#and a bunch more of that nasty shit

[dariasonlinedairy]

I just drank my coffee (it is almost midnight) and it was so delicious i love life now again I'm not depressive anymore (at least not now) 🤍☕

[crimeronan]

probably i SHOULDN'T migrate elsewhere if tumblr goes belly-up. i just scrolled thru my dash for 20 minutes and in that short span i could feel myself transform from a mildly tired 27-year-old butch into an active serial killer.

[batsplat]

your negative takes on recent tennis rivalries pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏

ps. you’re a treasure

okay so I'll do the copy paste thing from what I did just cut from the initial post, which was my polite 'I'm attempting to write a reasonably neutral post' approach

so, this may come as a shock, but obviously I'm a bit of a fan of rivalries. we do have some bangers in tennis history, rich narrative texts, but... well. the landscape out there hasn't been great for the past decade or so. sometimes you can get invested in match-ups between specific players that are fun to watch and interesting tennis-wise, but it's all very much about the sport rather than the personal relationships between the different players. I enjoy matches between all three or ryba, sabs and iga!! but also. they are coworkers. you do kindaaaa get the sense sabs and iga aren't particularly fond of each of other, but it's all perfectly cordial. again, the tennis is great, I support them in all their endeavours, but it's very much the tennis itself you need to look for for the drama (also they don't play each other as much as I'd like, but that's a conversation for a different day)

you do still sometimes get some fun beef but it's very much isolated dumb stuff like the fritz/rinderknech "have a nice flight home" thing. this isn't going anywhere story-wise but it's fun in the moment

speaking of men. obviously the most important rivalries for the last however many years have been between various big three/four members, and federer/nadal specifically is extremely popular. tennis-wise, I still think federer/djokovic was the most fun match-up, and at least there was a little tension there because federer used to hate djokovic. they've played a lot of matches that are worth watching!! also they've finally mostly retired so it's not super relevant any more, but well tennis fans as a collective are very big three-pilled so you'll hear a lot about these blokes

and now there's alcaraz/sinner. they've only really had one match that was good start to finish (uso 2022), but definitely some fun ones (miami 2023 and wimbledon 2022 are probably the other ones that stand out, their most recent match was very much in the 'long does not equal good' category). plus, they're quite good at producing highlight reel content, like this one point everyone remembers (shown here from every angle... tennistv produces longer videos for single points than the wta releases for most finals). it's an interpersonally warm rivalry between two young guys who are both very successful and will presumably win everything for the next decade. again, I'd suggest trying to become a fan of one of those two

this was the polite way of phrasing it!! everything below here is quite rude and negative, peace and love to all

okay, let's ditch the thin veneer of neutrality, here's what I actually think: it is completely baffling to me how popular quite a few of these rivalries are, I don't get it, I have never understood it, I will never understand it. tennis went 'what if we had rivalries without narrative tension' and everyone just kinda rolled with that? mind you federer/nadal early confrontations were happening at the same time as clijsters/henin, who were like?? dude it got so bad henin said she had never been friends with clijsters so nothing clijsters and her father said could hurt her ("nothing was broken between us because there was nothing to break" ???? ffs). which is obviously not true!! but it's so... she denied the friendship ever existed and called it all pr like that's so SAD! look, this is beside the point, I'm not talking about henin/clijsters here, I do understand why people aren't that into a rivalry that was at its peak like two decades ago and federer/nadal were still playing slam finals in 2k17 (a dark dark time for some fans, federer had already HAD his decline and then he was suddenly winning slams again like tf). and to some extent I go 'well clearly people will just be into anything if you have two successful blokes' but there's clearly quite a lot of genuine passion there? like I'm not denying the passion EXISTS, people do clearly care about these guys, it's not all a psyop by Big Fedal who have suckered people into caring for these two dudes. and I'm not denying the tennis is great! I still personally prefer the match-ups that involve djokovic, and also the match-ups that involve none of those three, but fundamentally I have been watching these matches for like!! so many years! it's part of my childhood, I have enjoyed plenty of these matches, the tennis is obviously otherworldly. I have hot takes on a bunch of their matches, I can have the goat debate with you, I can give you the rundown on surface-specific match-ups and how long since nadal won a set on hard court against djokovic and federer's peak year domination rate and what they all did at madrid and blue clay and yec and golden masters and all that shit, of course it's part of my dna as a tennis viewer too!! I did usually have a slight order of preference in my head when I was watching big three match ups to have someone to root for (it's different now but back when I was a kid it was djokovic > nadal > federer, these days federer's redeemed himself a little bit in my eyes by having the decency to retire and I was radicalised against nadal). but like!! what's the narrative hook! I need somebody to explain to me what the story here is. these guys are all very good at tennis and they are racking up their titles and it's so!! whatever!! no tension no arc no real interpersonal development once federer stopped being so bitchy about djokovic. twenty plus slams who CARES, what are they doing this for! it's all so?? ugh

anyway now that I've taken a potshot at the most popular rivalry in men's tennis, I should quickly back it up by saying I feel almost the exact same way about the second most popular one (at least on tumblr) and also feel nothing for alcaraz/sinner. that one was still like... vaguely palpable? when alcaraz was clearly a way better player but struggled in that match up and also was way more invested in the rivalry than sinner was. but well, sinner is world number one now so THAT'S been ruined. again, sit me down and explain to me what the narrative stakes here are. like, if sinner wins that roland garros match, he'll be fine? alcaraz will be fine? everyone will be fine? their relationship is basically 'friendly coworkers', zero chance of anything more substantial developing there. now, don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna pretend like I'm massively into the current state of the women's game when it comes to rivalries either, but at least I have a base level of fondness there for the top players and am ideologically inclined to hype up any rivalries there whenever they come along. also, quite frankly, it DOES matter viscerally more to them!! iga spends a lot of her time kinda like,,, on the edge, the way she was in tears when getting physio after the naomi match, united cup last year, a bunch of her 2021 matches, like she's so intense and so tightly strung on the court that you do really get the sense that a loss could just cause her to have an existential crisis. there's so many unanswered questions about her ultimate potential off clay, I'm still proper curious about her story develops. and then with aryna, she's obviously ALSO so intense but in a different way, and she feels every single emotion so completely and entirely and iga has beaten her in one of those infamous semifinal chokes and it's kinda... you know, aryna also feels like she has something to prove, and you can tell they both really really want to beat each other. there's something there!! it's something real! I'm always seated whenever we actually get to see them play

