone make you shudder, imagining what it’d be like to finally be filled completely by her. she makes you cum twice first—the first by just grinding on her dick, and the second on her fingers (with her claws retracted, of course). she finished up with making you clean her strap with your tongue, smearing your own cum across your lips as you licked along the red shaft and suckled on the tip.

once she’s finally satisfied, she hoists you back up to your feet and onto her lap. her hands make quick work of your underwear, shredding it off and throwing it off to the side somewhere. she grips your hips like a vise, positioning your bare, slick cunt over the tip of her strap and delighting in the way you whine. your fingers dig into the fabric of her sleeves, so much so she can feel the indent of your nails in the muscles of her arms.

“relax,” she hums, and then slowly lowers you down onto her cock. your breath hitches as just the tip pushes into your tight hole, stretching you out, and promising more to come. slowly, you take her inch by inch as her hands on your hips push you down. your eyes nearly roll back into your head at the sensation of being gradually filled, of having your innermost walls being forced open by something so deliciously big. you take her about halfway before you’re panting and scrabbling at her shoulders, choked little gasps spilling form your lips. even breathing in feels difficult with the way she feels like she’s taking up so much space inside you.

“almost there, sweet thing,” arlecchino murmurs, opting to use one hand to soothingly stroke up and down your back. her eyes are completely trained on your cunt as it spreads around her cock, transfixed by the way your abdomen twitched with each inch she sinks into you. not to mention the bulge forming in your cute little tummy that she can’t wait to press down on as she fucks you.

you whimper as she guides more of her dick inside you, her thumb rubbing lazy circles on your clit to get you to relax more. finally, finally your hips fall flush to hers, and you practically topple onto her at the feeling of being so full. you can feel each ridge and vein on her artificial cock as it presses against your walls, almost like molding you to its shape. arlecchino exhales roughly, near dizzy with the knowledge she’s all the way inside you, that you’ve managed to take all of her frankly ridiculous size in your cute cunt.

“good girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and raspy. she plants a burning kiss on your neck, and revels in the way your entire body shudders. a dangerous little smile tugs at her lips as she takes your jaw in one hand and makes you meet her eyes, her dark ones against your glossy, near-fucked out ones even when she hasn’t done anything.

well. not yet. she intends to reward you very well in a few moments—such is the recourse for good girls, is it not?

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: All of the distractions in the world couldn't keep you from worrying about the potential fallout from your web of untruths--until a bigger issue arose. (5.5k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, brief religious zealotry, insecurities, secret relationship, public displays of affection, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: This chapter contains a scene I had imagined in my head and became the catalyst for this series--what would happen if Eddie encountered one of the NYC street preachers?

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter thirteen: street smarts

You were supposed to be doing something. Checking the guest log, organizing the bills by due date, making a list of repairs that still needed to be made…something. Anything besides just standing behind the desk, watching Eddie’s biceps flex as he hauled the overfilled trash bag out to the Dumpster. 

At this point, it was all busy work. Taking out the garbage, changing light bulbs, dusting furniture…all scraps of chores to keep him here. The moment he felt like he was being pitied—or worse, like he was being a burden—he’d leave. His pride was too strong and too loud to allow him to stay if he wasn’t working, even if that work was as interesting as watching paint dry. 

That’s what it was. 

“I need you to spackle a hole in Room 9,” you told him as he walked back into the lobby. “The guy staying here last night punched the wall, and it looks like he won.”

Eddie grimaced, flexing his own hand like he could feel the man’s pain. “Jesus. Yeah, sure.” He slid a rubber band off of his wrist and tied back his hair. The sleeves of his t-shirt had been cut into a tank top, though you weren’t sure if he’d done it or the shirt had been designed that way. “Where do you keep the spackle?”

You jabbed your thumb towards the supply closet behind you. Eddie started in that direction, but made an abrupt turn towards you. His arms snaked around your waist, his lips easily finding the crook of your neck. 

Instinctively, your shoulder jerked upwards, protecting you from any further tickling, but Eddie only doubled down. His kisses became less of a whisper and more of a shout, each punctuated with a smacking mwah!

“Ed-die!” Your giggles broke his name into its syllables. “Quit it!”

He paused for a moment and pretended to consider your plea before continuing his barrage of kisses. “Hmm, don’t think I will.” His words were muffled, the vibrations sending tingles through your bloodstream. “What’re you doing after your shift?”

You scoffed. “Um, curling up under the covers and passing out?”

“What if…” He moved his lips to the back of your neck. “You curled up under my covers?”

The suggestion garnered a dual sensation of desire and dread. You wanted that more than anything: the intimacy of laying next to him, his body curled around yours, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sleep. The first night he was here, he wore only boxer briefs. If you slept beside him, would he wear more? Less? If he awoke with that natural, involuntary stiffness between his legs, would you feel it?

But then, despite everything within you leaning towards being with Eddie, reality set in. Your room was the closest to the lobby; how could you possibly skip over it without Dad noticing? Even if he didn’t notice, how could you sneak out of Eddie’s room without Mom seeing? Dad might be oblivious in the way that fathers so often are, but Mom was like a hawk. She could probably sense that you were considering disobeying her orders to keep away from Eddie.

“I’d have to sneak through your window. And then sneak back through my own window in the morning,” you mused. 

“Or,” Eddie countered, spinning you around so you were facing him, “you could tell your parents that you couldn’t resist the cute handyman’s charming advances.”

His brown eyes gleamed with mischief as his hands dipped lower, squeezing your ass through your jeans. It took all of your willpower not to change the sign to read “NO VACANCY”—despite your many empty rooms—and drag him into his bed by the worn collar of his t-shirt. 

“I will.” You wrinkled your nose. “Well, maybe not in those exact terms, but I will tell them we’re…y’know.”

Eddie took a small step back and crossed his arms. “We’re…what?” His tone was somewhere between perplexed and demanding, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t define the relationship while also hoping you would define it for him.

You had no idea what the answer was. ‘Friends’ was far too casual for two people who had been sucking face in the middle of Flushing Meadows Park just last week. ‘Dating’ seemed too formal for only having been on two dates, the first of which hadn’t even been officially stated as a date from the onset. ‘Fooling around in the laundry room every chance we get’ was more accurate, if not a little wordy.

