#Lucky Red Envelopes

[empresa-journal]

Can GIFTO (GFT) make money from Gifting?

Gifto (GFT) is a decentralized finance solution built to enable blockchain gifting. For example, Gifto allows users to generate nonfungible tokens (NFTs), e-cards, profile pictures (PFPs), generative art, and red envelopes they can give as gifts. Users can create NFTs, sell NFTs, PFPs, and generative art in the Gifto Store, and receive Gifto (GFT) rewards. To elaborate, a profile picture (PFP)…

[sinful-lanterns]

I accidentally got Adela BUT THEN I SEE ANGELL ON CN SERVERS?? I’m so close to pulling out my wallet…

—🪡 nonnie

I’m trying my best to save up as many hypercubes as I can because now I have to get a third S-Class sinner in a row 😭😭

Mostly because I’m reserving my money for the skins/surveillance orders. So far I have plans to buy the Pirate Langley skin, the Deren skin, and Chelsea + Cabernet’s surveillance orders :(

I’m gonna DIEEEEE.

[p-h03n1-x]

More red envelope covers with Wang Yibo from Master Kong

[eternaldecisions]

alexa play . . . hands on me by Ariana Grande .ᐟ.ᐟ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ summary: You and Matthew, never liked each other, principally after an incident at a party, and when you found out your childhood bestfriend was kissing the person you hated the most, making intrusive thoughts take care of your body.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: Smut, rough sex, fem!receiving, degradation kink, spitting, enemies trope!! || ⸝⸝ author’s note: this is for @fawnchives !

The dazzling LED lights dominate your sight, enveloping your vision as you walk thru the party your best friend has just kicked off.

several couples getting drunk and making out in the corners, girls getting loose on the dance floor by the song “Hands on me” by Ariana Grande, why not join on the dance floor?

Making your way to the dance floor, excusing yourself to pass thru multiple people, the party was definitely crowded.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you get closer to the destination, put everything good in your mind disappears when you bump in the person you wanted to see the least.

Matthew Sturniolo.

You and him never liked each other, and had a big rivalry since high school, well firstly he was always a bitch to you, secondly you couldn’t stand seeing his attractive face structure everywhere.

The red cup filled with beer, spilled on his shirt, well lucky him it was a black shirt, if it was a white one it would be worse.

Im met with the pair of his blue eyes staring at me deadly, it scared you at the same time, but why be scared at a two faced loser?

“You never watch where you walk don’t you?” His gaze meet your body, taking a long up and down look, observing every detail of the outfit you had picked.

“Why are you such a asshole?” You comment, your gaze meeting his a light chuckle leaving his mouth.

“You owe me a new shirt, y’know?”

“Too bad, in your dreams maybe it happens.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes staring to walk away, he watches your figure disappearing into the crowded dance floor.

03:46AM

Multiple songs you liked were on and that made the party enjoyable, you smile with your friend Lizzie as you walk to a couch together refilling both of your cups, sounds of giggles escaping your lips as you two were enveloped in talking shit about people you didn’t like.

“Y’know, I hate Matth-“ you cut off yourself as you look to a corner right in your front, but still a bit far away, your eyes met the tall figure of Matthew as he basically as sucking the neck of your childhood bestfriend, Mila.

A strong grip on the cup is planted by the strength your hands make, Mila knew you hated him but she didn’t help it and offer herself to the guy you despised.

“That two faced cunt.” You mumble, Lizzie looking at you confused, you land your cup on the nearest table, beginning to walk outside for some fresh air.

Sitting on the crosswalk, as the wind hits your face you look to the street cars passing by, but one car calls out your attention.

Matthew’s Lamborghini Urus, parked the closest to you, a wicked grin forms in your face as your mind forms, why not ruin his car?

There was a lot of possibilities to ruin it, but the easiest was keying his car.

You suddenly remember you have needle in your shirt, after a problem had happened with your pink jersey, removing carefully the sharp object, standing up and walking up close to the driver’s passenger part, kneeling down, you started keying his car, damaging the shiny black painting, a white long line in his passenger door.

You smile to yourself, nothing better that knowing how man act when their precious car is ruined, and Matt’s car being ruined made you happy, he had what he deserved.

As you stand up once again, planting the clothe needle again in your jersey turning around, you meet face to face with Matthew.

Oh fuck.

In your mind you thought this would work because if you damaged and you disappeared after, he wouldn’t know it was you, maybe he could have an idea, but still.

His gaze turns to a anger look as he looks at you, he had been watching you all the time, and this wasn’t good, he crossed his arms against his chest, his muscles flexing as his voice starts echoing thru your ears, shivers being sent down your spine.

“You think you’re that clever don’t you?” He says, before you could reply, he shuts you off immediately by speaking again.

“Not only you bump into me with your clumsiness, spilling your beer on my shirt that now, you had to ruin my fucking car.” Every word that he spit out of his mouth he got even closer to you.

“Well maybe I have my reasons to key your car.”

“Are you mad that Mila was kissing me?” The anger in his voice was still visible, but he couldn’t help it and let a chuckle escape his mouth as a smirk is on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe I am because she was my bestfriend, and she knows damn well that I hate you!” You exclaim, you cross your arms just like he had, as you interlock eyes with him.

“That doesn’t give you any stupid fucking reason to key my car.” You open your mouth to comment, but before, a hand creeps up on your waist turning you around forcedly guiding you to the passengers side.

“Let me go!” You utter, as you try to remove his hand off you, but his grip was too strong.

“Why don’t you shut up that dirty fucking mouth of yours, hm?” He whispers in your ear as you can feel the smirk he has on his face, opening the door for you, you enter on the car, sitting and remaining silent for the rest of the ride, wherever he was taking you.

The whole car ride was silent, after he drove it to a luxury neighborhood, you knew he was driving to his house, his jaw was clenched most of the time and he was going 305 km/h, it was too fast to your liking.

As he parked his car, opening the electronic garage, he quickly left his side, going the other way to open yours, he grabbed you by the wrist making you gasp at the sudden act.

“You’re too mad just for a little damage in your car, I was having fun at the party.” You lie thru gritted teeth, for a moment it was but the second Matt was there, it had ruin everything.

“You’re a damn brat, maybe we can put you in your place isn’t it?” He states, his jaw still hardly clenched, his side profile being heavenly, like a sorta of Greek God had structured it.

You roll your eye as he guides you thru the big mansion he owned, every part of the place with different paintings and different furniture.

As you both go upstairs, he leads you to his room, the same time you step your feet inside, he is locking the door and pinning you against the wall, your faces being inches close.

“Now tell me hm? You wanted to be Mila didn’t you.” His strong cologne filled your nostrils, the same way your sweet scent filled his.

His hands creep up to your inner thigh, a sudden gasp leaving your mouth as you remain silent.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Matt utters, his soft lips attacking your neck, leaving wet kisses and marks, as his right hand kept going even more up arriving close to your pink laced panties.

His hand went fast to your core, how fast it was taken of there, as he picks you up in bridal style, positioning myself in his bed, as he tops me.

He pulls away my pink jersey throwing somewhere across his room, if someone ever told me i would be getting naked with the guy I hated, i would probably slapped me across the face.

His large hands find way to my denim skirt yanking it off, now i’m only left in my match bra and panties, how nice.

“You don’t need to lie, you’ve always wanted this as much as I did.” He commented ripping off my bra, my mouth wide how easily he had the strength to rip off the fabric.

“You owe me a new bra, idiot.”

He chuckles, as he pushes you close to him, his face leaning close to your stomach as he plants kisses along the way.

He gets each time closer to your core, making you clench around nothing, he pulls your panties to the side, with no warning, his tongue is deep down in my pussy, as a long moan leaves my lips.

I can feel the stupid smirk as he eats me out, his hands gripping my thighs to not let me move, he pulls leans up again, getting close to my face once again, smashing his lips against mine in a heavy roughy kiss, making me taste my juices in his tongue.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.” The nickname made me wetter more then I was, i obey, sticking my tongue out, as he yanks his two fingers into, and i instinctively suck on them, dripping them with my saliva.

A wicked grin is planted on his face as the two digits are on my core, rubbing my puffy clit, as my mouth is open, soft moans leaving it which was music to his ears.

“Feels good getting pleasure by your enemy doesn’t it.” He expresses as his hands keep rubbing your clit faster.

“i still fucking hate you.” You spit it out, a loud moan leaving your mouth right after.

“The way your hips buck for more, it says otherwise doll.”

The please accumulated in your body leaves as he takes off the two fingers that were in your clit to his mouth, you watch him suck on it, tasting yourself once again.

Suddenly, his hands are removing his belt and his baggy jeans, seeing him in his Calvin Klein boxers, his hard cock wanting to be more than released.

Pulling his underwear down his dick hitting his stomach, you never had an idea he was that long, you can be a little thing but you like that long.

He leans down to your core, a full spit landing on it making you wince, your juices and his spit now combined.

He strokes himself a few times before slamming into you, a groan leaving his mouth as you moan in synchronization with him.

My head is thrown back, as he doesn’t give me time to adjust fully starting to thrust in and out of me, he wasn’t just some couple of inches, he had enough inches to bruise my cervix and leave me hanging for more.

“You liked being fuck like a slut don’t you?” He chuckles, keeping thrusting, my mind couldn’t even form words, my back arching for more, his dick had the perfect size to hit my g-sport.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, fuck.. I love it.” You moan our, your head throw back in his pillows, his hands finding way to smack your ass, the real meaning of pain and pleasure.

He smirks, as he gets closer to my face pulling me in a rough kiss, my moans being muffled by it, his thrusts were each time more rough then the before, he wasn’t like other guy that would fuck a girl just to cum inside her and leave, oh he was for sure waiting to see your face knowing he was the one giving you all the pleasure.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna.” Before you could finish your sentence you cum all around his dick making a mess in the sheets below.

“Making a mess on my dick like the fucking slut you are.”

He pulls out, stroking his dick a few times before painting your lower and upper body with his cum, before collapsing on top of you.

Sweaty beads were formed during the act, your panty and heavy breaths in sync together, as you catch your breath all you could hear was his deep voice echoing thru your ears.

“Y’know, instead of watching me suck your best friends neck, if you ever need my hands on you, don’t be scared to ask, it is better then keying my car for that attention.”

[saerins]

[ ೀ pucker up, buttercup | itoshi sae ]

ೀ content: female reader, fluff, sae and reader are adults, pet names (sae’s choice of words are stupid/idiot, calls reader ‘my girl’), alcohol, slightly suggestive at the end. | wc 1.5k | notes: okay did a very quick drabble for sae for christmas !! merry christmas to you guys <3

ೀ summary: being sae’s girlfriend is tough. there’s a lot of things he can’t make time for, and unfortunately this time, it’s you. but somehow, he always pulls through.

it’s christmas eve and you’re at your company function, looking at the fruits of your hard labour.

the event hall is decked with christmas decorations; stockings lining the walls and corresponding to different names for everyone’s secret santa to gift accordingly, christmas lights surrounding every table, everyone getting their fair share of the catering you’d arranged.

“this is amazing,” your boss gushes as she excitedly throws her arms around you. she’s only a few years older than you, so it’s not all too surprising that she’s always super friendly with you.

“relax on the alcohol, okay?” you joke with her, smelling the liquor already.

she pouts at you, batting her eyelashes. “oh c’mon, are you still upset that your boyfriend couldn’t make it for christmas?”

you sigh, though you keep a strong front, smiling through it. being the private girlfriend of an international soccer superstar is tough; he has to miss holidays and special occasions and more often than not you can’t even get your calls through because he’s just that busy. you’d been excited for this year’s christmas though, because he had said he’d be able to fly back home this time.

but as it turns out, his manager—who so happens to love overworking him—has other plans. so all of that excitement just went down the drain. still, what else can you say to him other than good luck with it? you knew being his girlfriend was going to be tough, but it’s starting to take a toll after feeling like you barely exist in his world.

still, you stare at the message he last sent you.

i love you.

and you go soft. soft, because you know he means it. soft, because despite everything, you believe in the man you fell in love with. the one who gave you your first kiss back in high school, the one who’s so awkward that even initiating to hold hands last time had his entire face beet red. the one who never fails to assure you that in spite of the distance, he’s always still thinking of you.

you fiddle with your necklace, the promise ring sae gave you when you were back in high school sitting around your neck like it always has.

in between all the long distance arguments and the time differences and the i miss you, wish you were here with me, you still find yourself hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. even when your friends say they can’t imagine being in your shoes, even when numerous tabloids love to put models or athletes as your competition, you know there’s still no one else you’d rather be with than him.

