#Jamie marks is dead

[ange1sang]

there's just something about you baby // favourite cameron monaghan roles

*my edit! (made for his birthday <3)

[soraskyecinema]

Jamie Marks is Dead // Carter Smith // 2014

[redwiccanrobin]

//art house (pt. 1)//

. High Life dir. Claire Denis (TW: SA, death of animal & child)

. Jamie Marks is Dead dir. Carter Smith (TW: car accident, references to abuse & suicide)

. I Lost My Body dir. Jérémy Clapin (TW: injury)

. Belladonna of Sadness dir. Eiichi Yamamoto (TW: SA)

. Alice dir. Jan Švanmajer

. Moonlight dir. Barry Jenkins (TW: homophobia, violence, drug use, abuse)

[digitalcarcrash]

just watched jamie marks is dead and Ohhh boy... i truely am obsessed with carter smith's inability to write heterosexual characters

[waxxxwork]

Watching Jamie Marks is Dead (love it so far btw) and does Carter Smith love anything more than that one specific Moistboyz song???

[ibtravart]

Looking back at old work on this #flashbackfriday⚡️ , I thought I'd post this digital illustration alternative movie poster for the @carterbedloesmith 2014 film #jamiemarksisdead . I really loved that film. Need to pull out the Blu-ray and watch it again. It's hauntingly sad but beautiful. Was really happy with the way this poster design came out. If you haven't seen the movie, you gotta check it out.🖤

My favorite film of 2014 has to be “Jamie Marks Is Dead”. It’s haunting. It’s sad. It’s absolutely beautiful.

Based on the book by Christopher Barzak and directed by Carter Smith, you MUST check out Jamie Marks Is Dead.

I’ve been so inspired by this film that I had to illustrate a movie poster for it as a tribute.

Hope you guys see it and appreciate it as much as I did.

[wintfleur]

﹕─┈ 𝜗 RORO'S 1K CELLY 𝜚

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( THANK YOU THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS !!!! I’m genuinely still in shock, when I first created this account I honestly wasn’t sure or expecting that I’d get as much love as I have received from you all. I’m very grateful for all the love and support and encouragement you guys have given me on my journey . . . I will always be thankful. Your comments, reblogs and asks keep me motivated to continue writing <333 i will try to write every ask that you guys send in as fast as I can . . . I’m a slow writer but you guys know this already. Again, thank you for 1k, I can’t wait to continue my journey with all of you !!! And I can’t wait to interact with you guys more too <333 )

﹕─┈ this is my first time doing something like this so please be patient with me !! I will be accepting requests for the rest of March.

﹕─┈ tagging some of my mutuals because I honestly wouldn’t be here without them and I’m so grateful for all of them, ily guys @lovings4turn @chrisevansonly @norafaye @childsuppor <333

﹕─┈ 𝜗 suggest a prompt 𝜚 you can suggest a prompt from the list’s here or here and here, you can see here for who I write for and here for what I write and don’t write. Or you can just send in some of your own thoughts and headcanons.

﹕─┈ use this emoji 🌱 to clarify that the prompt is from the first list. This emoji 🪷 for the second list and this one 🌷 for the third.

﹕─┈ reminder there going to be blurbs and drabbles. They can be fluff, angst and smut. Romantic pairing or platonic/familiar pairing is fine, just please make sure to clarify what you want !!! Please clarify who you want doing the action, the reader or the person your requesting !!!

﹕─┈ you can ask for a prompt for my AU or suggest a prompt that’s part of the same universe as some my already done works . . . aka like a very small part 2 if that makes sense !!!