“We’re getting to know each other. Intimately.” You added that last word in an attempt to show him just how much you cared about him. Whatever relationship limbo you two were in would only be temporary. 

“Hmm.” A smirk tugged at Eddie’s lips. “Just how intimately are we talking here?” He tucked his forefinger into your belt loop and pulled you towards him, so close that you could feel his belt buckle through your shirt. 

Glancing around to ensure no one was walking by, you pressed a small kiss to his lips. “I’m gonna tell them. I promise. Just give me a little time.”

Your heart ached when his shoulders slumped. You wanted to fix it all now, to face your anxiety head-on and tell your parents about Eddie. Tell them that you were together and that it could be something serious—without holding your breath for their approval. 

But then there was that knife twisting in your gut, the one that echoed the same statements time and time again: 

You’re a bad daughter You’re disappointing them You’re negating every sacrifice they’ve made

But now a new one joined them, just as unwelcome as the others:

You’re going to lose Eddie if you keep being a coward. 

Eddie held your gaze for another beat before he broke it. His head tilted to the side, a slight pout forming on his lips. “Well, if you promise…” In one swift motion, he swooped in and kissed your cheek. When he pulled back, you wrapped your arms around his lithe waist and drew him back in. “Is that a yes for sneaking through my window?”

You gave him a gentle, playful shove and rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fluttering butterflies that came with the idea. “Go spackle the wall.”

“Yes, dear.” He started towards the supply closet once more, calling out over his shoulder, “what time are we leaving for that college thing tomorrow?”

Everything he said and everything he did encroached closer and closer into relationship territory. Going to Admitted Students’ Day with you was something a boyfriend would do. 

But he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend—not that it would make much of a difference. It wasn’t as though a label would suddenly afford you the freedom to show off your relationship. Besides your parents’ disapproval, that pesky news story about Death’s Echo’s new lead singer kept nagging at you. You technically had information about Eddie’s life that even he didn’t know, and you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. 

“Noon at the latest.” You tried swallowing the lump in your throat, but it stayed put, so you just spoke above it. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know school isn’t really your thing, so…”

Eddie poked his head out from the closet. “Noon it is.” When he emerged, he held the small spackle bucket and a wide putty knife. “By the way, I won’t, like, break out into hives or burst into flames if I go to a school.”

“I know.” Your body relaxed as his humor snaked through the crevices of your anxiety. “And I really do want to tell them about everything. About us, about NYU. It’s just…”

Goddamn the mist clouding your eyes. It was shameful, really, the pity party you were throwing for yourself. But how could you approach your parents and say, “Hey, by the way, I’m dating our de facto handyman. But don’t worry about the relationship affecting the business, because we’ll have to close the motel once I start graduate school in two months anyway. Also, I’m studying social work, not hospitality. Surprise!”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was soft, his thumb swiping over tears that fell despite your efforts to hold them back. “Look, if you don’t want me to go, just tell me.”

You shook your head. “I want you to go.” To emphasize your point, you kissed his cheek. The beginnings of stubble tickled your lips. “We can make a day of it. Grab some lunch or something.”

Eddie didn’t look wholly convinced, but he managed a smile. “And then I get to show off how smart you are.”

There was no point in arguing that everyone at Admitted Students’ Day was just as smart as you, if not smarter. Instead, you watched as he padded towards room nine. 

What you wouldn’t give to cave to your desires and climb into his bed beside him. Whether you fell asleep immediately or spent the entire time with him firmly buried inside you was practically irrelevant. You were tempted to follow him right now and have sex with him in the vacant room.

But you didn’t want your first time together to be something you rushed through. Maybe it wouldn’t be the rose petals and naked guitar playing scenario that Ben and Nora had teasingly suggested, but you didn’t want to do it just to “get it over with.” 

So you stayed put, drumming your fingers against the desk’s wood paneling, trying to ignore the heat pooling between your thighs. Someday, you promised yourself, Eddie would be the one to quell that need.

You left your room at noon the next day, armed with a smile and an alibi. Your usual excuse of running errands wouldn’t explain why you were wearing a black button-down dress and your Mary Jane heels. 

The door to Eddie’s room creaked open as you passed by. Without wasting a moment, one tattooed arm darted through the gap and pulled you inside. 

“Eddie!” You hissed at him, bringing one hand to your chest as your heart rate soared. 

His lips were on yours before you could ask why he felt the urge to spike your already sky-high anxiety. Like a miracle elixir, the kiss blunted the day’s sharpness and turned your racing thoughts into drifting clouds. 

Your hands found his biceps, fully on display in the t-shirt that had been altered to be a makeshift tank top. The same one, you realized, he’d been wearing last night. The pads of your fingertips were met with resistance at the muscle that was even more defined than it had been a month ago. 

“Just needed to do that before we left.” His palms smoothed down the back of your dress, lingering for an extra moment on your ass. “Ready to go?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nodded. All of the air had been knocked from your lungs; from the scare or from the kiss, you were still unsure. 

Eddie’s fingers brushed yours as the two of you left his room in a silent plea to hold your hand. You wanted to accept the offer, to proudly display your affection for him. You wanted it more than anything, so much so that you almost let your guard down. Almost took his hand in yours and paraded out into the lobby without a care in the world, subtly announcing that you were his and he was yours.

Almost.

A pang of anger flashed in your chest; not at the situation, but at Eddie himself. He knew you hadn’t told your parents yet. He knew you would face some consequences for dating a motel guest and for sneaking around behind their backs, especially if you brazenly flaunted the relationship without any notice.

Eddie huffed at your rejection. “Oh, right.” Was that disappointment or frustration? Or some lethal combination of both?

Dad immediately noticed the departure from your typical attire when you walked past; he’d already finished skimming the newspaper when you walked in. “Where are you off to?” 

“Hanging out with Ben and Nora.” The lie rolled  off of your tongue, just as you’d practiced in the mirror this morning.

“Double date?” Dad’s question was rhetorical, of course–he certainly wasn’t expecting you to actually go on a date with Eddie–but your breath still caught in your throat.

A cough, hopeful not too conspicuous to draw attention, delayed your response. “Uh, no. Just, uh, friend stuff.” Friend stuff? Christ, were you incapable of lying without extensive rehearsal?