“i’m fine, really,” you assure your boss, prying her off of you and then adjusting her so her arm is around your shoulder as you lead her to her stocking. “here, why don’t you busy yourself and see what your secret santa got you?”

you really just want to distract your boss so she wouldn’t accidentally end up throwing you a pity party. all you want to do today is to make it through it, spend the first hour of christmas day rounding up the party and then get home and sleep your day away. it’ll distract you from the absence of your boyfriend anyway.

as you watch your boss happily open up whatever’s in her stocking, you wonder if your secret santa got you anything. (of course, some secret santas are dicks and end up not getting their person anything.) so count yourself lucky when you open up your stocking to find both a gift and a card.

amused, you rip the card out of its envelope, your heart skipping a beat when you see that inside of it, there’s a picture of you and sae as high school kids, beside each other, his face deadpan while you’re grinning from ear to ear, resting your head against his shoulder. the message reads: i love you so much it’s stupid.

you’re still in shock but you open up the little gift box, maroon with a green bow on it. when you see what’s inside, you can’t help but chuckle.

holding it above you, under the light, you can see the words hey, stupid engraved on the side of the fake mistletoe before feeling a warm pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, cold lips catching you off guard as they press themselves against yours.

it fills you up inside, takes all the weight off your shoulders. you’ll recognise him anywhere, without having to look or hear, the way his lips feel against yours, how he holds you gently against him, laughing softly against your lips as you pull him closer to you by the collar.

never in your wildest dreams did you expect to see your boyfriend in japan, let alone at your work party of all places, and now here you both are, kissing under the mistletoe.

“woah relax there,” he teases you, pulling away but still holding you close.

he’s here, he’s actually here. his hair’s in a mess, and there are circles under his eyes, but he’s smiling. he’s smiling at you and he’s here with you and you don’t even feel the tears forming in your eyes because you’re too busy relishing in the moment.

“itoshi sae,” you call out to him, your hands patting on his body, his black coat and his scarf are real and he’s here—he’s really here. “i thought you were too busy to come back…”

how long has it been now since you’d last seen him? a year? perhaps longer? he’s been so busy nowadays that you wondered at one point if he would even come back to you at all.

sae sighs, holding your cheeks in his hands as he presses his forehead against yours. “i’m sorry,” he says tensely, shaking his head slightly. “i was away for so long, and i just…” his teal eyes stare into yours, both your eyelashes dancing against one another. “i missed you, and i just wanted to see you.”

you’re laughing in disbelief, still holding him close because you’re just that afraid that this’ll all be an illusion that might soon slip away. “and they just let you off like that? that simple?”

he presses his lips into a firm line, averting his gaze. “let’s just say that they weren’t happy about it but i’m the important one, so…” he smiles, genuinely, putting an arm around. “they don’t have a choice but to let me come home to see my girl.”

turns out, he’d called in a favour to your boss, asked her about christmas plans because he knew from your texts that you were in charge of putting it all together. and then he asked her to put the gifts in your stocking. and you laugh hearing about it, because you’re thinking of how your life could’ve gone a totally different way. you could’ve gotten into a relationship with someone else who wouldn’t do this much for you, wouldn’t make time for you, wouldn’t travel across the world and put their own things down all in the name of meeting you.

“what’re you thinking about, stupid?”

you look into his eyes, shaking your head. “nothing, it’s nothing, i just- i love you, itoshi sae.” you smile, and sae smiles too because he loves how your smile reaches your eyes. and he loves being the reason you smile so he’s going to keep being that—and he makes a promise to himself to make you happy for life. but maybe that’s a gesture for next time. right now, he just wants to spend the rest of the holidays with you.

the clock strikes twelve, and he steals the mistletoe from you, holding it up between the two of you again, wincing from how cheesy it is after he does it, earning a chuckle from you.

“merry christmas, idiot.” and he kisses you again, long and slow and completely oblivious to everyone else that’s there who are staring and clapping—half of them still in awe that the itoshi sae is here and half of them in shock after putting two and two together that he’s your special guy.

“so, you’re gonna be here till new years’?” you ask in between kisses.

sae nods, “at least, why?”

you grin, pulling him by the belt as you lead him out of the event hall. “think it’s time we get home and just spend it between the two of us, yeah?”

sae laughs, letting you drag him along, wondering whether by this time next year, will he be lucky enough to call you his wife?

but when he sees that promise ring he gifted you still nestling snug around your neck, he has no doubt. you’re each other’s for life. and you’re worth every single risk he has to take.

[stsgooo]

Subconscious Reassurance.

✩࿐ summary: even the strongest has dreams he longs to be reality.

warning(s): slight 236 spoilers, shibuya incident spoilers, mentioned death, poor coping mechanisms, lovesick!gojo, girldad!gojo, as usual not proofread (it’s 2 am give me a break). wc; 3.6k

pairing(s): gojo satoru x reader

a/n: keep seeing tiktoks about the lamp story and this came to me. it’s a shortie but i just wanted to get this out. also do we prefer the colorless manga panels or the ones like the above one? i was messing with filters on picsart so lmk :)

divider 1 | previous work | ao3

SATORU ARRIVED HOME EXACTLY 7 PM.

He knew it was true because that’s the time he always arrived. There was no need to glance at the clock or question anyone around him. He knew it was 7PM.

The sun was peeking through the curtains and basking your shared home in a golden hue. Warmth enveloped his very being as he closed the front door behind him. There wasn’t a surface that wasn’t being touched by the sun, that wasn’t feeling the same feelings he did.

The sky outside was illuminated in a mixture of purples, reds, oranges, and pinks. A palate that could be implemented into his very soul and he’d smile in return.

“Daddy!”

The call was familiar and came exactly one minute after Satoru walked through the door.

Again, he didn’t need to glance, he just knew.

A smile blossomed on his lips and he crouched down to catch the little girl that jumped into his arms with a loud squeal. Her nose pressed into her cheek as she happily rambled about how much she missed him. A norm and a routine that he greeted happily with his own reassurances that he missed her infinitely more.

"Daddy," she whined, her tiny chubby fingers reaching up for his blindfold. "Can't see your eyes, daddy."

This happened every night after he arrived home. She would always frown and trace her nails over where his eyes would definitely be. Most of the time it was uncomfortable and, frankly, a little scary, but he always welcomed it with an overly dramatic gasp.

"Oh, sorry, daddy forgot!" He hooked his finger under the fabric and pulled it down to rest against his neck. Her eyes (which were his) met his and brightened considerably. "Is that better, Rie?"

Rie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

Despite the aching behind his right eye, Satoru kept the blindfold off for Rie’s sake. She had always expressed her upmost displeasure for the item since she was a baby. Crying and crying until he finally pulled it off. It’d been a rough first few years trying to get used to pulling the thing off whenever he got home. But he’d grown accustomed to it.

“What’s mama up to?” Satoru asked softly, tracing his finger briefly over the bridge of Rie’s nose as she giggled.

The little girl swayed slightly in his arms. “Mama’s been working in the eating room—“ dining room, Satoru softly corrected with a smile, “—she put on on Yuki for me to watch while she worked.”

“Yuki, huh? Lucky you!” He playfully pinched her cheek which resulted in her swatting his hand with a resounding “daddy!” in protest. Satoru adjusted her on his hip and raised an eyebrow. “Should we go bother mommy?”

Like usual, Rie enthusiastically nodded in response.

Poor you.

True to his routine, he made his way from the front door towards the dining room, loudly. He left no room for you to not hear him coming him and gave you ample opportunity to prepare for his and Rie’s interruption on your precious work (he swore you were almost as bad as Nanam— …. as… as…).

The smile on his lips didn’t falter as his mind trailed away from the forgotten name. What was forgotten obviously wasn’t entirely important. He enthusiastically turned the corner, arm thrown out as Rie squealed happily as his rather jerky movements.

You were as you always were. Responsible. In your usual space occupying your rightful position.

Despite the loud (dramatic) entrance he made, you did not react in anyway. Your eyes were glued to your screen as you furiously typed away a response to whoever got on your bad side today. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. In fact, this should’ve been around the time Gakuganji of Ya— someone of higher standing emailed you something that didn’t sit right with you. Even the appearance of your amazing and rambunctious husband didn’t seem to deter you from your mission.

Satoru pouted, huffing as he peacefully placed Rie down (the girl now more interested in the TV returning to her show), and crept closer to you. Still, you did not look away.

He leaned over, his chin hooked over his shoulder as he peeked over the words you were putting out into the world. Oddly, he couldn’t read any of the screen. He tried squinting your eyes and blinking a few times— nothing. It was more reminiscent of gibberish than any Japanese he knew. None of it seemed to stay in one place and it all smashed together to create a blob.

You knew how to read and write, he knew that much. Was it something with his eyes? He doubted it. But something wasn’t—

The laptop clicked close.

“You’ve never been one to take a hint, Satoru,” you turned your head to place a soft kiss against his temple in greeting. He could feel your tiny smile against his skin. The warmth of your lips. The coolness of your silvia left behind. His chest ached. He missed— missed? “Although, I knew that before I married you.”

He pushed away the mud in his mind and turned his head, placing a peck against your lips. Strawberries. You always had remnants of strawberries on your lips. Rie’s favorite fruit.

“I think it’s one of my many charming qualities.” He hummed.

You rolled your eyes, but placed a chaste kiss against his lips once again. “Charming is pushing it.” You patted his cheek. “It’s definitely an interesting characteristic.”

Satoru pouted. “You make it sound so unappealing.”

“Well, if the shoe fits…”

He snorted in response, standing to his full height and peeking at you from over his nose. “You know, you’re not innocent either. Thought you said the TV would rot her brain, now you’re putting it on to keep her distracted?” He spared a glance to where Rie was hanging off the couch, upside down, her eyes glued to the television.

You shot him an incredulous look. “Because she’s your daughter and has the self restraint of a puppy. I needed a hour to get some things done.” You pat the top of your laptop. “Sue me.”

Satoru smirked. “I just might for emotional damages.” He gestured towards the laptop with a vague hand. “What exactly had you typing up a storm?”

There was a brief wave of giddiness in his chest when he saw the look in your eyes darken. Passion. Anger. Protectiveness. There were so many things he loved about you. Adored you for. Made him sick to his stomach whenever he thought about it.

“Well, I got an email from —— about some work in Shibuya, but I told him I already checked it out and suffered for it. Well, guess what he said? ——— and ———— suffered too so I can’t complain much. Set me off a bit, had to give him a piece of my mind and remind him what happened.”

Satoru wasn’t sure if he was having a stroke or he was just too awestruck by your beauty; but he swore that your voice simply stopped whenever you spoke names. As if your voice box couldn’t get it out. But you carried on like it was nothing. Your lips had even formed around the words that so desperately wanted to be out there, but were never uttered. You didn’t look panicked or disturbed. If anything, you looked normal. Just sipping from your capri sun that was definitely forced on you by Rie.

It was like he was the only one not hearing it.

It vaguely concerned him, but he was also Gojo Satoru. Sometimes weird things happened that had no explanation.

“But,” you continued once you swallowed down the fruit punch liquid with a twisted face. “I suppose I can’t really blame anyone for what happened. It was Halloween, we were all caught off guard. Some of us suffered for it more than others.”

Satoru, for the life of him, couldn’t recall what happened on Halloween. But he should. He had that overwhelming feeling that he really, really should.

Either way, he gave a nonchalant shrug, “Eh, my motto is that it’s always easier to forgive and forget.” He snatched the remainder of your capri sun and gave a loud slurp.

You grin, resting your chin on your cupped fingers. “I suppose so.” You eyed him warmly, then nodded to the chair next to you. Always warm. Always welcoming. “Now, what did you get up to today?”

Satoru groaned, flopping onto the seat with a creak. He placed the capri sun down to place his hands against his face. “Two specials grades in Iwate, one grade one in Kagawa, then three nasty things leeching off on the playground on the way home.” He knew he should feel exhausted. He usually did. But that day, this day, he did not. If anything, he felt well rested.

Odd.

You hum softly. “They’re overworking you, Satoru,” your tone is barely there. Your words could be missed if the house had any movement or loud noises. But it was just you and him. The soft background noises of your daughter. Always you and him. “They should recognize that you’re just a man. One day it’ll be too much. One day you’ll snap in half.”

Satoru frowned, finding the sudden shift in tone a little unsettling. “I’m the strongest, no need to worry.” He waved a passive hand in the air between you.

“I’ll always worry. It’s been my job to worry.” Your eyes moved towards Rie almost melancholic. “She’ll worry too, you know. She does worry. More than she should at 10.”

Satoru frowned deeper. “Eh…?” He blinked slowly, eyes sliding to Rie with confusion. 10? Was he crazy? Blind? Since when was the little girl sitting on the couch 10? Last he checked, she was six. It was 2012. Were you losing it on him? Was this your subtle way of telling him you’re spiraling again? “Baby, she is not—“

“I know you worry too. Think you’ve been worried about losing since the moment you got home.”

Losing? He’s never lost. Well, except those few times. But they didn’t count. Those were intentional loses.

Satoru was beginning to feel as though you both were having two different conversations. “Y/N, I’m not following.” He stated softly, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you have to do tomorrow, Satoru?” You breezed through as if you knew where that was going. A pensive expression on your face now.

