#Motion Array

[linkloka]

From Pixels to Masterpiece: Essential Resources for Aspiring Video Editors

Looking to enhance your video editing projects? These websites are a treasure trove of resources, offering everything from stock footage and music tracks to sound effects and templates. They’re like creative gold mines! However, keep in mind that subscription fees and licensing restrictions can sometimes be a bummer. Check them out: 1. PremiumBeat PremiumBeat offers a curated selection of…

[motionarraylisanssatinal]

https://semlisans.com/gorsel-tasarim-lisanslari/motion-array/

Motion Array lisans satın al

[flowersforabby]

first time with loser!gf!ellie

she drags the tips of her fingers gently down your side, almost as if she's afraid to shatter you.

"you can tell me to stop," ellie says, voice so delicate that it teeters on becoming one with the low hum of the room.

"i don't know why you think i want to," you sigh, a small smile tugging on your lips as you shift to hold yourself up on your elbows.

her hand finds its way to one of your knees, both of which are propped up on the bed, rubbing soothing circles whilst her other hand lays awkwardly in her lap, fidgeting with the hem of her pants. the upper half of her body is bare, yet you keep your gaze focused on her face.

she looks pretty, in this light. the loose strands of her hair framing her freckled face. the way her eyes are illuminated by the light of your nightstand. the permanent slight pout to her lips. ellie looks different from the girl you'd fallen for, all those years ago, but this ellie- she's yours.

"i don't want you to feel like you're being rushed into this, or shit,"

"i'm ready if you are," you say.

she lets out a weak attempt of a laugh. "now you're just making me even more nervous,"

"i wouldn't want my first time to be with anyone but you,"

for a moment, the girl falls silent in thought.

you reach out for her hand, mirroring the motion she's doing on your knee. her eyes follow as you do so, yet she stays quiet for just a moment longer.

"i want to do it, but only if you do," you say. "i don't mind waiting, i don't mind if you want to do it right now, tomorrow, or whenever. i really don't care, ellie, i just care that i'm doing it with you,"

"yeah," ellie says, sucking in a deep breath. "let's do it,"

"okay,"

"but you gotta tell me if-"

"shut up, ellie."

"i don't want to hurt you,"

"you won't. i'll tell you if you do, but you won't. i know you,"

"yeah, kay,"

ellie slips her hand up your unclothed thigh, your shorts having been discarded a while ago, leaving you in only your undergarments. her skin is warm against you and she's never felt so real, so there. she leans down to peck your lips but before she gets the chance to fully pull away, you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her in, her chest pressed against yours. a surprised huff escapes her mouth as she holds herself up with one arm. she's careful not to pull away from you as she makes herself comfortable, one knee between your legs and the other by your side. you always find yourself wanting more of her and you're pretty sure that soon enough, ellie won't have any more of herself to give.

you're caught off guard when you feel her knee pressed right against where you're most sensitive, letting out a choked breath as you stop sucking on her tongue. ellie pulls away, a small grin on her face, but it does barely anything to mask the nerves.

"shit babe," you say. "should i be worried you know 'bout that?"

her grin grows almost shy. "i'm not all that clueless,"

"oh?"

her hand finds itself on your jaw, guiding your lips back towards hers. she bites on your bottom lip slightly- your thing, which she stole, but you can't really complain because at least, she's doing it to you. your hands slowly travel up her sides, giving her the chance to push them away at any moment; she doesn't. ellie muffles a whine by pressing her lips harder onto yours, when you cup your hands around both her breasts, gently fondling with her pebbled nipples. she's eager with her kisses, chasing after you whenever you pull away to catch a breath. it's a side of her you don't see often, and it's somehow hard to believe that your sweet, loving girlfriend could be so… hungry.

"fuck," you hiss, biting back a moan.

this ellie, she's foreign to you. she's soft and slippery and sticky, slotted right against you. one of her legs is trapped beneath yours, the other, above. a pink flush is evident on her cheeks and the glassy look in her eyes, you've never seen her quite so desperate. her noises are dizzying- a varied array of curses, gasps, whines and moans that only fuels you further. you've got your hands pressed right against her chest, feeding into her laboured breathing whenever your fingers brush her sensitive nipples.

"wanna hear you," you mutter, leaning down to pepper a line of kisses down the side of  her jaw. 

ellie furrows her brows, her finger digging further into her hips as she tries to grind harder up into you, clits bumping together and making her whine. "fuck, babe,"

her desperation spurs you on, alongside the want to please her, to make her feel good. you ignore the soreness of your thighs, trying to keep on going despite the movement of your hips already starting to falter. ellie's wetness coats both your thighs and her own, even slicking down to the bedsheet with an evidently darker patch beneath her. the room feels hot and heavy, your moans echoing throughout your bedroom.

"think i'm gonna cum," ellie gasps. "shit,"

it's quite a sight quitewordly, when she does. she squeezes her eyes shut, tears pooling in the creases and she throws her head back into her pillows. the entirety of her body tenses up and it's a moment before she starts shaking, breathy gasps escaping past her lips as she digs her fingers deeper into your thighs.

"please, please," she begs, looking up at you through her eyelashes.

when your clits slide over each other once again, ellie abandons one of your thighs to clasp her hand tightly around her mouth, letting out a shaky whine.

eventually, you fall victim to her overstimulation, being pushed away right when you're about to cum. she's frantic with her apologies, repeatedly trying to explain that it's really too much for her and she can't bear to feel you brush up against her once more. you shut her up with a series of messy kisses, trying to ignore the throbbing of your core as you try to convince that really, it's fine. she doesn't think it is, no matter how hard you try to convince her, and ellie settles on slipping her hand right in between the two of you, rubbing tight circles on your clit and bringing you to what you had been craving for so long.

not proofread!!

a/n: this was supposed to have been based on this but i gave up

[nasa]

25 Years of Exploring the Universe with NASA's Chandra Xray Observatory

Illustration of the Chandra telescope in orbit around Earth. Credit: NASA/CXC & J. Vaughan

On July 23, 1999, the space shuttle Columbia launched into orbit carrying NASA’s Chandra X-ray Observatory. August 26 marked 25 years since Chandra released its first images.

These were the first of more than 25,000 observations Chandra has taken. This year, as NASA celebrates the 25th anniversary of this telescope and the incredible data it has provided, we’re taking a peek at some of its most memorable moments.

About the Spacecraft

The Chandra telescope system uses four specialized mirrors to observe X-ray emissions across the universe. X-rays that strike a “regular” mirror head on will be absorbed, so Chandra’s mirrors are shaped like barrels and precisely constructed. The rest of the spacecraft system provides the support structure and environment necessary for the telescope and the science instruments to work as an observatory. To provide motion to the observatory, Chandra has two different sets of thrusters. To control the temperatures of critical components, Chandra's thermal control system consists of a cooling radiator, insulators, heaters, and thermostats. Chandra's electrical power comes from its solar arrays.

Learn more about the spacecraft's components that were developed and tested at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama. Fun fact: If the state of Colorado were as smooth as the surface of the Chandra X-ray Observatory mirrors, Pike's Peak would be less than an inch tall.

Engineers in the X-ray Calibration Facility at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, integrating the Chandra X-ray Observatory’s High-Resolution Camera with the mirror assembly, in this photo taken March 16, 1997. Credit: NASA

Launch

When space shuttle Columbia launched on July 23, 1999, Chandra was the heaviest and largest payload ever launched by the shuttle. Under the command of Col. Eileen Collins, Columbia lifted off the launch pad at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida. Chandra was deployed on the mission’s first day.

Reflected in the waters, space shuttle Columbia rockets into the night sky from Launch Pad 39-B on mission STS-93 from Kennedy Space Center. Credit: NASA

First Light Images

Just 34 days after launch, extraordinary first images from our Chandra X-ray Observatory were released. The image of supernova remnant Cassiopeia A traces the aftermath of a gigantic stellar explosion in such captivating detail that scientists can see evidence of what is likely the neutron star.

“We see the collision of the debris from the exploded star with the matter around it, we see shock waves rushing into interstellar space at millions of miles per hour,” said Harvey Tananbaum, founding Director of the Chandra X-ray Center at the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory.

Cassiopeia A is the remnant of a star that exploded about 300 years ago. The X-ray image shows an expanding shell of hot gas produced by the explosion colored in bright orange and yellows. Credit: NASA/CXC/SAO

A New Look at the Universe

NASA released 25 never-before-seen views to celebrate the telescopes 25th anniversary. This collection contains different types of objects in space and includes a new look at Cassiopeia A. Here the supernova remnant is seen with a quarter-century worth of Chandra observations (blue) plus recent views from NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope (grey and gold).

This image features deep data of the Cassiopeia A supernova, an expanding ball of matter and energy ejected from an exploding star in blues, greys and golds. The Cassiopeia A supernova remnant has been observed for over 2 million seconds since the start of Chandra’s mission in 1999 and has also recently been viewed by the James Webb Space Telescope. Credit: NASA/CXC/SAO

Can You Hear Me Now?

In 2020, experts at the Chandra X-ray Center/Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory (SAO) and SYSTEM Sounds began the first ongoing, sustained effort at NASA to “sonify” (turn into sound) astronomical data. Data from NASA observatories such as Chandra, the Hubble Space Telescope, and the James Webb Space Telescope, has been translated into frequencies that can be heard by the human ear.

SAO Research shows that sonifications help many types of learners – especially those who are low-vision or blind -- engage with and enjoy astronomical data more.

Click to watch the “Listen to the Universe” documentary on NASA+ that explores our sonification work: Listen to the Universe | NASA+

An image of the striking croissant-shaped planetary nebula called the Cat’s Eye, with data from the Chandra X-ray Observatory and Hubble Space Telescope.  NASA’s Data sonification from Chandra, Hubble and/or Webb telecopes allows us to hear data of cosmic objects. Credit: NASA/CXO/SAO

Celebrate With Us!

Dedicated teams of engineers, designers, test technicians, and analysts at Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, are celebrating with partners at the Chandra X-ray Center and elsewhere outside and across the agency for the 25th anniversary of the Chandra X-ray Observatory. Their hard work keeps the spacecraft flying, enabling Chandra’s ongoing studies of black holes, supernovae, dark matter, and more.

Chandra will continue its mission to deepen our understanding of the origin and evolution of the cosmos, helping all of us explore the Universe.

