#fuckin love him wearing nail polish

[frnkiebby]

look at this cute motherfucker~🎃

[writersdrug]

if you’re craving more bartender! ghost (like me), maybe reader meeting price for the first time? he’s got that rugged charm that actually makes her shy, and simon’s about to kick the owner out of his own bar?

or, regardless! how do you picture her meeting price?

Lmao I just saw this and I think I wrote a blippet of it in my Bartender!Simon headcannons but I'm in love with this particular idea:

You're in the kitchen, chatting it up with Soap as you prepare things like condiments, the dip heater, and slicing fruits. Soap drops a plate of pancakes under the warmer for everyone to share and you snag one off the top.

"Gonna go smoke a blem." Soap says, taking his apron off. "Simon's up at the bar if ye need 'im."

"Mphhm." You say, chewing on the pancake as you stir the nacho cheese with your other hand. Soap walks out the back, the door swinging shut with a clang behind him.

You vaguely hear Simon tinkering up front, taking the barstools off the countertop for the day. It's three pm, and the place officially opens at four. You're dissociating, staring at the congealed nacho cheese as it slowly warms up, stirring it while you snatch another pancake from underneath the warmer. You're thinking of asking Simon if you can paint your nails - dress code is one thing, health code is another. You could wear those plastic gloves if the nail polish is a problem - but, then again, you'd look ridiculous with those gloves. Is it alright to have clear polish on? Probably...

You hear the door creak open, assuming Soap already finished his cigarette. "That was fast-" You said, dropping the ladle into the cheese. "I'm gonna let Simon know about the pan-"

When you look up, you're not looking at Soap, as you had expected. You're staring at a different man, with a scruffy beard and a dark beanie, stepping in through the back door.

Simon nearly slices his finger open when he hears your blood-curdling scream. He curses, dropping the lemon and knife onto the counter behind the bar, sprinting off into the kitchen, soldier instincts kicking in. He bursts through the door to find Price, eyes wide and hands up in a peaceful gesture, shouting at you to calm down. You have an empty beer keg in your hands and are mid-swing, aiming for Price's head-

Ghost jumps into the scene - he grabs you around your waist and spins you away from Price, making the keg lose its acceleration. You shriek and kick your feet, dropping the keg on his toe. He curses as he slams into the wall behind him.

"The owner- he's the owner!!" He shouts over your struggling.

You freeze, staring at Price - who looks absolutely astounded with the situation that had just unfolded before him. "Oh- fuck, I'm- I'm so sorry!! Christ, I thought you were robbing the place!!"

Simon chucks you back onto your feet, wheezing out a breath in relief. Price sighs and relaxes his shoulders, rolling them out and standing straight.

"Fuckin' hell..." he says, reaching a hand out. "Price. You must be the new bird, yes?"

You nod and shake his hand. "Yea- seriously, I'm so sorry-"

"'S quite alright." He dismisses your apology with a wrinkle of his nose. "Didn't realize you hired a security guard, Simon." He looks to the bartender, still leaning against the wall.

You bit your lip. "You ok, Simon?"

"Y' broke my goddamn toe."

[woundedoves]

Male Loser Creep Yan! x GN!NSFW Streamer Reader (NSFW) (Multifandom)

a/n: i need me a boy like this… also pls tell me if u like this format!! i do!!

warnings: cum eating thoughts, loser boy alert

🌀 creepy loser!yan who just can’t stop fisting his cock to your streams; his favourite cam slut. he takes off everything except his hoodie he hasn’t washed in 3 days, takes his (unfairly) long cock in his trembling hand as he watches you fuck your hole with a toy, whimpering like a bitch boy everytime you shiver or moan; his dick throbbing painfully.

🌀 he donates almost all of his allowance his filthy rich daddy gives him on you, donates 5K and tell you to wear a maid dress and get yourself off while wearing it. make sure to wear black nail polish and this is REQUIRED: make sure your cum gets on your thigh highs and dress. and of course you do, you’ve done way more for way less anyways.

🌀 makes you cosplay his favourite anime character or his main in a game, telling you to moan as loud as possible too, please!

🌀 this loser definitely has ‘nightmares’ about another person fucking your brains out right in front of him and when he wakes up his dick is just wet with cum. yeah.

🌀 just fucking obsessed with how your body looks, fat, chubby, plump, skinny, tall, short, muscular doesn’t fuckin’ matter! he REALLY wants to fuck you. like, im talking wants to fuck you all day with no breaks (he doesn’t have that kinda stamina), fucking you until you’re a dumb fucked out slut on his cock; begging to be filled again and again.

🌀 he’s a shut in loser with no life so of course he knows how to dox and cyber stalk… he loves seeing the kinda things you watch, read or play. WILL cum in his pants if you also watch his favourite anime or play his favourite game as well.

🌀 he wants nothing more than to just coat his fingers with your cum and lick it, he’d drink your cum if he could. has a message ready with 15K money on it, requesting for you to send roughly a glass of your cum… he hasn’t pressed send.. yet…

🌀 when he (rarely) showers, spends 10 minutes showering and 20 minutes jerking off to the thought of you with soap all of your body and bending over the wall for him, telling him to stuff your tight hole with his fat cock and not stop until the cum drips out of it.