Again, he frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Tomorrow? I…Well, I’m going to Shinjuku to… to…” To…what…? What was it he had to do? He could feel it deep in his chest. That ache. That unfamiliar emptiness that made him rub over his heart softly. There was something he was missing.

“Tomorrow’s going to be romantic,” You said wistfully, eyes distant as you sighed. “Well, it’s supposed to be.”

December 24th.

December 24th. So I don’t have to remember two different dates.

How romantic.

Satoru felt his gut churn. He wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t explain it but everything felt so tight now.

“I’m not.. I don’t…?”

Why couldn’t he get words out. Why did he stare at you like that? Unmoving, unblinking? Why did his eyes collect with tears.

Why did you look so sad?

You reached out, taking his hand. It’s cold. It feels cold. Not like the usual warmth that envelopes him whenever you held him. Whenever you reached out from him.

You’re cold.

You take his hand. “Satoru, what’s happening tomorrow?”

Seriously, what is with you?

Satoru clenched his jaw. “What are you doing?” He wasn’t sure why but he felt so unnerved. He felt like he’s been disillusioned. As if his world was crumbling. But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand.

You’re cold.

You looked briefly disappointed in his response. “You’re not well. You’re trying to appear to be, but you’re not. She worries. She’s so worried. And you know it.” Your hand reached out and cupped his cheek. Your cold thumb gently stroked against his bone, against the tears that were flowing— why was he crying?

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He didn’t feel tired. “I just need a nap.” He didn’t feel tired.

“Oh, Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you uttered it, barely audible. But it was enough to conjure up an earth shattering sob from his chest. A heartbroken tremble under your touch. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

“You’re right here?” Confusion was clear in his tone and his expression as he stared back at you.

You just smiled sadly in response.

He shook his head. “You’re right here.” He prided a finger against your chest. Firm. But cold.

You tilted your head and blinked slowly at him.

Satoru wasn’t sure why, but he took in as deep breath. Like he couldn’t quite catch it in the first place.

“You didn’t— You’re right here!” He desperately clutched onto your hand, pressing your skin against his own. “You’re right here. This-This is real. This-This is you. Please. Please, this is you.”

You only stared sadly in response.

Satoru wasn’t sure what was happening. Why he was so panicked or why he felt so terribly sad— but he knew it was making him quiver and sob. Why? Why? Why did this all have to happen to you? Of all people had you been the one to suffer?

What suffering?

“I…” He felt breathless. Feather light. He felt like he had no control of his lips or his tongue. “Tomorrow I fight… Sukuna…?”

Sukuna? Since when? When did—

“Since before Shibuya. Since before Itadori Yuji.” You answered his thoughts.

Itadori Yuji. Satoru thought that name sounded familiar. A blank face appeared in his mind, the back of a pink hair head facing him. Itadori Yuji.

He felt like he was living someone else’s life. As if he were placed in some point in space where nothing bad could touch it.

But these feelings, these tears, this ache in his chest wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t safe from the darkness of the world.

“Nanami… Yaga… Nobara…” You uttered the names that made his ears ring. That made his muscles tense and his heart sputter to a catastrophic halt. “But still you dream of Suguru…. of me…. of the lives you desperately want to hold on to.”

Suguru… you…

Satoru’s lips quivered.

Suguru… you….

“Why?” You asked the million dollar question.

Breathless whispers against sweat slick skin. Endless touches of tense muscle. Hair hanging and tickling. Eyes sure and hardened with undoubted honesty.

Why? Satoru thought that question was dumb. Why would the earth dream to reach out for the moon and the sun?

He stared at you, big blue eyes glittering with shimmering tears. “I’m the strongest… I should’ve saved the ones I loved… I should’ve… I’m the strongest.”

To be whole. To be loved. To love.

You sigh softly. Sadly. “Satoru, you can’t save everyone.”

“But I could.”

“Obviously not.”

The words were final. Absolute. No doubt. And he supposed, a deep part of him knew, you were right.

But that other part of himself. The one that hated himself for what happened, for whatever happened, convinced him otherwise.

“You don’t—“

“Get it?” You raised an eyebrow at his blink. “I’m your subconscious. I’m your deepest, most personal thoughts. I get it.”

Satoru stared in return. “…huh?”

You pressed your lips together. “Satoru, you’re the strongest. But you don’t always have to be.” You whispered if. A nefarious secret between the both of you that couldn’t be touched. That couldn’t be shared outside of this setting. You scoot closer in your chair. You’re slotted between his legs. “There’ll come a time where you need to step back. To rest. And let those you’ve guided this far to do their jobs.”

Resting. Stepping back.

No one had ever spoken those words to him before. It was never a guarantee nor was it ever a possibility. He feared, even now, he couldn’t even dream about something like that.

Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?

Years later, Satoru didn’t know what to make of his words. But Suguru had always known him better, he supposed.

Distracted, he didn’t realize you had started to card your fingers through his hair, bringing his head against your shoulder. It was a blissful moment when he came to his senses. When he felt your fingers ghost his scalp. When he felt your lips brush against his temple.

“You should take a nap, you look tired.”

The moment the words left your lips, his eyes felt heavy and he felt exhausted. He hadn’t felt tired before. He would love to sleep. But…

“What about you?” He whispered, eyes unmoving from your face. He studied the bow of your lips. The softness and warmth of your eyes. The faint blush across your cheeks. The little wrinkles on your forehead. “If I close my eyes, you’ll be gone.”

“No,” you shook your head and placed your free hand against his rapidly beating heart. “I’ll be here.”

How cliche. He wanted to say. But he would take it. He’d take and savor any moment with you.

He took in a shuddering breath. “I love you.”

“I love you.” No hesitation. No doubt. How could this be a dream? Something of his own mind? He nuzzled into your neck with a small sigh. “Take care of her.”

Take care of her.

Take care of her.

Satoru woke with a soft gasp.

He was not happy or surprised to find the ceiling of his dark room instead of the dining room.

The clock next to his bed illuminated 2AM in angry red outline. He’d been asleep for approximately 4 hours. And dreamt of you. Again.

His jaw clenched as he tried to push down the tears that threatened to spill over. You, angelic, in your rightful place typing away. That’s what you should be doing.

Instead, you were one of the first to die in Shibuya.

It’d been you, then Nanami, then Nobara, then whoever else.

She got caught up with Noritoshi in the tunnels, that Death Womb Painting kid tried to explain to Satoru when everyone else had been too distraught and nervous to reveal it themselves. She didn’t suffer.

It didn’t bring him comfort. Satoru was pretty sure it was a lie, but it still brought him no comfort.

It gave him all the more reason to make Kenjaku suffer.

December 24th.

Today was the day.

Almost two months since your death. Christmas Eve.

Satoru was pretty sure he was about to do the same. Embrace death for the sake of others.

He could look around, tell all of them that he’d win, but there was that growing inkling that this was mounting up against him. That Sukuna— Megumi— knew exactly what to do to get one up on him. He feared the unknown. The possibility this was it.

What would you say?

“Dad?”

Satoru’s eyes dragged from the ceiling and to the spot next to him.

Now 10, Rie was older and less rambunctious. But he blamed that partly on your death and his sudden sealing.

She had clung to him since he returned. Tears streaming down her face as she hugged him, begged him to never go again— she thought she’d lost him just like mama. (It’d been six years since he heard her call you mama.) And she slept in his bed. Said she couldn’t sleep otherwise. She’d curl up against him and he’d run his hands through her hair as he hummed a long forgotten lullaby to guide her to sleep.

Shoko said she needed this. Him.

Satoru knew she needed you.

“Rie, did I wake you?” He asked sympathetically.

“No,” surprisingly, it sounded like the truth. “I’ve been up.”

He frowned, “Why?”

There was a prolonged pause between them. A thick layer of hesitation passed and Satoru tensed up. What could she possibly be up for?

When he heard the small sniffle, his heart ached.

He sat up and drew her into his arms, holding her close as he pressed kisses against her head. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?”

“I don’t want you to die!” Rie sobbed immediately. “I don’t want you to fight stupid Sukuna! I just want you to stay here with me— I can’t lose you too!”

I can’t lose you too.

Satoru pressed his lips together as tears sprung to his eyes. “Rie, I’m not going to die.” Such sure words for a man who was worried over his own mortality only moments ago. Who had to be reassured by his subconscious image of his dead wife that it’s okay to lose.

Rie shook her head frantically. “No! I heard Kusakabe say you will!” She sobbed, clutching onto his night shirt with a vice like hold.

Satoru silently cursed the man as he rubbed Rie’s back. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? What does Kusakabe know anyway, the schmuck?” His poor attempt at joking fell flat, Rie only continued to cry. With a heavy sigh, Satoru pulled back, holding her face in his hands. “What do I always say, hm? I’m the strongest. I’ll get one up on him.”

Rie stared up at him and Satoru was painfully aware of how young she was. “You promise?” She uttered.

Satoru hesitated.

If he were to promise and it didn’t actually work out, who was he? Would she resent him for the rest of her life? Would she try to forget him and spit on his memory? He’d been promised many things in life by people he looked up to and every single one had been broken. Resentment festered. Trust was broken.

What kind of father was he if he—

Take care of her. She worries.

Satoru tucked some of her hair— your hair— behind her ear. “I promise.” He whispered, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead. “I promise.”

Rie clutched onto him once again. “I love you.”

No hesitation.

“I love you too.”

The worries of Sukuna and Kenjaku could wait until morning. Satoru had to focus on her now.

Take care of her.

[cinnahoons]

𝜗𝜚 oh, guava! — p. lee heeseung x fem!reader w. 672 genres. fluff, established relationship, tickling cause it's cute, beach setting cw. none notes. this was super random but i wanted to write silly domestic hee my bad guys

“you smell really nice.”

you drop the fashion magazine you’re reading, sunglasses sliding down your nose by the sheer force of how hard you whip your head towards your boyfriend.

“oh god. not here, heeseung.”

he’s the picture of innocence, laid out on the pink towel he’d picked from the options you’d shown him before coming to the beach. he’s using his elbows to prop himself up, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. his burnt-orange hair flutters in the wind.

“is it the new perfume i bought you? the guava one?”

you narrow your eyes at him before pushing your sunglasses back into position, lying down on your own yellow towel with your magazine propped above your head, blocking out the sun. 

“mm-mm. i’m ignoring you.”

there’s a moment of serenity where you think heeseung has given up, but then he makes a dramatic show of rolling off his beach towel onto yours. there’s a little sliver of golden sand between them, so he sprays some onto your skin when he presses his body against yours.

you swat at him with your magazine, fighting back an amused grin.

“you’re so stupid! get off me.” you’re trying your best to sound annoyed, but he’s wriggling against you like a worm, and, frankly, it’s messing with your psyche. 

“sorry, i can’t help it. i’m hungry.” he bites your shoulder playfully. “can i eat you, oh guava princess?”

you groan in exasperation, shielding the blush on your cheeks with your hand. hopefully, he thinks it's just a sunburn.

“have you gotten to the part where they find the golden mango?” you gesture languidly at the abandoned book on heeseung’s towel. you’d recommended it to him so that the two of you can discuss your favorite parts, and he typically reads everything you suggest. today, you’ve been waiting patiently to hear his thoughts. heeseung smirks.

“that’s a non-answer.”

“that’s also a non-answer.”

your boyfriend watches you for a couple of seconds, seemingly mulling over your rebuttal. eventually, he gives you a wide grin.

“okay. yes.”

at that, you let out a surprised giggle, eyebrows raising. he usually plays your game a little longer.

“interesting. you drive a hard bargain.”

heeseung smiles. 

“only for you, baby.”

you can’t hide your blush now. heat flushes on your cheeks, and you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling back at him too hard. he’s still lying on your towel next to you.

“fine. but,” you turn over a little, a manicured hand coming down on heeseung’s bare chest. “if i pee myself or something, it’s over for you. i drank two whole lemonades before this.” your boyfriend only watches you with an amused glimmer in his eyes, rosy fondness painted across his cheeks.

“no promises.”

you barely have a second to complain before heeseung springs into action, his typical routine of launching himself over you to barrage you with tickles inciting a bout of giggles from your mouth. he keeps most of his body weight off of you, leaning down to press chaste kisses against your cheek as he continues his assault on the sides of your torso.

he’s enveloped in what is indeed the new guava perfume he purchased for you, laughing when he makes you giggle by letting out a cartoony whistle near your neck. it’s all fun—it always is, when you’re with him. 

he’s relentless today, red in the cheeks from laughing at the shrieks coming from your mouth. he smells like sunscreen and coconut.

“i think,” he pants, when he’s finally tickled you into exhaustion, “that i’ve fulfilled my duty.”

you give him a humorously deadpan look. 

“you think?”

his cheeks scrunch up with a smile, before leaning down and planting a sweet kiss against your lips.

“mhm.”

“you’re so lucky i didn’t pee myself.”