The Chandra Xray Observatory, the longest cargo ever carried to space aboard the space shuttle, is shown in Columbia’s payload bay. This photo of the payload bay with its doors open was taken just before Chandra was tilted upward for release and deployed on July 23, 1999. Credit: NASA

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com

[leclerc-hs]

73 Questions with Mrs. Leclerc - cl16

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you do a 73 questions interview with Vogue OR charles can't help but third wheel your interview warnings: none??? just cute fluff basically, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 2.1k author's note: I actually got a request by someone to do this and thought it was such a CUTE idea and concept. I obviously didn't do ALL 73 questions cause that would've taken forever. But thought this was a cute little piece to do. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think don't be shy !! xoxo

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

THE DELICATE FOLDS of the pale pink sundress fluttered like petals in a gentle breeze, framing your figure with a soft, ethereal elegance. As the front door yielded to the push, the fabric danced around your legs, caressing the tender skin of your thighs with a whisper of touch. Your radiant smile illuminated the scene, a beacon of joy amidst the fluttering fabric and nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” The male voice chimed brightly, his tone cheerful as a songbird greeting the dawn, echoing through the air with an infectious energy that mirrored your own bright smile.

“Hey!” You respond with effervescent warmth, your smile stretching across your face like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. With a graceful gesture, you swing the door open wider, revealing the inviting warmth of your home’s foyer. The soft light spills in, casting a golden glow over the polished floors and elegant furnishing. The first thing to notice is the giant painting of a Ferrari Formula One car, hung high above the entry way table.  

“Look who we have here! It’s Mrs. Leclerc!” A delicate blush warms your cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tender affection that tingles within you whenever you’re addressed as such. Though you and Charles have been together for many years, your marriage has infused your relationship with a fresh sense of intimacy and closeness. And despite that it’s been almost five years, the title of “wife” feels forever new and unfamiliar.

“On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“I would say 8, so I’m super excited!” With a gentle click, you shut the front door behind you, enveloping the foyer in a tranquility as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen. Along the way, you stooped to pick up a scattering of children’s toys that lay scattered like confetti on the polished wooden floors, offering a quick apology for the perceived “mess.” However, you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the orchestrated chaos around you. While the house was meticulously maintained by the cleaning company before the video shoot, every detail was carefully curated to strike the perfect balance between lived-in warmth and elegance, ensuring a setting that felt both inviting and authentic to you and the viewers.

“Any reason for that?”

In the heart of the home lies a kitchen adorned with a stunning green cabinet motif. The cabinets, painted in a rich emerald hue, exude an air of sophistication and charm, perfectly complemented by gleaming brass hardware. Sunlight filters through the vast array of windows, casting a warm glow over the polished marble countertops. 

“You mean other than the fact that the kids go back to school soon?” You and the interviewer let out a soft laugh as you made your way behind the kitchen island, opening the fridge in a smooth motion to pull out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“No, but thanks though!” His voice is light-hearted. 

As the fridge door remains open, a tantalizing glimpse is offered to the audience of its well-stocked interior. A colorful array of fresh produce fills the shelves, showing an abundance of vibrant fruits and crisp vegetables. Among the healthy offerings, assortment of juice boxes catches the eye, adding a playful touch to the wholesome scene.

“That’s a lot of juice boxes you have in there.” He makes a comment, it’s not a question, but you take it as one.

“Two kids and a husband,” You start, your tone light and casual before lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper for the camera, “who practically is also a kid, results in a lot of juice boxes.” With a playful wink directed at the lens, you punctuate the statement, adding a touch of humor to the scene. Setting the water bottle down on the expansive kitchen counter, you resume your easy demeanor, effortlessly blending candor and charm for your audience.

“Hey!” Your head shoots over, the camera seamlessly following your gaze to where Charles, your husband,sits on the floor of the living room, two of your kids, aged two and three, beside him with an abundance of toys strewn about. “I heard that!” Charles retorts with mock offense, a playful grin lighting up his face as he joins in the banter.

The living room exudes a chic sophistication with a distinct Formula One flair. Charcoal-gray walls provide a sleek backdrop, accentuating the mounted flat-screen television. A striking statement piece dominates one corner—a display of artwork showcasing all of the racetracks Charles has conquered – infusing the room with a sense of triumph and energy. A plush white sofa, adorned with an array of vibrant red pillows, invites relaxation and style. Across the room, a sizable shelf proudly showcases a collection of racing helmets, some belonging to Charles and others gathered over time, adding a personal touch to the space. Below the television, was a long console table that was adorned in various plants and photos of your family. You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced at them.

With a casual wave of your hand, you dismiss Charles’s playful interruption, maintaining your position at the kitchen island as the camera refocuses on you. The gesture carries an air of affectionate familiarity, a gentle reminder of the dynamic energy that permeates your bustling household.

“If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?”

“Definitely Austin Butler.” You answer almost immediately, no hesitance in your voice.

“Hey!” Charles’s playful yelp echoes through the room once more, accompanied by the joyful laughter of your children. One nestled in his lap, the other engrossed in a picture book, their presence adding warmth and vitality to the room. You share a knowing smile with Charles, the affectionate banter a familiar melody to your family life.

The laughter of the interviewer joins the playful exchange. The camera effortlessly captures the dynamic interaction between all of you with ease.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Restez en dehors de ça.” Stay out of this!

“Arrête de faire semblant de vouloir faire l’amour avec quelqu’un d’autre que moi!” Stop pretending you want to make love with anybody but me!

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you turn back to the camera, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I change my answer?” You inquire, injecting a hint of playful anticipation into your tone.

“Sure,” the interviewer replies.

“You’re supposed to say no,” You quip with a chuckle.

“Oh, um no?”

With a playful pout, you glance over at Charles who is already staring at the interaction. A smile adorned on his face like he is in complete awe of you, regardless of what you are saying. “Sorry honey!” You wave your hand around. “Answers are final!”

Leaving the kitchen behind, you make your way towards the backyard, where the promise of relaxation and leisure awaits. Stepping through the door, you’re greeted by the sight of a large pool shimmering under the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters beckoning for a refreshing dip. Surrounding the pool, lounge chairs are strategically place, some on the pool’s ledge, inciting you to bask in the sun while enjoying the cool water. A wide arrangement of pool floaties from unicorns to racecars litter the pool as well.

It’s a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of bright blue skies stretching overhead, adorned with barely a wisp of cloud in sight. The warm rays of sun dance upon your skin. With a stylish flourish, you slip on a pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, a subtle nod to your husband’s sunglass collection. 

“Vintage or new?”

You ponder for a moment as you stand in the backyard, a breeze blowing your hair behind your shoulders. “Depends, but definitely vintage.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle, although Charles likes to take the aisle more.”

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“Wait, do my children count as two of the three?”

“Up to you.”

“Okay, so my two children. And my lip gloss.” You laugh, pausing for effect. “Kidding! My two kids, and my lip gloss…” You pause, jokingly. “And my husband of course.” The light-hearted remark reflects the joyful chaos of humor and love in your life. “He’s really the sweetest man. I’m so lucky.”

The glass door slides open with a whisper, and into the frame steps Charles, his presence incessant. With a carefree demeanor, he approaches you clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched at the seams from his muscles. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks, the stubble of his own rubbing against your smooth skin, his love evident in each tender kiss.

“Désolé,” Sorry. He apologizes before pecking another kiss to your cheek. “Tellement ambrassable.” Just so kissable. He places one more on your cheek, your face bright red from the camera’s catching all of this.

“Looks like he can’t be far from you for very long.”

Charles looks at the camera, a glint in his eye with a large smile, like he was the happiest man on earth, and nothing could dampen his spirits. Especially with you nearby. “Est-ce que tu la vois?” Do you see her?

The interviewer, unaware of Charles’s words, simply nods in response behind the camera lens, acknowledging the affection in his tone. Later translations will reveal the depth of Charles’s words no doubt. Elle est tellement belle. Bien sûr, je ne peux pas rester loin longtemps.” She’s so beautiful. Of course, I can’t stay far long.

Your face is bright red as Charles remains at your side.

“Where are the kids?”

“Put them down for a nap!” Charles answers, his arm slung over your shoulder as he leans on you comfortably. 

As the interviewer continues the questionnaire, Charles can’t resist interjecting with playful remarks and comments on almost every question. His spontaneous interruptions add an element of humor and spontaneity to the video, turning what could have been a standard interview into an entertaining and engaging exchange.

“How do you define beauty?” “My wife.” “Charles, the questions are for me!”

"What do you love most about your body?" "That's an easy one...I think her--" Charles begins, but you swat his chest and cut him off. "I love my arms. Not because they're that nice but they give me the ability to hold my children." Charles clicks his tongue, hating that you even implied something about yourself as 'not that nice'.

"Least favorite color?" "Red." Charles lets out a large gasp with a string of phrases in French, clearly hurt by your response. "It's a joke, mon amour!" "How did you know you were in love?" You look at Charles then, his eyes already on you, a soft smile pulling on both of your lips. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with him. Probably when I realized I would rather be awake in the middle of the night, since he was traveling so much, just to talk to him for even a few minutes, instead of going to sleep." Charles plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers as he chimes in. "We've known each other for so long. But, when I first met her, it was like meeting someone I've known my entire life. There was no awkward silences between us. We just clicked."

“Diamonds or pearls?” “Pearls.” “Mon chou, don’t lie.” “I’m not!” “The diamond on your finger says otherwise!”

“If you made a documentary, what would it be about?” “Charles’ brain. I seriously question what goes on in there sometimes.” “Hey! It’s only you…”  You raise your eyebrows at him, like he’s a liar. “And racing.” “Definitely racing.”

“If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Charles smirks deeply, like he knows something the world doesn’t, the interviewer picks up on it. “Wait, you have a tattoo? Can we see it?”

“No! It’s for me only.”

You playfully swat at Charles’ chest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks as you both wander throughout the house, showcasing its beautiful décor. Despite your embarrassment at Charles’ antics, you can’t help but be thankful for him easing your nerves. You weren’t one for the public eye, normally. So, when you agreed to this interview it came out as quite a surprise.

“Okay final question of the day.” 

You both stand by the front door, the interviewer on the front step outside of the home. 

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Definitely ki—” You don’t get to finish your answer as Charles’ fingers grasp onto your neck, his fingers sprawled along your jawline as well, and tugs your face into his. He shuts the door as soon as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a few seconds before you push him off you. “You’re unbelievable!”

A giant smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you. “Only for you, mon chou!”