🌀 definitely defends you online, sends death threats and will doxx people who even says anything REMOTELY that ticks him off. telling you that your shirt looks nice? doxxed. telling you how good that tight hole looks? true but also doxxed.

🌀 don’t go near him, im warning you.

[eroticnoices]

Blackmailing best friends dad rafe into f ing you 👀

(Raw of course 😚)

(please i lowkey love this so much.)

perv!dbf!married!rafe cameron x afab!reader

warnings: perv rafey, pet names, age gap (reader is 19 and rafe is 45), cheating, unprotected sex, creampie, rafe refers himself as daddy once or twice.., slight bratty reader, manipulation, dirty talk, hair pulling, slight ass play, back shots

a/n: i don’t condone cheating ! luv ya

he couldn’t believe he was doing this again..

he found himself digging through your pantie drawer, stuffing the pretty grey lacey material, into his pockets and returning back downstairs to his friends living room and making some lame excuse to return home; just to dump a fat load onto your panties. later placing them in a little plastic box under his bed.

that held all your other cum stained panties, lip glosses, and a dark red nail polish, he loved on you and even a new bathing suit top he stole from the bathroom at a pool party your father hosted.

he just loved it so much on you, he couldn’t let you wear it anymore, he couldn’t even start to think about what other men would wanna do to you in that top.

you soon started to notice of course.

every time rafe showed up, one of your things would suddenly vanish.

one instance was when, you were sitting with your dad and a few of his buddies, one being rafe. you’d left to go inside, leaving your lip gloss behind; before rafe left he slipped it into his pockets.

another time was just recently when, you’d bought this black bikini top, that pushed your boobs together perfectly. to set your trap, you’d left the top hanging up in the guess bathroom— and just like you thought. rafe took the bait and rolled it up into his towel; but not before giving it a whiff and touching it all over his body.

which all led you to this point here.

“i don’t even know what you’re talking about.” rafe cleared his throat taking a small step backwards, only to be met with his kitchen table. “you do.. i wouldn’t just make these things up, mr.cameron. i know you’ve been taking my stuff. my bikini top? my lip oils? even my panties.” i grinned.

rafes jaw clinched and he looked past me. “y/n- listen-“ “no, you listen. have sex with me, and i won’t say anything to your wife.” i stepped forward, bringing my hand up to caress his chest. i could see his eye twitch at my words.

“you don’t know what your starting.” he practically growled. “maybe i do.” i challenged, slightly applying nail pressure to his peck.

rafe gripped my hair and pulled my head back, making me gasp. “don’t say a word.” he whispered into my ear before pushing me into his original spot, making my cheek press against the cold marble table.

“bet you’ve wanted this longer than i have..” rafe mumbled, bringing his large hands up to grip my ass through my skimpy dress. “fuck.. look at this..” he blew air out from his mouth when he lifted my dress to see if was wearing no panties.

my dripping pussy on display for him; ready to be used and toyed with. “such a fuckin’ pretty pussy, y’know that?” rafe pressed a kiss to my clothed back. i hummed in response, rutting my ass against his prominent bulge in his cargo shorts—

that by the way made his ass look amazing.

“alright, alright.” he swatted my ass, before he unbuttoned his shorts and swiftly sliding them down so he could free his hard-on from his briefs.

“need this so much..” i whimpered reaching my arm back to feel him. “shh.. shh. daddy’s got you, princess. gonna make you feel so good.” he brought his fingers up to your mouth and spoke, “spit for me, baby.” i complied and gathered some spit in my mouth to spit onto his fingers.

“mhm.. good girl.” he rubbed my hip with his thumb, and took his fingers and wrapped his hand around his cock giving it a pump to get it prepped. “gonna make you feel so good..” he hummed, pressing his thick tip against my slit, flicking it up and down, almost slipping it into my hole.

“rafe! please!” i whined, lifting my head from the table and arching my back. “you want it? how bad?” he smirked, toying his tip with your clit. “so bad-!” before i could get anything else out he, plunged himself inside of me, making my eyes roll back immediately and a loud horse moan come from my mouth.

“holy… holy fuck..” rafe panted, feeling my pussy clinch around him after he came. “..can we do that again?”

[archangeldyke-all]

Ok, hear me out... Sevika×Stripclub owner

Imagine Sevika got dragged into going to the club with a couple of co-workers one night.

The music is bopping, the lights are moody yet energetic, and there are dancers everywhere. Cigars, snazzy drinks, glitz and glam, just the works. But the only person who caught her eye was the peeved owner talking numbers with an investor over at the bar.

I'm sorry if this is weird. Thank you!!!

gonna change this just a bit and make reader the club mom (basically the person who takes care of the strippers, provides dinner, supplies, makes sure nobody steals their cash while they're working, breaks up fights, helps them with hair/makeup etc. etc.) just because i know more about it than club owning-- i used to watch club mom vlogs lmaooo

men and minors dni

crystal comes running into the back room, a panicked look in her eye. you glance up from cherry's nails to look at her.