that being said, yes, obviously I do think we're not exactly peak rivalry potential in either gender. the men's is more egregious because the way the game has shaken out since like,,,, 2004, is incredible top level domination by just a few guys. and now, yes, I'm aware I'm a fan of another sport where this was also incredibly true. but. the key difference is that the aliens had the decency to not be so fucking boring about it. sure on paper they were as a PACK winning everything, but good lord were they screaming crying throwing up whenever things went mildly wrong for them. like!! they despised each other and they needed to beat each other, which makes ME care!! I'm not saying I NEED rivals to hate each other, though it sure does help for my investment levels, but I need a narrative hook! borg/mcenroe had a narrative hook, evert/navratilova had a narrative hook (unfortunately that narrative hook these days is 'being united in transphobia'), agassi/sampras had one HELL of a narrative hook. noughties wta tennis about fifty million narrative hooks!! when I watch alcaraz/sinner, I just try and enjoy the tennis (though their roland garros match was mid as shit so what's that all about) but like... I don't care? or I care because one of them has pissed me off recently. I do fundamentally watch most of men's tennis as a hater, and admittedly this is accumulated bitterness over way too many years, but I do also think it's frustrating! tennis gets in its own way with this whole gentleman's sport business, the amount of wanking people do over federer/nadal in particular is truly insufferable... this is a sport filled with millionaire tax evaders and they'll have you believe that smashing a racquet is not only not fun (obviously it is) but also some kind of arbiter of morality. congrats to nadal for not smashing a racquet in his career!! could we please get his thoughts on gender equality in prize money? oh... okay. hm. this isn't supposed to be some gotcha, these guys all suck. but ultimately I would prefer not to engage with this sanitising and pearl clutching, given they do all suck, over shit that fundamentally does not matter while giving them a pass over all the stuff that DOES and instead maybe just have some fun. maybe you need to be single-minded and kind of dull to be good at men's tennis these days, maybe it's inevitable, doesn't mean I don't find them boring and pointless. there's some people who just enjoy like,,, watching greatness, endlessly racking up numbers and reaching the pinnacle of the sport or whatever, that's not me, I need there to be a story

thing is, right, obviously I'll still watch these matches (though I have massively turned it down this year, especially on the men's side - I did have a kind of breaking point this january where I was like 'wow I don't think I can ever care about anything any more?' and broadly speaking this has proved to be correct). I've tried hard to like a lot of these men because, god knows, it'd be a way more pleasant experience if I could trick my brain into it, but I can't! I think they're dull! fundamentally I'm too embedded in this world to ever be able to leave it. but I think it's funny when fans go 'oh people who are into drama don't appreciate the actual sport' like buddy I can basically guarantee I know more about the sport than you do. I Just Think that actually interpersonal relationships do also enhance the actual sports, like this shit is a conversation right,,, it has its history, it's a development over time in terms of your tactics and your knowledge of your opponent's tactics and so on, your expectations going into every match. when you have an interesting interpersonal dynamic, the sport also becomes more interesting... it's actually pretty straightforward lol. a lot of tennis is in the head, rivalries are also in the head, you're playing the other guy (gender neutral) as much as you are the actual ball. I get super annoyed by fans who are too busy being nostalgic to actually enjoy the players we have now, and I really don't like it when people call iga boring for instance, but I do also have a little bit of that. love the game, hate a lot of the players, simple as. bring back agassi calling his pet parrot more interesting than sampras in his autobiography, we used to be a proper sport

[sirpeppersto]

lowkey the "this machine kills fascists" tramp stamp is starting to look very enticing

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[lovewarmthandloneliness]

.

[smollsmule]

Ok ok but you wanna know the real tea?? I've read several beach fics at this point (which are all awesome btw, y'all are amazing writers) and it's a beloved staple to have Edwin be somehwat scandalised at everyone's beach outfits not to mention all flustered from seeing Charles in swim wear. Which is a Good Trope, don't get me wrong, I love that just as much as the next person

HOWEVER

I think actually it's Charles who should be more shooketh about Edwin in his funky lil edwardian two piece!!

Picture this. The year is 1916. You are 16 year old Edwin Payne with a bunch of repressed gay thoughts. Much unpleasantness happens, you die and get dragged to hell, even more unpleasantness happens, 70 years later you finally manage to claw your way up and suddenly women are allowed to vote. There's been not one but two world wars, several countries you grew up reading about in the news don't exist anymore and mini skirts are a thing now.

All I'm saying is, for all the teasing Edwin gets for "What is a handjob?" and "Crystal's internet", this kid was essentially thrust into a scifi world full of weird shit and gets mostly by via an attitude which can only be paraphrases as "fuck it, this might as well be a thing (maybe ask Charles about it later)". King of adaption, master of radical acceptance.

Charles on the other hand, and I say this with only love in my heart, is at his core a boomer. He was there for every tiny gradual shift from '89 to modern day. Sure, he was dead for most of that time, but that's not really relevant. All I'm saying is, seeing the bbc announce marriage equality was probably a bigger shock to Charles than it was to Edwin. That's a guy who already had to accept he will never fully wrap his head around home television.

Also consider the states of undress they've been exposed to seeing the other in. Edwin was stripped to his underwear in hell and still had his knees and elbows covered. And that was probably a more exposing outfit than he'd ever be comfortable with. His usual casual get up features a sweater vest for crying out loud! Meanwhile you have Charles going full 'ceps out in his undershirt first chance he gets. Edwin either got real cool with a lot of shit real fast or he would have combusted several times over those 30 years.

And yes yes, we've all seen Edwin "Haunted By Gay Thoughts" Payne's mental slideshow of abs n hips close ups after getting one (1) glance at the Cat King's stomach. But to his credit, the man was going through a full blown sexuality crisis at that and has since emerged victorious.

So all I'm saying is. Edwin seeing Charles shirtless at the beach? Probably not even the first time this is happening, a lil flustering for sure but just last week he saw two people making out nasty on the tube so hell if he knows. Charles seeing Edwin's kneecaps and upper arms for the first time? Incredible, show stopping, pride and predjudice 2005 hand flex level of suppressed horniness.

Anyway. I'm writing this fic now and none of y'all can stop me.

[norikuna]

SALVATORE — jujutsu kaisen x reader minors dni

prologue. → going on summer vacations with the jjk men and things get a little...hotter?

pairings. satoru gojo x afab!reader / suguru geto x afab!reader / nanami kento x afab!reader / choso kamo x afab!reader / ryomen sukuna x afab!reader / toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings+. non-sorcerer/jujutsu au, from the back, exhíbitíonism, mild food play, ríding, máting press, creámpíe, against the wall, oral (f. receiving), fíngeríng, hey even in a cave! reader is called good girl, princess, baby, darling, my love.

word count. 4.1k! song inspiration. salvatore — lana del rey

a/n. update #1 writing this fic had me looking up shit on wikipedia pages abt cities around the world, had me checking meteorology maps...tried to choose cities i've been to but i was still racking my brains. update #2 btw whenever i write smut like this i'm filled with outstanding self awareness and minor shame but thats the fun of it 😭 this is day no.3 of me trying to rewrite this all from scratch update #3 day 4! fawkkkk i wanna go on holiday too now. lmao if i was in the sukuna one, i would have been mad as hell, istanbul is stunning <3

mp3. everything looks better from above my king, like aqua marine, ocean's blue

TOJI FUSHIGURO — all the lights in miami begin to gleam 📍 miami, america

"o-oh, fuck. think she's really tellin' me to keep going like this, don'tcha think?"

your boyfriend is mean when he's like this. sharp, jade eyes narrowed as they take in the sight of your puffy folds swallowing him up over and over as he's stuffing himself into your sticky walls. and if you turn your head away, from where you're smashed against the pillow, you can see the floor-to-wall ceilings of the high-rise penthouse that offers an uninterrupted view of miami's glittering skyline.

"how - how, did you even get this place, hah, toji?" it's a wonder you can even get a coherent sentence out right now, your guts are practically being stuffed with inches of your boyfriend's veiny cock, and it's leaving you, well, delirious.

but with humble credit and thanks to what you can assume is your own nasty grip, toji's not faring much better either. his brawny frame is practically shuddering, and while you can't see his face in this position, you're certain that a sharp canine has sunk into his lip, and his breath is coming out in hulking groans.