[keopix]

360 Video booth Hire Austin - Photo Booth Rental Company

Keopix is a 360 Photo & Video booth rental service based in Austin, Texas. Using slow-motion video equipment turning at 360 degrees, the team strives to provide excellent high-quality shots of the wedding, birthday parties and any occasion festivities. https://keopix.com/

[joelsmochi]

honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

series masterlist | main masterlist

“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

[elixirfromthestars]

Usual

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: Bucky keeps to his usual routine every week. On Mondays, it includes you.

Word Count: ~700

Warning(s): none. fluffy goodness <3 established nickname ⟶ tulip

a/n: This Bucky has been swimming in my head for a while, so this little drabble came out as a result. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🤍 Also I'm hosting a little writing challenge if you want to check it out. 🤍

the whole collection ♡

The bells above your shop door chimed a short melody as it opened. The steady thud of heavy boots followed suit. You turn to face the entrance with your usual welcoming demeanor. 

It was Monday. He always comes on Monday. 

“ Hey, Bucky. Here for the usual?” You ask like clockwork, already knowing the answer. 

“ ‘Course, Tulip,” he replies, smiling at you with that usual twinkle in his eyes. The one that only shows up when he talks to you. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he uses that nickname he gave you months ago. 

“ Coming right up,” you respond, turning to the small shelves behind the counter. The ones lined up with your homemade jams and honeys. Every Monday he buys three of each to serve at his bar in a mix of different snack dishes. 

His favorite happens to be the one he named after you—Tulip’s Sweet Special.  

Bucky strolls over to the flowers that align the walls adjacent to the front counter. Rows upon rows of an array of colors and different-sized petals. A rainbow of the prettiest blooms nature has to offer. 

Meanwhile, you’re putting the mason jars of sweet spreads in a small wicker basket. Glancing at him briefly to stare at his side profile and the way he looks at the flowers intently. Almost as if waiting for them to speak to him. 

You wonder what flowers he’ll choose today. 

You don’t have to wonder for long as he walks over to the counter with a bouquet of white and pink daises, adorned with a touch of lavender. You look at them with a knowing smile on your face. The rugged biker almost looks comical—in the sweetest way—with the bouquet in hand. 

“ Will that be all?” You ask him, motioning to the flowers and the goods in the basket. Bucky nods, lightly scratching at the stubble on his face,“ That’s all, Tulip. And I’ll get ya that basket of yours later. Forgot it back at the bar,” he mentions the basket he borrowed a week ago to transport last week’s items on his bike. 

Of course, he forgot it. He always does. 

“ No need. I’ll just come by the bar later and get it,” you say to him—this little forgetful exchange an excuse to see each other again. It's about the fifth time you’ve done this little rendezvous in the last two months. 

Bucky grins in a way that would make any woman swoon,“ I’ll be waitin’ on ya then.” You can’t help the warmth that finds its way to your face. 

You ring him up, and as you’re getting his change ready he places the flowers in the empty vase on the counter. The one you leave for whatever flowers he buys for you that week. You look at them and the way he delicately places them inside, with a tender care you were one of a handful of people who’s ever seen him dawn. The action envelopes you with a doting affection.

“ Thank you for the flowers, Bucky,” you say with a soft sincerity. No matter how many times he buys you flowers the action still causes your heart to flutter.

“ No need for the thanks—or the change,” he says, lightly closing your fingers around the change in your hand with his calloused one. The slight touch is electric and it makes you both yearn for more. 

You give him that look. That usual look that says you’re doing this again and he replies with a look that conveys hell yeah I am.

You know better than to argue with that look. 

“ Come spend it at my bar later instead,” he suggests shrugging nonchalantly—but his eyes and grin reflect everything but nonchalance. There’s a deep rooted sentiment there that is desperate to be freed and brought to the surface.

You hum, pretending to think about it,“ Alright, deal.” Bucky responds to your agreement by giving you a pleased nod.

Bucky grabs the basket of goods. The rough exterior of his hands contrasted with the gentle almost tender way he held the basket. He was always delicate and careful with anything that belonged to you.

The basket looked so much smaller when he held it. 

Bucky sends you a farewell wink,“ See ya later, Tulip,” and then he turns to leave with a small wave of his hand.

“ See you later, Bucky,” you reply before leaning on the counter, hands resting in your palms. You watch him walk back out to his motorcycle with a longing stare. 

When he was out of sight, you listened intently to the revving of his engine bike, anticipating the day you two would go past the usual.

Until then you’d cherish this routine affair.

[ariseur]

“are you wearing flavored chapstick?” with yuuji

✧˖° idk if i like this one, giving ooc vibes because i got major gojo energy from this idea.. i hope it’s still okay ☹️

“is that,” yuuji smacked his lips together as his eyes darted around his peripheral to try and decipher the foreign flavor. “.. flavored chapstick?”

“mhm!” you hummed, smiling as you watched his tongue dart out to further find the flavor. he thought for a moment before he looked back at you with a sheepish look. “strawberry?”

“yes—! i wanted to do a trend i saw online.”

he had cocked his head, “what’s the trend?”

so here you are; an assorted array of flavored chapstick tubes next to you as the salmon-haired boy covers his eyes, awaiting the next fruity flavor that’ll settle on his lips once yours meet his. then cues the five minutes afterward of him trying to guess, when really, he’s just trying to make you laugh.

(“uhm, grape?” he’d ask, full knowing that it was orange. to which you’d giggle, “yuuji, no—!” and correct him, leaving him with a triumphant smile as you showed him the tube, where he’d feign an oblivious, “ohhh!”)

you hum for a second before going for the mint one, eyes flitting to your boyfriend to ensure that he’s not cheating. his lips quirk into a grin as he hears you pop open the cap and twist the bottom to let the light green, almost transparent balm of the product peek out.

“okay, turn around,” you chime, and yuuji can already hear the smile in your voice.

once he turns around to face you, he spends no time before smushing your cheeks and pressing an exaggerated kiss to your lips, huffing in amusement through his nose as your delayed reaction.

you only break the kiss to laugh, allowing your hand to rest on the nape of his neck as he smiles at the sound of your giggles. a heavenly sound, yuuji could die happy knowing he had made you laugh.

“so eager, aren’t we?”

“‘s not my fault i have an awesome girlfriend,” he grins boyishly. he gets an eye roll and a forehead flick at the comment.

“you’re supposed to guess, yuuji!”

his lips part into a small ‘o’ shape as he taps his chin. you can tell he’s really thinking about it, maybe because he put in too much effort in that one kiss that he didn’t take the time to actually savor the flavor.

that’s it, he thought.

“i dunno,” he hums. “i think i might need another taste.” he drags the ‘a’ out mindlessly, watching as your brows quirk up at the idea. now you’re holding a hand to your chin, crossing your arm under the other to hold it up as you think.

“one more only, okay?”

he nods, placing his hands and fixing his posture eagerly. you chuckle as you lean in once more, memorizing yuuji’s big brown eyes — the way they flit around your face before fluttering closed. memorizing the way his lips manage to slot so perfectly into yours despite only being taught a few months ago. you had commit all of his habits to memory absentmindedly, oblivious to the fact that he always did the same.

he hums before you break away, evoking a soft pout from him as you quirk a brow as a silent question. “oh—!” he mutters before growing silent. he looks at the ground, then back at you, and repeats the same motions until finally,

“i think i need another one.”

“yuuji!”

𐙚 dottie’s 500 event - 🍡 ( dialogue ) prompts!!

𐙚 taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @2ukika

𐙚 non-500 requests are closed — august twenty-first, 2024

[littlexdeaths]

i think they deserve some good ole’ love making, don’t you?

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), eddie is a pussy drunk lover boy, riding, unprotected piv sex, cream pie and just some over all cuteness… they deserve it <3

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: big thank you again to the loml @strangerstilinski , also i totally picture time of the season by the zombies playing on the radio during this chapter… enjoy freaks xx.

the sweltering august nights had finally faded into a more tolerable autumn, the leaves beginning to bloom in a array of yellows and reds.

after your disaster of a date at the hawk a few weeks prior, you both agreed to meet exclusively at eddie’s trailer from now on. as it was the one place that was safe from the prying eyes of your brother.

so far anyway.

the cool september breeze that filters through his cracked window offers you some reprieve from the rising temperatures in his bedroom.

his hands are everywhere, gentle and warm as they kept your hips pressed into his mattress. the radio is playing softly in the background, an oldies station that neither of you cared to change.

as the both of you far too preoccupied with the weight of his ribs between your hips.

his tongue continues to lap against your overly sensitive core, already having coaxed two orgasms from you in the last half hour alone. your fingers are buried in his hair, curls mussed from your constant tugging and damp from sweat.

your soft whine of his name has his head lifting, flushed cheek pressing into the meat of your thigh. his pupils are blown out and glassy, your juices that are smeared across his chin shine in the muted light of his bedside lamp. the colorful handkerchief draped over it casts him in a soft pink glow.

and he’s never looked so beautiful to you before.

“c’mere,” you plead.

he’s crawling up your body without another word, lips locking with yours. he kisses you deeply, hips rutting against yours with fervent need. the feeling has you gasping into his mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

another pointed roll of his hips has your fingers sliding down his bare chest and lightly pushing against it. eddie pulls back slightly, the worry that fills his features quickly dissolves when he takes in your lustful expression.

“lay back for me, handsome.” your words come out soft, but more desperate than you intended.

and eddie, eager to please as always, just flops down on the mattress beside you. he just gazes up at you, doe-eyes filled with devotion as you place your palm on his chest and move to straddle his waist.

you can feel the flutter of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, chest rising and falling as you seat yourself on top of him.

you’re both treading in uncharted waters, but the encouraging look in his eyes helps to keep you afloat.

an experimental drag of your hips has him groaning, rough fingers splaying over the tops of your thighs. you can feel him— hard, heavy and straining beneath the fabric of his boxers. the thin layer is the only thing separating your bodies now.

the mixture of your slick and his saliva soaks into the checkered fabric, allowing you to glide your hips more easily against his shaft. the damp material catches against your clit in just the right way, pulling a whiny moan from your throat.

“that’s it,” he mumbles, helping to guide your hips. “take what you need, baby.”

your hands that are resting on his chest suddenly dip lower, the male helping to lift your hips so you can tug his boxers down his thighs. when eddie moves to kick them off the rest of the way, the sudden motion has you tumbling forward and accidentally knocking your heads together.

“whoops,” you breathe as you lean back, cradling your forehead in the palm of your hand. “sorry… you okay?”

your lips jut out in a small pout, suddenly worried that you ruined the moment due to your inherent clumsiness.

he glances up at you before licking his lips, “it’s hard to say…” his brows then quirk up beneath his bangs, a breath blowing past his spit-slick lips.