"what's goin' on crys?" you ask. crystal runs to her locker.

"silco and his crew just came in! i gotta put on something sexier... these fucks got big fuckin' money!" she explains as she strips out of her bikini top. you raise an eyebrow.

"oh yeah?" you ask, returning your focus to cherry's signature red nails.

"you got any nipple pasties for sale?" she asks. you nod and wave her over.

"blow on these for a sec." you say to cherry. she nods, holding her nails up to her mouth, and you grab your duffel bag, hoisting it up onto the table and rifling through it.

"got some bedazzled ones, a few hearts of different colors, then the normal black and flesh colored ones." you say.

"oooh, sparkles! and i can wear my glittery thong with 'em!" cherry says. you chuckle, pulling out a pair of matching pasties for her and handing them over. "thanks, mom, i'll pay you back tonight!" she says, running back to the mirrors lining the walls to put her new outfit on.

cherry snorts across from you. "what?" you ask her as you return to coating her nails.

"you got no fucking clue who silco is, do you?" she asks. you giggle and shrug.

"it's not my job to care about customers, it's my job to care about you guys." you say. "who is he?" you ask.

"some shimmer dealer. he's gay, he just comes to ogle the bouncers, but he's got a big crew who love the girls-- he brings 'em all in after successful raids and stuff. they're all big spenders. 'specially his number two." cherry explains. you curse as you accidentally get some polish on her skin, reaching for a cotton ball and some remover.

"who's his number two?" you ask as you fix your mistake. cherry reaches into your duffel to grab a piece of gum, and you glare at her. she winks at you.

"sevika." she says around a mouthful. "she's popular at babette's too." cherry says. you nod.

"well, your nails are all done-- ready for sevika." you say. cherry giggles.

"thanks mom." she says, kissing your cheek before she saunters out onto the floor.

you groan, stretching and working the kinks out of your neck before you leave the locker room to do a lap around the club.

it's much more lively than it was thirty minutes ago, and you can easily identify silco sitting at the bar, cringing as three of your girls try to flirt with him to get him to buy a dance. you chuckle, approaching star to whisper in her ear.

"easy on 'im, he doesn't swing your way." you murmur. star snorts, then giggles and repeats your message to candy and shelly.

you watch as they all chuckle awkwardly at silco and wave him goodbye, and he seems beyond relieved to watch them walk away, his gaze wandering over to look at jimmy standing behind the stage, glaring at the patrons who get a little too close to kelli where she swings on the pole. you chuckle, and continue your round.

"how's it goin' mom?" trinity asks from behind the bar. you shrug.

"pretty good, how's it goin' out here?" you ask. trinity sighs.

"silco's goons always drink us dry. good for tips, but i'm gonna be exhausted by the end of the night." she says. you hum.

"did you get some dinner?" you ask. trinity rolls her eyes at you, smiling.

"yes, mom." she says. you nod.

"good. come get me if you need a break, i can take over the bar for a few minutes if you need a second to yourself." you say. trinity smiles.

"thanks mom, love you!" she calls after you.

you chuckle and roll your eyes.

just as you're about to return to your perch in the locker rooms, a scuffle breaks out.

frosty and buttercup are fighting over patron, smacking and pulling at eachother's hair. you groan and run over to get between them, hooking an arm around buttercup's waist and pulling her away from frosty.

"this bitch was takin' my money, mom!" buttercup screams.

"i was not, i was here first!" frosty cries.

the woman on the chair between them holds up her hands in a placating gesture. "i got enough for both of you, relax!" she cries. she goes ignored as buttercup lunges at frosty again.

"she pulled my hair outta my head, and she broke two of my fuckin' nails, she owes me!"

"stupid bitch, we all know those are extensions!"

"oh my fucking god, shut up!" you cry.

the girls both stop yelling, huffing and puffing in anger. you take a second to clear your head, then look at the woman still sitting in the lounge chair beneath you. she looks shocked.

"who was here first?" you ask. she points at frosty. "did you buy a dance from her?" you ask.

"n-no ma'am." she says. you sigh.

"who'd you give money to?" the woman points at buttercup.

"and that bitch tried to steal it from me when i wasn't looking!"

"'cause you keep trying to steal my customers!" frosty cries.

you look at frosty and hold your palm out. "give it." you say.

frosty gasps. "mom, come on!" she cries.

"just give me the fuckin' money frosty." you plea. frosty rolls her eyes then pulls the folded bull from between her tits, smacking it in your open palm. you sigh. "thank you." you say. she just rolls her eyes and turns on her heel, stomping off to find a new customer. you turn to look at buttercup.

"you've gotta stop provoking her." you say. buttercup shrugs.

"she shouldn't've fucked my man." she says. you groan.

"you shouldn't've been with jimmy in the first fuckin' place! you know he's a slut!" you say. buttercup groans.