"heh, you're n-not meant to ask questions like that, princess? gotta, ohhh, gotta keep some business s-secrets up my sleeve, huh?" and he's practically a beast right now, handling you on all fours of this king-sized bed, draped in silk sheets the colour of red wine, "just a reward for a-, haah, a job well done."

any job well done from toji was most likely something illegal, but you can't even bring yourself to care, not when there's a bucket of chilled champagne on the glass table to your left, and certainly not when his fat cock is smearing right through you, leaving a coil in your abdomen that only he can unravel.

you whine, feeling the fat tip of his cock practically rummage and make a home in your cunt, "toji, wan' more," and you're pushing the plush of your ass against his pumping hips, and you hear his sharp intake of breath.

a rough hand has snaked underneath you, creating a small gap between you and the bunched-up fabric on the bed, and his callous fingertips are now circling sloppy, messy circles over your clit, leaving you bucking in his hold.

"n-now, stay still, princess. not done with you yet."

SUGURU GETO — ciao, amore. soft ice-creams. 📍 amalfi coast, italy

you're not sure how long you've been trembling under suguru's mouth, but it must have been an eternity under the ministrations of his tongue.

the sun has been blazing high, casting a golden glow over this part of the private beach, hidden away from the towns bustling with tourists like yourselves who had descended upon the coast for the summer.

soft waves lapped in ebbing waves, the rhythm breaking the perfect stillness of the afternoon, in this wooden cabana, separated from the terracotta villas.

and no, your mind was nowhere near admiring the turquoise waters of the ocean, but rather your lover's mouth practically exploring every inch of your cunt like this.

the tapered tip of his tongue had long been probing around your fluttering pussy, taking in every last drop of your pearlescent luster that was practically dripping over his chin.

not to mention the absolutely sticky and languid trails of melting ice-cream, each biting cream drop that fell on your hot swollen folds getting promptly cleaned up by the one who was enjoying this sweet game.

"shhh! don't wanna get kicked off this beach, do ya, pretty?"

and suguru looks positively devious, his violet eyes gleaming with crude intent. his black hair is a tangled mess, long locks falling victim to your clawing nails that tumble carelessly over his bare back, kissed by the sun and glowing with a soft, rosy pink hue.

and when he smiles, the sunlight catches onto his lips, making the slick on his mouth sparkle and wink up at you.

"been - it's been an entire hour by now, can't you just let me cum," you huff, closing the plush of your thighs around his ears, boxing him in.

geto flashes you a mischievous grin, running a slow finger through your sopping folds, and lightly brushing over your entrance as you mewl again.

"where would the fun in that be, pretty?" he murmurs, "love seeing how wet this cunt gets for me, need to let me have my fun."

what a devil. clearly, getting under your skin is a sport for him.

you're hardly given a moment to breathe before he's jostling two thick digits right into the thick of it once more, in and out, in and then out, as his thumb find its home on the slope of your bare mound again.

"besides, we can take it slow for 'nother hour, can't we?" and now suguru's toying with your clit, and his teeth lean down to graze the swollen, throbbing bud, "gotta see just how much you can beg for me."

NANAMI KENTO — catch me if you can, working on my tan 📍 gold coast, australia

"w-wait, darling," nanami shudders under your touch, under your fresh set of nails raking small patterns over his neck, "anyone could just walk past here, y'know."

you curl your lip, before pressing your mouth in an open mouthed kiss to his stretched neck, warm and flushed.

you can feel the galloping thrum of his pulse beneath your lips, the heat almost intoxicating, mingling with the faint tang of the pool water's chlorine, and the scent of banksia and frangipanis in the air.

you can also feel his thick cock dragging through your walls, as you ram the weight of your hips over and over again. it seems like the shimmering skyline of surfer's paradise was just what nanami needed, after months of work, and you're determined to make the most of your time here.

he's got you bouncing practically like a ragdoll, heavy balls swinging up and smacking your skin in what little space remains between the two of you, and he's panting into your chest, "whatd'ya gonna do if someone sees?"

"mhm, don' care, no-one's here, nanami."

his broad arms loop around you in the pool chair, as you straddle the sizeable bulge that's making a tent in his briefs, "nasty, sometimes, aren'tcha?"

you smile, as your husband's large hands roam over your back, making you arch your back into his touch — as he deftly pulls at the tight knot holding your damp bikini top together.

"ah, don't get shy now. let me see these," and you can only nod hazily as he lets your tits spill out, and press up against his bare, chiselled torso, "wanted this so bad, just a minute ago, yeah?"

"s-still want this," and for good measure, you grind your hips down over his cock with even more pressure, feeling him jolt with a quiet 'fuck!' underneath you.

"haah, that's not fair, darling," and he's crashing his weeping, curved tip so far into you, that you're certain you're seeing stars on the saltwater horizon, "what happened to playing nice?"

you know you should be weary of the flicker of challenge that glints in his stern brown eyes, softened by the haze of your squelching cunt, "do y-your worst, otherwise what? can't keep up?"

a cocky smile curves over his mouth, and that's the wave of satisfaction you were looking for, hoping that he'd take the bait.

he leans further back in the pool chair, now with an arm wrapped lazily around your gyrating hips, but you can feel his grip tighten, stealing the humid air right out from under you, "we'll see who can't play nice when you're begging for my cock to fill you up."

CHOSO KAMO — all the lights are sparkling for you, it seems 📍santorini, greece

"hey, shh, shhh..."

choso's voice is a low rumble as he glides his thick, leaking tip down your slick core, and you shiver as the cool ocean breeze mixes with the warm slick gathering between your bodies, "w-wow, you're doing so good, handling it so well, my love."

you must have made a good choice, choosing this suite. one carved seamlessly into the tan-rock of one of the island's famous caves. and well, your sweet boyfriend has been fucking you so incredibly that you feel your eyes start to water, blear away from the pretty blue and terracotta accents on the mantelpiece.

his girthy cock sinking into you send shivers to your pussy that leave you fluttering and squeezing around him tighter, clenching around the veins as he sinks even deeper, so the thickened head is practically kissing your cervix, and filling you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

"d-does it feel good for you too, cho?” you gasp, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the soft choppy strands that fall around his shoulders, "this...this is what you wanted, right, baby?"

the pale mauve of his lips curves into a faint smile, and despite the sharpness of his thrusts making a home in your gummy walls, there's a tenderness in his shadowed, hazel eyes as his palm glides down your torso, cupping your tits gently, "w-would go anywhere in the world, if it was with you."

and he's looking at you with such love that you just cannot help but believe him when he says, no, shudders out a "you're so beautiful."

the sound of the water lapping against the rocks below fills the room, mixing with your soft whimpers, as the slow roll of choso's hips leave your puffy folds weeping. the thick, throbbing head of his cock brushes against your g-spot, right there, and you moan, lost in the sensation.

"god, y-you’re so good at this," he breathes into your ear, his voice hoarse and strained, and suddenly far more shaky, "ah - could do this forever."

"w-will you?" you whisper, eyes fluttering as you lose yourself in what is surely ropes of stringy white cum painting you lovingly inside, "wan' feel you all the time, cho."

choso's misty, flushed gaze locks onto yours, filled with a heat that makes your heart race, and fireworks shoot through your abdomen, "think you're g-gonna be my wife someday, yeah?"

you bite your lip, a shy smile painting your face despite the way that he's practically jostling inch after inch into your pussy, pressing into you like a vice, "really mean t-that, cho?"