“but y’know, now that you mention it…”

he draws it out, an over dramatic lilt beginning to bleed into his voice.

“i am starting to feel a bit woozy.” he pauses, before the corner of his mouth turns up in a cheeky grin. “not from a concussion, of course, but having a pretty thing like you on my lap is—”

and quickly shut him up with a kiss, feeling the laugh that rumbles through his chest.

“you’re such a shit head,” you giggle, nipping at his lower lip.

“oh yeah, keep talking to me like that, sweet thing.” he teases, “you know how that gets me going.”

feeling suddenly emboldened you reach between your bodies, grasping his hardened length in your palm. his answering groan only encourages you to grip it fully as you sit back up.

you nudge the reddened tip through your drenched folds, mewling softly when you slowly start to sink down onto his thick length.

“that’s it, slide it in— oh fuuuuck,” he all but whines.

you’re panting by the time you’re fully seated, palms resting on the flat of his stomach. his cock is nestled at your deepest point and you swear you’ve never felt so full in your entire life.

eddie regards you with the utmost tenderness as you raise your hips, nearly letting him slip out of you before you’re guiding them back down with a small gasp. your pace is slow but steady, gradually taking him even deeper with each subtle rock of your hips.

your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as the tip of his cock nudges against your sweet spot. his hands that were resting on your hips begin to trail up your sides, underneath your shirt to kneed your breasts in his warm palms.

“look at you,” he groans, encapturing you in the warmth of his gaze. “… like a goddamn dream, baby.”

you’re far too engulfed in your own pleasure to register anything he’s saying. besides the lewd whimpers that continue to spill past his lips with each rise and fall of your hips. the sensation soon becomes overwhelming in the most intimate way possible.

“god, i love you…”

those three little words slips past his lips before he can stop them. so drunk off the feeling of you wrapped around him that he doesn’t realize he’d actually uttered them aloud.

despite the lustful haze that continues to dull your senses, you suddenly hear him loud and clear.

when your hips gradually increase their pace, your fingers wrap around the chain that has fallen into the hollow of his throat. you grip the guitar pick in your fist, coaxing him up until your clothed chest is pressed against his own and his forehead touches yours.

“say it again,” you plead.

his eyes widen as the realization of what he’d just said finally sinks in. but there’s no trace of fear in them when he cups your cheek in his palm.

“i love you, sweetheart.”

your mouths meet in a sudden clash of tongue and teeth, and he swallows each breathy cry that leaves your swollen lips as you meet your end. he allows you to bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting as he chases his own release.

his thighs tremble and he fists the back of your shirt— keeping you pressed against him as he fills you to the brim. only then does he let the exhaustion take over, both of you falling back into the mattress in a heap of entangled limbs.

you both lay like that for a while, letting your breathing slow as the radio continues to fill the comfortable silence.

when you dare a quick glance up at him, your heart thumps even louder in your chest. his eyes are shut, his wild curls fanning out over the pillowcase. he looks so content you would’ve thought he was sleeping, but the subtle quirk of his lips tells you he’s wide awake.

eddie carefully peeks one eye open and you quickly hide your face back into his shoulder. a deep chuckle rumbles in his throat when he catches you staring, but it still makes his heart flutter beneath his ribs.

when you finally muster the courage to speak, your words are muffled, lips pressed into the sweaty skin of his clavicle.

“i love you too.”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight @xxbimbobunnyxx @calumfmu @bastardstevie @prestinalove

let me know if you want to join the taglist for this series!

[k0yaz]

shackled.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, arranged marriage, arle referred to as your husband, use of her real name, idk if this is angst so I’ll tag it as angst and fluff, wlw, I actually fucking hate arranged marriages irl but it’s interesting to write about, fun when it’s the character you like and not a 10 year old girl getting married to an ugly ass 60 year old man who gets no bitches, uhm anyway not proofread.

A/N: nobody gonna request arrange marriage? I’ll do it myself with my husband/husbwife arlecchino 🕯️

Uneven beats of your heart pulsed in your eardrums continuously as you stared out the open window, a cool breeze caressing your downcast face gently. Your pupils flickered down to your extended left hand, dilating smaller out of disdain upon catching sight of the cold silver ring encircling your ring finger.

You dreaded it. This arranged marriage parted an endless uncomfortable pit in your stomach, which you had felt would remain as long as you were trapped in a bind you didn’t want. Gazing down at ring once more, you couldn’t help but find it difficult to swallow the choked feeling in your throat whenever you laid eyes upon the ruby, nausea enveloping every possible sense you had in the moment. Rather than a promise ring that bound you to someone you loved, the one on your finger felt like a tiny silver collar clamped around your flesh. An irking feeling that forced you to love a stranger.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Arlecchino. The woman had actively attempted to respect your personal space, being able to tell how much you loathed the inescapable grasp of your arranged marriage. You could tell that she opposed even the thought of this, especially from the way her eyes would stare down at her own ring with an empty and unfeeling expression.

Sighing deeply, you reached an arm up to grasp the satin curtains, before tugging your arms inward in a single dynamic motion. As you turned your back to walk away from the now closed up windows, you felt a gust of light air brush against your nape, causing you to spin around and lower your eyes from slight annoyance. Right. You forgot to shut the windows first. You just went over to shut the windows, still harboring a hint of irritation. Ever since that marriage, you always tended to feel unwilling to do anything anymore. Frequently always irritated by the smallest of actions as you’d always think to yourself—what’s the point?

Upon closing up the windows completely, you fell back onto the intricately decorated sofa set situated in the corner of your shared bedroom, your mind still a cluttered mess from all your thoughts being scrambled rather than neatly arranged in an array. You began to ponder once more. How things could’ve been different. Ran away, or disobeyed your parents to a full extent.

There wasn’t anything you could do. You didn’t see a point in even trying to keep a happy front anymore. All of your aspirations that you had, every little dream, was now out of your reach as you were shackled into this marriage. The warm air of the heater hit your skin as you rested your cheek into your palm. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you mused at the possible scenarios that could’ve happened if you were free. Perhaps if you were wallowing in your delusion, you could smile atleast once.

“I’m home.”

You blinked from sudden surprise, jolting as the bedroom door creaked open—albeit a bit roughly. Arlecchino’s emotionless voice rang in your ears, had she called out upon entering before? She often enters the living room first, and doesn’t enter the bedroom until nightfall. Then again, you tend to reside in the living room to await your husband’s return, so maybe she simply wondered where you were.

Stray specks of blood decorated her cheek, scattering small splatters ranging in a variety of spots across her face. Right. She was the fourth harbinger after all. You folded your arms as Arlecchino towered over you, still standing upright while her x-marked eyes pierced into you. Shifting uncomfortably, you decided to clear your throat, gesturing towards your own cheek in an attempt to break the thick fog of tension between you two from the lack of words.

“You got some-“

“I’m aware.” Arlecchino replied coldly, making you bite back a scoff at the harbinger’s dismissive response. Well, excuse you for trying to make this shitty marriage more bearable.

Still, it didn’t seem intentionally rude although it did come off that way. You only looked away from her, eyes fixating on a random painting hung over the flower pot on one of the shelves. Hunching your shoulders, you bit down on your quivering lip subtly so that Arlecchino wouldn’t notice. Although you were the one that distanced yourself from her. Although you were the one who only focused on despising this marriage, rather than even trying to get closer to Arlecchino in the slightest for atleast a small hint of peace. It still hurt seeing your husband brush you off like this.

Her seemingly exhausted expression remained glued to her face as she dragged the folded white washcloth along her cheek, eyes staring at the ground aimlessly as she continued to clean her stained face. The weight of all of this had clearly taken a toll on her as well, yet she had to keep a sturdy front for the sake of her profession as a Fatui harbinger. Yet her actions regarding you had always been courteous and respectful. Consistently respecting your boundaries and trying her best to avoid making you feel uncomfortable must have taken a toll on her, especially knowing full well that your resentment for this marriage could have set you off at any given moment.

A sudden wave of sympathy flooded you upon seeing Arlecchino’s tired eyes, dark linings shaded below her eyes as well. Just maybe, you could try to repay her for having your comfort in mind throughout the course of this resented relationship. This relationship wasn’t her fault, and you knew that. She hated this just as much as you did.

Deciding to swallow your pride, you rose to your feet, standing before her as you awkwardly shifted for a couple moments while remaining standing there. Arlecchino paused her movements, raising an eyebrow at your sudden motion of getting up off the couch. She simply stared at you with a puzzled gaze, trying to figure out your sudden want to interact with her.

Hesitantly, you reached out a shaky hand, lining it up with her cheek and gesturing her to lean in. Arlecchino on the other hand, wasn’t expecting you to switch up suddenly like this, only keeping her skeptical gaze locked onto your own eyes. It felt like a trap to lean in to someone who was so hesitant to even look at her. No matter how badly she wanted to lean into the soft skin of your palm, her hesitance seemed to uphold her rationality despite her exhaustion.

“Arle…it’s okay, you can lean in…”

She needn’t be told twice as you felt her hand grab ahold of your wrist to keep it in place, her head nearly collapsing against your hand. Deep breaths echoed within the vicinity, her breaths cancelling every other noise around you two as Arlecchino slowly composed herself from your touch. She pulled back after a couple moments, her cold front faltering for a moment with a flash of tenderness, before immediately snapping back to her calm demeanor.

However, you didn’t stop there. You don’t know what flipped that switch in you, but you just felt the urge to grow closer to Arlecchino. Perhaps it was the realization that you weren’t alone in the hellhole of a marriage, and that you two may be suffering together. Knowing she hated this as much as you was comforting, it remedied your internal turmoil slightly, and made you detest the idea of anyone else going through what you were. Or maybe, it was the fact that Arlecchino didn’t push anything in this marriage, and respected you, preventing your mental state from growing worse. It could even be both.

Regardless, you wanted to atleast provide a sort of ease to her. Cupping her cheek once more, you pulled the washcloth from her hand, rubbing it against her cheek in circular motions as stains of blood began to soak up onto the cloth and coloring it red. Arlecchino didn’t seem to protest your attempt at soothing her, face pressing further into your shaky palm as it seemed to be working. The quiet buzz of the heater reverberating through the silence, and the general tidy atmosphere of the neatly arranged bed made everything feel so right. As if this marriage wasn’t so awful after all.

Arlecchino exhaled a swift sigh as you finished washing up her face, remaining silent. The two of you awkwardly awaited for the other to speak up, the crickets outside chirping louder than the two of you by this point. You finally decided to say something, face tinged a light pink from moderate embarrassment

“You didn’t want this either did you?”