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﹕─┈ 𝜗 RORO’S 1K CELLY WORK’S 𝜚

[ req’s are closed ]

ᡣ𐭩 PERFECT? Logan sargeant

ᡣ𐭩 ARGUMENTS ON THE DOCK AND NOSEY BROTHERS Quinn Hughes

ᡣ𐭩 ENCHANTED BY THE BEAUTY OF YOU Luke Hughes

ᡣ𐭩 ITS CALLED CHARM BABY ! Lewis Hamilton

ᡣ𐭩 MESSY HAIR AND INK STAINS will smith

ᡣ𐭩 HEALING KISSES FROM AN ANGEL Nico hischier

ᡣ𐭩 ICE CREAM AND MUCH-NEEDED HUGS Luke Hughes

ᡣ𐭩 SLEEP DARLING Lando Norris

ᡣ𐭩 MORNINGS WITH OUR LITTLE PAWFIELD Cole Caufield

ᡣ𐭩 HAIR DRYERS AND PROMISED MIMOSAS Lando Norris

ᡣ𐭩 IRRESISTIBLE will smith

ᡣ𐭩 YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS Lando Norris

ᡣ𐭩 CHOCOLATE ‘N BEER will smith

﹕─┈ 𝜗 disclaimers 𝜚 I have every right to ignore or not do a request if I’m not comfortable with writing it. Again please just be kind and patient with me <333

main masterlist

[unhingedlesbear]

Accidentally involved a bunch of Mark and Erin bestie propaganda as well as vaguely Wildgan type moments in the main au I write scenes for (Stranded/cannibalism au) and I'm kinda here for it.

[xnewtiebooty]

Jamie Marks is Dead is fitting too.

Having evil thoughts...

A Bridge to Terabithia Newtmas AU.

[captainthomasrobbie]

AU IDEA- PRESENTABLE LIBERTY

.... Charlie is THE PRISONER in PRESENTABLE LIBERTY.

DU'MET- DR. MONEY

MARK- HAPPY FRIEND

ERIN/JAMIE- CHARLOTTE

KATE- SALVATORE

[redwiccanrobin]

The fruits as portrayed by Cameron Monaghan.

[moviesandmania]

YULE LOG (2023) Mark Polonia's Evil Dead-influenced horror

‘Your nuts roasting on an open fire’ Yule Log is a 2023 American horror film about friends staying at an isolated cabin who unknowingly re-awaken dark spirits and evil creatures. Written, produced, directed and edited by micro-budget filmmaker Mark Polonia (Cocaine Shark; Doll Shark; Sharkula; Camp Murder; Shark Encounters of the Third Kind; Return to Splatter Farm; Bride of the Werewolf; Ghost…

[theemporium]

us with f1 girlie ocs and the mob au side characters @httplando

being a fan of a friend's ocs is actually so humiliating....... like yes my favourite character rn is tragically doomed and a pillar of humanity who i think is relevant to the current world. you can find information about them on discord dot com and sometimes in late-night conversations with this guy i know. what the fuck

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Ten - In the cold light of day, many things are bound to change.

Ch 11

The drinks had addled his mind, but not as much as the scent of you, the feel of you, the taste of you has. He wishes to taste you again, and again, to hear you scream his name, to feel your teeth bite down on him, marking him as your own.

You drew blood, his ferocious lioness, broke the skin of his arm, marked him well. He hopes it stays, if not he will have to bring you to climax again and again until it does.

Jon curls his arm around you, basking in the warmth of your skin, in the way you draw nonsensical shapes on his chest. Your hands are so soft, your nails perfect, there has never been dirt or blood under them, and no callouses cover your palms. Those very palms which he brings to his lips, kissing them reverently. The sun shines down on you, the call of the morning birds floating in through your open window.

“Now, will you tell me who got you drunk?” You ask, smiling at him with the radiance of the sun.

“Both had a hand in it, though I must admit the presence of Joffrey did not help matters.”

You sit up, the smile slipping from your face, a storm cloud pulled over the sun. “You must leave, now, now Jon, back to your post.” You slide from the bed and gather his tunic and your stockings, throwing the flimsy fabric under the bed and his tunic to him, then you rummage around for a night shift, quickly slipping behind a folding screen and changing.

He pulls his tunic on, just in time for the knock at the door, your aunt’s voice calling through the door.