"ahh, 'course i do," he shudders, brushing a thumb down the swan-arch of your neck, "now, hold onto me."

RYOMEN SUKUNA — dying by the hand of a foreign man, happily 📍istanbul, turkey

"huhh, oh my god! you're an animal," you huff at your fiancé, who's currently sprawled on the plush bed underneath your straddling thighs, under the sheer curtains that billow softly in the warm breeze from the open latticework windows.

and right now, sukuna looks like a mess.

and it brings you a great deal of satisfaction to see your usually composed and aloof fiancé so undone and disheveled, as he grins up at you — the black markings on his face creasing with the movement.

his rosy-pink hair is a tangled heap, but you can't resist running your fingers through the short, tousled spikes.

and his lips, which have been marking you up consistently for the past ten minutes, gleam glossy and full, as his crimson eyes lock onto yours with the smug satisfaction of a cat who's gotten its way.

he'd barely waited a mere minute after the two of you had arrived back to your hostel's room, from a whirlwind tour of the sultanahmet district, before he had pounced on you, and had practically tore your long skirt off.

you don't quite think it's worth mentioning that you've been pawing equally at your boyfriend in the same time as well, pulling his thick and lengthy shaft out of the confines of his boxers, and swiping a thumb over the angrily-gleaming tip.

"d-didn't even take a second to think about all the places we just saw? the history lessons, and - sukuna, were you even listening?"

by now, you're fighting back heaving shivers at the way the pads of his calloused fingers run under your top.

"hah! yeah, yeah. history and all that," he murmurs, low and amused, but his focus is clearly elsewhere, his lips now resuming their previous task of snapping at your torso, letting pretty berry-red marks beam.

you roll your eyes, though a smile tugs at the corners of your own glossy mouth, "y-you're impossible," and you try not to squirm as his forefinger and thumb on each hand pinch at a nipple under your top, "don' even know why i bothered bring this...this camera around. the guide said that these sights were o-once, oh fuck, sukuna, get a grip, said the sights were once-in-a-lifetime b-breathtaking."

"breathtaking, huh?" sukuna shifts closer to you, scooting you further over his wide lap, and his voice has dropped to a low and sultry whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, and leaves you aching, "i think you're breathtaking. wan' explore this," and here, he snaps at the elastic band of your lace panties, "instead."

"and besides, i was listening," and now, he's patting his sculpted, exposed thighs behind the plush of your ass on him, "the guide said that this city straddles two continents."

he's emphasising his words with a deliberate tap, clearly hoping you'd catch the awful word-play.

"say something like that again, and i'm booking the next flight home."

"hah, so now you hate it when i am cultured."

by now, his two rough hands kneading at you has left you...airless. thick heat has been pooling in your core, and you just can't help but let out a soft whimper, "sukuna…only wanted y-you to focus."

he shakes his messy head, laughter rumbling deep in his chest, under thick pectoral muscles, "no can do, brat. you’re my focus now. done enough sightseeing outside today, wanna do something inside."

"you’re impossible!" but you gasp as he skims a thumb over your cloying, dewy clit, making you jolt.

you know he must be in a rare, mellowed mood because he breathes, "impossibly in love with you," and it's quiet, teasing as the heat of his breath ghosts over your skin, "now tell me how much you want this, and maybe i'll think about giving you a different type of lesson."

franky, by now you want nothing more than to be filled with heavy, hot inches that curl into you, sloshing their way to the most sensitive spot of all, and sukuna must see that on your face.

"i -," you begin, but the words falter as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, and the weeping tip of his cock taps against the wet pool staining your underwear darkly translucent.

"just say it, brat. tell me how bad you want it, i'll even be nice this time," he urges, his voice a sultry purr, "just gon' give it to you as you ask, yeah?"

"wan' you in me, 'kuna," you finally admit, breathless, "i want you so much it hurts."

"good girl," he mutters, his eyes darkening with desire. "now you're getting the right idea."

you sigh, content, but then still your rocking hips suddenly, "but after this, we're still going out to the bazaar for dinner."

"for fuck's sake."

GOJO SATORU — like a boss, you sang jazz and blues 📍paris, france

you're not quite sure where exactly you should be training your ears, whether you should be listening to the sultry notes of a saxophone that wrap around the plush velvet booth where you and gojo are seated.

or the thick, clingy swish of his fingers practically bullying themselves in and out of your pussy. the air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars that make you wrinkle your nose, and fine whiskey (that makes gojo wrinkle his nose) and the sweet tang of your own slick, privately, just for the two of you.

your boyfriend sits close to you, his left hand tight on your waist, and the other working a fine instrument, bunching up underneath your ysl silk dress.

"baby, look at how your perfect cunt's talkin' to me," he's whispering, and you can hear the sheer glee in his voice, his breath hot against your ear.

meanwhile, your jaw is slack and you're doing your best to not meet his touch with a sultry, rhythmic grind of your own hips, but the knot is quickening and tightening within you.

but gojo just smiles, and you can see the blue in his eyes darken underneath his sunglasses that have slipped slightly down the slope of his nose, "but can't have everyone hearing this melody, can we? might think you were the main fuckin' attraction for the night and not -" he cocks his head to the quartet serenading the paris night sky, and the other patrons of this filthy wealthy club.

you just sink your teeth into your painted lip, suppressing a whine as he curls three fingers within you, reeling you entirely pliant and having you lean against his broad chest under his jacket, "b-but satoru, 'm getting close."

he's being awful, you think. and when he had pulled his hand out earlier, it had been entirely coated in a ribbon of your arousal, the slow syrup beginning to run down his slender digit, but he had parted his lips and let not a drop go to waste on his tongue.

the music is swelling, it's a jazzy crescendo that fills the air, and your gaze hazes and wonders, focusing on the open window where the eiffel tower stands ablaze in lights. soft gasps are escaping your lips, when gojo starts slamming his fingers up and up further, right up to his glossy knuckle, clearly searching for your g-spot.

and you are so glad that this booth is turned away from the rest of the club's patrons, for if they saw you, it would be no secret as to what exactly was going on underneath your gown.

"focus on me, love. just focus on how you're soaking me."

he's pressing his fingers impossibly deeper, stroking your walls in a way that make it impossible to think of anything else but him.

"gojo, please…" you breathed, struggling to keep your voice low, "what if someone sees?"

he laughs, pressing his mouth to your neck, and you know he's inhaling the new scent that you had picked up at the luxury flagship stores earlier, his treat.

"let them. paid good enough money to get in here," and now he's getting more insistent, practically ravishing your aching pussy now, "besides, they wanna say anything about it? i'll cut out their tongue."

"p-pretty sure that's, mmph, i'm sure that's i-illegal, 'toru."

"don't want your pretty head thinking about anything else right now, 'kay?" and god, it's one of life's greatest works, how he just knows how to work his magic like this, and the way that he's pinching, rolling and twirling his fingers has you convinced that the holy six-eyes technique, passed down in the sacred tradition of the gojo clan, is being put to nasty work.

sure enough, a little spark! there, and a bigger zap! against your clit practically confirms your suspicions, as does the unearthly glow you catch in gojo's wide eyes, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards a precipice, panting open-mouthed against him.

"dirty girl, you don’t want to make a scene, do you?" he says this like he was not the one who pulled you into this booth, and palmed his way up your slip-dress. like he's not the one who tore into your lace panties, and shoved them into his pocket.