"am i gettin' my money or what?" she asks. you shake your head.

"no, fuck off. go find someone else." you say. buttercup scoffs and turns on her heel, storming in the opposite direction of frosty. you take a deep breath, then look at the woman sitting in front of you.

"here." you say, handing her her cash. she takes it, blinking up at you with wide eyes. "sorry about that. tell trinity at the bar there that mom says you get free drinks for the night. she'll take care of you." you say to the woman. she looks over her shoulder at the bar and then back at you.

"y-you're her mom?" she asks. you laugh.

"fuck no, shit, do i look that old?" you ask, looking down at yourself.

you're in your usual get up, a bedazzled black velour tracksuit one of the girls gifted you for your birthday and a club t-shirt beneath it. the woman in front of you chuckles and shakes her head.

"no, you look fuckin' amazing, i was gonna be shocked if you said yes. why do they call you mom?" she asks. you laugh.

"i'm the club mom. i take care of the girls, break up fights the bouncers are too scared to get between." you joke. the woman in front of you laughs.

"that makes more sense. i'm sevika." she says, reaching her hand out for you to take. you shake it.

"oooh, i've heard about you. big spender, huh?" you ask. sevika laughs and shrugs again.

"yeah, i... i've been trying to cut back a bit." she says. "thinkin' about settling down." you laugh.

"you're in the wrong place for that." you say. she laughs and nods. "well, have a good night." you say, waving over your shoulder as you walk back to the locker rooms.

trinity takes you up on your offer a few hours later, tapping out for fifteen minutes to lay down in the back while you mix up drinks for her behind the bar.

sevika comes to visit you as you work.

"single mom and a bartender, huh?" she asks. you roll you eyes and snort at her joke.

"what're you having?" you ask. she shrugs.

"whiskey, neat."

you quickly pour her a glass of whiskey from the top shelf. as you hand it to her she grins.

"top shelf, huh?" she asks. you shrug.

"it's an apology for my girls." you say. "hope tonight's scuffle won't affect your impression of the club."

"are you kidding? it was hot as fuck!" she says. you laugh.

"yeah, i guess it was a pretty good show for you huh? tits swinging in your face while they were throwing punches."

"no, fuck no, i wasn't talkin' about them, i was talkin' about you." sevika says. you freeze.

"me?" you ask. sevika grins.

"fuck yes. you jumped right between 'em-- even with their claws flyin'-- threw that one girl halfway across the club too."

you laugh. "i barely moved her a foot." you say. sevika shrugs.

"'m just sayin'. gotta break up a lotta fights at silco's bar, but i've never broken up a catfight. girls are scary when they get the claws out-- they don't fight like guys. they go straight for the weak spots-- hair, eyes, throats. best to leave 'em til they fizzle out. you didn't though. jumped right in-- broke it up in half a minute."

you scoff. "fuck off." you say, shaking your head. sevika smiles at you from across the bar.

"you don't believe me?"

"that you found me, the fully clothed woman, more attractive than the naked girls fighting for your attention? no, i don't." you say, laughing. sevika just smirks.

"i've had plenty of naked girls fighting for my attention." she says. you snort.

"i'm sure."

"never seen a girl with balls like yours, though." she says.

you consider her for a moment. she's grinning, a sparkle in her eye as she looks you up and down, biting her lip between her teeth.

trinity finds you to take over before you can do much more talking with sevika.

it's probably for the best. she's your type, sure, but you doubt she was serious about all that 'settle down' bullshit.

the night goes by relatively smoothly after that. there's a few broken nails you glue back together, a few wardrobe malfunctions, a couple of spats you have to break up, but nothing like buttercup and frosty's.

as you're helping the girls count and band their earnings for the night, cherry finds you again, sitting by your side, resting her head on your shoulder.

"what's wrong with you?" you ask.

"am i gettin' old?" she asks. you look over at her to scoff. cherry's barely a year younger than you.

"you better not be, because that means i'm gettin' old."

cherry laughs. "am i ugly? getting fat?" she asks. you gawk at her.

"fuck is goin' on with you?" you ask your redheaded friend. she shrugs.

"sevika barely looked at me tonight. i'm usually her favorite." she says.

"no shit, really? she didn't buy any dances from me tonight, either." star says from where she's changing into her sweats.

"you guys talkin' about sevika?" shelly asks as she enters the locker room. star nods. "my sister works at babette's. hasn't seen sevika in weeks. asked her about it tonight, she says she's cutting back."

"who sevika?" mandy asks. you all nod. "she didn't spend a fuckin' cent tonight. bitch."

the girls laugh, and you shake your head in faux admonishment.

by the time you're clocking out, you're exhausted. you groan as you step into the back alley, a joint between your lips, patting down your pockets in search for your lighter.

"there you are, mom." sevika says, shrouded in shadow.

you jump and whip around to glare at her. she chuckles. "sorry. need a light?" she offers. you sigh, leaning against the wall as sevika reaches forward and sparks her lighter at the end of your joint, before leaning against the wall beside you.