“Dear y/n, are you awake?” Her voice is sickly sweet, and it makes his head ache.

You grab a robe and wrap it around your night shift, throwing yourself into a chair by the long dead fire, pretending you had been reading.

Jon opens the door, giving the Dowager Queen a bow, ignoring the way the world spins as he lifts his head once more.

“Aunt Cersei, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, looking up at her with an undeniable air of innocence.

She scans the room, her eyes narrowing at Jon. “Leave us.”

Jon bristles, but at your nod leaves, taking his post up at the door, looking around before pressing his ear to the crack in the wood.

“Is it not odd that he spends so much time in your chambers?” He hears your aunt ask.

“I do not think so, Uncle Jamie spends much time with you in your chambers, and that is not odd.” You say, your voice light, your tone cheery.

“We are siblings y/n, of course it is not.” Cersei’s words have ice threaded within, and Jon bites back a laugh. You always know just what card to play.

“People will talk y/n, you must stamp out this childish affection you have for him, it will scare away potential suitors.” She scolds, her heels clicking as she moves about the room.

“If it scares them away then they are clearly easily frightened, I do not wish to marry a coward.”

“Do not confuse jealousy with cowardice, sweet girl.”

“I am not.”

“Do not think me a fool, I know it is enjoyable to take a guard to bed, but you are unmarried still, you cannot take such risks.”

He lurches away from your door, leaning against the wall, his head spinning. When was the last time he had drank so much? Surely it has been years, and the occasional glass of wine he has with you was clearly not enough to keep up his tolerance.

It is hot in the hall, his skin feels feverish, and he pushes up the sleeves of his tunic, before realizing how it exposes the bite mark on his arm. He strokes his fingertips over the skin, smiling to himself. Then the guilt comes, barreling towards him like a battering ram. What has he done? Stripped you nearly bare, feasted upon you, and marked you like a savage. What was he thinking? Shame comes next, overtaking the heat lingering from the alcohol, coloring his skin, and worsening the pounding in his head.

He needs to apologize. As soon as Cersei has left your chambers, he will do so. Will ask that you forgive him, that you pretend it had never happened, he was so close, too close, dangerously close to taking more than a simple taste. If you had asked him to bed you? He does not think his strength of will would have held. Perhaps if he was sober. But then he never would have done as he had without the courage gifted to him by an overindulgence of spirits.

He stands behind you as all gathered watch Margaery and Joffrey join hands, smiling and laughing at the players. You pick at your food, your hair curled gracefully, your wrists, fingers, neck, and ears adorned with jewels, a show of wealth, of power by your father.

“Do try to eat, My Lady, or you will not have the stamina for dancing.” He urges softly. It is not dancing he fears you will not have the stamina for, but placating Joffrey. It is his wedding; all must bow and grovel before him.

You do as he asks, averting your eyes when the dancers make a mockery of your father, of his injury during the Battle of Blackwater.

Margaery’s laughter rings high and clear at something Joffrey says, and a dislike for the woman grows in his chest. He knows she is playing a part, but could she play it in a way that does not worsen your pain?

Gifts are brought out, swords, books, gold, jewelry, spices, all tossed aside by Joffrey who demands more and more. It is not until the gifts have run out, and the music begins again, does Joffrey call for you.

You approach the head table, curtsying and congratulating him on his wedding.

“Cousin, I noticed I did not receive a gift from you.” Joffrey says, toying with a wine glass in his hand.

You put on a secretive smile, your mask slipping into place. “Ah, yes well, I gave it to your Lady Wife directly, it is for after the wedding.”

He laughs, beckoning you further forward, his arms outstretched. “A loyal subject you are cousin, your generosity is noted.”

You return his embrace easily, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Your happiness is my own, My King.”

“I shall have to return your generosity. I know my mother spoke to you about lining up some new suitors for you, after the wedding celebrations have finished, I will send out a notice to all our bannermen.”

You blink in surprise but keep a radiant smile on your face. “I thank you, but please do not rush your festivities for me.”