"it feels so good, satoru,” you babble, barely able to contain yourself, as he scissors his fingers wide, nudging your walls apart, "i can’t — "

"then don't," he interrupted, his voice low and commanding, "just let it happen. i want to hear you, i wanna hear her too, but only if you can keep it down."

you nodded, breathless, watching as waiters in impeccable black-and-white attire glide between the tables, carrying trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres and glasses of dom pérignon.

"good girl," he murmured, his fingers curling just right, pushing you closer to that exquisite precipice, "now, be quiet and enjoy the moment."

just as he pinches your clit, you feel everything around fall away in shattering starfall. bolts of lightning shoot and splash through your lungs, stilling your heart, leaving your cunt pulsing with a life of its own, fluttering against satoru's fingers which still haven't stopped.

it's only then you realise that the band has stopped playing, and the other patrons of the clubs are leaning out of their seats, slapping their hands together in fervount applause.

but you can only stare, dazed and boneless from the remnants of an excellent fucking orgasm, as gojo leans in, just over the shell of your ear.

"how about we go back to the hotel room? wanna see an encore?"

[cvnt4him]

think’n ab best friend!izu

this was supposed to be js hardcore smut but turned out to be js like reader finding izu weird.

best friend!izu and you laying in your bed scrolling through social media, you go from tiktok to insta to other apps. Eventually you make your way to twitter more commonly known as the new porn cornucopia, mindlessly scrolling you see some funny videos a bunch of unsettling things and even tons of cute cat videos! some things are still wholesome... Izuku was quite close to you, basically spooning you as if you were his girlfriend. Or..maybe it's all in your mind and hes not actually that close..I mean his pelvis is directly up against your ass..and he is constantly shifting his hips...but I'm sure that's nothing! you can feel his breath on your ear making you shiver at the feeling.

“ y’ alright?”

you nod with a squeak and a smile at his soft voiced question, his big wide eyes making it seem as if he had true concern. he grabbed the cover at both of your legs and pulled it over the both of you, scooting closer to you as he did so calling it 'making sure you were warm'. Hes just being a good guy...

You two find more funny videos laughing and playing jokes with one another before you scroll once more and see a video, quite an inappropriate one at that. there's a girl in her knees big happy smile and wide eyes not a single thought behind those tears filled mascara laced eyes, she had her tongue pulled out and a bunch of thick bulging cocks appeared muscley hands began stroking repeatedly some fast some slow before they all erupted, plastering different textured white substance into her face, splattering and spilling everywhere. It got all over her face in her tongue some even in her eye, you and izuku didn't say a word as you watched with wide open mouths.

“oh my god..”

Izuku couldn't even speak. His freckled face was burning and he couldn't help the lewd thoughts that began flooding his brain, the most common one;

‘ what would y/n look like with my cum all over their face....’

He gulped and shook his head trying to get those thoughts to exit his brain as quickly as possible, he shouldn't think of his best friend in such a way! It's disturbing and creepy and unprofessional!! however...as uncomfortable as you looked you had scooted back into him, the two of you were already quite close, the fact you tried to get even closer to him must mean something....right? his mind wasn't just trying to justify his nasty thoughts...no, that would be ridiculous.

Silence filled the room as you both just sat there, the video long ended and it was just left on the screen. You couldn't find the words to say, izuku must've thought you were a perv if something this disgusting pooped up on your feed..but it wasn't your fault, honest! People online just can't seem to keep their clothes on.. so many things had your mind racing and stressing thinking izuku hated you, while he was trying to keep his perverted thoughts in.

Eventually, the silence was broke with something neither of you expected to hear ...

“ I think you'd look good with cum all over your face..”

Izuku has gotten closer into your ear and spoke softly with a teasing tone laced through, a small chuckle ending off his sentence. Before he could even process the thoughts that already became words you whipped your head around feeling your cheeks warm. Your eyes looked up at his larger ones with no words at all just blinking as he began stammering to excuse himself.

“ ,,what....”

“ oh! I- well, uhm! I didnt- wait— ”

He couldn't even find his words, a blushing mess sitting up straight in your bed trying to find the right words to excuse his terrible outburst. You just sat there watching him, no words or even an inch of clue inside of you. You truly had nothing to say about this.

based on the video I accidentally scrolled onto, y'all need to go back to cornhub or something bc why can't i scroll on twitter n find people shit talking each other anymore.😞

[maxellminidisc]

Not to mention as someone pointed out on the replies, even within the context to Jazz during that period, that haircut was absolutely influenced by Sonny Rollins. He started sporting it around '59 from what I can find, and he himself stated was done in homage to its Native roots.

🤔 says alot abt ppl assuming there was a punk movement in the 60s in France because some guy had a mohawk do people not know the mohawk hair style existed before the punk movement?????

[s-4pphics]

a friend in need! (e.w.)

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SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask? 

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(

A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING

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The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest. 

Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for. 

Weeks—or however the fuck long— of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing. 

Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “

“Can you help me down, please?” 

Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh. 

“Oh, shit… c’mere.” 

Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg. 

“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper. 

When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams. 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders. 

Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”

She breathes. “Peachy.” 

Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.” 

Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile. 

She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?” 

You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.” 

One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home. 

“What’s up with them?” 

You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.” 

“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.” 

“Damn… How’s she doing?” 

“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”

“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?” 

“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them. 

“See ya.” You wave awkwardly. 

Weird. 

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How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently. 

You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner. 

Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer. 

Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?” 

Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you. 

Silence. 

You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “

“Dina’s pregnant.” 

He didn’t tell you that.

Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit. 

No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left. 

“What.” 

Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks. 

“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.” 

Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly. 

You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina… 

And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one. 

Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.

“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.” 

You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.

“Guess.” 

But you don’t have to... Fuck. 

Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend. 

“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?” 

You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.

“There’s no misunderstanding.” 

Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.

“… Sorry, man.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.” 

“Can we go?” 

Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes. 

You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “

An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.

Roll!

Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for, 

“TOMMY!” 

A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine. 

“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?” 

Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!” 

“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.

Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.” 

“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.” 

The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning. 

You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly. 

“Again? Really?”

You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “

Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “

“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “

“You’re the fucking worst.” 

“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…” 

A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!” 

Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable! 

“Why’re you looking like that?” 

When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one. 

You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space. 

Another lightbulb. Not a green one. 

“Have you ever watched porn?” 

She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle. 

“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.” 

You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote. 

A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin. 

You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”

“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book. 

She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?

More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t. 

… Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl! 

“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin. 

“Thank you.” 

Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!” 

“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “

Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!” 

You sigh when her expression flattens. 

“Ellie…”

“Yes?” 

Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay. 

“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “

“Aren’t all his drawers special.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.” 

Her red eyes widen, but she silences. 

“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?” 

Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?” 

“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”

More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?

Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle? 

What the fuck, Eugene. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie! 

Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?” 

You snort, “Are you asking me?” 

“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?” 

You shrug, “Find out.”

One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out. 

High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs. 

This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” 

She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.” 

You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one. 

“Can we…” 

You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?” 

“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…” 

“Tell me.” 

“Later.” She whispers. 

You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.” 

A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips. 

Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. 

“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen. 

“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”  

You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?” 

“I…” 

But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure. 

“Lemme guess… She look like her?” 

If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”

There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs. 

Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed. 

“Tell me who you’re looking at.” 

“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.” 

Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will. 

“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.” 

“You like that kinda stuff?” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral. 

Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her. 

Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—

S-Stop staring at me. 