He nodded, not even flinching. Thank God he was at the desk and not Mom, who definitely would have interrogated the truth out of you by now. 

“Have fun, be safe, make sure to ask Ben how his parents are.”

You promised to do all three and dashed out the door before he had time to ask Eddie any questions. 

You reached for Eddie’s hand the moment you were out of sight, relishing in the safety of his calluses and strong grasp. 

“So, friend.” Despite his playful nature, hurt tinged Eddie’s tone. “You sure we’re in the clear? Maybe someone down the street will see us holding hands and report us to the authorities.”

His words formed a pit in your stomach, anchoring you to the sidewalk. “This isn’t just for me.” You face him and take his other hand, too, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If my parents want to, they can kick you out. I need to tell them in a way that keeps them from absolutely losing their minds.”

The lines at the corners of Eddie’s eyes softened. “I know,” he conceded, kissing the tip of your nose. “Was it like this with other guys you dated? Or is it just because I’m staying at the motel?”

Shame washed over you for the second time in as many minutes. “I’ve never actually told them about any guys I’ve dated,” you admitted. “I mean, I’ve been on dates and had some short-term…relationships, I guess you could call them. But nothing serious enough for me to tell my parents.”

Eddie let out an anxious breath before asking his next question. “What does that mean for us?”

There it was: us. One unit, something more substantial than being separate individuals who happened to share a space. 

“Eddie…I really like you.” The confession was a weight off of your chest; you felt your body fall closer to his. “And if they know about us and they don’t approve, they’ll make sure to keep us apart. At least now, we can sneak around without them being suspicious.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else; if not to protest, then to ask for further clarification. But he swallowed his words, opting instead to kiss you. 

His lips tasted like disappointment. You pretended not to notice.

The forty minute train ride to NYU eased some of the tension. With no seats available, Eddie kept one arm tight around your waist, the other hand wrapped around the overhead pole. His thumb caressed the small of your back, fingernail dragging over your cotton dress, as you leaned into him. 

The subway car was hot, but neither you nor Eddie were deterred in the slightest. Not even as that first bead of sweat crept down the back of your neck and dipped below your dress collar. 

If Eddie noticed the perspiration trickling down your spine, he didn’t comment on it. 

The tip of his nose tickled your temple as he loudly whispered, “I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up for this.”

In addition to his tank top, Eddie wore black jeans ripped at both knees and his signature scuffed Reeboks. It was a stark contrast to your more professional attire—borrowed from Nora, of course—but you didn’t care. Couldn’t even bring yourself to care, not when…

“You look hot.” Your lips lingered on one exposed bicep, leaving a light lipstick print in their wake. “Ridiculously, unfairly hot.”

A bashful grin bloomed on his face. He stood up a bit taller, your compliment replenishing some of the confidence that had been lost. Eddie had certainly taken his share of ego bruising over the last few months: leaving Death’s Echo, the subsequent breakup with his girlfriend, sleeping in a struggling motel just to keep a roof over his head. And on top of it all, he was now with someone who refused to acknowledge the relationship in front of her own parents. 

That settled it. You were going to tell your parents tonight. No more hiding or sneaking around. If they lectured you on their disappointment, you’d take it. You just couldn’t fathom bringing more insecurity into Eddie’s life. He deserved more than that.

He deserves more than you, that irritating voice snarled. It curled itself around your ear like a wispy smoke trail from one of Eddie’s cigarettes, but did not dissipate as quickly. It lingered even as Eddie pulled you in closer to kiss you.

Your response was to slip your hand into his back pocket and curving it around his ass. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to grab onto, but it still woke up something slumbering within you. Something that had remained dormant since you’d gotten caught during the picnic last week. 

Longing stirred, carving out imagery of him atop you, your fingers grasping that sacred flesh without the burden of a denim barrier. You needed to know how he’d treat you in bed. Would he pounce like an animal capturing its elusive prey? Would he take his time and savor you like his last meal on Earth? Would he lovingly gaze into your eyes, or take you from behind to satisfy that primal need?

“What’s our stop again?” Eddie’s voice shook you from your lust-entrenched trance. 

“Oh, uh…” You fought to keep your train of thought on a more productive track. “West Fourth Street.”

He nodded and gripped the pole tighter as the car screeched to a halt. “Then this is us.”

Thank God he was paying attention. You were embarrassed at the mere notion of missing your stop because you were too lost in the idea of having sex with him. How would you even explain that to him?

“Nervous?” He asked as you exited the train car.

You shook your head. Surprisingly, you weren’t nervous about meeting other admitted students. They’d be a group of people just like you, reaching out a hand to help those in need. A group of people like you and Nora who shared a common goal of being positive forces in a world desperate for kindness.

The climb from the platform up to the street level brought with it a burst of fresh air—fresher than in the station, at least. You and Eddie made your way down Waverly Place, fingers loosely intertwined. He let you guide him, a half-step ahead, your knowledge of the city far exceeding his. 

You were only two blocks away from the school when you heard an obnoxious voice bleating through a megaphone. 

“Repent now or face damnation! You are all sinners who will burn in the fires of Hell for eternity!”

A middle-aged man wearing an off-center toupee stood in the middle of the sidewalk, shouting at passersby. 

“Revelations 21:8–But the cowardly, unbelieving, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”

You kept walking and ignored the man’s incessant preaching, expecting Eddie to do the same. 

That, you supposed, was naive on your part. 

Before you could stop him, Eddie let go of your hand and whirled towards the offender. His forefingers pointed upwards in mock devil horns, and the noise that came out of his mouth resembled something from The Exorcist. 

The preacher nearly keeled over at the sight of Eddie’s satanic display, sending you into a fit of cackling laughter. 

“Eddie!” You managed to hiss through your giggling. “Let’s go!”

Eddie took your hand once more and let you whisk him away from the dumbfounded man, the megaphone now hanging limply at his side. There was no doubt he would once again be spewing vitriol soon enough, but witnessing his temporary stunned silence was delicious. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” 

He shrugged. “I told you—I single handedly caused Hawkins’ own Satanic Panic. It’s not my first rodeo with these fire-and-brimstone assholes.”