Jon can see the ease in your form when Margaery embraces you as well, holding you a moment longer than needed before pulling back with a bright smile. “You honor us, dear cousin.”

“I hope she strangles him with my gift.” You grumble, once you are far enough away from the head table, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in your gown.

“Her arms are far too small, perhaps her brother will do it for her.” Jon jests, pride swelling in his chest at your small smile.

He watches as you dance, catching your eye mid-twirl, your fingertips barely brushing against your partner’s. You look so beautiful, and he is impatient, bouncing slightly on his heels, knowing that he has claimed your next dance. The song ends and Jon wastes no time, nodding at your previous partner and taking your hand in his, falling in step with you as the music swells, a new song beginning.

“You did not tell me your aunt spoke of new suitors.” He says, his fingers splayed on your midback, hidden among the throng of dancers no one will see.

“I did not because it will not come about, she will forget, or my father will dissuade her.” You say, leaving his arms for a moment to spin out, your skirts flaring around your ankles like waves, the fabric a muted red, the embroidery golden, but duller. It is more bronze, catching the sunlight in a way that reminds him of Grey Wind’s eyes.

You spin back into him, and his hands ghost over your hips before returning to their proper place. “Let us pray he succeeds.”

You smile, a true smile, he knows you love dancing, that it lightens your heart. “If he does not, then will many houses lose their sons? Your blade will taste blood once more?”

He cannot help but smile back, leaning into your game as he lifts you in time with the others. Your weight is nothing, a mere feather to him, and for a moment you look like a goddess suspended in the air. “Yes, I suspect you will find me far more bloodthirsty than before if I must stand by and watch little lordlings fall all over themselves to impress you.”

You giggle, and brush your fingers over his forearm, where the imprint of your teeth still remains, much to his delight. “I think I am perfectly capable of enduring a bout of blood thirst from you.”

He goes to retort, to teasingly call you a little minx, his personal temptress, his beloved and beautiful tormentor, when a giant pie is wheeled out before Joffrey and Margaery.

You stop, along with most of the other dancers, to watch as Joffrey cuts into the pie, doves scatter into the air and servants whisk plates of pie around. A plate is set before your place at the table, from the spot Joffrey had cut into, and you pick it up, but decline another other on Jon’s behalf.

“Perhaps I wished for a slice of pie, My Lady?” He teases, his voice low, mindful of those around you.

“You will not like it; the latticing is flavored with almond oil.” You take a bite, then wrinkle your nose.  “Gods, that is awful, and I like almonds.”

His heart lurches in his chest. You remember he does not like almonds. He had said it only once, during his first year in your service, and yet you remembered.

“Now you see why I avoid them.”

You put your plate down and took a sip of your wine to wash out the taste.

Then Margaery screams, the sound shattering the merry ambiance, startling the wine glass from your hand. Joffrey is choking, his face turning red then purple, his hands at his throat as Margaery screams again. Jon faintly hears Lady Olenna Tyrell’s call for aid, then Joffrey falls, crashes into the table, his face and fine doublet covered in pie. The kingsguard rush forward, the maester as well, lifting the boy-king as Cersei’s eyes sweep around the room. Accusations are flying around the room until finally someone is able to escort the Dowager Queen away.

You sit frozen, your eyes locked on Joffrey, your gown splattered with wine. A flash of gold, Tommen, Jon notes, darts past, unnoticed by you.

“Ser Jon, escort my daughter back to her chambers.” Tyrion orders, his hand on Ser Jamie’s forearm, the far taller man leaning on his brother and the table for support.

Ser Loras has gathered Margaery up in his arms, guiding his sister away from her deceased husband. The guests, still frightened and confused, arguing amongst themselves as the kingsguard try and fail to calm them.

“Tommen, where is Tommen?” Ser Jamie asks, his eyes wide, wild with fright as he vaults over the table.

That startles you into action, and you follow him, screaming your cousin’s name.