"you just lurk in alleys for fun?" you ask.

"nah. i asked one of the girls where i could find you after work. wanted to talk to you some more." she says. you chuckle.

"talk about what? how you spent the whole night loitering? not paying my girls?" you ask. sevika chuckles.

"i told you i was trying to cut back."

"why the fuck would you come to a strip club, then?" you ask. she groans.

"silco insists we all come. team bonding, or some shit." she says. you laugh.

"it's common courtesy to tip your favorite girls if you spend the night in the club, even if you didn't buy a dance." you say. she nods.

"i know." she says. "i was planning on it, but kinda got distracted." she says.

"with the fight?" you ask, cringing as you remember the way buttercup and frosty acted earlier in the evening.

"no, with you." she says. your eyes snap up to look at sevika. she shrugs. "you still don't believe me?"

"i-i dunno." you say. she laughs.

"i--" she sighs, looking away from you and rubbing the back of her neck. "fuck this is embarrassing." she mutters. you blink at her as she struggles for her words, and then pass her your joint. "fuck, thank you." she says sincerely as she takes a big hit. she exhales and passes it back to you, then looks at her feet. "i'm-- i had a near death experience a few months ago and it got me thinkin' about my life. i figured i should start-- i dunno, takin' shit more seriously, you know?" she asks. you blink and nod at her.

"sure." you say, nodding.

"so i started cutting back. 'm down to a cigarette a day. try to drink only on weekends. haven't been to babette's in a while. and tonight, i figured i'd let loose a bit-- indulge. it's fucking boring getting your shit together and living healthy and shit. i was really hoping to get wasted and stare at tits all night." she says. you chuckle.

"so why didn't you?" you ask.

sevika blinks at you, a sparkle in her eye. "i met you instead." she says. you raise a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"so?" you ask. she grins.

"so... you're not fuckin' boring at all, are you?" she asks. you laugh.

"i wrangle a buncha girls for a living because i wasn't hot enough to be a stripper myself." you say. sevika chuckles. "when nights are slow, i sit in the back and read. when i'm off work, i sleep and read. i'm boring as shit."

"and yet, for some reason, i wanted to talk to you more than i wanted to stare at tits and get blasted tonight." she says.

you bite your cheek, trying to hold back your smile. sevika grins at you.

"fuck off." you say. she chuckles.

"are you free tomorrow?" she asks. you blink at her.

"for what?"

"a date?" she asks. you blink again.

"you're... serious?" you ask. sevika laughs, reaching up to gently cup your cheek. your stomach flips.

"you're starting to get it." she says, smiling. you blink. "so?" she asks.

"i'm free." you say. sevika grins.

"cool." she says.

"c-cool." you say. sevika's eyes dart down to your lips, and you gulp.

"it would be weird if i tipped you, right?" she asks. you burst into laughter, and sevika's smile widens. "i mean, you were the girl that caught my eye tonight-- it's common courtesy to tip you, right?" she asks, chuckling. you snort, smacking her shoulder.

"fuck off!" you exclaim. sevika giggles.

"so that's a no?" she asks.

"no." you say, shaking your head. "don't tip me."

"hm." sevika pouts. "well... is there any other way i could show you how fucking attractive and alluring i find you before our date?" she asks, her voice husky and low, her eyes pinned to your lips. you stop laughing, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"fuck off." you whisper. sevika smiles, and you slowly, slowly lean forward, until your lips are a breath away from sevika's. she shivers.

"please." she whispers. you smile, and then close the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips against hers. she sighs against you, her free hand coming up to grab your waist, and you shudder, grabbing her shoulders in your hands as you deepen the kiss.

sevika groans against you, stepping closer to you, pinning you to the wall as she runs her tongue over your bottom lip. you gasp, and she hums, and the back door to the club slams open.

"mom, do you know where the extra baby wipes-- oh shit!" cherry exclaims.

sevika clears her throat as she steps away from you, and you roll your eyes.

"top shelf in the closet." you say. cherry giggles.

"shit, get it mom!" she exclaims. you sigh, and sevika chuckles. "oh, the girls are gonna love this! hey candy! guess what?" cherry calls over her shoulder as she turns to enter the club again, a giddy grin on her face.

you groan, rolling your eyes. sevika smiles at you.

"so... tomorrow? she asks.

you sigh, then nod. "tomorrow." you agree.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[shoukiko]

How the TF2 Mercs would react to you wanting to paint their nails <3

a/n: I hope you guys will appreciate this, TF2 holds a special place in my heart, I've loved it for years so doing this makes me all giddy inside. If you have ay requests, please message me! I do CoD and TF2!! Enjoy! <3

Scout

Would be like "I ain't into that type of things, Toots."

After some convincing would let you paint his thumb and only his thumb.

Perhaps he sees you all happy while doing it and says it's okay for just *one more* finger.

Square nails, I don't make the rules.

Which then turns into his whole hand.

Shows it off to the team because YOU were the one who did it and they should be jealous.