It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her. 

And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs. 

The sight on the screen is new, even for you. 

It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half. 

Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen. 

Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another. 

Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.

A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch… 

And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing. 

Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke. 

Lemme see. 

Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb. 

That’s how you do it?

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches. 

Show me how. 

Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle. 

You first. 

You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely. 

Not the fucking plan.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling. 

The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are. 

Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again. 

Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her. 

Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it. 

Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine. 

Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience. 

The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.

When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.

I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.

Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan? 

Cum w-with me? 

Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger. 

Ellie, watch a movie with me? 

Ellie, do a puzzle with me? 

Ellie, go on a walk with me?

Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! 

What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise. 

Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more. 

Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you. 

Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek. 

Can’t wait to feel you on me. 

Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s. 

Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —

Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out. 

I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen, 

Cumming for you, oh shit—

You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs. 

“Lay down.” 

“H-Hm?” 

“Lay down,” you croak. 

And she does, eyes filled with carnality. 

The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion. 

You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

“Hold still.” 

You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.

“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.” 

“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “

She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger. 

She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches. 

Why did you kiss them, though? 

It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her. 

Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.

“Sor — sorry — “

Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “

And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest? 

Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands. 

“Hey…”

You meet her eyes. 

“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.” 

Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction. 

Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?

It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something. 

“I can walk you back!” 

“I got it. I’m not going straight home.” 

Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping. 

She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed. 

Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

[shrimpybbq]

imagine fans being sad that there’s no more obx actress!reader and drew after outerbanks finishes…until they get casted in a romcom together…👀

ok so I have this thought that maybe after outer banks finishes, the two of them are the ones with the most prolific careers, and they’re both getting roles in really respected films and shows. but forget romcom, bc the pair both get cast in this big new HBO tv show alongside a bunch of other really famous actors. and what do we know about HBO? that they’re getting down and dirty - the show doesn’t shy away from anything. i’m about to create my own entire tv plotline rn.

i have this headcanon that obx actress!reader plays a really challenging role and people are praising her for the portrayal, so for this instance, let’s say it’s something gritty like a crime drama. drew plays an undercover cop going into a gang or trafficking ring and she plays one of the women being trafficked as a prostitute. the director doesn’t shy away from showing a lot, graphic sex scenes and probs scenes with drug use too (similar to euphoria), and people can’t believe just how good both former ‘teen tv show actors’ can act. maybe drew’s character can’t intervene but he’s falling for the poor girl and there’s just so much angst. we’ve seen drew in a romcom but the angst is where it’s at!!!

think undercover cop secretly beating the shit out of the sleazy guys she is supposed to have sex with, maybe they go on the run later in the season. the pair had kinda tame sex scenes together in outer banks but the ones in this new show together are crazy steamy and the people watching are just like “damn….. hot”

fan edits going crazy talking about ultimate enemies to lovers bc he was having to act like a pimp to her too, but now they’re giving each other heart eyes in the hallway. and if in real life, the pair still hadn’t started dating, well they’re literally never escaping the rumours now

also in my made up tv show pedro pascal is her hot nasty pimp and that’s all i’m gonna say about that hehe

actually feel crazy for this but also zero apologies

[porcalinecunt]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ‘𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏!

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wondered what boothill has that lasso for . . ♡

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — ftm!reader. mean dom!boothill. crossdressing. bondage. fingering. (reluctant) praising. dumbification. squirting.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : boothill brainrot has me going hogwild for him hmmphmmammm. my last post abt him has been popping off lately, i hear your cries boothill nation and i'm here to serve! enjoy ~♡

“quit whinin’ boy, will ya?” 

he rasped, swallowing another bullet. the taste of lead spread in his mouth, crunching noises from the ground up ammo made you flinch a bit. 

your wispy gown was bunched up to your thighs, held in place with the rope he uses as a lasso outside of the bedroom. every curve was shown in it’s full glory, soft flesh suffocated from the harsh material. you sat on your knees with your wrists tied tightly behind your back, rendering you helpless as you couldn’t even close your legs. you could only watch helplessly as the ranger pumped his metal fingers in and out of your soaked cunny. his cold palm pressed up against your clit, overwhelming you with an electrifying friction no other man could give you. 

“mm..b-boothi–” 

smack!

you flinched as your thighs instinctively tried to press themselves shut, much to the amusement of your robotic boyfriend. a shit eating grin spread across his lips, flashing his shark-like teeth. 

“what did i say baby..? too cute to understand now?” 

the bullet between his teeth moved up and down, his speech slightly glitched at the very term ‘cute’. if only he could spit out what he really ment, but then again, his sarcastic tone dripping with faux sympathy spoke volumes. boothill was a sweetheart at his metal core, but if you asked so nicely, he might flick his own switch just to see you fall apart at his touch. you were too adorable to turn down. 

you shook your head, syrupy eyes stared back into his bloodshot ones. a silent beg for release, added on by your impatient grinding. two teasing fingers were no longer enough for you, no, you needed him to do his absolute worst. fucking you while bound like the good little minx you were for the hunk of steel. to hear his annoyed tone forced to say sweet nothing while his body said otherwise. maybe, he might get the gun involved. none of it mattered. 

through mindless babbles and high pitched whines, you pleaded for more. the ranger’s eyes flicked up towards your fucked out face as he swallowed the last bullet. you were pulled forwards by the rope, forced to face boothill’s mean grin. 

“use your words doll.” 

you tried, you really did, but whatever you wanted couldn’t come out right. almost like you short circuited, spitting out all of your desires. from him fingerblasting you ‘till you soaked his whole forearm to being stuffed to the brim by his synthetic cock, his ridiculous girth stretching your cunny till you cry. as you begged, his fingers quicked until the noises were too loud to even hear him praise you in your ear. you cracked your eyes open and almost orgasmed at what was being done to you. three fingers pumping themselves in and out of you, with boothill using the strength from his forearm to dig himself deeper until he touched your cervix. your thighs shook violently, shifting the rope to reveal the marks it’s already left on your soft flesh. you were close, and he could tell so easily. the way you clenched around his fingers to how quickly your moans subsided into lewd silence was made so stupidly obvious. 

“nasty one aren’t ya? y’gonna cum already?” 

he chuckled, nipping your earlobe as the final knots in your stomach finally snapped. tugging onto his leather vest, you came and came hard. your vision blurred and your legs went numb while you sobbed out in both shock and pleasure. boothill drank up the view in front of him, his pretty baby fucked out and dumber then a lost trotter. your once flawless sundress now ruined at the bottom with the top slipping off of your shoulders. of course, the rope that’s definitely gonna leave some lasting marks, which is exactly what he wanted. 

after all, you’ll come running back with it in hand the moment they fade. ♡

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[hvhvmoc]

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Characters : Art the Clown (Terrifier), afab!reader

Warning/CW : harscore(ish) smut, incorrect use of a gun, sex toys (vibrator, dildos, anal plug), triple penetration, double penetration, squirting, oral (f! Receiving), gagging, some blood, reader gets carried, hair pulling, some butt stuff (no shit or piss dw), and other things I forgot

A/N : is this long idk (that's what she said), enjoy u freaks, sorry in advance for rushing or spelling mistakes

Art is into some harsh shit. In every way. You already know how he handles his victims. But he's also into harsh shit in bed. You two have already discussed a safe"word" in case he takes something too far. Shake your head three times and times over. That's what you two agreed on.