Jon moves to follow as well, but Tyrion’s hand on his calf stops him. “Jamie will protect her, if need be, the wheel has already begun to turn.”

His heart is in his throat, hands clenching and unclenching, his eyes constantly moving, scanning the Great Hall.

Finally, you reappear, Ser Jamie at your side, Tommen in his arms, the boy’s face red and wet with tears. You coo over him, his smaller hand in yours as you walk back to the side table, keeping Joffrey’s body out of Tommen’s sight.

Tommen is eight namedays old, but he looks younger held in his father’s arms.

“We should retire to the Queen’s solar; our family must stand together if we are to survive this tragedy.” Ser Jamie says grimly, his jaw set, his eyes a dark shade of emerald like yours are filled to the brim with unspoken emotion.

“Well said, Brother, the pride must stand together.” Tyrion says, giving Tommen a small smile.

Jon falls behind you and your family, hand on the pommel of his sword. Was this part of the plan? He cannot imagine Lord Tyrion would poison his own nephew, no matter how horrid the boy-king was.

The Dowager Queen’s wailing could be heard through the door, and Ser Jamie passes Tommen off to you, the boy now on his feet sniffling, and holding onto your skirts.

“Allow me a moment.” Ser Jamie says softly, easing the door open and slipping inside.

You smooth down Tommen’s hair. “It is alright.”

Tommen nods solemnly, far too solemnly for a child so young. “Now it is.”

You bite your lip and look up towards the ceiling, tears collecting on your lashes.

Jon longs to reach out, to comfort you, but he cannot, not here, not now.

The door to the Dowager Queen’s solar cracks open, and one by one the Lannisters head inside. Jon moves to join you, but Ser Jamie stops him, taking a step further into the hall and closing the door behind him.

“Jon, if I might speak frankly with you?” Ser Jamie looks down at his boots, his eyes red.

“Aye.” A pit forms in his stomach.

“I am sorry.”

“For what, Ser Jamie?”

The eldest Lannister purses his lips, a habit of yours as well, one Jon has never known where it came from, but now he does. “I have not done right by you; I have encouraged you to make the wrong choices.”

If a woman is your heart’s desire, then it matters not if she is married, if you are, if you have vows or codes preventing you. A man must always seize his heart’s desire lest he dies never having known, never having even tried.

Ser Jamie’s words to him those many nights ago as they shared drinks and stories had emboldened him, given him the strength to go to your chambers and act.

“Honor, duty, it will keep your head attached to your neck, and it will keep your heart in your chest where it belongs.” He places his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I like you Jon, you are a good man, an even better swordsman, but she is my niece…”

“I would never dishonor her.” Jon says, and it is true, he would not, he had slipped, overly indulged himself, but soon Tyrion would announce your betrothal, and his actions would not seem dishonorable, not even in his memories.

Ser Jamie’s grip on his shoulder tightens, and he looks Jon in the eyes, a desperation in them. “I know you will try not to, but y/n is a Lannister, she is more my sister her aunt, than her mother. They are persuasive, stubborn, and beautiful, many men have fallen at their feet, many more will. Ensure you are not one of them, not again.”

“You know?” Jon asks, before he can stop the foolish words from escaping.

“I all but sent you to her that night, I wanted…” He looks away, and Jon is struck by the shame, the agony he sees in the older man’s expression. “I wanted her to know what it is like to be loved. My sister will marry her off to a wealthy house, it is what she thinks best for y/n and there can be no promise of love in her marital bed, but with you? I can see you love her Jon, and I fear she returns your affections, so I hoped that perhaps one night would be enough to sustain her in her years to come. I did not think of the consequences.”

“I did not take her maidenhood.”

Shock ripples across Ser Jamie’s face.

“I will not chance leaving her with a bastard, I will not tarnish her name.”

Ser Jamie’s head drops, a sigh of relief audibly flowing through him. “You are a good man, Jon Snow. Better than I.”