“C’mon.” You tugged him along, shaking your head. “Let’s get out of here before he sics his disciples on us.”

Admitted Students’ Day at NYU’s Silver School of Social Work wasn’t fancy; just some hors d'oeuvres spread out on a white tablecloth to give an air of elegance. Really, it was nothing more than a few fruit and vegetable platters, finger sandwiches, and some pigs in a blanket. You helped yourself to some strawberries and a cucumber sandwich, watching as Eddie piled the crescent-wrapped mini hot dogs onto a paper plate and topped them with a hearty spoonful of spicy mustard.

A chipper young woman wearing an NYU t-shirt welcomed you and Eddie, ushering you both towards a pile of stick-on name tags and permanent markers. You scrawled your name in blue ink and Eddie did the same, though he added “just here for the food” in smaller letters below his name. 

“Okay, everyone!” The woman took to the microphone at the front of the small conference room. “Welcome to Admitted Students’ Day! My name is Ashley, and I’m a recent alumna of our wonderful MSW program.” She beamed and paused for the smattering of applause. 

Ashley brushed a brunette curl from her eyes and continued. “We’ll get started in just a moment, but until then, please mingle and get to know one another.”

When you looked over at Eddie again, he was dabbing at his shirt with a paper napkin. “Dropped some mustard,” he mumbled. Sure enough, a dollop of yellow stained the black cotton fabric. “Guess we’ll need to make another trip to the laundry room tomorrow.” 

You swatted at him, though you couldn’t deny having the same thought. “You also have some right here,” you lied, poking at his cheek. “Here, I’ll get it.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to the spot you had just touched. His skin warmed beneath your lips, and it took all of your restraint not to kiss him again.

A second woman sporting a name tag made her way over to you, accompanied by a man dutifully trailing behind her.

“Hi!” The woman chirped, flashing a smile far more genuine than Ashley’s. “I’m Alexis, and this is my boyfriend, Peter.” She gestured to the man. “It’s nice to see another couple here.”

A couple. You and Eddie were a couple, recognized as such by other people in a relationship.

Peter pointed to the message on Eddie’s name tag. “I see you’re also here for moral support,” he said with a grin. “The things we do for them, huh?”

“Please.” Alexis rolled her eyes, though a playful smile suggested she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. “I went with you to your boring grad school orientation last week.”

You perked up, latching onto the information so you wouldn’t perseverate on the notion of couplehood. “What are you studying?”

“Mechanical engineering,” Alexis answered for him. “He’s brilliant, but just listening to the course descriptions had me falling asleep.” She turned her attention to Eddie. “What do you study?”

The telltale hue of embarrassment bloomed on Eddie’s cheeks. “Oh, I, um…I didn’t. I mean, I went to high school–finished high school–but I didn’t do the whole college…thing.” 

“He’s a musician,” you offered, if only to quiet his stammering voice. “A really talented one, too. He plays guitar and he sings.” You took his hand in yours in silent reassurance.

To her credit, Alexis didn’t let on that she’d picked up on his nervousness. She just smiled and asked him about the type of music he plays, swiftly shifting the conversation back on track.

The small talk continued for a few more minutes. You’d learned that Alexis and Peter had met in college; they’d both gone to Columbia, which was where Peter would be continuing his graduate studies. Alexis wanted a change of scenery and chose NYU, though Peter mentioned she’d also been accepted to their alma mater.

She went to an Ivy League university? The notion soured in your stomach. It was unrealistic to think that Alexis would be the only member of your cohort to hold a degree from an esteemed school; how would you be able to keep up with them? There was no way your meager city college education could even compare.

Mercifully, Ashley took to the microphone once again, this time with a gray-haired woman by her side, to begin the informational portion of the event. You and Eddie sat side-by-side, and you scooched closer when his arm instinctively draped over the back of your folding chair. The ease was a privilege; you could rest your head on his shoulder without being on alert. There was no threat of being caught, no guilt from sneaking around. The two of you were just another couple sitting in a sea of strangers. The idea was so enticing that you had to force yourself to focus on the course offerings and expected responsibilities. 

You definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up with your peers if you couldn’t even pay attention during orientation.

Two hours passed before Eddie’s stomach audibly growled; apparently, consuming his weight in miniature hot dogs was not enough to satisfy his appetite. You were starting to get hungry, too, and you’d spent the last thirty minutes saving off your hunger pangs.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” You whispered.

He nodded emphatically. “You’d think that one of these snobby rich-people schools would splurge for more food,” he said, thankfully under his breath. If someone had overheard…

Not to mention you’d be attending that ‘snobby rich-people school,’ and you were neither rich nor snobby. At least, you hoped you weren’t snobby. But did Eddie see you that way? Did he think you were keeping the relationship underwraps because of a deep-seated shame?

You bade your new friends goodbye, shot a shy smile at the professors who had spoken during the information session, and did your best to make an inconspicuous exit. 

The nearest bodega was just down the block, its shelves stocked with soon-expiring candy and various snacks. Eddie perused the aisles and stared at his options. You were much faster in your decision-making, grabbing a Crunch bar and chowing down as soon as you paid the cashier.

With Eddie still glancing between a bag of barbecue potato chips and a stick of beef jerky, you plucked the latest copy of Star from the rotating magazine stand and leafed through it. There’s no earth-shattering news–stories published in the tabloids rarely are. The most exciting story was about the upcoming Spielberg flick, one where dinosaurs roam the Earth in some sort of prehistoric zoo. You can’t help but wonder if Eddie would take you to see the movie for your third date.

You were about to close the magazine and tell Eddie to hurry up–or just buy both, and you’d foot the bill–when the bolded words in the news briefs section caught your eye.

Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist of Death’s Echo, checked into rehab after various alcohol-fueled encounters with the law. The band’s management states that they “hope to proceed with the tour” next month, though there is no word about finding a replacement.

Your mouth went dry, and you started choking on the bite of milk chocolate that hadn’t yet melted onto your tongue. Eddie looked over at you, concern etched between his drawn brows at your sudden coughing outburst.

“Wrong pipe,” you managed, closing the magazine as nonchalantly as you could and placing it back on the rack. “You ready to go?”