Now here you are, tired to the bed. You're slumped against the headboard, fully naked, your hands tied behind your back, your legs tied apart. Your calves are pressed against your thighs, then are tied to the legs of the bed, forcing them apart. Apart enough to be uncomfortable a little, but not painful.

Art grabs some "toys" from the nightstand drawer, placing it next to you, just like he does when he's getting ready to torture someone; laying out the weapons in front of them as they're tied up, helpless. He sets out the toys on the bed but sets out some items on the floor, out of your sight. You feel yourself getting wetter as you look down at Arts display, imaging him using them on you.

Art happily walks to the bed and sits in front of your open legs. He grabs the dildo next to you first, pressing it against your lips. You open your mouth and he shoves as much as he can down your throat, making you gag a couple times as he lets it sit there. He pulls it out, and pressed it against your bare pussy; massaging your clit with it for a second before he fully puts it into you. You let out a moan. Art uses his fingers to keep the plastic dick inside you, pressing into the bottom of the base.

He takes a vibrator from next to you, instantly turning it on the highest sitting and pressing it against your clit. You yelp out a moan and Art grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you. He uses one hand to keep the vibrator against you, the other one starting to thrust the dildo in and out of you, fast. You throw your head back and moan more, Art responding by moving the vibrator up at down your clit, continuing his fast pace with the dildo.

You squirm around in the rope, Art not slowing down. He continues his pace until you moan out that you're cumming, pressing the plastic dick fully inside you and the vibrator still against your clit, on the same high setting. You reach your climax and eventually Art pulls the dildo out and turns off the vibrator. Art bends down and licks your pussy, making out with it for a bit before he gets back up. He bunches his fingers together, kissing his fingertips cartoonishly, silently saying "delicious!".

Art grabs an anal plug, putting the plug in his mouth for a second and taking it out with a "pop" sound (it's clean ya nasties). He- surprisingly gentle- puts it into your ass and pats your thigh encouragingly.

He looks at the mysterious items on the floor, and he looks up at you with a huge, almost sinister, grin on his face. Art reaches down, grabbing a... gun. You look more confused than scared. Art opens the gun, showing you there's no bullets, shooting it a couple times to prove it too. You're panting, silently questioning him. He puts the safety on so it won't shoot, loaded or not, and grins up at you. He teases your pussy with the gun, nudging your clit with it. You let out a soft moan, not questioning the gun anymore. Art pushes the long end of the gun into you and you moan again.

Art wasn't going as fast on the gun as he did with the dildo, put he wasn't going slow, persay. Art never goes slow. Or nice. Art goes to lay on stomach, giving your clit a kiss. His lips wrap around it, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking on it as he fucks you with his gun. He grinds his clothed dick against the bed as he looks up at you, with an almost animalistic look in his eyes.

He starts thrusting the gun in and out if you faster. You moan louder and throw your head back. You feel the vibrations of a groan on your clit, though you couldn't hear the groan, and your thighs shake. You buck your hips against him as you get closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night. After a while, you cum on the gun. Art stop grinding against the bed and pulls the gun out of you, sitting up again and inspecting your juices on the gun. He licks up the mess on the metal, maintaining eye contact with you. And it did turn you on more watching that.

Art puts the gun back down and shoves two fingers into your pussy, curling his fingers up and moving his fingers at a fast pace- the fastest he's been so far. You yell out a moan and your legs shake as you squirt all over Arts fingers, wrist, arm, and bedsheets. He pulls his fingers out and shoves them down your throat, making you drink your own juices and gag on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and slaps you across the face and you bite your lip.

"That all you got?" You ask shakingly. His eyes become daring and he slaps you on the opposite cheek, harder than the first. Your lip starts bleeding and you look up to him, dazed. Art grabs your chin, looking at the wound on your lip. He watches the blood run from your lip to your chin and onto his hand. He licks up your chin, to your lips. He kisses you feverishly, and roughly.

As you two kiss, Art undos the rope holding your legs apart. Once your legs are free, Art pulls away from the kiss and flips you over. Your hands are still tied behind your back, your face in a pillow, and your ass in the air. Art undresses himself. He pulls out your anal plug and sets it with the rest of the toys on the side. Art picks up another dildo, a little short than the last one, and shoves it in your pussy. He moves it a couple times while it's inside, then pulls it out. Art presses the now wet dildo up to your asshole and push it inside, slowly.

You moan, and pant when it's fully inside. Art grabs your asscheek with one hand, his thumb keeping the dildo in place- inside. He uses his other hand to guide his dick into your pussy. You moan, muffled a bit because of the pillow your face is in, when he's fully inside. Art grips onto your hips with both hands and he starts a brutal, harsh pace- the harshest he's been all night. Your hands are still tied behind your back, your hands gripping onto the rope tightly. You sob out moans as he moves against you, your eyes rolling back.

Art grips onto your ass, massaging it and spanking it every once in a while. Art reaches over and grabs the other- bigger- dildo. He grabs a fistful of your hair and pull your head back harshly, your loud, desperate moans being very audible now. With his other hand, he shoves the dildo down your throat, moving it in and out in a fast pace. You gag and moan, tears streaming down your face, drool down your chin.

After a while, you cum again, and Art pulls the dildo away from your mouth as you moan loudly, though the thrusts of his own dick inside you never falters. Once you calm down a bit from your orgasm, Art shoves the dildo right back down your throat, face fucking you with it. Your hands grip onto the rope tying them together until your knuckles turn white.

Your legs shake and you keep gagging on the plastic dick Art keeps shoving into your mouth, drool spilling and pooling under you, onto the pillow. Your face is red and there's a bit of dry blood smudged on your lower lip. All the while, Art looks down at you with his usual sinister grin, his shoulders moving in a silent laugh when you get louder or gag.

Suddenly, Art pulls the dildo out of your mouth, setting it to the side. He grabs onto your hips with both hands and go harder than he was going before. You scream out a moan and a couple curses, making him silently laugh at you as he continues. He smacks your ass a couple times before he fully presses against your ass, cumming inside you. At the feeling, you orgasm again, this time less violent and spratic as the other few times.

Art stays inside, not moving, just listening to your pants and whimpers. "Kiss?" You pant out. Art nods and leans forward, kissing you gently on the lips. Finally, he pulls away and pulls his dick out of you, looking at the mess between your legs. You gently takes the dildo out of your ass and you body finally relaxes. Your knees give out and you lay fully on your stomach, your arms still tied behind your back.

Art unties you and flips you over so your laying on your back. He gives you a questioning look and a thumbs up, then thumbs down, asking you if you're ok. You smile and nod up at him, giving him a thumbs up. He leans down and kisses you before getting up, putting on some clothes, and grabbing everything he put inside you that night. He hold up a finger, telling you to wait a minute, and he walks out of the room. He comes back a couple minutes later, everything he was holding now cleaned and dried- included the gun. You watch as he puts every toy back into the drawer on the nightstand.

He stands up, cracking his back. Art looks over to your tired, fucked out state. Your face red, hair messed up, blood on your lower lip, dried up tears and drool on your face, rope marks on your arms and legs and your body shaking. He grins a little at the mess he made, but quickly wipes it off his face and goes to carry you, bridal style. Art carries you to the bathroom, carefully placing you on the toilet. He gives you another questioning look and a thumbs up. You give a thumbs up back.