Arlecchino shook her head in affirmation, her eyes still avoiding yours—as if she was afraid that your vulnerability would shift over to her, and shatter her calm self at this moment.

“I’m well aware of this situation. Your parents are already closely associated with the Fatui, and want wanted you to marry a harbinger in order to elevate their own status for the sake of the family.” She replied. A sour taste seeped onto your tongue at the mention of the reason why you were forced into this in the first place, unpleasant memories beginning to race through your mind for a few moments.

“Why did you accept the offer then? You could’ve easily declined if you didn’t want to be in this marriage either. There’s multiple other harbingers my parents would’ve auctioned me off to.” You said bitterly, strangely hating the idea of getting married to anyone who wasn’t Arlecchino at this point. Arlecchino merely shrugged in response, raising her shoulders to remove the white fur coat cloaking her and draping it neatly over the coat hanger drilled into the wall.

“I’m not sure.” She paused, taking some time to think over another answer to compensate for her vague response. “I believe I just felt it was necessary in that moment.”

You sighed back collapsing onto the mattress. Suddenly, you felt an arm circle your waist, pulling you closer as you felt Arlecchino push her torso flush against your back. Your face burned from the sudden intimate action, the warmth of her body only serving to make you lean into her further as her sharp nails raked along your stomach lightly. Arlecchino whispered out against you, visibly less uptight than when she came in. She was a bit more relaxed and clingy with you simply with a mere touch against her cheek, it was sweet honestly.

“I still care about you, (Name).” She muttered against your neck, voice muffled as she was evidently quite tired. Pale rays of the moonlight illuminated Arlecchino’s now eased expression, watching her eyes lowered shut as her exhaustion began to catch up with her. Surprisingly, you found yourself relishing in the comfort of her arms as you flipped onto your side facing her to examine her rested features.

“…I’m starting to care about you too, Peruere.”

Your hand drew down along her arm, all the way from the skin of her shoulder down to the black faded enveloping her arms from her curse. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. You found solace in the fact that you could make the best out of this marriage with a woman who kept you in mind and tried her best to care about your interests.

Maybe, you could warm up to her.

A/N: im screaming idk if this turned out good guys pls asaaawaabshshs but yayyyyy arlecchino MY CONTENT WARNINGS WERE ASS ON THIS ONE WHY ARE THEY SO BORING AND SAD ‼️

[wonustars]

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

𖥔 keep reading

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible. 

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn. 

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in. 

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal. 

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully. 

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it? 

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it. 

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand. 

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him. 

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house. 

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden. 

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself. 

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book. 

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.

[bamfkeeper]

Choke.

RQ: 'I can't remember if I put this in or not so ignore this if I did, but PLSSSS that Kurt choking drabble w/ his tail that another asker suggested...... I beg of you 💙 I read your work non-stop it's SO good' - @citiirose

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ | Tail play, choking, unprotected sex, slight dirty talk

A/N: Hehe I'm happy to deliver <3 This is a little drabble so it's shorter than a regular fic, but ugh it was fun to do. He'd be so cheeky about this. I know not everyone likes WatXM Kurt, but I like the tail wiggle in the gif sooo. I always choose pics/versions I think match the scenario. BUT you imagine whichever one you want! Unedited ;; WC: 1.3k

Kurt was well aware of your fondness for his tail, and the mischievous German never missed an opportunity to tease you with its gentle spade. He would utilize it in various, tantalizing ways, each designed to heighten your senses and stir your desires in inappropriate situations. He would trace delicate patterns along your sides, sending shivers down your spine.

Or he would allow it to graze ever so lightly between your legs, igniting that dark spark of anticipation within you. And if he was feeling particularly cheeky, he would playfully tap it against your ass, eliciting a soft sound from your lips.

Given his penchant for incorporating his tail into his flirtatious repertoire, it was no surprise when Kurt decided to explore its potential in more intimate settings. The bedroom became a new playground.

He buried himself into you, balls slapping your ass as he thrusted into you. His hips moved in swift, rhythmic motions as his hands firmly grasped your form, his fuzzy chest pressing against the smooth expanse of your bare back. Kurt's lips found their way to your ear, whispering an array of sweet nothings, his voice thick with his distinctive accent and growing increasingly breathy as he exerted himself, his impressive stamina never failed him.

Your body responded instinctively to him, gentle moans escaping your lips and increasing with every thrust he delivered. These sounds of pleasure were effortlessly drawn out by his expert touch, he knew how to play you like an instrument he mastered. Between ragged breaths, you managed to speak, your voice heavy with desire. "Oh, Kurt... you feel so good..." The words tumbled from your lips as your body unconsciously pressed further into his embrace.

He grinned and exposed his fangs, his tail slowly snaking up your body with deliberate, teasing movements. The flexible appendage traced delicate patterns across your skin, your body tried to lean into it as it snaked around you. He gradually encircled your neck, the warm, velveteen texture felt delicious on your heated flesh.

As he applied a gentle pressure, you felt your pulse quicken, the sensation of his tail wrapped around your throat igniting a primal response within you. Your core throbbed with an intensity that surprised even you, each subtle squeeze sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The light constriction began to affect your senses, creating a heady mix of arousal and lightheadedness that was intoxicating.

The slight restriction of blood flow induced a euphoric buzz, your mind growing pleasantly hazy as your other senses seemed to sharpen in response. Every touch, every breath, every subtle movement became magnified, your nerve endings singing with heightened sensitivity. It was as if Kurt had unlocked a new realm of sensory experience, one that teetered exquisitely on the edge of danger and ecstasy. You played with your senses during sex before, since his body held such a unique texture, but this…was completely new and hot.

A breathy, desperate mewl seemed to come from the very depths of your being, escaping your lips and making his pointed ears prick up. Your body moved of its own accord, pressing back against Kurt with an urgency that surprised even you. The friction between your bodies only served to stoke the flames of your desire higher.

"Kurt..." you gasped, your voice thick with need and raw emotion. "Yes, yes!" The words tumbled from your lips in a frenzied litany, each syllable dripping with unbridled arousal. "Kurt..." you moaned again, your inhibitions crumbling in the face of overwhelming pleasure as you tried to convey your desires without getting lost. "Squeeze harder!" The plea erupted from you, a passionate demand born of pure, unadulterated want. Your voice was usually so controlled, but now it quivered with the intensity of your arousal.

He blinked, his eyes widening in surprise at your passionate reaction to being choked with his tail, exhilaration coursed through him as he processed your unexpected enthusiasm. After a moment of stunned silence, Kurt's lips curved into a devilish grin, his golden eyes gleaming with newfound intrigue.

Chuckling softly, he decided to indulge your apparent desire, carefully tightening his tail ever so slightly around your neck. The pressure increased just enough to be noticeable, but remained far from causing any actual harm or discomfort. The spade slowly squirmed its way past your lips, laying on your tongue as he felt your saliva gather and drool out past your lips. Kurt's voice dropped to a low, husky whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Ach, you like this, liebling? Well, well...you are quite the naughty little thing, aren't you? I must admit, I didn't realize you'd derive such pleasure from having mein tail curled around your neck like this..." His words were laced with a mixture of amusement and growing arousal, his hips snapped into you faster, his cock felt like it was throbbing inside you. Precum pooling inside you, coating your inner walls as he edged you to feeling his load to come.

You let out open, unrestrained moans as his spade pressed firmly against your tongue, your mouth remained slightly agape, a mix of pleasure and anticipation evident in your expression. Your hips were driven by intense desire, pressed back eagerly into his with each thrust delivered, seeking more contact, more friction. Meanwhile his tail continued to gently coil around your neck, adding another layer of sensation to the already intense experience.

He expertly manipulated the pressure, applying more force for several tantalizing seconds before loosening his grip, only to repeat the process again and again. This rhythmic pulsing sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, each cycle building upon the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. You felt your face grow hot when he increased the pressure and lessened the blood flow, it was so damn good.

"Squeeze harder, I can take it, goddamnit…please Kurt, don’t fucking trade me anymore!" you begged, the words tumbled from your lips without thought or hesitation. You found yourself in a state of arousal unlike anything you had experienced before, the intensity of your desire catching you off guard. You couldn't pinpoint the exact source of this overwhelming horniness, nor could you fully comprehend why you were acting so desperate and wanton. Kurt hadn’t really choked you before, besides a light touch to your neck with his hand. Was it really just his tail that was making you feel this way?

All rational thought had been pushed aside, replaced by a singular, all-consuming need. In this moment, all you wanted, all you could focus on, was the burning desire to reach your climax, to feel that sweet release that seemed so close yet frustratingly out of reach.

Your desperate plea was abruptly muffled as his spade-tipped tail pushed deeper into your mouth, effectively silencing your words. You emitted a stifled sound in response; while it didn't obstruct your breathing, it successfully prevented you from articulating further demands.

"Such a vulgar tongue..." Kurt growled, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper as he nipped at your earlobe with his razor-sharp teeth. "Perhaps I need to teach you in the art of proper etiquette, liebe?" The term of endearment contrasted sharply with the dark promise in his tone. "Your release will come only when you've mastered the skill of asking politely...without that filthy language."

His prehensile tail constricted further around your neck, the pressure intensifying to an almost unbearable degree. The sensation was overwhelming, causing your eyes to roll back in your head as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. Your sex throbbed and twitched, desperate and threatening to cum just from the feeling of his tail choking you. Kurt maintained his relentless rhythm, each powerful thrust driving his cock as deep as it could go and guiding you closer to the edge of ecstasy while denying you the final push you so desperately craved.

“Now…let’s see how long you last.”

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[babygorewhore]

Can’t stop thinking about…period sex with step!brother Frat!Rafe. Requested by my love, @oceanblvd111 I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Stepcest! Fingering! Blood play! Period sex! Praise! Light degrading! Unprotected sex! Kinda perv Rafe! Dividers by @cafekitsune W.C less than 800

You were writhing in bed, holding your stomach as a painful cramp throbbed. You whimpered and pressed the heating pad against you. This was one of the very few times you hated being a woman. Sighing, you turned over in bed and adjusted the volume of your comfort show when a knock sounded at the door. “Come in!”

Your step brother walked inside, brows furrowing as he took in your position and array of snacks. Rafe was visiting home from college, you hadn’t moved out yet. You knew he was a pervert, stealing your underwear out of your drawers but you never told him you knew. You were secretly attracted to him too. Ever since your mother married Ward (TW Ward) you liked him.