“Yup.” Eddie fished a dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the counter. He was already digging into the bag of chips, blissfully unaware of what you’d just read. 

How would he react if he knew? Would he find it amusing that his replacement had already screwed up the tour? Infuriating that he’d been replaced by someone so unprofessional? Would it haunt him or would he consider it to be normal tabloid fodder?

A gut instinct told you to break the news to him—not here, but somewhere private. Somewhere he could process it without causing a public scene. The only thing worse than him finding out is him knowing that you already knew and hadn’t told him. 

Tonight, during your shift. And you could follow it up by letting him know that you were ready to tell your parents the truth. Selfishly, you were glad to have some leverage on them: Eddie would already be upset by the band’s news, so they couldn’t add to that stress by kicking him out, right? 

If only you could tell them about him accompanying you today, just to prove how serious this new relationship truly was. 

One step at a time. 

You savored every moment spent together on the trip. The beginning of rush hour had the train too crowded to find a seat and to hold onto the pole, so Eddie held you by your waist to keep you steady. You felt his lips on the back of your neck every so often, his way of reminding you that he was there amidst the chaos. 

He trusted you, and he trusted you to trust him. 

It had come innately, the way you had divulged your secret to him. Yes, he had grabbed your book and questioned your alleged hospitality studies, but you could have shut him out. Put up a wall and told him to mind his business or hit the road. 

But you didn’t. And neither had he, choosing to divulge his saddest memories to you. Had given you a friendship and then something more. His presence was something you awaited at the start of every shift, the shared conversations now far more welcome than the quiet you once craved.

He always arrived at the desk by ten o’clock, sometimes getting there before you did. You’d find him making Mom laugh or listening to one of her many stories about the plethora of bizarre guests who stayed at the motel over the years. Mom liked him–you knew she did. All you needed to do was pivot her mindset in the right direction.

So tonight, when 10:25 rolled around and Eddie was nowhere to be found, your first instinct was to knock on his door and make sure he was all right. As soon as the thought popped into your head, you dismissed it as ridiculous. He was probably tired from schlepping through Manhattan and fell asleep. He’d probably planned to take a quick nap and promptly slept through his alarm, though you didn’t hear his clock radio bleating through the paper-thin walls.

Maybe this was a sign that you shouldn’t tell him about Death’s Echo and their troubled lead singer. You’d already kept quiet about the televised arrest that you watched at the bar; what was one more secret?

But that would sabotage your plan to pander to your parents with sympathy. You couldn’t exactly take the poor Eddie route without him knowing. Maybe you could–

Eddie’s door opened, yanking your attention from your running thoughts. Your heart beat double-time. This was it. You were going to tell him about Caleb Dalton’s rehab stint, tell him everything you knew.

But the voice you heard coming from his room wasn’t his. In fact, it wasn’t even a man’s.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” A woman asked, a slight whine in her tone.

“Y-Yeah.” Though you couldn’t see him, you could tell from his hesitation that he wasn’t completely enthused about whatever he was supposed to be thinking about. “I promise.”

A soft mwah had you seeing red. It sounded like she’d only kissed his cheek, but maybe you were only fooling yourself. If she’d kissed his lips, those same lips that you’d been kissing earlier today…

“You’re the best, babe.” Jealousy raged in your core as she spoke, and you fought to keep it from exploding throughout your body. “We’ll get you out of this shithole in no time.” She punctuated her insult with a giggle. “Call me when you have your answer.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” And then his door closed.

Who was this woman? What was she doing here? Why didn’t Mom tell you that Eddie had brought someone to his room?

You got one answer once the mystery woman walked through the lobby, not even acknowledging your existence. She wasn’t wearing the heavy makeup that you’d seen in her photo, but there was no mistaking the owner of that blonde pixie cut, heart-shaped face, and piercing blue eyes.

They belonged to none other than Death Echo’s drummer.

Who also happened to be Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. 

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98

@squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia

@kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock

@ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975

@yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts

@mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank

@sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles

@the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl

@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[leonsleftbicep]

Quirks i’ve noticed Sleep Token Members have

mind you, this is things i’ve just noticed from from the concert videos i have caught out of no where

Vessel

big stomps

flaps arms and hands when hes dancing

scrunches his face in photos with flash

squeezes himself with an arm to calm himself

II

broad stance

almost always wears vans

right eye is slower to open the his left (hes just super sleepy)

III

flicks his hands

brushes his hand over his head trying to “smooth back his hair”

pants are always regular length and never tall length just so socks are on display

head bangs like his hair is out

thumb holes in long sleeves (hes just like me for real)

loosy goosy dance moves

looks like he would punch you if you acted wrong to someone hes close to

IV

hood up almost always

40 year old dance moves

palms not painted purposfully

sassy/saucy body movements

adjusts the soft mask A LOT

props up guitar with his right thigh during the summoning solo

i feel i missed a couple but thats okay!

(i do indeed know that some of these are for technical reasons and such but i just notice them and want to write them down)

[luvyeni]

❛CHRISTMAS EVE❜ ( p. jay )

p. husband!jay x fem!reader w. 0.8k+

— 𖦹 warnings. unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of baby

— 𖦹 ( your husband makes it home just in time to spend christmas eve with you ) !

8 days of christmas masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

‘9:30 p.m.' is what the clock read, and jays leg bounced up and down nervously — he was gonna miss Christmas eve, he promised you he’d be there.

He was on his way out , when his assistant stopped him reminding him that he had a late video call with investors for his company — pissed that he forgot about the meeting , even more pissed that it was Christmas eve and he knew you wanted to spend it with him.

You said it was fine, but he didn’t care, he knew you were saying that just to make him feel better — he was determined to make it to you. He took one look standing up. “sir?” His assistant sat next to him. “I can’t I have to get home.” He said. “Sir this is important, it’s a new client.”

“It’s Christmas eve, and they’re an hour late.” He said. “if they wanted it , they would’ve been punctual.” He grabbed his  coat. “What do we do?” His assistant said. “Go home to your family, Merry Christmas .” he said making his way out of his office.

He wasted no time, hopping into his car, speeding all the way home to you, it was now 10 o’clock — you probably were still getting ready for bed, he was gonna make it. Pushing the buttons to your condo door, walking it dropping his things, not even bother to stop in the kitchen — heading straight to the bedroom.