“oh, i know,” he says, rolling off of you and crawling slowly back to his towel. “but you will when you hear what i have to say about this book.”

you sit up, lightning fast.

“lee heeseung!”

© cinnahoons please do not steal, plagiarize, or reupload my work.

tags! @vousty @neos127 @aenify @junityy @en-ner-jay

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2. part 2

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

PT-1 w/Charles, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, George, Lewis, Lance & Fernando

Max

You had just gotten off the phone with your mother, so obviously tears were stinging your eyes and the urge to punch a wall was getting stronger by the minute. Unfortunately, you weren't the only one dealing with less-than-loving parents.

"But that's not fair, no one's perfect, I've won five out of eight races," He yelled into the phone to a louder voice responding from the other end. Max looked defeated, with red under his eyes and hair sticking up where he dragged his hands through it.

"No, I didn't fucking let them win, it's their job too," he stood right by the door, slamming it behind him, "Whatever, bye," he cut the call, standing still for a few seconds, glaring at his phone, knowing him debating between throwing it at a wall or stomping on it.

"Wanna nap?" You asked him, setting your phone on the coffee table and letting yourself fall face first on to the hotel bed. Max followed suit, one arm over your waist.

“Damn, can you imagine if we swapped places as kids?” You thought out loud as sleep neared making Max scoff.

He turned to you and in a dead serious tone replied, “Y/n/n, you’d be a serial killer and I’d probably be in jail, now let me sleep, you’re warm,” The man’s response was screech worthy, making you want to smack him but for once, he was right, you were very warm and cuddly and so was he, a fight could wait, sleep was now.

Logan

“LOGAN!” You screamed, knocking on his hotel room door, hoping the man would hurry to answer.

You couldn’t believe the man had launched an entire app without even giving you a hint! You were so proud of him and you couldn’t wait to celebrate. You waited to see his smiling face, knowing you were going to shower him with praises and way too many hugs but when he opened the door, his demeanour was nothing like you had expected.

“Dude didn’t you just launch an app? Why the no good sad face?” You asked as you walked in past him.

He sighed as he sat on his bed, working away at his laptop and a hundred pages spread out. You couldn’t help but frown.

“Logan, Logan,” you called out, ultimately pulling the boys head to face yours, “what the fuck mate, you should be happy right now, what’s wrong?” You asked, disturbed that your happy go lucky, it is what it is friend was so sullen.

“The cars fucked, I have no future, my team fucking hates me, my best and only friend literally never talks to me and I feel like a fucking failure,” he went of on you, slamming his laptop shut making you flinch.

You stared unimpressed at his little charade to keep you away, unfortunately you had grown up with the man and knew his tantrums and breakdowns, “First of all, your only friend? What am I chopped liver? Secondly, James Vowles can fuck off for all I care, you deserve so much better then that ratchet ass team, thirdly you just launch your own app, need I go on?” You presented embodying your inner George Russell as you picked Logan’s laptop and papers off his bed.

“But still-” his face was still down and he continued to doubt himself.

“Look,” you say next to him, holding his hand in yours, “it’s been a tough few years, not gonna lie, but you’re going to pull through cause you are one of the most talented people I know,” you squeezed his hand, “also you can’t give up because you promised you’d get rich and pay for everything.” You shrugged and pulled him to lay on the bed.

He huffed, smacking a pillow on your face, “so that’s why you’re friends with me? Not my dazzling personality? How could you? This is a betrayal, I’m betrayed,” he joked, finally getting back to his normal self, but you were still worried about him.

You turned to the man enveloping him in your arms, the man immediately returning the favour immediately. You let yourself fall into a comfortable sleep, telling yourself to do this more often.

Daniel

“Hey, are you busy?” Daniel had said softly as he entered your room immediately raising red flags in your mind, never once hand the man been so quiet. You quickly put away your stuff on the night stand patting the spot on the bed next to you to let him sit.

“Yeah, is everything okay? You look tired, Danny,” you asked to nothing but silence from the man. A few seconds passed and you could see how wet his eyes were.

“Dan-”

“I’m so tired y/n/n,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, scaring you, what did he mean by that? “I’m just, I can’t, I’m doing everything I can and it isn’t enough, I- I,” he tried speaking but he couldn’t without choking.

You tired not to cry with him, the only man you’d always known to be laughing and happy even in the worst of circumstances, keeping everyone’s spirits up was sitting here in front of you, so hopeless.

You didn’t think twice before pulling him in a hug, cradling him as you both sank into a laying position. “You’re tired, mate, let’s take a nap, it’ll be okay Danny, I promise, it’s going to be fine,” you whispered into his hair making him nod.

You felt him drift off as the tears slowed down and you couldn’t help passing out in the warmth either knowing when you wake up you’d find a way to make the man himself again.

Yuki

“Can I please marry you?” You begged for what seemed the tenth time that day much to Yuki’s irritation.

“I am never cooking for you ever again,” he complained falling onto the sofa next to you, watching the sitcom tv rather than paying attention to you.

“Please, you know you loved the tiramisu I made,” you boasted, opening up a button on your shirt to allow you to breath. The amount of food you and Yuki had consumed for individuals of your sizes were seriously guiness worthy.

He whined knowing you had won that argument, “fine but I want the recipe as a wedding gift,” he joked making the both of you laugh.

“Dude I’m ready to go into a food coma for the next ten fucking years,” you confessed, making the man nod in agreement.

“I’ve eaten enough for the next damn week.”

“We should nap,” you spoke out loud, turning to the man next to you, “wanna nap?”

“Yup,” he immediately answered to which you both pounced on either ends of the sofa, shifting into comfortable positions, making sure neither was kicking the other, his legs on the coffee table pulled close to the sofa and yours curled up closed to you.

Pierre

“Fuck me,” you groaned as another one of your projects fell through. You threw your phone on the table in front of you, sighing as you did.

“Do mind if I do,” joked an irritating grating voice from behind you, from your bed, you had honestly forgotten your friend had been there after another pissy fight with his sweetheart teammate.

“Keep talking Gasly, I’ll call Ocon over make it a threesome,” you laughed as you joined him, pushing him to one side to make space.

The man looked honestly disgusted, “I can’t believe you’d stoop low enough to even joke about that, standards babe, standards,” he scoffed looking at you judgementally to which you rolled your eyes.

“Damn I guess we won’t be making love, sad, I was actually going to agree for once, I’ll just ask Estie then” you fake sighed, feigning disappointment, much to the other man’s horror.

“Shut up, Y/n,” he knocked your shoulder with his after he saw your grin, fighting a yawn as you pushed him back.

“Do you wanna nap?” You asked, equally tired and dejected about your failed project, he nodded and pulled the both of you into a more comfortable position, turning in to face you, burying his face in your neck and you let your hand play with his silky blonde locks, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Esteban

“BITCH, YOU WILL NOT BELIVE THE SHIT I’VE JUST SEEN-” you yelled as you ran into Esteban’s driver room, seeing him lying on the makeshift bed.

You immediately jumped in next to him, waking him up in a startle, “MERDE! Y/n?” He yelled in fear and then confusion, looking around as if a swat team had burst in, “what is wrong with you?” He screeched as he pulled his hands over his face in exhaustion, “you’re a worse gossip than Pierre,” he grunted lying back down.

You animatedly threw yourself down next to him, using his arm as a pillow. “I abhor that accusation, actually,” you grumbled but gave in nonetheless, “okay so look at this photo and tell me what you see,” you showed his your phone, a photo you’d gotten out of a greedy paparazzi’s hand as a media control agent in Mercedes.

The man next to you suddenly seemed much more awake, “Is that Nico fucking Rosberg?” He whisper- yelled into your ears, snatching the phone out your hands.

“Yup,” you grinned popping the p, “bought that shit for eleven thousand dollars,” he whistled, “that was taken at 4 am at Lewis’s hotel,” you whispered, turning your body to face his.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “I thought these were rumours?” He asked gleefully.

“Nope, this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to do damage control,” you sighed, trying to get your phone back but it was pulled away by the taller man.

“You mean there’s gossip you haven’t told me? Your best friend, whose room you’re currently hiding in? Interrupting my nap time?”

“You, Estie, are such a drama queen,” you teased him, pulling your phone out of his hand. “And we can definitely nap, I spent all night trying to convince that asshole to drop the story,” you kept you phone in your pocket as Esteban made himself comfortable, both of you letting yourselves rest after the tiring day you had.

Zhou

“How are you not broke?” The man yelled in astonishment as he saw at the amount of bags in the Prada assistants hands, choosing to ignore his own in another’s, he was allowed to spend he technically was a millionaire, even without his family and sponsors.

You looked at him with raised brows as you opened the doors your apartment building, you and Zhou both owning the penthouses, yours above his.

You let the men drop the bags off on your floor, keeping Zhou waiting, making him annoyed to your amusement. When the men finally left you simply answered, “Samsung shares.”

Zhou groaned “Spoilt child,” and headed into the guest suite as you headed into your room, “look whose talking I have my own assistant at the mall,” you called out behind you. That had been funny, the man followed Zhou to every shop, holding the bags you both collected till you needed another.

You both walked out and showed each other the clothes and accessories you had bought, occasionally swapping one or two. As the day progressed into late evening you called for food, tired from the little fashion show you had.

“I need a nap,” you groaned, folding your feet as you sat on the dinning table chair.

“My legs are killing me,” Zhou agreed, not only had he had a terrible work out in the morning but you both had covered way more than 10,000 steps in that mall.

“Want to nap?” You offered, knowing very well he could just go a floor below to his own home.

“Sure, turn on screen mirroring on your tv, I’ll show you the drivers chat,” he said heading into your room and you ran behind him with glee.

The gossip was the best part of being friends with Zhou, that and the really warm cuddles he gave, “oh my god, Charles and Max again?” You laughed and leaned on his shoulders as he relayed all the details to you, his voice slowly softening as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

we took a polaroid picture [s.h.] 18+

an: hiii just a little something because i was bored and thinking about steve harrington, shocker! hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

summary: you're steve's girl and he loves to show off the polaroid of you he carries in his wallet. but he also has a few he keeps for himself...just himself. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

warnings: cursing, illusions to sex and m masturbation but not really detailed descriptions, naked pics of reader taken with consent, little smutty but not much 18+ MDNI!!!

wc: 1.7k

Steve had a polaroid of you in his wallet. 

It was you in a pale yellow sundress that made Steve’s mouth water as it flowed against your tan skin. You’re sitting in a field against a red checkered blanket with your eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back as you laughed at something Steve had said. A perfect strawberry pinched between your fingers and drops of the sweet red juice on your chest and fingers from the bite you’d taken. It was beautiful, perfect even. He kept it tucked away but would pull it out at any given chance to show anyone that would look how beautiful his girl was. 

At the grocery store? He brought it out at checkout or in the produce aisle to show some teenage cashier who couldn’t care less or some kid restocking who looked at Steve with an eye roll before turning back to his job. He could be walking down the street or out to eat with his friends and if someone said hello or made polite conversation he was tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, whoever he was with letting out a small sigh as he grinned proudly and showed you off. It was cute. Steve was cute. 

Now it wasn’t the only polaroid he had of you, but it was definitely the only one he showed off. 

Under his bed in a pretty pink envelope that had been sealed with your lipstick print was a stack of polaroids that made his cheeks burn and his chest hurt from how pretty you looked. He had brought it up one day, more as an incoherent mumbling when he was inside of you, but the idea had stuck with you and the more you thought about it, the more you decided you wanted it. 

Steve hadn’t thought about it since that night, so it’s a surprise when he’s standing in his kitchen, chopping vegetables for your date night dinner when out of nowhere you bring it up again. 

“Stevie?”

A noncommittal hum left him, too focused on not chopping his fingers off while he worried that the sauce might be burning or the pasta would overcook. “Yeah, baby?”

You weren’t sure why you felt nervous, this was his idea! And realistically you knew that there’s no way he’d ever say no but still a part of you was hesitant. “Remember the other night when you said you wanted to take pictures of me…just for us to see…”

He’s lucky he didn’t lose a finger with the way his hands faltered, back straightening and eyes flying toward you to make sure he wasn’t making this up in his head. “I, uh, I do remember that, yeah,” clearing his throat he put the knife down and walked around to stand between your legs that were open and dangling over the kitchen counter, “that’s something you want, baby? For me to take some pictures of you all fucked out pretty?” 

God how did he get so fucking lucky? He had been with girls before, had been in love before, but nothing could have ever prepared him for you. Everyone in Hawkins fawned over you, the sweet, innocent little girl who wouldn’t hurt a fly and left a trail of fucking glitter and rainbows in he wake. 

But Steve knew better. You had him fooled at first, all shy smiles and red cheeks when he’d so much as look at you. It didn’t take long for him to figure you out. It was only a few months before you’d be in his ear at cookouts begging for him to take you to the bathroom so you could suck him off. You were the princess of Hawkins but at night you’d call him late at night when your families were sleeping and have him listen as you touched yourself to all the things he’d ever said or done to you, little pleas and whines leaving your lips as he listened on the other end of the line with his cock hard and eyes squeezed shut. 