“What’s wrong with you?” He questioned and you sighed. You pushed down the blankets to expose your oversized shirt and shorts.

“My period. I think it’s the one from hell. I’m in so much pain, bleeding heavily and I can’t stop snacking.” You groaned and Rafe chuckled. His blue eyes flashed when he scanned your bare legs.

“Hmm. Don’t girls get horny on their periods? Shouldn’t your boyfriend be here taking care of that?”

You threw a pillow at him but he caught it.

“Rafe, I don’t have a boyfriend. And besides, I can take care of that myself.” You half expected him to be grossed out but Rafe smirked.

“Yeah? You touch that pussy with those pretty fingers? Get them all bloody? I knew you were a dirty girl.” His dark tone caused goosebumps to rise on your warm skin.

“Rafe, you shouldn’t say those things.”

Instead of backing down, he moved closer, setting his knee on the mattress. “Why not? Come on, doll. I know you’re not that fucking stupid. You know I wanna bend you over and see that cunt wet for my dick.”

His words made your pussy dampen and your eyes widened as Rafe moved the blankets back further. His big hands toyed with your knee socks, snapping them. “You want me to take care of that? Fuck that greedy pussy? I’ve heard it helps cramps too.”

You blush profusely. It was so wrong but at that moment you didn’t fucking care. You nod and Rafe climbs into bed. He moves on top of you, holding his weight with one muscular arm. He breathes heavily as he presses a light kiss to your jaw.

“Just lay there and relax, princess. I’m gonna take care of you. My pretty girl…”

He peppers kisses along your neck, sucking softly to the skin as he tugs down your shorts, panties and pad. Rafe uses his other hand to tenderly toy with the outside of your cunt, his fingers dipping to massage your swollen clit. You mewl and your head falls back.

“Oh god, that feels so good. You’re not disgusted?” You whine and he shakes his head.

“A little blood never hurt anyone.” He continued his motions then slipped two big fingers inside and curled them. Your blood giving him more lubricant as you moan and grip onto his arm.

“Fuck. Rafe, don’t stop, don’t stop please!” You beg and he nods. Rafe pulls his fingers out, looking at the glistening red and he smears it lightly on your lower stomach. Drawing an R.

“Your pussy belongs to me, princess. It always has. I’m gonna fuck that tight cunt, fill you with my cum.” He groans and shoves his pants down.

His cock leaks with precum as he pumps it a few times. Rafe sinks slowly into your pussy, reveling in the sounds you make as he stretches you on his dick. “That’s it, baby. Make all those whimpers for me. Let me have it.” He demands and thrusts.

He wasn’t going harshly, holding onto the headboard as he supports your back with the other. You wrap your legs around his waist as Rafe moves with a steady rhythm. Tears bring in your eyes as pleasure warms you, “Mmm, I needed it so bad,”

“Yeah? Desperate for my dick? You’re such a good girl. Taking me so fucking good. I knew your pussy would feel so good. Tightest cunt. Fuck,” He buries his face in your neck as you cream on his dick.

You breathe heavily and pant as your vision goes white. Rafe shudders and fills you with his cum, “Shitttt, god, knew you were a little slut. Letting me fuck you while you bleed. My good little puppy.”

He fucks you through your climax, pulling out to see the blood shine on his dick before he pushes it back in.

“That’s my pretty puppy. Gonna fuck you for hours.”

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @xxbimbobunnyxx @bunnycrush @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @redhead1180 @gri959 @decodedlvr @rafesthroatbaby @rafeinterlude @ihe4rttwd @rowans-posts

[thee-horny-thicky]

Worship

A/N: This season has made me simp for both Akaza and Douma, so here's a smutty headcanon thing.

Akaza and Douma cannot stand each other. They’re complete opposites in almost every way, especially when it comes to their treatment of women. Akaza believes them to be untouchable, while Douma thinks that the most delectable flesh comes from beautiful young women.

However, they do have a single thing in common. Both men are huge fans of worshipping their partner’s body, in their own unique ways.

You see, both demon’s ideology steams from their adoration for women. Douma, being an egotistic hedonist, indulges his love for them by devouring their bodies, in my ways than one.

He enjoys making his partner feels good, as it's another way for his ego to be fed. Not only does he like their reactions, but he loves the taste of pussy. Yours in particular. He's a munch, your honor.

Getting a taste of your slick is a daily requirement, and when he's particularly desperate, he'll fall to his knees and pleasure you where you stand.

Given his sadistic streak, he adores blending pain and pleasure together. He’ll tie you up to make sure you can’t run from him, and when he’s feeling particularly cruel, he may blindfold you, so you won’t be able to guess his next move. The one thing he’ll never do, though, is gag you. He adores hearing your noises too much for that. He likes seeing you be pathetic, so he’s a huge fan of edging. He’ll play with you until you’re on the brink of orgasm, then stop his motions until you’re begging for him to let you cum. And once he does, he switches from edging to overstimulation. He’s a demon with stamina a human can only dream of, and he’ll keep going until you’re sobbing for him to stop. Often, you two are at it until the sun is peaking over the horizon.

And if you make him upset, he has an array of paddles and whips to spank you with.

On the flip side, Akaza despises the idea of inflicting pain onto women, making them completely off-limits when it comes to killing. When it comes to sex, he’ll treat you like the most precious thing in the world and draw orgasm after orgasm from you. He has a hard time expressing his emotions, so sex is his way of showing his love for you.

The only way he’ll taste a woman is when he goes down on her, and like any good munch, he’ll be licking and sucking for a while. His favorite way to eat you is when you’re resting on your forearms, ass propped in the air, and pussy on display. It gives him a great view of your glistening folds and throbbing clit, and when your pussy starts to get too sensitive from coming too many times, he’ll allow his tongue to venture to your ass. As taboo as it is, it makes you feel good, which is all he cares about. He doesn’t look like Sukuna for nothing.

Only when you’re well-prepared will he fuck you. He’s inhumanly large, and if you aren’t well-stretched and very lubricated, you have no hope of taking him. He’ll refuse to fuck you if your pussy isn’t dripping with your juices because God forbid that he hurts you.  There’s a reason those pants are baggy.  

Not only is his dick inhumane in size, but in appearance, too. His shaft has bulging veins and ridges that offer you some delicious stimulation. Instead of doming off, his cockhead is more of a pointed tip, providing you with an interesting sensation as he pounds into you. His unique additions make him even harder to take. But though the stretch may be a little painful, once you’re adjusted, he’ll have you drooling and cock drunk in no time ♥️

A/N: I might write a proper threesome with them because I'm down BAD 😩

Update: A year later, and I finally wrote a Douma/Reader/Akaza piece 🤭

[strangerstilinski]

𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙝𝙤𝙬, 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; it’s been a long couple of months, and after a particularly rough night, your ex boyfriend finds his way straight back to you.

warnings; no use of y/n, post s4, exes-to-lovers, description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, emotional sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lil bit of cockwarming

word count; ~5k

a/n; i meant for this to be a quick little hurt/comfort thing but then my mind kind of ran wild and it turned into.. this. but i think i really like how it turned out sooo, y'know.. leave a comment/tag/reblog if you enjoy!

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

You're not entirely certain who you were expecting to find on the other side of your door at two in the morning, and maybe you should've given the possibilities a bit more thought before unlocking the door and swinging it open wide, effectively exposing yourself to whatever may be waiting on the other side — but you don't. And it's with a sleep-slowed brain, a baggy tshirt resting high on your naked thighs, and bare feet that drag lazy across cold floorboards, that you find yourself staring at your ex boyfriend.

Steve Harrington.

He's standing in front of you looking a little nervous, a little lost, and a whole lot like he's just come from some sort of brawl. The sudden brightness of the hallway lights outside of your apartment makes your eyes ache and you're squinting, one hand coming up to block a bit of the light just as your heart drops as you take him in.

His hair is a little longer than when you last saw him, impossible for him to keep from flopping down over his forehead while the ends curl at the nape of his neck, light shining down on the strands and streaking golden through the locks that you'd run your hands through once upon a time. But you're hardly able to process or file away those small changes when your gaze begins frantically to absorb the more important and wildly more alarming details in his appearance.

The light wash of his jeans is covered in splotches of denim slightly darker than the rest where something's been spilled down his leg, streaks of dirt rubbed into the knees like he'd fallen down, and blood — there are crimson drops of it splattered along the fabric at his thigh, likely his, likely from the split lip he's sporting, or perhaps from his bruising nose.. When those red smears crusted beneath his nostrils had been fresh and wet and had clearly dripped down past his chin and onto the collar of his shirt, which also seems to be stained in an array of red-splotched fabric.

“Fuck. Steve, what-” Your voice shakes through the sleepy rasp in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at the familiarity of it all — the scene in front of you sending that achingly familiar trickle of fear and worry and panic all racing down your spine.

“I- Hey, sweetheart.” His own voice cracks a little like his throat's been scraped raw from shouting. He's got his hands tucked away in his back pockets like he might be able to make himself small enough that you won't start yelling, his eyes sad and a little pleading as he gives you a weak smile. He lets out a small hiss of a wince when the motion pulls at the slow drying scab on his lower lip.

“Stevie..” The nickname slips out before you can swallow it down.

You think that you might be in shock, if the adrenaline shooting through your veins is anything to go by. It's making it a little difficult to think clearly as you stumble through the doorway, hands coming into contact with his chest as you brace yourself. Your thumbs find those drops of blood that are still drying into the fabric of his shirt, shaking fingers dragging over the freckles on the side of his throat on their way to his jaw.

You have to fight the instinct to linger on those faded scars encircling his neck, have to fight to push back the memories of the night that things between you had finally fallen apart — when all of Steve's half-truths and secrets and outright lies had finally pushed you to your breaking point. The night of the earthquake. When he'd shown up on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, just like this, looking like he'd been to hell and back, in search of comfort and someone to patch him up but apparently not looking to give out any explanations for the state he'd come to you in. Not for the marks on his neck, and certainly not for the horrifying chunks of flesh that had been torn from his stomach and sides.

The fear you'd felt that night coils in your gut again. It's the very same fear that you'd endured eight months before the end, when Steve had gone awol for forty-eight hours only to find you the evening of the mall fire. That time, his left eye had been nearly swollen shut, body littered in bruises in varying shades of black and purple. You'd sat with him in the bathtub with your limbs carefully wrapped around him for hours, until the water had gone ice cold, and even after that he'd been glued to your side until morning. You'd both burrowed beneath a pile of blankets despite the summer heat, legs tangled and sweaty bodies clinging to one another. Even though you couldn't begin to understand how the fire could have been the cause of his turmoil, of his injuries, you'd still held him tight, one hand tangled in his damp hair at all times while he'd clutched onto you like you were his lifeline. The hours it had taken for the tremble in his hands to fade had nearly broken your heart.