“Jay?” sat on the bed, finishing up some wrapping, your husband walking in the door. “I made it baby.” He said, you smiled. “What about your meeting.” He shook his head. “I don’t care about that.” He said undoing his tie, rolling his sleeves up. “My wife wanted me home for Christmas eve, so im here.”

You smiled , putting the newly wrapped gift on the night stand. “Come here.” You stretched your arms out. “You are perfect.” You kissed him, hugging him. “I love you so much.” He whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “I don’t care if it’s Christmas eve or saint patrick’s day, if you want to spend it with me, then im here.”

“I love you too jay.” He kissed you again, with much more hunger. Your camisole sleeve falling down, barely covering your boobs at this point. “So beautiful baby.” He squeezed your boob. “Jay.” He smiled. “shush baby girl.” He stood up. “Gonna give you everything you want.”

He unbuttoned his dress shirt , you watched him slowly undoing his slacks , letting them fall to the ground, stepping out of them. “Gonna fuck a baby inside you tonight.” He climbed in between your legs, using his thumb, pressing down on your clothed clit. “Fu-fuck jay please.”

He pulled your panties to the side , the cool air hitting your cunt making you moan. “Look at how wet your are.” He was salivating. “You really want me to fuck a baby into you.” You nodded. “Y-yes.” You mewled. He grabbed the base of his cock, slapping his mushroom tip against your clit. “Fuck jay , please put it in.”

He slowly pushed into your hole , groaning as he bottomed out. “such a perfect pussy.” He moaned , pulling out just to push himself back in, stretching you out. “can’t wait to fill it with my cum.”

You moaned out, gripping his arm as he rocked into you. “Sh-shit jay you feel so good.” He hummed. “Fuck princess, your taking my cock so well.” He sped up. “good fucking girl.” His cock head pressing against your womb. “gonna breed you nice and well.”

You clenched around him , making him moan out. “fuck you like that?” he grunted. “Is that what you want for Christmas? Want me to fuck a baby into you?” You screamed out as he began to plow into your cunt. “Fu-fucking answer me.” You nodded , your eyes shut. “Fuck yes, please give me a baby.”

He grabbed your legs , bringing them to your chest, plowing into you harder and faster. “Jay!” he moaned , cursing and whispering filthy shit into your ear. “fuck my pretty wife, cum for me.” He said. “Cum all over my cock, make a mess.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head ,you let out a pornographic moan as you cum, your cunt fluttering around him as you came down from your high. “Good girl.” He said. “Fuck im cumming.” He grunted , thrusting once, twice — shooting his load into your waiting womb. “Fake take my load baby.”

He stayed inside you , positioning you into a much comfortable position — pulling you deep into his arms , kissing your forehead. “Thank you.” You said. “For making it home I really wanted you here.” You confessed. “I told you baby I’ll always be here for you, no  matter how many meetings I have to cancel.” He looked at the time, it read ‘12:00’

“It’s Christmas.” He kissed your forehead. “Merry Christmas my beautiful wife.”

“Merry Christmas my handsome husband.”

©️LUVYENI

[mountainficss]

!! mentions of: age difference, unprotected sex, drinking,

i had a request for a dilf!seungcheol a while back ;) for @lalalalavv

dilf!seungcheol who you’d meet in a bar one night after a long day of work. he’d be sitting alone at the bar, his tie loosened and his hair slightly tousled from a tough shift. you’d find him so handsome, and would have no troubles slinking into the barstool next to him. he’d notice your presence and glance over, looking you up and down slowly. you’d introduce yourself and he’d smirk, taking a sip of his drink as you shamelessly check him out. he’d take in your cute work outfit, listening to your sweet voice as you ask him for his name. “it’s seungcheol,” he’d smile, swirling the ice around in his drink. his sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, the sight of his exposed forearms making you lightheaded. “well, seungcheol,” you’d purr, “feel like taking me home tonight?” he’d let out an amused exhale, looking down at his empty glass and tracing the rim absentmindedly with his finger. “i’m too old for you,” he’d reply simply, a sad smile adorning his perfect face. you’d shoot him a glare, grabbing his tie and yanking it towards you. you’d force him to look at you, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “i wouldn’t give a shit if you were a grandpa, seungcheol.” you’d huff, rolling your eyes at him. “what’s the matter? do you fuck like one too or something?” you’d banter, trying your hardest to get him to give in. he wouldn’t reply, he’d just laugh and wonder how he stumbled across someone so unique.

dilf!seungcheol who would take you back to his place, one hand on your thigh the entire drive there. his thumb would rub circles across your clothed skin, and even such a minimal touch would send jolts of electricity through you. he’d lead you into his apartment building, taking you all the way up to the penthouse level. not even seconds after you enter would you both practically pounce on each other, both stumbling around as seungcheol does his best to lead you to his bedroom between kisses. you’d both flop down onto his bed in a frenzy, a tangle of limbs and lips pressing against each other. you’d rip off each other’s clothes swiftly, and seungcheol would have you underneath him in a matter of seconds. you’d both gasp as he first slides into your heat, the feeling of pleasure almost overwhelming. he’d bottom out, pulling out almost completely and slowly thrusting back in. he’d take his time with you, sensually rutting into you as you wrap your legs around him. his pace would quicken, drawing loud moans from the both of you. the alcohol in your system would make everything more sensitive, feeling your high approaching quickly. it wouldn’t take long before you were tightening around him, cumming around his cock and tipping him over the edge at the same time. your twitching hole would make his orgasm last longer, practically milking him dry as his strong thrusts slowed to shallow ones. he’d pull out carefully and flop down beside you, listening to the sound of your labored breathing and watching your chest rise and fall with every breath. he’d study your flushed cheeks, but would be snapped out of his daze once he sees you sitting up and rolling off the bed. “i’d better not overstay my welcome,” you’d muse, shooting him a timid smile as you attempt to collect your scattered clothes from the floor. “you definitely don’t fuck like a grandpa, seungcheol.” you’d joke, looking over your shoulder at him and laughing to yourself. seungcheol would sit up, admiring how pretty you are and frowning at your words. “please stay,” he’d plead as you turn to face him, your clothes still piled in your arms. “you aren’t overstaying. i like having you here.” you’d grin at his words, taking a step towards his bed. “even though we just met earlier?” you’d question playfully, receiving a shy nod from him. you’d chuckle to yourself, dropping your clothes on the floor again as you slip your bare body next to his. “okay. i’ll stay.”