"TAKE A FUCKIN GANDER YA BUNCH OF PANSIES"

Would pick off the nail polish as a habit during briefings or when he's not paying attention.

Feels bad coming back to you with his awful manicure.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, at least you get to hold my hand." Dick

Medic

Would love to have you paint his nails, but he thinks it would cause issues during his procedures

Ya know, cuz he doesn't wear gloves....for whatever reason

"Please.... :(" "Oh... Meine Taube.. How can I ever say no to you?"

100% Short round nails. Maybe not slender/skinny fingers, but they're def on the thinner side.

Ends up forcing himself to wear gloves just so they won't get ruined.

He thinks your careful and skilled hands are very attractive and "intriguing" as you paint them.

He's weird like that, You love it.

He loves you....maybe too much....He'd probably cut your hands off if you said yes.

He's the type to ask lol

Spy

No

No again

Stop asking

He wears gloves anyways, why do you want to so bad?

He doesn't have time for these silly games!!!!

"Mon canard, Please. This is too immature for me" "So you're saying you don't love me?" *Smug look*

You win

He has very nice nails by the way. Perfect nails, perfect slender hands.

He doesn't really say much, but you can tell from his eyes he enjoys such an intimate moment.

He tells noone and shows noone, but he likes to be in his room jsut looking at them, thinking of you.

Would do yours if you asked....nicely

Pyro

I mean this is obviously a yes.

The gloves are off before you finish your sentence.

Scarred hands, maybe missing a nail on a finger, but that's okay.

Picks the colors, they want pink. Lotta pink.

Get's excited when you bring up stickers.

Rocks a pink and purple manicure with a flower sticker on their missing nail.

Becomes a weekly thing, your little spa day. :)

Heavy

Skeptical, but why not? Couldn't hurt.

Lot of surface area, dudes hands are bigger than your face.

He finds it amusing that your hands are so small compared to his.

He's letting you paint his nails, but he'd like some dark colors.

Maybe not black, more like blue or maybe red occasionally/

"One sticker?" "No sticker, thank you" "Okay one sticker" "...Okay, for you"

Sniper

"If it'll make ya happy, doll."

Falls asleep as you paint them.

Rough hands, tan lines from his gloves, he has dirty finger nails :Gross:

You throw in some....cleaning... just cuz you care.

I love this man so much, but oh my god I just know he's musty.

You give him plain black nails, one white nail on his ring fingers

You don't do his thumb, you notice the big bruise under his nail, idk what those are called.

I looked it up it's called Garand Thumb (It's so canon)

You fight with him because you wanna know of it's like a hematoma or not (Gross I know, but I'd do it)

Engineer

Well it's not something he'd find himself doing on his own, would probably think it's silly until he met you.

"As long as I don't look all frou frou after, I'm fine with anything Darlin' "

AAAA TALK TO ME LIKE THAT

Thick fingies, like fat hands a bit, slightly rough because of how much he works. Only slightly because he still wears gloves.

I like to think his hands are covered in oil/dirt most of the time, He does wash them, but he's just always workin on something.

Would wash them before you paint them though. Lovely little you can't be getting your perfect hands dirty.

He wants yellow, give him yellow nails. Like sunshine yellow, like his hat.

He thinks it's "Just lovely lookin' "

Demoman

You don't ask, you just paint them while he's passed out drunk.

You give him rainbow nails, Glitter top coat. You're so mean

Surprisingly soft hands, Big and thick, very soft. My goodness you're even jealous by how nice they are.

He even has the perfect nails for painting. What doesnt this man have?

Oh wait

He's PISSED when he wakes up.

Probably calls it gay (But like....worse)

Sees you sad because of how he reacted.

Slumps in his chair, "They're 'right...."

Grows to like them (more like live with them)

Maybe in like 2 weeks to see hims again, they're still painted, just a bit withered away.

He loves em

Soldier

"DO I LOOK LIKE SOME SORT OF PANSY TO YOU, MAGGOT???"

You offer to do them in the colors of the American flag

He accepts obviously

You do it standing up cause he is just...there. Stiff as a board.

Wide nails, Rough knuckles, calluses.

When you're done he salutes you.

"Well done, Maggot. Now I won't have to kill you." Sure buddy

I hope you guys liked it!!

[moonlit-escape]

‧₊˚꒰♱꒱༘‧⊹ Zane Mystreet headcanons !!

i love this lil emo freak i NEED to get wine drunk n watch ponies w this guy

hetero. (comfortable with this label, but honestly his attraction isn't limited to cis women and he has even had crushes on femme men (he just wants to be the token hetero friend))

he mostly dresses casual emo, but sometimes my guy wants to rock a pair of demonias and a fishnet bodysuit with some heavy, pure silver chains and rings, alri

piercings,. piercings piercings piecings. no lips piercings... septum and eyebrow, though. and DEFINITELY gauges in his ears. and ABSOLUTELY ones with cute shapes.