It's all a little too much, the position that you've suddenly been thrust back into.

“Wh-? What the hell happened?” You question hoarsely.

Why you bother to ask now, you're not entirely sure. You're certainly not expecting him to give you any answers, but as your thumb pushes gently into the swelling softness of his busted lip, the fingers of your opposite hand brushing the hair back from his blood-spattered forehead, Steve sighs.

“It's not.. I was at the bar. Got into a fight.” He admits with another wince as your thumb skates up the bridge of his nose.

“Got into a fight or started a fight?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking slow between his; they're tired and bloodshot, his lashes clumped together like maybe he'd been crying, caramel swirling in the pretty brown depths that you'd been steadfastly avoiding thinking about these last few months.

A huff crackles as he tries to push a sigh from his blood-clogged nose, his hands finally leaving his pockets to hang awkwardly at his sides while he gives a small shrug, “..’was stupid.” He says in lue of a direct answer.

“I'm sure it was,” You grumble under your breath, swallowing your instincts and forcing yourself to take a small step back, your hands falling away so you can hug your arms across your own chest with a sigh, “What're you doing here, Steve?”

“I didn't know where to.. I..” The words don't seem to come and he falters, shrinking in on himself further, “I don't know.” He admits after a moment.

Your eyes close as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you, “I can't-”

“Please,” Steve nearly whispers the word and when you meet his eyes again, his gaze is a little watery, “I know you don't want to see me. I know you're still mad. And.. You have every right to be, okay? But-”

“But what?” You plead weakly, fingers digging a little meanly into your own arms.

“I just..” He struggles for a moment, hands raking through his hair and ruffling it into further disarray, “I just needed.. I..”

The fissure in your heart cracks wide, the slow healing wound tearing open to expose this gaping thing that feels a little like it might be enough to shatter your soul. Even while the more sensible parts of your brain scream at you to shut the door in his face, you find yourself taking his hand in yours, swollen and blood crusted knuckles under your thumb as you pull him into the dark apartment and close the door behind you.

You push him to sit down on the couch, a wordless order for him to stay put implied in the sidelong glance that you shoot him before turning away to move down the hall and grab your first aid kit and a wet cloth from the bathroom. When you return, Steve hasn't moved an inch, just as miserable and small-looking as you'd left him a few moments before. He's got his fingers tucked into the crook of space behind his knees, the tall streetlight across the road allowing stripes of light to cut across his hunched form, late night shadows eating up everything else.

The coffee table is nudged closer to the sofa with your foot as you sit down in front of him, your bare knees brushing filthy denim when you scoot to the edge of the table and bring the cloth up to his blood-spattered cheek. You're gentle with it, wiping at same spots a few times with the lightest pressure you can manage as the mess proceeds to smear, red-tinged streaks of water against his skin lessening with each careful swipe. Once his face is clean, you move on to the knuckles of his right hand, pulling it from where he has it tucked beneath his thigh to softly wash away the crusted blood from his split and bruising skin.

You work silently for a few minutes. The soiled cloth is dropped against the coffee table with a wet slap and you immediately turn to find the alcohol and cotton balls in the messy basket you keep stored beneath your bathroom sink.

You've just begun to open the package of cotton when Steve says your name, nothing more than a hoarse whisper to break the heavy silence.

When you meet his eyes, the desperation you find there has you faltering for a moment. The warmth that seeps into your skin from each point of contact between you suddenly seems so much stronger. Heat and nerves creep up the back of your neck as you blink at him in question.

The backs of his damp knuckles drag up over your calf before pushing into the smooth skin on the outside of your thigh, his thumb pinching lightly at the doughy flesh there, “I.. Can you..” His hand unfurls and he lets his palm settle against you, his fingertips high enough to slip beneath the hem of your oversized shirt and brush the crook where your thigh meets your hip, “I just.. want..”

He seems incapable of finishing his thoughts, but he doesn't really need to because you know. With the way his free hand comes up to push a lock of hair behind your ear, thumb tracing the line of your jaw to your chin before catching against your lower lip in that all too familiar way, you know what it is that he's asking for.

“Steve..” Your accompanying sigh comes out a little shaky as you exhale it over the pad of his finger, your lashes fluttering as something stirs in your gut in response to his soft touch, “I don't think that's a good-”

“Please.” He whispers again — and, how could you possibly deny him when he sounds so pitiful that it wrenches at your broken heart? While his brows are drawing together like he's already bracing himself for your rejection even as his eyes remain soft and pleading?

And when the hand on your thigh pushes up to slide over the bare skin at the base of your spine, when he applies the barest pressure to urge you toward him, when the fingers on your face slip behind your neck — you're climbing into his lap with little encouragement. Your shins push into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs, hands finding the hem of his ruined shirt and guiding it up over his head in an easy movement that has his hair flopping down over his forehead again.

When your gaze drops, you allow yourself all of ten seconds to trail your fingers over the rough scars across his abdomen. The skin is a little puckered and pink, mottled in a way that it probably wouldn't be if he'd found himself at the hospital that night in late March instead of on your doorstep, but they've healed. It's a far cry from the jagged wounds that you'd tried to clean with blood-stained hands, through quiet sobs and glassy eyes. They'd been so deep, as if something had tried to carve out little bits and pieces of him over and over, like something had torn into him, like something had feasted on his flesh then and left behind nothing but the evidence of small, frighteningly sharp teeth.

Your choked questions ring in your ears even now, the way you'd begged for him to tell you what was going on, who kept hurting him like this — but as easily as your own voice echos in your memories, so does Steve's. You can still hear his agonized groans and cries of pain as you'd tended to his injuries, can still remember the sound of his desperate pleas for you to drop it, to just accept that he couldn't explain-

And you'd asked him then, if it was that he couldn't or that he wouldn't. The resulting silence from him had been answer enough.

Now, Steve seems to know exactly where your mind has gone and he covers your hands with his own, pressing your palms flat against the lingering marks on his skin.

“They're healed.” You state quietly through the emotion clogging your throat. The obviousness of the statement rings stupidly in your ears but you're not sure what else to say in the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse, “I had a pretty good nurse.. Cleaned me up real nice so that I didn't, I dunno, die from an infection or somethin'.”

A laugh pushes up from your throat that borders on a sob, “She sounds cool.” You manage, your thumbnail scraping lightly into the healed patch of skin under your hand.

“Oh, yeah, the coolest.” Steve tells you with the barest hint of a smile pulling at the unbruised side of his mouth. “You okay?” He asks quietly after another moment of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, 'm fine.” You tell him with a shake of your head.

“Sweetheart..” Steve starts slowly, “I want.. Shit, I- I want you so bad right now, but if you don't want this-” When his hands move to the hem of your sleep shirt, his eyes meet yours in silent question, and your head is nodding a little wildly in approval before you can begin to think too hard about it.

His hands nearly burn with every brush against your bare skin as you strip one another down to nothing, his touch leaving behind invisible streaks of something heavy and terrifyingly melancholy, something that you're sure will linger painfully in your chest long after he's gone and left you with a broken heart and an ever growing list of unanswered questions.

“I still have to clean your cuts.” You tell him quietly.

Steve's eyes only rake over your naked body for a moment before his gaze settles back on yours, “Okay.”

You settle over his lap again and wet a cotton ball with alcohol, “It's gonna hurt.” You warn in a whisper.

“I know.” Steve returns just as softly.

Bracing one hand on the side of his neck, you dab featherlight over his split lip. Steve's jaw clenches at the sting as it seeps into the cut and you murmur a soft apology while you continue to clean the area with careful fingers.

Steve's hands settle on your hips and his eyes flick between yours as he waits for you to meet his gaze. When you look up from his swollen lower lip, he gulps, adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Is this okay?” He asks, fingers digging into your flesh a little as he pulls your hips until your groins align nicely.

“Yeah.” You murmur, dabbing at the cut on his lip again just so that you have an excuse to look away from his eyes.

Your heartbeat ricochets against your ribs sharply as Steve guides you to grind slow over his lap, the warmth of him wedged between your spread folds. The way he manhandles you isn't rushed, the movement not nearly as desperate as you'd been expecting from his plea for intimacy. It's slow and quiet and filled with a weight that you wouldn't quite be able to explain if you tried.

It doesn't take long for his cock fatten up and grow stiff underneath you, his length and the patch of hair surrounding it both streaked with slick where your wet cunt has been dragging back and forth. You're both breathing a little heavy as you finish cleaning the cuts on his lip and the bridge of his nose, your faces close though neither one of you make any move to close the distance.

Steve curls an arm around the back of your thigh as he reaches around to guide himself toward your entrance. A breathy sound falls from your lips when you roll your hips back and feel his tip catch, just barely pushing in. He's as thick and warm and perfect as he's always been, and that hunger to have all of him spreads down the back of your tongue like warm honey, but the moment you spread your thighs a little farther to take more, Steve is stopping you.

“Wait, wait, wait. You.. Are you sure you're okay with this?” He asks suddenly. His fingers are digging into your hips, holding you in place to keep you from sinking farther down onto him as he awaits your response.

“Wh-?” Your jaw trembles with something like petulance, a little desperate yourself now that you can feel the fat head of his cock inside you, stretching you wide despite barely breaching your entrance, “You said that you-”

“I do. Fuck, I do, I just want to make sure you're sure.” He says it so soft, so earnest, and his concern has you feeling something resembling whiplash. The two of you haven't spoken in months, but he'd shown up at your front door in the middle of the night and practically begged for you; for your presence and your care and your body.

You want to feel angry with him. For looking out for your well-being now, for being Steve, for bringing up so many feelings that you'd tried so hard to bury, but he's looking up at you with imploring eyes — a gaze that says if you climbed off of his lap now, he wouldn't be upset with you, if anything, he'd be upset with himself and..

It has you reeling a little bit, that blooming affection crawling like rapidly expanding ivy inside your chest.

You brush that stubborn chunk of hair back and off of his forehead again, your fingers combing through to the back of his head until they can toy with the bits curling at the nape of his neck. Your mouth finds its way to the space between his brows, a shaky exhale masked by the kiss you press to his skin before dropping your foreheads together.

“I am. I'm sure.” You promise in a whisper.