dilf!seungcheol who would stay up late with you, pulling you close to his chest and running his fingers through your hair. he’d tell you about his children, two beautiful girls, and would share his story about his tough divorce 2 years ago. after the divorce he’d never gotten around to dating again, too consumed by his career and too discouraged from the split. he’d confess that you’d been the first person he was genuinely interested in, so when you asked him to take you home he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. you’d smile to yourself, imagining how precious seungcheol would look playing with his two daughters. “maybe i’ll get to meet them in the future,” you’d hum, hearing seungcheol chuckle behind you. “if you decide to stick around for a while, i’d love to introduce you.” he’d reply quietly, pressing fleeting pecks onto your exposed neck. you’d lean into his touch, sighing at the feeling of his plush lips against your skin. the thought of seeing seungcheol again would make your stomach flutter, secretly hoping that this won’t be a one-time thing. you’d crane your head around at an awkward angle to reach him, locking your lips with his and grinning into the kiss. “maybe i will.”

taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile

[uhohnotthisagain]

Admiring Sam - Headcannon

Time when you admired your boyfriend Sam.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Characters: Sam, Reader, Dean, ghost

Word count: 0.8k

Warnings: cuteness?, mentions of sex, mentions of injury, mentions of ghosts, no swearing.

My masterlist

Whilst doing research:

You’re sitting around a table in a motel room, only undressed the top layers of the FBI suits that you, Sam and Dean were wearing whilst investigating the current case. You’re sitting opposite Sam, Dean next to you. 

At first you were concentrating, but then you looked at Sam in the corner of your vision, which lead to him taking up all of your attention. 

You tried to keep looking busy, but with the way he was sitting; shirt sleeve rolled up, hair a mess from running fingers through it, hunched over the computer with a look of concentration on his face. He looked both adorable and hot at the same time. 

Within a few moments, he looks up at you, feeling the holes you were burning into him with your eyes. He smiles at you, which you return with a blush, slightly disappointed you got caught. 

He sneakily reaches under the table undetected by his brother sitting next to him, rubbing your leg as a form of comfort and love. 

In bed: 

You were both resting in bed after having had sex. 

You splurged on your own room, needing some much needed privacy after a semi gruesome hunt. 

You were both laying on your back, the only sound to be heard were yours and Sam’s rapid breathing. His hand was holding yours, gently stroking the back of it with his thumb. 

You turned your head to look at him, taking not of the way his hair splayed out under him. 

He looked relaxed, eyes were closed, trying to control his breathing, an ever so slight smile on his face. 

He opened his eyes, turning his head to look at you. 

His smile widened when he noticed you staring. 

“I love you.” He whispers. 

You smile, about to respond when he rolls back over to you, holding himself up on his forearms, dipping his head to kiss you, deepening it almost immediately. 

“Ready for another round?” He asks, grabbing hold of your thighs to wrap around his waist. 

When he’s asleep:

For once, you woke up before Sam. 

He usually woke up before you, going for a run and usually bringing you back a coffee to wake you up with. 

This time, you were awake, so you got to appreciate him without him catching you. 

His breathing was even, face so soft and relaxed. A small amount of stubble had grown overnight. His soft hair had fallen into his face. 

You brushed your finger along his face, moving his hair out of the way. You continued to trace his features, committing his face to memory. You traced over his eyebrows, nose and mouth. Along his jawline and hairline. 

With a sigh, he moves, wrapping his arms more tightly around you waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“You know thats a little creepy, right?” He whispers, eyes remaining closed. 

You chuckle softly, continuing your tracings. “Good morning handsome.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” 

He finally opens his eyes, and you stare into them, getting lost in them almost immediately. 

You already had his eyes committed to memory. 

When he saves you:

You’re in and out of consciousness, laying on the floor, unable to move. 

It was a ghost, and despite having already burned the body, it hadn’t disappeared. 

It had attacked you, after running out of rocksalt in your gun. 

“Y/N! Are you okay?” You heard from nearby

You groaned in response, nodding slightly to allow whoever it was to keep fighting and not worry about you. 

As your vision clears, you see Sam looking all around, trying to find the ghost to keep it away from you. 

Finally, as it appeared right in front of Sam, it burst into flames, screaming in the process. 

Sam rushes to you, inspecting all your injuries and determining whether to take you to the hospital or home. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to get you to stay awake. 

“I think so, I just need a minute.” You say, trying to sit up. 

“Guys, so it was a doll that the spirit was attached to. But there was like a hundred dolls, so we need to go now if we don’t want to get caught on fire.” Dean rushes in. 

“Can you walk?” Sam asks, you shake your head. 

He picks you up bridal style, Dean following quickly behind with the weapons you and Sam had dropped. 

Once at the car, Sam gets in the back with you, wanting to make sure you were ok. 

“I think its just some bruises and a small concussion, you should be alright.” He says, stroking your hair as you lean against him. 

You look up towards him, giving a small kiss to his jawline. “Thank you. I love you.” 

“Anytime, beautiful.”

Dean groans from the front seat. “Get a room you two.” Sam rolls his eyes, but you spot the small smile on Dean’s face in the rearview mirror, happy to see his brother getting the love he deserves. 

[reyadawn]

Workin' From Home - A Jolly Karlsson One Shot

*image not mine, credit goes to owner*

Summary: Jolly is hard at work in his office trying to record guitar segments but his first time pregnant wife won't stop sending distracting text messages. He finally snaps...

Pairings: Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x pregnant reader

Warnings: 🔞+, language, kissing, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, basically pure unadulterated filth sprinkled with humor 🤷‍♀️🤣😭

Word Count: ???

Enjoy! 🤣✌️

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Jolly had been holed up in his office for the better part of the day. He was in the process of trying to record some requested guitar segments for a demo he and Noah were working on. Whether it made it to the album or not didn't necessarily matter. It still needed to be done regardless.