“My Lady speaks of you fondly; she does not think you a bad man.” Jon says, and it is true, you adore your uncle, even if what he has done with your aunt disgusts you.

Ser Jamie smiles sadly and squeezes Jon’s shoulder before he lets go. “My sweet niece, beautiful and perfect, everything like her mother in looks, but in her ability to forgive me? That is all, Tyrion, I do not deserve the grace they give me.”

“Then it rests upon your shoulder to act in a way that makes you deserving of it, does it not?”

Ser Jamie laughs, the sound hollow, stained with grief, worn down by time. “I suppose it does.”

Jon inclines his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

“I must ask you to wait out here, this is a family matter.” Ser Jamie says, his voice soft, almost apologetic.

“I understand.”

 “Worry not, I am sure y/n will bite my head off for separating the two of you.” Ser Jamie then gives him a smile and pulls open the door, disappearing inside.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo

[jewish-sideblog]

If your political stance pits you against all the national news organizations in your country, across the political spectrum, from FOX to CNN to MSNBC, maybe you should reevaluate your stance.

I’d your political stance pits you against your entire congressional representation, across the political spectrum, from Bernie Sanders to Mitch McConnell, maybe you should reevaluate your stance.

If your political stance pits you against hundreds of your favorite public figures, from Chris Pine to Mark Hamill, from Jamie Lee Curtis to Howie Mandel, from Jack Black to Neil Gaiman, then maybe you should reevaluate your stance.

If your political stance is favored among white supremacists, neo-nazis, Hezbollah, the Taliban, and Iraq, then maybe you should reevaluate your stance.

Vying for Palestinian liberation is a good thing. But if Palestinian liberation looks like dead Jewish children and the destruction of Israel to you, look at who you stand with. Look at who you stand against. Democrats and Republicans in America don’t agree on anything, except that Hamas is bad. White supremacists and Islamic terrorist groups don’t agree on anything, except that Hamas killing Jews is a good thing. Who do you want to side with here?

[thirsty-flygirl]

Good With Their Mouths

My fave fictional men have some very specific talents in the bedroom.

A/N: Back from the dead, put me in horny jail, whatever. I thought about it and I wrote it. Also, if you have any other Oscar/Pedro, Triple Frontier/Ted Lasso characters to add, let me know - this was way more fun that it should have been.

Spicy times ahead - minors DNI

Frankie Morales

We all know what Frankie is good at, and it’s keeping his idiotic buddies in line and eating pussy. That man has memorized every single sound and movement that you make during sex and he uses it to his advantage when he’s DTF. Which is all the time. He’s a tease, kissing down your body, stopping at all the hot zones from your lips to the apex of your thighs. He’ll nip at your mouth, slide down to circle his talented tongue around your nipple, then slowly make his way down your torso. He loves sucking a mark on your hip bone, marking you as his in a way that no other person can, but keeping it discreet because the man does not kiss and tell. Once he gets to your thighs, he will pepper the insides with kisses and nips while you whine and press your hips toward his generous mouth. After you’re nearly insane with arousal, he will gently suck at your clit, almost igniting your fuse right away. But again, this man knows exactly how to prolong your pleasure, so he will pull back just before the point of no return. You might bitch for a second, but the man dives in, tongue fucking your cunt and moaning so loudly your neighbors can hear him. He will alternate for an hour, sucking you off and licking up the taste of your slick until he finally lets you cum. You, of course, almost blackout from the sensation, but he doesn’t let up, working you even higher. You quickly cum again, squirting, and Frankie will swallow down everything you give him, then clean you up and ask for more two hours later. 