When you sink down, both of you groan in synchrony, breathy and guttural. The stretch hurts more than you were expecting, but it's been months since you've done this, so you suppose that the sting from him filling you up is warranted. Your hips settle against his and his arms curl around your back to hold you in place, to hold you close. His chest is flush to yours, scattered hairs on his pecs pressed to your breasts, the tip of your nose still barely avoiding brushing against the bruised bridge of his own.

The sensation of being so full leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed, the intimacy of the moment suddenly too heavy. His breath mingling with your own and his soft hair tangled up around your fingers brings pinpricks of heat to your eyes that you stubbornly attempt to blink back.

“Hey.. Hey, honey,” Steve murmurs softly, one hand coming up to swipe a thumb along your watery lashline, “What's wrong? You okay? You hurting?”

Another strangled sounding scoff of a laugh tumbles from your lips, a weak sniffle as your fingers find their way to those smooth, faded lines along the front of his throat again, “I should be asking you that. You're the one who's had the shit beaten out of him tonight.”

“I'm fine. Two weeks n' I'll be good as new,” Steve assures you with carefully crafted nonchalance, his tear-stained thumb dragging back and forth along the apple of your cheek, “Now what's goin' on in that beautiful head of yours, huh?”

“I just..” You huff out a sigh, rolling your hips experimentally to test the ache between your thighs, “I missed you. Fuck, I- I miss you so much, Steve.”

A few tears do manage to break through then, something about the way the patchy light coming in through the windows casts a glow over his battered face, the browns in his eyes shining golden in the dark.

“Me too, I miss you too,” He rasps desperately, “Shit, honey. If you think I don't miss you every goddamn second- You're everything. You're my everything.”

He's holding your face in both hands now, palms cradling your jaw so gently, arms trembling like he's trying to fight the urge to hold onto you tighter. His restraint and his words twist sharply in your gut, something akin to dread weaving its way inside of you.

“I'm scared,” You admit, voice quiet and buried beneath tears, “I'm so scared-”

“Scared?” Steve repeats, concern flashing in his eyes, “What're you afraid of?”

“Losing you.” You gasp.

“Sweetheart-”

Your chest is heaving a little with the labored breaths beginning to tumble past your lips, “I'm gonna lose you all over again, because I can't.. It- It is terrifying. To see you hurt and bleeding and not know why. To worry that the next time might be even worse than the last and have you keep skirting around the truth or outright lying-”

“Hey, hey. Honey, hey,” Steve gives your cheeks a soft shake under his hands and your gaze falls back to his, “I'm sorry-”

“Jesus christ.” You bemoan quietly as another tear falls, halfheartedly pushing at his arms to dislodge his hands.

“No, no, I mean it,” Steve pleads softly, “I'm so sorry I kept you in the dark, I just- Shit, it's so complicated, I-”

“Asshole.” The interruption comes out a grumble under your breath, and you're gearing up to climb off of his lap entirely when his weak chuckle meets your ears.

“I am,” He nods, brushing your hair back from your tear streaked face, “I'm an asshole and I'm sorry. I- I'll tell you everything, alright? I will. I will.”

“Promise?” You hate yourself for how small you sound, how unsure and broken.

“I promise.”

You crane your neck and tilt your head to brush your lips featherlight over his, carefully avoiding putting any pressure on the mess of purple and black and red along the bridge of his nose, your thumbs gravitating yet again to drag over those smooth, barely visible scars around his neck.

“Does your mouth hurt too much, or can I-?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking between his.

“'course you can,” His hand pushes into your hair behind your ear, cupping your head to guide you forward carefully, “C'mere.”

Your mouths come together with all of the gentleness you can manage and you leave one soft peck, then two, then three. You begin to work your hips over his all the while, and neither of you can hold back a keening noise of pleasure at the slow drag of his cock inside your warm walls.

You ease back from his mouth to drag the pads of your index and middle finger lightly over the bruises coloring his skin.

“Did.. Did you really get into a bar fight?” You can't help but ask, even as you're lifting up and dropping back down hard enough to have you both letting out a breathy whimper.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, his fingers trailing along your ribs and stomach like he's trying to re-familiarize himself with every inch of your skin, “I.. It's possible I have some unresolved anger or something from- After everything that happened. Sometimes it kinda takes over, like tonight, and then I pick a fight I know I can't win, but.. 'm not lying to you anymore. I mean that.”

You nod and his arms curl around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Trapped in his embrace, you can't do much more than grind on him with slow swivels of your hips, the head of his cock rubbing at that spot on your inner wall that has your brows pulling together in pleasure.

He's so close like this. His chest hair drags against your bare breasts and your tummies are pressed together and the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own. You feel warm — in the physical sense, yes, but also in your stomach, in your bones, in your heart.

“I love you.” Steve says with emotion, like he's feels that warmth too.

Your eyes prickle a little traitorously, fingers toying with the soft ends of his hair, “I love you,” You manage in a choked gasp, “I love you.”

“Ho- Shit..” Steve groans, chin tipping up toward the ceiling for a moment as he throws his head back, “You feel so fuckin' good, honey.”

“Y'r cock feels good,” You pant in response, “So good. So big. I- Fuck.”

“So tight,” He mutters, sitting up a little straighter to meet every roll of your hips, “So perfect. 's like you were fucking made for me, you know that? Take me so well. You were made for this, for me-”

The way that your clit is rubbing against the thatch of hair on his pelvis has you a little dumb already, and his lust-fueled rambling only intensifies your budding orgasm, both of your thighs slick with how fucking good it feels to have him inside of you again. You nod in agreement to his words and manage to give a small whimper, but it seems that he's not done yet.

“-Missed this so much. Missed you, missed this.. Fuck. Honey, I love you. I love you. I-”

“Steve,” You whine, “Love you too.”

His tanned cheeks have gone a little pink beneath the dusting of bruises on his face, breathy groans fanning out past his busted lip. The pretty little noises of pleasure that he can't seem to hold back have you reeling, your gut twisting with heat at the sight of him, the sound of him.

“So goddamn wet for me, honey,” Steve grumbles, his voice catching in a way that has your cunt clenching down on him, “Listen to her. You hear that?”

You do. There's a lewd squelch emitting from the place where you're joined, the sound filling the otherwise quiet apartment every time that your hips roll at just the right angle. It happens again just then, his cock stretching your hole wide enough for the drag of slick and air to create a mildly embarrassing noise that has Steve giving another needy groan, his hips bucking up into yours.

“God, fuck, please tell me you're getting close,” He nearly whimpers, lifting up off of the couch to drive up into you again, “Please, I'm getting so close, babe. Need you to come.”

Euphoria licks up your spine in a white-hot flame, your weight bearing down that much harder to apply more pressure on your puffy clit. Sweat trickles down your spine, disappearing beneath Steve's forearms where they're looped tight around you.

“Mhm,” You hum, the sound catching in the back of your throat, “M'gonna come, Stevie. Y'r gonna make me come.”

Your hips roll a little faster and Steve continues to buck up into you, his cock pressing so, so nicely against the spot that has your brain whiting out a bit at the edges.

“Come on, sweet girl. Come for me,” Steve moans, warm breath fanning out over your lips, “Please, honey. Please come on my cock. Shit, I need it. Need you t' come, please.”

“I am, I am, I am,” You babble desperately, “M'gonna, fuck, fuck, 'm-”

The knot of pleasure in your gut twists sharply and you cry out, face burying in his neck with a whiny gasp as your orgasm crashes over you. Your cunt tightens and trembles around him and a deliciously choked sounding moan tears past Steve's lips as he finally lets his own release wash over him.

The warmth of his come coating your insides has you fluttering around him further, your hands grappling restlessly for any part of him to hold on to, his hair, the back of his neck, his shoulders, his biceps. Breathy little whines and gasps and groans tumble from both of you as you ride it out, the trembling tenseness in your muscles releasing all at once as you go limp in his arms.

It takes a minute, but you eventually come back to yourself a little, peppering a delicate kiss to that infuriating strip of scar tissue along his throat before you're pushing up with weak limbs to look at the man underneath you.

“Hey.” It comes out in a murmur, a breathless little thing that leaves you feeling kind of silly, but your brain hasn't yet recovered enough to work at its full-capacity.

Steve only grins, his lips curling to reveal perfect teeth, a pretty smile pulling at his busted and bruising lips. His eyes twinkle in the patchy darkness of your living room, a pretty mosaic of brown and gold and speckles of green catching in the light and forcing your heart rate to tick up in adoration.

“Hey, honey.” He returns sweetly, one arm uplooping from around your spine so he can reach up to push the sweaty flyaways back from your face.

You can't help but shift over him, sore legs flexing where they're spread over his hairy thighs, a trickle of warmth leaking out from where you're still joined and dripping down into the thick hair at the base of his cock. It feels dirty and intimate in the best way — his come mingled with your own, your fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, his wide palms rubbing softly from your hips to your spine and then back again.

“I kinda want to stay like this forever.”

Your whispered admission has his eyes crinkling softly and he drops his forehead to your chest, his breath fanning out over your breasts as he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“You won't hear any complaints from me.” Steve mumbles into your skin.

You never want to leave this moment. Your nose pushes into his hair and you pull in the familiar melding of scents, of expensive shampoo and hairspray and an underlying smell that's just Steve. You want to stay right here, in this perfectly imperfect bubble, but you feel Steve wince when he burrows his face into your chest just a little too hard and the serenity cracks.

“Steve?” You murmur softly, fingertips scraping gently against his scalp despite the nerves in your stomach.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You steel yourself with a deep breath, “You know I'd do anything to protect you, right? You.. You know that I'll do anything for you.. Know that.. That you can trust me?” It comes out in a rush, and your nerves increase tenfold when Steve pulls back to look at you, “..Right?”

“Honey,” The endearment comes out laced with something sweet and sticky that makes it sound an awful lot like an apology, “Of course I do.”

His eyes are so soft as they flick between your own, his hands smoothing up the length of your spine in a soothing drag of skin on skin. One hand leaves his hair only so that you can trace your thumb over those two wide freckles on the apple of his cheek, a self-deprecating sort of smile pulling at your lips.

“And.. And you're gonna tell me what's been going on with you?” You nearly whisper.

His mouth finds yours to press a featherlight kiss to your lips, “Yeah, honey. No more secrets. No more lies.”

“Promise?” You ask again, lips pulling into a smile where they're still brushing his own. Your faces are so close it's hard to focus on the way his eyes shine with adoration when he looks up at you, the bruises on the bridge of his nose blurring in the darkness.

“Promise.”