And now here you were, in his kitchen with that look in your eyes as you asked him to take pictures of you naked, fucked out on his cock or his fingers or his mouth. Please god let it be his mouth. 

That was a few months ago and it was the best fucking thing Steve had ever done, the best thing you had ever done. He felt like a horny teenage boy the way he’d reach under his bed for that envelope. He’d grab it after spending the day with you, when he missed you, fuck even when he had you underneath him in his bed. 

Today had been a great day with you. He’d woken up with you wrapped around him and had breakfast in bed, you’ve insisted that you didn’t count as breakfast but he refused to hear it, and the rest of the day was spent watching movies and eating junk food and making out so much his lips were swollen and swore. 

You couldn’t stay with him tonight and after being pressed up against you all day he didn’t have any choice but to pull out the pictures of you, his pretty girl. 

It was hard to focus on what he was doing, looking at you made it difficult for him to do much of anything these days. He remembers when each one was taken and it makes his hands twitch at his sides instinctively, wishing you were here to hold onto. 

The first one is…innocent enough. You sprawled out in the middle of his bed with his favorite t-shirt raised high enough to show a sliver of your tummy and the hem of those goddamn lilac panties that make his head spin. No bra underneath, he’d never forget that and even if he did your pebbled nipples straining against his shirt would remind him.   You’ve got a sly smile, bottom lip between your teeth as he stands over you and has you pose for him. He swears your eyes fucking sparkle looking at him like that. 

The second one is far less innocent, his tummy clenching as he stares down at you, literally stares down because in this one you’re sitting on your knees in front of him. All that’s visible of him is his cock, hard and aching like it always is around you, and his spread thighs you’ve fitted yourself between. You’ve got one hand wrapped around his cock, the other shows your fingers digging into his thighs. What really gets him is that face of yours. Your head is cocked to the side, cheek squished against his thigh and a smirk on your face as you look up at him with those fuck me eyes that only you can do. He remembers how he felt, how he was panting above you and begging for your mouth like his life depended on it. 

“Please please please, baby. I’ll do anything, anything you want I swear on my fuckin’ life. M’all yours just please let me have that pretty mouth, i need it, need you bad.” 

He doesn’t remember when he wrapped a fist around his cock or when his hips started thrusting up, lifting off the bed so urgently it shocked him. He doesn’t remember anything or anyone but you and all he knows is he won’t even get to look at the other pictures tonight because this one, this one is his favorite. It’s hidden in the middle of the stack and he can’t help but smile, knowing you moved it from its spot at the back. You know he won’t last once he sees it and he’d laugh if he wasn’t throbbing so hard and a deep moan wasn’t clawing its way up his throat. 

His favorite picture, his favorite girl. This one is you on your back, shirt gone and tits held between your hands. Your nipples are peaking through your fingers and it makes him whine in the back of his throat. Prettiest fuckin’ tits he’s ever seen. His eyes move lower, one of his hands gripping onto the soft curve of your hip, he remembers you had little fingerprint bruises there for a week or so and it drove you both fucking crazy. The other hand is holding the camera, doing his best not to drop it on you but it’s so hard when you’re looking at him like that and saying the things you were saying…

“Please, Stevie…put it in, just the tip please. I want a picture of it, I need it, please. I’ll be good, promise, won’t move or anything. I just need you.” 

And who was he to tell you no? Especially when you begged so pretty and asked so nicely. “Fuck, ‘course, of course. Anything for you, I'd do anything. You’re my girl, yeah? My good, pretty girl.” It’s hard for him to make sense or think with his cock that close to your dripping cunt, all red and swollen and begging for him. 

He moves past your hips, looking to where the tip of his cock was pressing into you, pushing in with no resistance because you had planned this. Had planned to beg and plead with him for this picture and the idea had turned you on so much you were dripping. 

That was what did it, looking at you all spread out, taking his cock with that smirk on your face and your tits out for him to drool over. His stomach and hand now covered in his cum, head laying back on his pillow and even though he’s sweaty, curls sticking to the back of his neck and his chest is heaving from cumming so hard his vision is blurry, he can’t help but smile. 

You’ll giggle and tease him tomorrow when he tells you he only made it through three of the pictures, giving you a playful smack on your ass for sticking his favorite in the middle of the stack, and he won’t care about that teasing because if you’re smiling and happy, nothing else matters to him. 

Plus he can always save the rest for a rainy day, or tomorrow. 

[chiscaralight]

one, two, three, four!

includes: nsfw! guitarist!childe x drummer!reader, they're in the same band, public sex(?), dirty talk, pussyeater childe, cum eating, uhhhhh facefucking!!

a/n: aventurine and scara next? i also have a drummer!childe one in the works.

you’re beating away in pure content. music is flowing through the speakers as you bounce your head. you’re sure the building is empty now, so you can drum however much you want! you’re used to staying late to have the room to yourself.

what you’re not used to is the tall man clapping from the doorframe. he’s lucky you faltered, cus you would’ve thrown your sticks right at him! he even dares to laugh at your frazzled state. its your band mate childe, who should have been gone over an hour ago.

"i don't want to leave just yet, and you're still here. so how about we play together for a bit? then i'll be out of your hair."

you cant deny how beautiful the ginger is. his face is concentrated as he tunes his guitar and you cant help but stare. he's snapping you back to reality when he asks if you're ready. he flashes you a boyish grin before the familiar music floods the room.

its almost too perfect! you don't even remember how many songs you've cycled through, but you do know with every single one, the two of you were in perfect sync. the room finally goes silent, he's putting his guitar down as you get up with the biggest smile on your face! youre walking over to envelop him, giggles escaping you like a child. you tell him how much fun it is to play with him! he's insanely good at what he does. he only responds with a hum, loosely draping his arms around you as your big eyes meet his. you're just so cute! how can he not want to devour you whole?

you're struggling to find your bearings as childe is fucking up into you on the couch. the smile on his face is devilish as he relishes in the gorgeous sounds you make. maybe they should get you a mic too! your face is inches from his, chests pressed together while he digs his fingers into your hips.

"always knew this pussy would feel so good, fuck,"

his words are hitting you in all the right places. he's groaning as you clench down on his length. but it isn't enough, he needs to feel you deeper. his strong arms lift you off him and lay you back. he wastes no time in attacking your swollen cunt with wet suckles and kisses while his fingers curl into you. he finds that spongy spot that has your back arching and legs clamping around his head. but that's not enough to stop him. oh no, he's ready to die here if it means you'll make a mess all over his face. it doesn't take long before you do, hands dragging at his orange locks as you grind out your orgasm against his fingers and face.

his hand softly grips your jaw and he makes sure you watch him as he sucks his fingers clean of your juices. you can't even retort when he pushes his lips onto yours again.

"you'll let me cum down that pretty throat of yours, yeah?"

the sounds of your gagging are like music to his ears. he's fisted his hands in your hair as he moves you on him. the way he's hitting the back of your throat brings tears to your eyes. you're definitely going to be sore later, but that's the least of your worries as your nails press into his thighs. you can feel him twitch and pulse as his cum travels down your throat.

the next time you guys have group practice, one of your members complains about a faint smell while they open the windows of the practice room. childe feigns a smile. he turns to you and asks if you know anything about a weird smell. you just give a small no, but he doesn't miss the way your cheeks start to turn red.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

[leclerc-hs]

lucky (bonus!) - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: in which you and your childhood best friend have sex for the first time. Warnings: BAD FRENCH! (I didn't get to check these translations so if they're wrong please correct me and I will fix!), smut, angst, cheating (oops) Word Count: 1,381 Author's Note: hi! I felt that Charles and Lucky having sex later in their friendship was the right move. I was in between making them younger, but it didn't feel right writing about teenagers having sex to me lmaoooo. I love you guys and hope that you enjoy!!! please leave feedback I love hearing from you all. xo PART 1 PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

HE WINS IN Spa; He wins in Monza!

The air was filled with a mix of adrenaline, joy, and the unmistakable scent of burnt rubber from the track. The vibrant red of the Ferrari flowed under the brilliant Italian sun, reflection the passion of this moment. The crowd’s cheers echoed, creating a symphony of celebration that seemed to envelop the entire circuit.

Your heart raced with a blend of pride and excitement, knowing that your best friend had achieved something extraordinary. The victory at the Ferrari home race was more than just a win; it was a triumph that would be etched in the annals of racing history.

Turning your attention to the podium, you marveled at the sight of your best friend standing tall, a champion stood above in the midst the cheering crowd. His racing suit adorned with the iconic prancing horse; he wore the victorious smile of someone who conquered not just the track but the hearts of fans worldwide.

The tears welled up in your eyes, a testament to the shared journey and countless hours of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice that led to this moment. You were so happy for him.

The podium ceremony unfolded with the spraying of champagne, and as the golden droplets shimmered in the sunlight, you couldn’t help but feel proud as you savored the moment completely. 

“Il s’est très bien debrouillé!” He did so well! You muttered to Lorenzo who greeted you with a big hug of excitement.

“Oui! You’re needed in his driver’s room,” Lorenzo responded with a smile. “Il m’a dit plus tôt.” He told me earlier. 

You patiently waited in his driver’s room, lounging on the compact leather couch. When the door swung open at last, with his race suit unzipped at his waist, you leaped to your feet with excitement. 

You cried out, “Mon dieu, Charlie!” My God, Charlie! before leaping right into his arms, clinging onto him tightly. “Je suis tellement fiere de toi!” I am so proud of you!

He felt his heart pound rapidly as you leaped into his arms. He wanted to tell you right then and there that he was in love with you.

“Nous devons célébrer!” We must celebrate! You waited for him to place you back down on your feet, but he never did. At least not as soon as you thought he would. He just held you there, staring at you as if you were the sun.

“My Lucky,” he says. “It’s all because of you.”

It was quick. One second, he was smiling at you as he held you up against him, and the next you were pressed against the door with his lips on yours. You felt your stomach clench from the heat of the kiss.

“Est-ce que c’est bon?” Is this okay? You nodded into the kiss. Yes – yes it’s okay. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. In fact, it wasn’t supposed to happen at all. You both could blame it on the fact that he just won a major race or the rush of emotions from the win. But it was just love. Not that either of you would ever admit it.

His hips had you pinned to the wall, completely at his mercy, while his hands fumbled with the button of your jeans. “Puis je les enlever?” Can I take these off?

You didn’t provide a verbal response; instead, you assisted by pushing the jeans down and shimmying out of them. His fingers immediately nudging their way past your cotton panties and hooking two of them right into your center as his thumb rubbed your clit in quick circles.

“Tu es tremée,” You’re soaked. He moaned into your mouth, the vibration of his groan echoing hotly into your mouth.

You moaned back softly into his. Your moans alone were enough to send Charles into a rampage. He wanted to listen to you for eternity. It was in this moment, he thought he never wanted to hear anything else from your mouth again.

You skillfully removed his race suit from his hips before he guided you to the same compact sofa you just waited patiently on. His lips never left yours as you both fell to the couch – you now straddling him. 

You both were so frantic. So needy. The only time your mouths separated was for him to whisper the foulest things. They only fueled you to ride him harder.

You’re so fucking tight.

Just like that.

Squeezing me like you’re going to come, Lucky.

Such a good girl.

C’mon let me feel you come.

I can feel how fucking wet you are.

You both came simultaneously, heavy breaths exchanged into each other’s mouths. It was so hot.

The suddenness of it all left you breathless, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. One second, his tongue was pushing its way into your mouth again. The next, you were pushing him away, standing up from the couch as you rushed to find your jeans and get them back on.

The reality began to sink in, a shadow over the fleeting moment. He has a girlfriend, a detail that changed the complexion of the situation. You felt sick to your stomach as the reality began to weigh down on you.

Although the term girlfriend was a bit of a stretch, you felt awful. But you didn’t regret it. You could never regret anything with Charles. He was your person. Your best friend. 

“Nous ne pouvons pas refaire ça.” We can’t do this again.

“Lucky.” His arms, once a source of comfort, now felt like constraints as he grasped you. The taste of his kiss lingered, but it was overshadowed by the bitter understanding that boundaries have been crossed.

You yearned for a different reality where his girlfriend didn’t exist, but the weight of the truth remained. Accepting, you grappled that some things were beyond your control. 

“Cha, c’est bien.” It’s okay.  With a heartfelt effort, you mustered up the biggest smile, gently cupping his face into your hands. Despite your warm gesture, his eyes reflected a sadness, a longing for something more, a desire that he couldn’t act upon. 

“Tu es mon meilleur ami.” You’re my best friend. “Nous oublierons que cela s’est produit.” We will forget that this happened.

Charles shook his head in disagreement at first, but you stopped him. You needed to shift the conversation. You were supposed to be out celebrating. “Nous devons célébrer!” We must celebrate!