The coffee table in the darkly shrouded office was littered with Monster energy drinks, a half opened bag of Doritos, solo red cups all half full and Jolly's laptop. The screen's light was the only thing that illuminated his handsome features. Decked entirely in all black - skinny jeans with a massive hole in the left knee exposing his umarred skin and black t-shirt that showcased the tattoo sleeve and fingers of his left arm. His signature dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun.

BZZZZ

Jolly rolled his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time in the past hour before pulling his cellphone from the tight confines of his jeans' pocket. The face iluminated instantly, his skin taking on an even more ethreal glow.

Gumman: ...I need those expert fingers knuckle deep inside my tight little cunt while your thumb rubs my clit until I cum all over you...🥵

Jolly had mistakenly reached for a solo cup to take a drink when he read the message, choking on a half swallow and almost doubling over into a coughing fit.

Jesus fucking Christ, this woman was going to kill him. Literally. Jolly's fingers quickly typed a response once he got his breathing under control.

I'm still working, karaste. Give me a few.

******************************************

I frowned disappointingly at Jolly's response and sighed, rubbing my very swollen belly, my thighs pressing together to try and ease the ache I felt for him. All I could think about was getting railed. Day in, day out. Didn't matter where, I needed Jolly's thick cock like I needed fucking water after running a damn marathon. Pretty sure if I didn't stop having him bruise my cervix constantly, he was liable to get fucked into a coma but this last leg of pregnancy hormones was brutal. Didnt help our daughter was so active now, she was practically brusing my insides.

I bit my lip, firing back another text.

Please, handsome...I'm going to wither and die because you won't fucking feed me! Now, get your sexy Sweedish ass in here and fuck me until I can't walk! 😒

All of a sudden I heard a loud bout of laughter come from the opposite end of the house and I smirked, hope burning in my chest until his next message came through.

I will service you in a little bit, karaste, I promise but I really need to get this done for Noah ❤️

I sighed, tossing my phone angrily on the nightstand, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and stood to strip out of everything I had on. My leggings and oversized Bad Omens t-shirt I stole from Jolly's side of the closet landed in a soft heap on the floor. I snatched my phone off the table, taking a few unabashed nude shots as best as I was able before sending them all to him at once.

******************************************

Jolly's phone buzzed again, causing him to let out a string of cuss words in Sweedish. Opening his wife's text message, he halted his movements, cock instantly growing hard at what he saw.

"Fucking little minx...alright, karaste. If you want to be a brat, I'll treat you like a damn brat", Jolly said to himself, running his tongue over his teeth before slamming the lid of the laptop, standing and throwing the office door open.

******************************************

I retreated from the bathroom, now clad in just my t-shirt and was halfway to the bed when Jolly rounded the door frame and stopped. I halted, staring at him in shock as I took in his pissed off demeanor. Lean but muscular arms crossed over his wide chest, feet slightly parted and a look on his face that read I was about to get fucked until I blacked out or yelled at...afterall, I had been a brat most of the day.

"So, you felt like being a fucking brat all day, is that it? Just couldn't be a good girl and be patient even for a few minutes so I could finish my work? You just had to keep pushing me, sweet karaste", Jolly said darkly, eyes nrrowing. I swallowed nervously. These were all rhetorical questions, right?

"It's not my fault you think Noah is more important than this tight pussy you've been getting. Perhaps he would do the job more credibly", I snapped before realizing my mistake. My eyes widened and I tried retreating for the bathroom again but being this far along had me moving like molasses. Jolly reached me in three strides, hand shooting out to wrap around my throat and back me up against the wall.

I stared up at Jolly in shock and before I could say anything, his lips crashed to mine in a uncerimonious kiss that was teeth, tongues, and saliva. He pulled away, a sinnister smile gracing his gorgeous features. I was currently crying between my legs, my thick arousal dripping like a faucet that wasn't quite turned off all the way. My clit throbbed almost painfully and my cunt clenched around nothing, causing me to whimper.

"Please, Jolly", I whispered, begging him.

"For what, sweet girl? Use your words", Jolly replied, his voice laced with venom. I whimpered again, my bottom lip trembling. He tipped his head back and laughed as his free hand went right between my legs, despite my large belly and sank two thick fingers inside my soaked cunt to his knuckles. I closed my eyes, letting out a moan of want and pleasure and it had Jolly moaning right along with me.

"Goddamn, sweet girl...you really did need some care...here, let me help you some more", he whispered, bringing his lips to my ear. His tongue extended, the tip licking the shell delicately before he applied pressure to my swollen clit with his thumb and started fucking me with his fingers. Curling them against the spongy part inside me as he furiously rubbed my clit had me seeing stars as my walls clamped down around his fingers and my thighs caged around his hand. I couldnt hold back the scream, my orgasm hitting me like a MAC truck.

Jolly suddenly pulled out of me, bringing his fingers to his lips to suck the juices from them and I cried out at the loss. With his hand still around my throat, he moved me from the wall to bend over his dresser. The height was perfect and he placed me in such a way that my stomach didnt touch anything.

There were no warnings, no preliminaries, no nothing as Jolly grabbed my hips and thrust his cock inside me until he bottomed out. I cried out, arching my back. One of Jolly's hands left my hip to wrap, once again, around my throat as his cock shuttled in and out of my dripping cunt. My thighs were soaked, legs were shaking as Jolly pulled my back to his front, continuing to relentlessly fuck his cock inside me. Each thrust had him hitting my cervix, my eyes rolling back and my breathing becoming labored.

"You gonna' cum again for me, karaste? Huh? This what you want...to be a brat and have me take you like this? Come on, baby...give me all you got", Jolly said harshly, snapping his hips so hard insie me he stopped, cock pulsing, coming deep as he roared out his release and triggered my own. My fingers gripped the wood as I opened my mouth on a silent scream, the coil snapping.

Once we were able to catch our breath, Jolly slowly pulled his cock free of my body and carefully helped me to the bed so I could stretch out on my side. He then disappeared into the bathroom and returned momets later with a damp wash cloth and helped me clean up. He then crawled into bed behind me, wrapping his arm around my belly protectively before planting a soft kiss to my hair. We were both asleep in minutes...

❤️❤️❤️

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