if he didn't cover his mouth all the time, i think he would like wearing dark, cool colored lipsticks

and it'd be smudged all the time bc he keeps fuckin snacking on sweets

of course he paints his nails, and he treats them well bc he hates chipped nail polish (rich boy gets the highest quality, strongest clear nail protection youve never seen before in your life)

honestly all the ro'meave brothers are a bunch of gnc kings like okayyy!! pop off boys w your dresses, heels, skirts, n makeup!!

god can that boy sing

idc he listens to vocaloid and his favourites are vflower and rin kagamine

also listens to emo songs (ofc) and cartoon songs

prefers rock band over guitar hero

one time he smacked vylad in the back of the head with a rock band drumstick and he felt so bad he ran off and cried

boy is the most fuck-ugly crier

secretly steals stuff from people he cares about as keepsakes (like, little things: garroth's old gameboy, vylad's old sketchbook, aph's other half of a pair of lost earrings, nana's ribbons and pastry wrappers)

actually has pretty high metabolism, and one time he gloated abt it to aph and accidentally made a joke in poor taste, and she kicked his ass. so, he just lets her call him a lil fat boy as his eternal penance for being an asshole

okay this isn't a headcanon but sort of is but, why were him and dante like Tightrope-walking that fucking incel line as teenagers. like they were one wrong step from falling into an incel category. thank god their brothers would NOT have had that from their baby brothers anyway bc Wtf

anyway

honestly, he doesn't feel as cold toward vylad as he used to as a teen, and kind of wishes he had the strength to show that and reach out and ease the tension between them. but, he's afraid of making it worse by being awkward, so he wants to wait and hope that vylad makes the first move, if he ever does. (and if not, he'll probably ask garroth to do it for them)

has rejection sensitive dysphoria, made even worse by a rejection complex from: garte's blatant favouritism, bullying and rejection in school, and isolation as an adult. it's part of why he became so attached and possessive of aph. but, he's safer now

he was a harry potter kid. garroth was the percy jackson one, and vylad was warrior cats.

he always thought he was a slytherin but i think he's more of a hufflepuff than he realizes (nana on the other hand.)

he has a lot of sanrio merchandise. more than he will ever admit. his pony merchandise does outweigh it, though, of course

yes, his main comfort character and obsession lies with pinkie pie cake. but, the rainbow dash backpack Objectively fucks

[zairas-realm-gateway]

Maybe it's just my genderqueer ass projecting but...

I really like headcanoning Sanji as genderqueer so I can kinda play dress up. I can put her in fancy or everyday outfits that I find extremely aesthetically pleasing but am I not nearly fem-leaning enough to ever wear.

I can give him makeup and nail polish and jewelry I would love to have/wear but either can't own or don't feel the vibe to wear.

I can dress him in masculine, feminine, or androgenous clothes that rattle around in my brain 24/7 and she just always feels so incredibly Sanji still (probably because Sanji's fashion sense is as bad as mine when he's not in a suit).

It relaxes me and makes me smile to think up new outfits for Sanji.

But, I will NOT put her in fuckin' light/pastel pink though! It makes him look fucking awful!

Which works for me because I hate light pink.

[roosterbruiser]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲) ✯ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Jake go to your house after a night of celebrating your high school graduation. Things get cloudy quickly. ✯ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.7K ✯ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✯ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐓𝐗 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖

The ugly little radio on your cluttered desk is on right now, playing very lowly. 

Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd is playing now and you’re bobbing your head along as you steady yourself by gripping the edge of the desk. You’re definitely drunk--can feel the beer pulsing in your veins. You can feel the lining of your stomach practically deteriorating in a pool of Busch Lite.  

“Careful now,” Jake teases quietly, chuckling. “Don’t disturb all your study materials.”

He’s saying this because your desk contains precisely zero studying materials--and it never has. It has random Monopoly cash with little notes written on them, expired nail polish, a few empty containers of Bug Juice, some plastic butterfly clips you stole from the local beauty supply, a dinky slinky, soda-flavored chapstick you also stole from the local beauty supply, and a couple bottles of Citrus Mistress that are all half-used. 

“Didn’t need to study as hard as you,” you quip, “and we still graduated with the same GPA. Life is such a mystery.” 

“What’s a mystery is how you sleep on this tiny bed,” Jake groans softly, trying to get comfortable on your unmade bed. 

“Well, I’m not a six-foot baseball player,” you respond, shrugging. “So that definitely helps.”

“Aren’t you supposed to have Southern hospitality or somethin’?” Jake complains, a smile still tugging on his lips.

It makes you giggle. You and him climbed in through your bedroom window only ten minutes ago and already he’s insulting your hospitality--rightfully so, really. You’re not doing much to make him comfortable in your cramped and unruly room. Not that you ever really have to--he has been coming in through your bedroom window a long time and doesn’t ever require an invitation or welcoming. He’ll moan all day about your tiny bed, but will still sprawl himself out on top of it and rifle through the books you keep at your bedside. You will sometimes even come home from work and find him already there in your bedroom, blowing cigarette smoke into the little blanket you keep at the end of your bed just like you always do. 

“Can’t help the way I was born,” you sigh, tapping your finger on the worn wooden grains as you search for a matchbook among all your clutter. “Which was apparently without hosting skills.” 