You urged Charles to get dressed quickly. You needed to get out of the confines of this room.

Physically, Charles nodded with a smile, but internally, he felt nothing but pain in his heart. It’s always been you. He wanted to yell that she means nothing to him, that it’s you who means everything. 

“Allons-y,” Let’s go. You grabbed his hand, leading him out of the driver’s room to kick off your night of celebration, leaving the pressing issues behind. Pretending as if nothing changed. He was your best friend. You were his best friend. Nothing changed.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Charles found it unbearable. The attention you were attracting was driving him to the brink of madness as he sat in the booth of the club, with his girlfriend beside him.

“C’est toujours elle,” It’s always her. She leaned over into Charles ear. 

His so-called girlfriend wasn’t oblivious, like he thought. She always picked up on his gaze following you, his constant talk about you, and the fact you were consistently his top priority. Initially, she shrugged it off, given your close friendship. It only became apparent to her when she sensed that your needs started taking precedence over hers. 

She couldn’t even pretend to ignore the marks on his neck. 

“Quoi?” What? Charles finally glanced at her, breaking free from his trance on you. It only prompted laughter from her, evidence that his attention was solely fixed on you. He heard her though. He just didn’t want to acknowledge that he had been caught.

“You’re wasting my time,” his girlfriend muttered before standing up, grabbing her things to leave. “If you want her, tell her.” These were the final words she uttered to Charles before exiting the club, leaving him behind.

But little did she know that he had attempted to share his feelings for you numerous times. It just never worked out. The timing was always off. 

[theemporium]

It was meant to be a cute date day out on the yacht during summer break.

You had dedicated a week of the summer break to spend in Monaco, to just relax and spend time with each other without the concerns of flying anywhere around the world (though you knew your boyfriends would have probably booked a few getaways for you to ‘surprise’ you with in the following week). And it had been perfect. 

You had spent some time with friends you missed during the first half of the season. You shared a few meals with the Leclerc family. You basked around your shared apartment and enjoyed being lazy after such a hectic schedule for the last few months.

It was Charles’ idea to take the yacht out on the water, and you and Lando had eagerly agreed.

Charles just didn’t really think it through. Between the hectic schedules, jet lag and hangovers that hit their bodies a little harder than not sometimes, it was rare to find moments to fully indulge in you and Lando without having some sort of stressor over your heads. 

Whether it was late nights with the risk of missing early morning meetings, or the fans spotting you as you stumble around a club together. Whether it was exhaustion taking over your bodies through work and travel, or even just one of you not being in the mood. It was harder than people assumed to just sleep with your two partners.

And it seemed like the weeks had built up for the Monegasque. 

His thoughts were anything but innocent when the three of you boarded the boat, waiting until you were a few minutes away from the dock before you shedded off some layers. His mind was spinning when Lando pulled his shirt off, the low-rise swimming trunks giving him the perfect view of his tanned torso, chiselled abs and v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of the trunks. His head was going to explode when you pulled your cover-up off, exposing a little red bikini number he had never seen you wear before as you pranced around the boat without a care in the world.

Charles Leclerc was losing his damn mind, and it was purely his partners’ faults.

It took an hour before either you or Lando noticed how touchy and clingy Charles was. It wasn’t something completely out of the ordinary for Charles’ hands to linger or for him to place a few chaste kisses here and there—but this was something else. 

You noticed the way his fingers would always trace along the waistband of Lando’s trunks whenever he was within arms length. You noticed the way his gaze would always drop to his stomach and wander lower. You noticed the way his fingers playfully tugged on the strings of your bikini top. You noticed the way his focus always seemed to be on your lips whenever you spoke to him. 

You noticed the bulge in his swimming trunks, but he wasn’t doing much to hide it either.

“Is this what you wanted, Charlie? Wanted to see our pretty girl on her knees?” 

Charles let out a groan as his head fell back against Lando’s shoulders, his hands reaching back to hold the boy close to him as he tried not to come in seconds. Because he could have. He could have done so far too easily and he didn’t really want to deal with the embarrassment of it. Nor did he ever want this moment to end.

“Look at her,” Lando murmured, his voice a little breathless as his eyes locked on you. “She’s so good for you. Fucking lucky too.”

“Wanna be good for both of you,” you murmured, the fabric of your bikini top abandoned somewhere by one of the deck chairs as you squeezed your tits together. You leaned forward, bouncing up and down as your tits enveloped Charles’ sensitive cock. 

“You’re so good, cherie,” Charles mumbled breathlessly, his chin tucked against his chest as he looked down at you. He bit down on his lower lip, a muffled moan leaving his lips as he watched the way his cock slid between your tits, the way your tongue darted out to tease his tip, the way your eyes never left his. “Feel so fuckin’ good too.” 

“She always looks pretty with your cock,” Lando murmured, trying not to sound too whiny but Charles read right through him as he turned his head, his lips pressing against the Brit’s in seconds. “Mphm.”

“Don’t be jealous, mon cher,” Charles murmured as his tongue darted out to tease the Brit who whimpered in response. “M’gonna take care of you too.”

“Yeah?” Lando whispered, blinking a little dazed. 

“Yeah,” Charles groaned as his hand reached back to tangle his fingers into Lando’s curls, keeping his lips close as he playfully nudged their noses together. “Need you to be a good boy for me too, gonna need you to clean up the mess I make on her tits, okay?”

Lando whined, nodding his head.

“Mes amours,” Charles groaned proudly before kissing Lando senseless, letting his other hand gently caress your head as you continued to squeeze his cock between your tits until he blew his load all over you.

.

[msgexymunson]

Red Handed

Exhibitionist!Fem!reader x soft!dom!Eddie

Description: the Polaroids had started out as just a joke, until you realised how much it turned you on taking them

A/N: this is from an anon ask, hope you don't mind where I went with it. Blended in a bit of exhibitionism and I was liberal with the 'object' Eddie recognises...

Warnings: lotta smut, hella angst, bitta fluff (nice ending we all need love in our lives) reader uses she/her pronouns (minors DNI I will tell your mothers) F! Masturbation, oral M! Receiving, unprotected sex (use some sense y'all) again I'm english so if any americanisms seem odd soz babe. Comments and reblogs are a writers best friend.

Word count: 4.7k

Masterlist

The school hallway was bustling. Teenagers were scooting through, talking loudly, making their way to first period. Some jocks were laughing in a group by the water fountain. A gaggle of nerds were inching cautiously past, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor. Stood by your locker, you were taking your time gathering your text books. You were waiting, desire and angst flowing and intermingling in a hot mess in your gut.

Finally, a mop of messy brown locks bursts into view. Eddie's gait is chipper, practically bouncing down the hall. Eddie, your best friend. Who is about to see you nearly naked. Not that he has any idea of course.

"Mornin' princess!" Eddie beams, flashing pearly teeth.

"Well aren't you full of the joys of Spring?" Smiling back at him; it was infectious. Eddie was a ray of sunshine for anyone who actually knew him.

"Just feel good today, have a feeling I might be lucky, you know?" He says, fixing his eyes on his locker, turning the combination.

You wait with bated breath as the door springs open and a small square envelope falls out. Eddie bends lightning fast and grabs it off the floor. Flipping it over, he sees a tiny red heart drawn in the corner. Eddie practically punches the air.

"I fuckin' knew it, today's my day!" He says half to himself, ripping the envelope open. Taking out some Polaroids his jaw drops. You watch as a blush creeps from his neck, up his jaw, and flushes his cheeks. You can feel a mirror of that blush, but the heat was travelling between your legs. God, this is such a turn on. If only he knew. He turns and presses his back against the lockers, hand on his forehead, gawping. He moves the pile to the next one, eyes bulging, then to the final photo.

"Holy shit." His hand compulsively strokes the back of his neck, eyes wide.

"Guessing you got another present then? A good one?" Knowing full well the answer. He nods emphatically, eyes not leaving the Polaroid. The reaction was everything you ever wanted. You don't need to ask what the pictures show, you took them.

The first image was you in your red lace bra and panties, perched on the edge of a desk, legs crossed. The next, your legs are wide open. The final picture was similar to the first, but this time you had removed your bra, your free hand teasing one of your nipples. None of them showed your face of course. Couldn't have Eddie knowing his shy, unassuming best friend was actually a filthy exhibitionist after all.

"You just need to ask her out Eddie, surely you must know who this is?" You try to keep a straight face, but it doesn't matter, Eddie's still looking at the picture. Your words shake him a little out of his daydream state.

"Sweetheart, when I find out who this is I'm gonna fuckin' marry her." You laugh loudly at that.

"Hang on, these are- fuck!" He looks at you. Fuckfuckfuck has he spotted something?

"These are taken at school! That's our English class! Jesus Christ, this is the girl of my dreams" he groans, leaning his head back, bashing it against the lockers. The bell rings.

"Come on lover boy, let's get to class." You bound off with Eddie at your heels, grinning to yourself and hugging your books.

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

It had all started as a joke really. Payback. You and the rest of Hellfire, your D & D club, were hanging out, talking shit as per usual. Dustin was gushing about his super hot, super nerdy girlfriend and Eddie was throwing m&ms at him.

"Hey! Just 'cause your jealous! You should go and find a girl instead of giving me shit about mine!" Dustin complains.

"Well, that would be great and all, but I don't even know any girls dingus. Only hang out with you losers." He says, throwing another m&m.

Dustin pointed at you, "y/ns a girl."

Eddie sniggered. "She doesn't count, she's one of us." He playfully punched you on the arm. You pressed your lips together firmly, feeling the tips of your ears go red.

'She doesn't count?' What the fuck. What am I, meatloaf or something? You should have said it out loud, but you just couldn't bring yourself to.

Once the embarrassment had worn off, you were angry. Storming into your room, you had flopped onto your bed, holding your face, biting back hot tears. Eddie was, well, everything. And you didn't count. The words were burning in your head. You'd been nursing this crush on him for a while, and apparently you may as well not exist. Pulling your hands away from your face you glance over at your desk to see your Polaroid camera sitting there. Hmmm. I'll teach him a lesson.

You took your bed sheet and hung it over your wardrobe. Standing in front of it, you whipped off your jeans and t shirt, changing into a tight strappy top, and posed. It was tricky to take a picture on your own and you messed up the first two, but the third was good. You could see your chest, nipples poking at the fabric, braless, and the side of your thigh was on display. Angling the camera to take a photo of your ass, you managed it on the first go. Lacy black panties riding high, showing the shape of your butt, it was actually a flattering image. I'll show you I count Munson.

That was the first time you had snuck Polaroids in his locker.  You had watched him from around the corner, seen his puzzlement on finding the envelope with the heart on it. When he opened it his jaw fell open, looking around, trying to see if it was a joke. You felt smug. Walking over you grinned at Eddie.

"Hey Munson what you got there?"

"I-I think, maybe... erm, someone got the wrong locker? There's these, erm, photos. Fuck." He's not forming proper sentences, looking flushed and bewildered.

Suddenly it's hard to breathe. You can feel your pulse deep inside, heat pouring out of you. What the hell. This was about getting him back, but the thought of him seeing you in that state, showing your body to him, was intoxicating. Especially since he didn't know it was you.

You tried to steady your breathing. "Maybe you have a secret admirer?" You said, voice much calmer than you felt.

"Shit you think so?" He stared at you with big wide eyes; the look nearly broke you. You just couldn't reveal that it was a joke, not now. He looked so hopeful.

For a few days, you had thought maybe that was that. You had proven your point after all, even if it was only to yourself. That all fell apart when you brought the camera to The Hideout, and took a picture of Eddie on stage. He looked ethereal, this glowing God of a man, and you just had to. You made your way to the bathroom and stripped down to your underwear, taking a picture of you spread legged on the toilet seat, then another with your bra off, free arm covering your breasts.

It excited you; all of it. The sneaking around, the thrill that you might get caught, exposing yourself to Eddie. It made you feel alive. It made you feel dirty. Getting braver and more confident with each mini shoot, the locations got more and more risky. There was the toilets at school, then the woods just outside where Eddie did his deals. Now, Mrs O'Donnell's classroom. You had gotten to school at 6am for that one, the rush of potentially being caught red handed burning through your veins.

You knew it couldn't last though. Eventually you would need to stop. Eddie can be a bit dim sometimes, but surely he'd work it out, and then you'd have to admit your crush and potentially ruin your friendship. Plus, how self-conscious were you going to feel, knowing Eddie knew exactly what lay under your clothes?

One last time. You had said it before, but this time that was it, and you knew the perfect place.

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

It was 10pm the next day. Sitting in your car you were staking out the school, building up the nerve. The janitor had left some time ago, but you knew a side door that was never locked properly. Taking a deep breath, you grab your backpack, scoot out of your car and hurriedly make your way to the side of the school.

Moving through the hallways, you open up a small door and navigate your way around the drama room, coming to your destination. You grinned to yourself knowing this was going to blow Eddie's mind.