Jamie Tartt

Jamie doesn’t always eat pussy, but when he does you can count on cumming hard.  While his favorite thing in bed is to fuck you from behind while staring in a mirror at the way your tits swing and the face you make when you shatter around his (very impressive) dick, he will gladly eat you out if he has the time and he’s not too exhausted. What he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in effort. Jamie eats you out like he plays football - with one goal in mind. He wants to make you forget every name but his and, damn him, it works every time. He knows exactly what gets you off and will get right down to business when given the chance. He talks just as much in bed as he does on the pitch and holy shit, can this boy talk dirty to you. “Fuck, love, your pussy was made for eatin’,” he grins up at you as he swipes his tongue through your folds, blue eyes crinkling because he knows you’re just dying for it. “Mmmm, c’mon, you can do better than that,” he says while you beg him to let you cum, “tell me what you want, and you know I’ll give it to you . . “ All you can do is moan incoherently, which makes him absolutely smug because he knows exactly what you want and exactly how to give it to you. He spends his time between your legs sucking your clit the way you like and telling you what a good girl you are, how your cunt was made for him to fuck, that you taste so fucking good right now that he might cum before he can even sink his cock into you.. . . yeah. Jamie Tartt eats pussy. 

Benny Miller

It’s hard for Benny to slow down, but when he does it’s literally the best you’ve ever had. He takes his time, stripping you down to your panties and breathing you in before he ever thinks about touching you. Your quiet whimpers whenever his lips brush against your most sensitive spots, still covered by your soaked panties, drives him wild. But he is a trained soldier and he knows how to wait out his target, so he’ll wait until you’re absolutely begging him to put his mouth on you. Once he does, it takes you about 30 seconds to reach your peak, but that’s okay, because your boy will spend as much time down there as he needs to make you come at least two more times before getting his dick wet. The second one is a slow burn, lots of kisses pressed against your clit and gentle pressure as he sucks on your folds. He loves to stroke his tongue inside you, following it up with his fingers, as many as you can take. Once you give in to him and cum for the second time, he will ramp it up, relentlessly licking and biting at you until you flood his mouth with your arousal. He will quickly move up to kiss you hard, fucking your mouth with his tongue so that you can taste yourself while sliding his thick cock inside you. 

Santiago Garcia

We all know Santi fucks. Like, one look at this guy and you know he’s down for it any time, any place. He will turn that baseball cap around as soon as you give him the go sign and he’s on his knees ready to send you to heaven. He’s made a career out of paying attention to minute details and scanning for possible weaknesses, and making you cum is, in his mind, another mission. He has every sound, every breath cataloged. He knows when it’s too much and when it’s not enough, and he uses your body the way he knows you like it best. That said, he eats your pussy when he wants to eat your pussy, not the other way around. Luckily for you, he wants it almost every fucking day. It’s usually a surprise attack from Santi; you never know where or when, but he makes you so hot that the minute he initiates something you want it now. Something as innocent as washing dishes turns into a fuckfest; he’ll dip his hands in the warm, soapy water, flinging a little onto your white t-shirt so he can see your bra clearly underneath. As your nipples harden, he will stand behind you and massage your tits, pressing against you so you can feel his cock harden. His fingers will trail down your body, slipping underneath your shirt to softly stroke the curve of your belly before gently pulling your shorts down, kneeling on the floor despite his shitty joints because when he’s got your sweet pussy this close to his face, nothing hurts.He will begin from the back because he’s a goddamn KING, spreading your ass cheeks and letting his tongue lazily lick your hole(s). He’s a talker, but it’s more in quiet groans and whispers against your skin than actual words: “Oh, sweetheart, you’re so wet . . . let me take care of you . . . ‘s that all for me? . . .” Once you’re trembling and gripping the sink to stay standing, he will lead you to a more comfortable location for the main event. 