He hops onto the counter next to you. After what you two just did you couldn't give half a fuck that he sits there while you pee. You tell him to look away while you wipe and he does. You close the lid and flush and Art hops off the counter and carries you to bed. He lays down with you, you two snuggling and clinging onto eachother. You fall asleep, feeling safe in his arms. The safest anyone has ever felt in his arms.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

I TYPED HALF THIS SHIT OUT AT NIGHT AND WOKE UP AND FINISHED IT AND WHAT I WROTE TODAY DIDNT SAVEEEEEEE

I HAD TO REWRITE TS

[webbluvrsugar]

I'm loving the bully!reader trope.

Currently thinking about reader teasing him but like physically teasing him, Walking past him as her ass rubs against him. During movie nights sitting next to him, touching his thigh and going up. Whispering nasty shit in his ear. Meeting him in the hallway to make out and then leaving him rock hard, alone and desperate for more.

With bully!reader you wake up something in all of us, that we didn't know we had. You bring back to life the tag.

a/n: omg yes I love this trope soooo much! And thank you so much, this is a huge compliment, I’m so glad y’all are liking it!!

﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ bully!reader teasing Ethan ‘cause she knows how it gets him…

He doesn’t think you do it on purpose at first, specially because you’re not the brightest bulb in the bunch — he’s noticed that when you two started dating — even if you convince yourself that you are by ordering him around and mocking him to insanity, he just thinks you’re a bit careless with the things you do, that you don’t notice how he gets.

For example, when you ask him to get you something from a high cabinet, you always make sure to arch your back a little more, get your ass flush with crotch and then make fun of him when he gets turned on for it. — “Oh my god, are you seriously that easy?” You’d say in a high pitch girly voice, laughing and giggling at him as you leave the room. — He never thought you’d be that mean, he only realised you had the courage to do it when you started putting him on the spot, always in these compromising situations to get a boner out of him.

Like in class, when you’d sit besides him to whisper — “My back hurts soo much, you need to stop giving it to me that rough.” — and he’s suddenly gripping his pencil harder than he was before, trying not to picture your head on the pillow and the way your ass looked with every thrust he gave you.

But the worst thing you’d do would be randomly stopping him after lunch with an angry frown to trick him. “Meet me in the library, can’t believe you’ve even had the courage to do that!”

Now, Ethan doesn’t know what the fuck he’s done wrong, he usually knows how to calm that little demon in you, but now he really thinks he screwed up when you turn around in your kitten heels and sprint your way there. He follows you in an instant.

“Listen, I don’t really know what I’ve done but I just —“ He’s cut off with an angry grunt and a command that follows suit.

“Sit down.” He does, you sit besides him.

“I’m serious, I have no idea.” He mutters, doe eyes staring into yours as you drop your books on the table and turn to him. “If you could just —“

“Shut up, loser.” And then your lips are on his, both hands on his shoulders before one goes down to his thigh, slowly going up to the zipper on his pants.

Of course.

Your hand is quick to nest itself inside his pants, manicured nails brushing against the tip of his cock before you slightly squeeze him, pull away with a smirk, and just when he thinks you’d get on your knees, you stand, kiss him on the cheek.

“What? You got class.” You say with a smile, pouting as if you’ve done nothing wrong.

So now, not only does he have to walk around with a boner, he also has to carry the books you casually forgot there.

Next time you’re both in bed, he’ll make sure he gives it to you rougher.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Ghost King uses Uno Reverse Card

Ghosts are not a race of evil creatures that most people think they are. And Danny was really happy when the Infinite Realms were able to make peace treaties with most countries of the human world. Ghosts, however, are a very vindictive race. At least that’s how young Phantom explained himself to Batman afterwards.

It just so happens that a couple of hours before the event aimed at expanding intergalactic unions most of the JLeague members due to an emergency call went on a mission. Which means people who had any authority in Phantom’s eyes became unavailable for a while.

So Shazam and Phantom as the most known outside the Earth were assigned to greet the guests and most importantly to entertain the visitors until the founders of JL return.

According to Phantom, Batman, being such a good detective with a bunch of backup plans, should have known that Danny’s favorite cereal ran out this morning, that he was late for first class, and that after school he had a fight with his parents. No, seriously, aren’t so-called scientists supposed to be able to admit mistakes in their own judgment? Danny got tired of being constantly ashamed of their behavior near other ghosts. It's bad enough that his authority as a ruler is sustained only by the support of those Ancients with whom he maintains friendly relations. Average citizens still doubt that he is a is sufficient to claim the throne. He’s had enough of being accused of not being a full-fledged ghost.  He’s not ready to hear rumors that he supports his parents' racist judgments too. In short, his day sucked. And all his ghostly nature now wanted to do something nasty to his neighbors to get rid of the tension.

Alien leader stretched out a hand to Phantom and Shazam. “Your Majesty Phantom, Champion of Magic. It’s an honor to meet you. I hope I learned the proper greeting gesture of the local intelligent race.”

And with that Danny’s reserve of conscience ran out. It’s a perfect moment to feed his need to be a little shit.

“The local intelligent race?’ Danny had this extreme bewilderment on his face. “Which one do you think..? Earth was the home of the Gods and of various inhabitants of the galaxy but it was a long time ago.”

Woman is clearly confused. Great. “E-Earthers. I think they’re called that.”

“Earthlings, intelligent race? You must be mistaken.” Danny faked a giggle. “Who told you that crap?”

“Phantom, what are you doing?” Batman hissed at him from an earpiece. Danny turned the sound off with a clear conscience. “I mean, seriously, there’s not a single serious study in the science library in this galaxy or any other galaxy that says humans are intelligent. Shazam, do you think they’re..?”

For some reason, Billy immediately remembered watching a man spend his entire salary on lottery tickets last week. And of course he was careless enough to shake his head and snort. That was all Phantom needed.

“Exactly. Earthlings don’t have to be intelligent to mimic the behavior of more evolved species. Surely you are well aware that Martians and Kryptonians, and many others have visited Earth at different stages of human development. My supervisor Clockwork and I have long been observing this strange species. In many ways, their behavior resembles a mixture of instinctive reactions of specimens from the 126 sectors of the nearest SBc Galaxy and several other creatures from planets of the galaxy KV59. However, even I, as an anthropologist with extensive experience of observing human species in their natural habitat, still have to explore and discover many of their secrets.”

“I do not understand. According to the documents among the delegation that greets us there are Earthlings. I mean I don’t question the scientific evidence of a respected Chronos or you, but why then..”

“Of course you don’t! It’s really quite simple. For the purity of the clinical experiment, which we are conducting now, it is necessary that Earthlings feel themselves ostensibly full participants of the «society» consisting of members with developed intelligence.”

“So, any luck, colleague?” Shazam, who realized that Batman would now skin them anyway, decided to at least participate in this theater so that the punishment would be at least deserved.

“Well, we’ve certainly come up with some interesting preliminary insights about the adaptive capacity of the human brain in limited contact with Martians. Of course, humans do not have real emotions to be full participants in communication, but their attempts and zeal are very inspiring.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fentons watching a live broadcast of what was supposed to be an interplanetary friendship encounter are beginning to realize that if trying to punish a rebellious human teenager has always been difficult for them, the attempt to control the behavior of the 14 y/o half-ghost may become a nightmare not only for them.

Jack: Honey, I think Danny’s still a little upset about our old theories about the ability of ghosts to feel or think.

Jazz, sitting between them with the face of a man resigned to the chaos around her, could not restrain the sarcasm: Really? Why would you think that?