You're standing in front of Eddie's throne. His Hellfire seat, the one no one was allowed to touch, not even if someone else in the party ran a one shot. It was the cardinal rule. This was Eddie's spot.

Stripping off, you get entirely naked, shivering in the chilly air. Clearly the heating is turned off at night. You sit on the throne, arousal flowing through you already at the thought of what you were about to do, toying at your own nipples, getting them camera ready. The first shot you take both your legs are draped over the arm of the throne. The next, you let one leg fall to the floor, legs spread, cunt on full display.

Softly dragging your hand down, you graze your clit, holding your breath in your throat. Another photo. You glide your fingers through your folds, feeling your wetness seeping out, your arousal already pooling around your entrance. Another photo. You slide two fingers in all the way, letting out a stifled whimper, body on fire despite the chilly air. Another photo.

Finally, you reach to the side, to your backpack at your feet and pull out your red dildo. It wasn't very long, but thick, and covered with small ridges to accentuate your pleasure. You took a photo with it in your hand, held against your naked chest, fingers shining with your slick, then teased it through your folds, gathering the collecting slick emanating from your cunt.

You plunge it into your heat and set a deep and unforgiving pace, angling the sex toy so it grazed your g spot. Another photo.

After that the camera becomes a burden; you hastily drop it on the table in front of you and concentrate on chasing your pleasure. A tight feeling gathers in your stomach, limbs warm, pursuing rapture. Your head starts to feel fuzzy, and you feel wrong for doing this here, in this sacred spot, but that just amplifies your arousal.

You think about what Eddie would say if he caught you right now. What would he do? Would he stand in shock? Walk out? Help you chase your release? Or just watch you? The thought of being caught by him pushed you over the precipice. You came over your hand with a broken groan, biting your lip to try and stifle your noises.

Panting, you remove the toy from inside you, gasping for breath. You have a look at the discarded Polaroids. The last one was hot as hell, back arched, tits on display, red toy slightly blurry as it pounded into you. Holy shit. Eddie's going to explode. You giggle, getting your clothes back on and stuff together before sneaking out.

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

The next day you were practically buzzing with excitement, running over to your locker, when you see Eddie's already there. Shit.

"Hey sweetheart, where's the fire?" Eddie smirks at you out the side of his mouth, pushing his locker closed.

"You know me, just eager for a day of learning!" He chuckles at that. "You ok, any presents today?"

"Nope" Eddie says, looking slightly deflated. "Thought I'd try and get here early, see if I could catch them but no dice." He frowns.

"Well, can't be every day. Hey, remember we are hanging out tonight. This is a no frown zone!" You lightly push his arm.

"Oh yeah, yours or mine?"

"Mine. My parents arent home and your room stinks Eddie."

Eddie looks aghast and mimes being stabbed in the chest, flinging himself into the lockers, making an almighty racket.

"Oh, sweetheart, you wound me!"

Some students turn to see the commotion, others keep walking, used to his antics.

"Well it does! Learn to clean your sheets doofus. I'll see you later." You muss his hair and walk off, the envelope full of photos burning in your pocket.

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

After lunch you and Eddie make your way to your lockers, trying to stop the knowing smirk from crawling over your face. Earlier, you had managed to sneak out of biology, feigning 'women's problems' (your teacher waved their hand at you with a turned up nose, he clearly didn't want any details) in order to jam the photos into Eddie's locker and run.

When the envelope slips to the floor with a thwap Eddie looks seriously confused. He's had never had an afternoon delivery before. He quickly rips the envelope open and you watch as he seems to break down in front of your eyes. No sound leaves his lips, eyes wide, hand held to his mouth in shock, wheeling through image after image.

"You ok Eds?" You say softly. He doesn't answer for a bit, then coughs, shoving the photos into his pocket.

"Yeah. Fine. See you later." He faces the wall for a second, out the corner of your eye you see him attempt to arrange the growing bulge in his jeans. He tries to walk off whilst hunched over, taking long strides. You turn to follow him with your eyes, and see him practically jogging to the bathroom.

Jesus Christ is he gonna rub one out? The thought blazed in your brain, thinking about Eddie frantically fucking his fist with your photo in the other hand, sweaty and desperate. Sighing, you tense your thighs, saving that image for another time, and make your way to class.

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

After having takeout for dinner, you were sprawled on the foot of your queen sized bed, flicking through a magazine. Eddie was leaning up against your pillows, getting a baggy out so you two could have an after dinner smoke. Led Zeppelin is softly playing from your tape deck, much to Eddie's annoyance.

"Seriously, this again? Can't we listen to something else?"

"Nu-uh. My bedroom my rules." You say back, as you had a dozen times before.

Eddie grumbles under his breath, but you know there's no spite in it.

You see Eddie fumbling around out the corner of your eye, patting his pockets.

"Lighters on the bedside table." You say without looking.

"Aha, there you are you little sucker" he grabs the lighter and sparks the joint, taking a few hits.

"You want some of this?" He waves the joint, winking at you. You feel a shiver shoot down your spine, wishing he had meant something else besides the smoke.

"Of course I do, why do you think I hang around with you," you wink back, winding him up.

"Well shit you ain't having any now!" He says, holding his hand high in the air.

You huff at him, stretching over, trying to grab it from waving fingers. You lean further into him but he bends right back into the gap in your pillows, hand underneath them. Suddenly his eyes widen, grin threatening to split his face in half.

"You can take it" he says, passing the spliff to you whilst you stare at him confused.

"I've found something better" he says in a sing song voice, and pulls his hand out from its hiding place, holding your dildo in his hand, waving it at you and laughing.

Shit! You'd forgotten you had jammed it there before he came round! You'll never hear the end of this.

Eddie, still chuckling, looks at it, seemingly for the first time. It drops out of his hand as if it had burned him and rolls off the bed, onto the floor. Eddie's staring at you in shock. You felt your stomach drop out from under you, realising a bad situation just got worse. It was the toy you had used in the last batch of photos. It sat on the floor, glaring at you, matt red. It felt like it was burning a whole in your carpet, setting your friendship with Eddie ablaze.

"Sweetheart..."

You look down, and put the joint in the ashtray next to you. Twisting your hands, you  play with your rings, unable to meet his stare.

"Look, it was supposed to be a joke, I was just getting you back, you know, after what you said? And I started enjoying it and I-I like you and I didn't mean it to go so far and..."

"Will you look at me?" Eddie's voice trembles slightly.

You scrunch your eyes shut, hot tears spilling out the creases of your eyes, running down your cheeks, leaving salty embarrassed trails in their wake.

"I think I'd rather die than look at you right now. I'm so fuckin' embarrassed and stupid, you might as well just leave, I'm a creep, I'm so, so sorry-"

Firm lips press against yours. You lean back in shock, not expecting the sudden kiss. When you dare to look Eddie is staring straight at you, eyes soft, hand reaching out to your fidgeting digits, trying to calm you down.

"I had to-to do something..." your words dwindling.

"You said I said something, what did I say?" He holds your hands, massaging your fingers softly.

"You.. said I didn't count."

"When?" He exclaims, word tinged in disbelief.

"Dustin said I was a girl, and you said I didn't count. I just wanted to show you, I do count. I dunno, I just wanted you to pay attention to me." You gaze at him, hurt etched into your brow.

"Oh sweetheart" holding his hand to your cheek, he strokes your jaw "I didn't mean it like that, I was just tryin' to take attention away from you is all. What was I supposed to do, ask you out on the spot?" He chuckles, pulling you in for another kiss.

This time you're ready, kissing him back with urgency. His lips are surprisingly soft; the kiss tastes of weed, cigarettes and gum, and maybe the lingering hint of strawberry chapstick that glosses your mouth. You both open your mouths, tongues clashing, fighting for dominance. It's messy, and passionate, and everything you could have hoped for. Both of his hands snake to the back of your head, pushing you towards him to deepen the kiss. Your breathing becomes laboured, hands grasping at his t shirt, balling it in your fists for something to grab onto. You nibble at his bottom lip, eliciting a breathy sigh from him.

Eddie breaks from the kiss and moves his mouth to your neck, mouthing and biting, hands running down your back.

"Well," he whispers into your skin between sucks to your throat, "who knew you were such a deviant." He bites into your shoulder through your t shirt making you cry out.

"I-I'm not a deviant" you struggle out, nails raking into the bare skin of his arms.

"Oh really? At The Hideout? At school? On my throne? You're a naughty girl" he gives you a self satisfied smirk and runs his tongue up the length of your neck, drawing out a loud cry from your throat.

"It felt good" you admit to him, "I liked the feeling, that I might get caught." You're cheeks redden at the confession. You had barely confessed it to yourself.

"Such a filthy girl. Jesus Christ, the things I've thought about." He pulls at the hem of your top; you comply, pulling it over your head, exposing your breasts since you had forgoed a bra.

Eddie's groan at your bare breasts vibrates through the air in the room and straight to your cunt. His eyes look like they are about to pop right out of his head.

"The photos didn't do you justice darling. Holy shit, look at you."

You steal the moment he's taken to stare and worship.

"So, are you gonna marry me now Munson?' You joke, biting your lip and smiling.

"Eventually. First? First I'm gonna..." he takes your nipple between his teeth, biting softly, and you take a shocked breath, "I'm gonna absolutely rail you" he takes your nipple into his mouth fully and sucks hard, squeezing the other so much it borders on pain. You wail his name in response. It releases from his mouth with a wet sound. "I'm gonna fuck you everywhere you took a picture."

You laugh incredulously, then look at his eyes, and see his solemn stare in response. Oh, he was being serious. Your pussy contracted at the thought, squeezing around an imaginary length. "You'd like that wouldn't you, you dirty girl?"

You can only hum in response, tugging at his t shirt. He whips it off, allowing your fingers to explore his unchartered skin, running fingertips over his unseen tattoos. Hands stroking, caressing his flesh. Eddie groans at your touches and reaches to undo his jeans, belt undone, popping the button.

He licks the flat of his tongue across your nipple, making you whimper. "You think you can help me out?" Gesturing to his crotch.

"Mmm yeah" you breathe, fumbling with the fly, pulling it down and pushing him backwards onto the bed. You see his boxers,  and reach out to pull them down and release his swollen cock. It pops up, rising from the base of brunette curls, curving slightly at the tip, girthy and dribbling. You kneel between his legs and take the tip into your mouth, moaning around his length. Eddie nearly bucks into your mouth at the feeling, trying so hard not to fuck into your throat.

You take more of his length, nose pressed to his curls, gagging slightly. Eddie makes a high pitched moan. God, the feeling of him at your mercy makes your core hum with need. You run your tongue around his member and lick the sensitive tip, hands slightly squeezing the base.

"Fuck princess I, I can't last if you do that!" He pulls you off and stares in your eyes.

"Where did you take the pictures. I know you must have taken some in here."

You point wordlessly to the white fluffy rug in front of your wardrobe.

"Stand up." You can't find it in you to disobey.

Eddie's strong hands stroke down your sides, making their way to your jeans, undoing them and tugging them down to your ankles along with your underwear. There you stood, completely exposed to him. You could feel yourself dripping almost, slick feathering your thighs.

Eddie licks his lips. "Fuck you are so hot. I wanna taste you. But not now. Get on your hands and knees." He roughly handles you into position and you gasp at how dominant he is being. Every word is shooting to your core, making you throb with need.

You do as you are asked, on your hands and knees, waiting to see what was next.

Rough fingertips graze your heat making you cry out.

"Easy baby, gotta get you ready for me." He slips a finger into your pussy and you squeeze around it desperately, back arching. Slowly, he pumps it in and out, watching you squeal and squirm. The lewd wet noise is echoing through the room along with your moans. He adds another finger and you buck into his hand, fucking yourself onto his digits.

"Shit baby you gonna cum already? Fuck." He pumps his fingers into you faster, curling them into you.

"Eddie yes fuck!" You release suddenly, unexpectedly, squealing his name like a prayer. The molten red hotness of your orgasm peels through your every vein. Panting and sweaty you look back at him.

"Fuck me, you're as pretty as a picture." He chuckles darkly, pulling his boxers down.

"You got a condom baby?"

"No, no please just fuck me, I'm on the pill."

"Jesus Christ you are filthy, gonna fuck this pussy good yeah?"

You push back in response, your soaked lips touching the tip of his cock. He pushes into you, the filthiest moan escaping his lips.

This is what you had been craving. The sneaking around, the thrill of being caught, it was nothing compared to feeling his throbbing dick inside of you, stretching out your cunt so much no other dick could possibly compare. It hurt, but it was breathtaking. A pain you wanted to feel over and over. Eddie gave you a moment to get used to him, hands pressing into the fat of your hips, molding into his palms. Then he did as he said he would, railing into you at an unforgiving pace, pounding you from behind so roughly you were practically screaming. It was animalistic and feral and you fucking loved it. Every thrust was fire, the way he grabbed at you was possessiveness personified. He owned you.