Roy Kent

Okay. Okay. OKAY. Roy gives Pussy Eating King Frankie Morales a run for his money. This man serves cunt and eats it too. He will give it to you any way you want it. You want it slow, romantic? Roy Kent will gently lick your clit until you feel like you might explode from the sheer pleasure his mouth can bring you. The man doesn’t miss a spot, softly sucking and kissing your clit, your lips, the skin of your thighs, and everywhere in between. But the way you moan his name, like you’re on another plane of existence and he is the singular thing keeping you tied to Earth? Drives him absolutely feral. He can turn on a dime, eating your pussy like a starving man eating his first meal in a month. His groans are absolutely filthy, his big hands wrapping around your thighs so he can keep you right where he wants you. He’ll press his hips into the mattress, just to relieve some of the pressure on his cock, and he’ll cum, just like that, and be hard again for you in less time than it takes to get through halftime on match day. Once he’s completely wrung the pleasure from your body, he will grip himself and look you in the fucking eye as he slides into you. The intensity in his gaze and way he says, “Fuck, you’re incredible,” makes you nearly cum again. 

Javier Pena

One of my OG fictional boyfriends, Javi doesn’t eat pussy. Okay, he does, but it’s definitely not his favorite thing to do. Thing is, the man is so fucking good at it, he deserves a medal and a membership card, or something. Everything about him screams sexy, from his swagger to the way those big brown eyes just need to give you a look (yeah, you know the one, where he eye fucks you from head to toe and then just licks that pouty bottom lip) to get you wet. He’s a little like Santiago Garcia, the way he will eat your pussy when he wants to, not when you want it. Once he’s down there, though, he savors you. He’s not a chump and if he’s gonna do it, he’s gonna do it well. He pays attention to the things you like, and will nibble and suck your clit in alternating rhythms, slow and fast, to get you off. The one thing that sets Javi apart is the way he uses those thick fingers to help push you over the edge. While his lips and tongue are working your clit, he thrusts his fingers inside you, stretching you so good. Curling his fingers up until he finds the spot that makes you explode, Javi will work you until you’re almost there, pulling back before he can taste your sweet cum. Instead, he’ll trail those wet fingers down to your ass, slowly working them against your skin and dipping inside you, watching your pussy clench around nothing. Eventually he’ll finish the job, but not until you’re a sweaty, teary mess on his bed and swearing you’ll do anything for him if he’ll just let you cum. 

Poe Dameron

Poe, my baby, my true love, and the one that got away (yes, I’m delusional). This man does not have a lot of time, so most of your sexual liaisons are a bit rushed and there’s not enough time or space to really get down to business. BUT. When you both have a few unoccupied hours to yourselves? You will be absolutely torn apart, put back together, and shattered again. Poe Dameron loves you. He loves every. Single. Part of you. Every curve, dimple, roll; the hard places and the soft places and the places that you hate - Poe finds you absolutely stunning and would gladly spend hours worshiping every inch of your body if your little whines and breathy moans didn’t make him want to get right to the main event. His sexy, panty-melting smirk as he runs his tongue down your body floods your core to the point where you would feel embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good. And Poe loves how wet you get for him. He gently tugs your underwear down your legs, eyes glued to the heaven between your thighs. He’s almost reverent at this moment, settling down on the mattress and letting his thumbs pull you apart - just a little - so he can see your slit leaking. You hear a shaky breath, and those brown doe eyes will just stare into yours. In that moment, you can see how badly he wants you, and you feel beautiful under him. “I love how wet you get for me,” he mumbles, eyes never leaving you as he dips his head and licks up a taste with the tip of his tongue. Just the smallest touch makes your hips jump and he spreads that warm hand flat on your belly to keep you grounded. “Shhh, sweetheart, I’ll make you feel good,” he says and you believe it with everything inside you. Poe gets messy when he eats you out, using every part of his mouth to make you feel good. He loves it, really, the scent and the taste and the sight of you, coming undone on his bed. When you cum, it’s a long, rolling orgasm that just won’t stop, one right into the second, and maybe a third if you have the time. When he’s sure you’re satisfied, he’ll lick his lips and kiss back up your body, taking your mouth with his and letting his tongue swipe against yours as he urges his thick cock inside your wet heat. Eyes rolling back, Poe will let out the most satisfied groan as he begins thrusting, bringing you both quickly to release. When the two of you cum together, he’ll rest his forehead against yours and give you a soft kiss, the ring he always wears resting between your breasts on its chain.