You had never known a boy to be so loud before. His moans and cries were stabbing at you as much as his cock was.

"You like that sweetheart? Gonna fuckin' ruin you." Thrusting, stabbing into you, he grabbed you by your throat, pulling you bodily upwards. You could feel the cold of his rings pressed against you. He squeezed and you let out the longest, loudest moan you'd ever known, crushing his cock with how tight you were inside. Your orgasm came quickly, breaking you down into pieces. You became undone, a broken shell, moans and whines flowing from your lips.

You fell to the floor, hips only staying in place due to his strong hands. He'd released your throat, letting your head flop down, driving into you with even more force.

The overstimulation turned you into a screaming hot mess, but Eddie wasn't done with you yet. Pushing your head down into the rug he continued to force into you hard and fast until his movements began to falter and he released into your cunt. You felt his cum hit your gummy walls and the feeling was just too much, you were so sensitive and sore from the way he had used you. Tears streaked your cheeks, hot against your flushed face. Utterly and completely fucked.

You both stopped, frozen in that ridiculous position, until you felt his fingertips grazing your back tenderly, a harsh contrast from the previous moment you had shared together.

"Was that ok?" Barely a whisper, as if he thought you might blow away in the breeze.

"...yeah" you manage to gasp out, trying to lift yourself, suddenly unable to support the weight of your own head.

"Shit sweetheart sorry." Eddie pulled out from you and you whined at the loss. You'd never felt so empty. But then he was there, lifting your upper half up, getting you to lay back so he could pick you up bodily and lay you out on the bedclothes. Your knees were sore and red and your pussy lips were painful and swollen.

Eddie walked off to your bathroom, returning with a warm cloth. The tenderness honestly surprised you. Never had a boy tried to take care of you after. He swept the cloth between your folds, making you hiss at the contact. Eddie shushed you, cleaning you up. Then he laid facing you, hand brushing your side.

"You ok sweetheart?" He look on his face was practically dripping with concern, his hands roaming over you, trying to soothe and console you.

"Yes baby, fuck that was..  that was something else" you giggle at him, fingers drifting over his torso, feeling at the relaxed muscles.

"So, a nap, then a drive yeah?"

"What??"

"What's the next spot? The Hideout? Don't think I'm finished with you yet, I've got a promise to deliver future Mrs Munson."

You laugh out loud, holding him tightly.

[dearharriet]

American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

[m00nh1gh]

WICKED GAMES

Hyunjin x reader

While doing some cleaning in the house, you were met with a box you hadn't seen in years.

Contains: Spitting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, a bit of biting, water (???), fingering, cum eating.

Word count: 2.3k.

It was this time of the year when you and your boyfriend decided to do a massive cleaning of the house, which also meant throwing or giving stuff away. You'd started early in the morning and the sun was already starting to set when you finally moved to the last room: the bedroom.

Your knees hurt from being on the floor for so long. You were surrounded by old clothes to sort out. Hyunjin was in the big wardrobe, also throwing his clothes on the floor to empty the small space. When everything was finally gone from the wardrobe, he found a black box on the floor. Frowning, he crouched down and opened the box carefully.

“Y/n?”

You hummed in response, still folding your clothes on the floor. You heard your boyfriend walking over to you and sitting down in front of you, and only did you look up at him when you saw the contents of the box.

“What's all this?”

Looking back down at the incense sticks, pendulums, crystals and books, a smile crept up on your face. Memories of your teenage years flooded through your mind and you found yourself giggling.

“That's from when Lisa and I were into witchcraft,” you picked your favorite pendulum up. It was a beautiful amethyst. You brought it closer to your chest, watching it shake in your hold. It would need to be charged and cleansed.

“You never told me about this.

- Well, now you know. Now that I think about it, maybe I should get back into tarot.

- I'd like a reading from you,” he smirked and you picked a heart-shaped rose quartz up.

“I miss this so much, you have no idea.

- Why'd you stop?

- I don't know, I guess I lost my motivation. Besides, not everyone believes in all this, so I couldn't really talk about it with anyone. I was lucky Lisa was into it too.

- I see,” he rummaged through the box and picked a small red book from it. “Sexy Answers Book. Interesting,” he chuckled and you rolled your eyes with a stupid smile on your face again.

“We bought it as a joke,” you took the book away from him and you opened it upside down at a random page. Then, you did the same, but this time, the book was the right way up. “The book says I should put my hands on your feet.

- Ew,” he made a disgusted face and you laughed. He took the book again and did the same as you. “Pinch your right hip? Gladly,” he reached out to pinch your hip and you dodged with a squeal.

“Ugh, you should've shown me this book earlier. I wanna try it seriously,” Hyunjin said, placing the book back in the box.

“Yeah, but let's finish this before,” you agreed as you went back to sorting your clothes out.

~

“Y/n~!

- Yes?” You raised your eyebrow at his sudden change in behavior, only seconds earlier he was whining about not wanting to work tomorrow.

He lay on top of you, his strong arms enveloping your waist as he rubbed his cheek against your cleavage.

“Wanna try the book?” Your fingers found their way to his pretty black hair, gently combing it as you hummed.

“You sure you wanna do this?

- Yes,” he left a small kiss on your collarbone and you smiled fondly. He looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes and you laughed before tapping his shoulder.

“Get off of me if you want me to go get it.”

He pecked your cheek three times before standing back up, happily following you to the bedroom and waiting for you on the bed. You both knew this was going to be more of a funny experience, but you were definitely up for it.

“How do we even start this?” You threw the book on the bed and Hyunjin took it in his hand as you sat down in front of him, cross-legged as well.

“Should I just flip through the pages yet?

- Why not. Go,” you said, watching as Hyunjin picked a random page. “spit,” he started, then his eyes grew wide open. “Spit?” He repeated and you both burst out laughing.

“Go on,” you encouraged him and he was still laughing as he flipped the book upside down. “Your book wants me to spit on your cheek, babe.

- Kinky,” you waggled your eyebrows at him and he let out a breathy laugh.

“You sure you want this?

- Yeah,” you lay back on the bed, waiting for Hyunjin to get on top.

“This is nasty,” but he still climbed on top of you, a playful smirk plastered on his lips. He leaned in for a first kiss. It was slow and casual and his tongue swiftly entered your mouth after a small while. Your arms were around his neck by then and he suddenly pulled away.

“Sorry love,” he said before spitting right onto your left cheek, the gesture making you gasp in surprise even though you saw it coming. It felt hot on your skin and before it could drip down your face, you scooped it up with two of your fingers before bringing them to your mouth and sucking on them teasingly.

Hyunjin had been watching you the whole time, lips slightly parted in wonder and pupils blown. “Holy fuck,” he whispered and you giggled, taking your fingers out of your mouth before wiping them clean on his shirt.

“My turn,” you both sat back up, Hyunjin's ears were red, whereas you were completely fine.

Reading what the book gave you as answers, a devilish smile grew on your face. “Wait a little,” you said as you walked out of the bedroom, leaving Hyunjin confused and a little nervous.

His confusion raised even more when you came back with a glass of water and he tilted his head to the side with a visible frown. Kneeling in front of him on the bed, you wondered if you should take his shirt off or not.

“Are you gonna pour it on me or…?

- Yeah. Shirt on or off?”

Hyunjin thought about it for a small moment before he took his shirt off and placed it away on the bed. He laid back on his hands, waiting for you to do whatever. You raised the glass above him and the cold water made his abdomen twitch as he whined at the sensation. You watched the liquid drip down his lower body and onto his sweatshorts, liking the way he reacted to it too.

“What the fuck,” he whined again, brows furrowed as he watched the last few drops hitting his skin.

“That was interesting,” you stated, going to place the now empty glass on the bedside table before going back to him. You couldn't just leave him like that. Lowering your head to his abs, you licked and hummed at how cold his skin had gotten before kissing a trail to his waistband. He stroked your hair while you did so, his other hand grabbing the book again.

Your own hands stayed on his thighs as he flipped through the book. You were watching him again, wondering what he would do next.

He giggled before placing his hand on your cheek delicately, his thumb making small circles on it. He leaned in for another long kiss, this time being more heated and his other hand finally grabbed the other side of your face. You playfully bit on his lower lip and he did it back as his fingers trailed down your neck to wrap around it without any pressure.

“Had to choke me?

- No, I only had to caress your face,” he laughed and you did too after hearing that. You left a few other pecks on his plump lips before getting your “sexy answer.”

“Fucking finally,” you cheered as you threw the book on the side before sitting on Hyunjin’s lap. He put his hands on your hips, not knowing what you'd do, but he knew he’d like it with the way you seemed excited.

You started by leaving wet kisses to the corner of his mouth, down to his jaw and to his neck before Hyunjin felt your teeth on his skin. It wasn't too harsh, but his eyes still closed and he shivered. You could feel him shift under you and you kissed the place you bit before licking and sucking.

“Love,” he breathed out, hands sliding to your ass to squeeze.

One answer led to the other, and now you were both shirtless and in your underwear. Hyunjin had just finished sucking a hickey on your ass cheek when you read what you should do next.

“Alright, this is the last one,” you said and Hyunjin hummed in agreement, waiting for you to read it out.

“Come here,” you said as you went back on your knees in front of your boyfriend. He crawled closer to you before sitting on his knees, too. His cheeks were tinted a soft pink from all the foreplay and his lips had swollen a little from all the kissing. You grabbed his hand, slipping two fingers into your mouth and coating them with your saliva as you made intense eye contact.

“Fuck,” his cock twitched at how warm your mouth was around his fingers, eager to have you sucking on it instead. His fingers pressed down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open. He looked at your face as a whole, you always made the best expressions that made him horny as fuck.

His wet fingers then went to your clothed core, teasing your clit slowly as your thighs separated a little to give him space. You gripped his shoulders for support as you lifted yourself up, his fingers hooked to your panties to pull them to the side as his thumb rubbed you, pulling a sweet moan out of you.

“Finally,” you laughed and he smiled, looking up at you with those beautiful eyes. You pushed him to lay on the bed under you, sliding your panties off in a haste just before. You sat your naked pussy on his dick, feeling how hard he was under the boxers and letting him feel you up.

“Pretty girl,” he commented, one hand sliding down your back to tease your entrance. You lifted your ass up a little to give him access to your sopping cunt, his first finger sliding in with ease. You sighed in pleasure and let him stretch you out, your lips occupied with his the whole time.

“Want you inside,” you whispered against his lips and he nodded, his three fingers sliding out of you before giving a small slap to your ass. You smiled and got off of him so he could take his boxers off and you immediately straddled him again once he was completely naked.

“Slowly, love,” he told you as you sank down on his cock, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he watched you carefully. Once you were fully sat on his cock, you leaned in for more kisses, your tongues tasting each other as you got used to his length.

Hyunjin rubbed circles on your hips as your lips trailed down to his neck, eyes closed as you moved a little to let him know you were ready. He groaned and guided you slowly to begin, your warmth enveloping him perfectly and making him twitch inside you.

“Love you and your cunt so much,” he whined against your ear as he let you roll your hips against him and bounce on his cock, leaving him breathless and fingers digging into your flesh. You were panting against his neck, hands just above his shoulders as you clenched at each of his compliments. It didn't go unnoticed, as Hyunjin moaned each time you’d do so.

He undid your bra and you threw it on the side too, this time full on riding him and his hands going up to grab your boobs; squeezing gently as your own hands slid along your curves. Your head was thrown back as well as his, both of your highs coming quickly.

“Hyune,” you moaned out as he pinched and pulled on your nipple, your hips stuttering briefly before going back to their fast pace. He whined in response, holding your waist tightly as his toes curled. He could feel himself getting closer by the second.

“Love, gonna- please,” you nodded and pulled away from his cock, replacing your cunt with your hand and jerking him off fast. He was soon cumming on your fingers, some of it also dripping on his lower abdomen. His chest heaved as he came down from his orgasm, quickly realizing you didn't get to come.

“Clean that pretty hand of yours for me, gonna make you cum now,” he mumbled as you were the one laying down this time, his lips wasting no time wrapping around your clit to suck and lick. Your hips jerked up at the sensation and you moaned as you licked your boyfriend's cum off your fingers, eyes closed once again and enjoying the pleasure.

His tongue worked wonders, darting in and out of your entrance before harshly sucking on your clit and it was your turn to come, mouth open and head thrown back as your back arched too. Hyunjin was still between your thighs as you tried closing them, but he didn't mind because he liked it. When he knew you had calmed down, he left one last kiss to your pussy before lifting himself up to kiss you on the lips for you to taste yourself.

After having cleaned up and used the bathroom, the book was back in its box and you went to the living room to watch a movie, cuddled up to each other.

“The book is staying in its box for the next ten years,” you joked and Hyunjin laughed, nodding in agreement.

“You better give me that tarot reading soon,” he placed a kiss on the top of your head as you started the movie.