Jake laughs, shaking his head softly. 

“So, it’s in your DNA to be so rude all the damn time?” 

You nod, grabbing the matches finally. They were hiding beneath a few Dum-Dum suckers. 

“Exactly,” you breathe, shooting a grin over your shoulder. 

Jake’s grinning at you, pretending to roll his eyes. 

“Smells like fuckin’ oranges over here,” Jake mumbles.

 Of course he’s also pretending like this fact bothers him--like he isn’t fighting an overpowering urge to bury his face in your quilt and smell you. He doesn’t even love the scent of that body spray you practically bathe in--he only likes it because you wear it, because he associates the smell with you now. He can never remember the name of your body spray--something dumb like Orange Cream Dream or Obscene Tangerine--but he could pick that scent out of a line-up. 

“Anythin’ else you wanna complain about?” 

You peer at Jake from the corner of your eye, biting your lip. He thinks for a moment before shaking his head. 

“Not presently.” He smiles. 

“From now on, you can start submittin’ your complaints to the official complaint box,”' you tell him, cheekily nodding towards the overflowing wastebasket stuck beside your desk. “Your feedback is valuable to us here at Filly’s Lodge.”

“Noted,” Jake says with a grin. “Love that face, too. Service with a smile!”

You poke your tongue out at him, ignoring the burning in your cheeks.  

Jake smells like springwater and cigarettes. He’s sitting on top of the tired quilt that covers your twin mattress, leaning against the wall lazily with a half-smile on his wet lips. Whenever he leaves, carefully climbing out of your bedroom window and over the buttonbush that sits below it, your bed will smell like him. You’ll be able to bury your face in the quilt, that worn cotton pressing into your cheeks and lips, and pretend like he is still here. 

 You think he’s still high and know he’s still drunk. 

“Wanna play Misty,” Jake whispers, narrowing his eyes at you as you try to fruitlessly strike a match. “C’mon, I’ll play quietly!”

You’re drunk, too--drunk enough that you keep having to lean against the wobbling three-legged dresser and blink away the bleariness in your eyes. But you’re not drunk enough to take his words at face-value. He can’t play his guitar quietly any easier than you can fucking light this match. 

“Is it that you’re stupid or that you think I’m stupid?” You whisper. “Just tryin’ to get the full picture here.”

The match finally strikes in a wisp of sulfur; you light the candy-scented candle and settle it on your dresser before shuffling across the carpet to the bed. Jake doesn’t move from his spot in the middle of the mattress, limbs strewn all about. They’re thin and sinewy, still paled from wintertime.  

“Oh, Filly-girl,” he moans lowly, collapsing into you when the bed dips beneath your weight. The springs groan and you know, even as drunk as you are, that it’s too loud. “You’re a mean little thing, ain’t you?” 

“Hush up, Seresin,” you hiss in a whispered tone, leaning your head on his chest. “You’re too damn loud without Misty in the mix.”

“You love how loud I am,” he accuses. 

“Or you’ve just broken me down finally,” you sigh. 

He grins. 

“I may be good at makin’ nice with all them horses at the Carolina’s,” Jake starts, stretching his fingertips towards the ceiling and giving you a fleeting glimpse of his taut belly, “but I don’t think I’m good enough to break you, Filly.”

This pleases you enough for heat to rise in your cheeks--if you’ve never been anything, it’s shy. It’s difficult for you to hide whatever emotion you’re feeling--it’s always written clear as day on your face. Even if it wasn’t, you’re sure that Jake would be able to figure it out in a few seconds flat.  

“Damn straight,” you tell him with your brows blanched. “No one is. It’d do you good to remember that, too.” 

He mockingly salutes you, which has you batting his hand away with a giggle.  

His weight is a familiar one, one that is as regular to you as a cigarette after lunch or a swim in the spring. He’s warm and you know that it isn’t just because of all the beer he drank--he’s perpetually radiating heat, oozing out of his body in thick and suffocating waves. He’s laughing a breathy sort of laugh, his aspen-colored eyes hazy and far away even as his nose nudges against yours during his bid to regain his posture. 

God--his breath smells yeasty. His saliva must be thick with alcohol; it makes spit gather under your tongue just thinking about what his mouth must taste like. And when he’s this close to you, falling sideways into your body so that he’s very nearly on top of you, you can smell him exactly: the American Spirit cigarettes he smokes but doesn’t like, the muddy water of Silver Spring, the musty smoke from your bonfire, the marijuana you smoked, the beer he drank, the dirt you laid upon.

“M’fallin’,” he mumbles once he realizes that he’s on top of you. 

“You’re fallen,” you correct, carefully slinking out from under him. “All over my bed, might I add. Scoot over!”  

“Sorry,” he slurs, rubbing his eyes and raking his hands through his shaggy locks. Then he gives you a grin, one that is toothy as it is wide. It’s the kind of grin that usually prefaces something brash and stupid. “Watch how shhhh, quiet I can be when I play guitar,” he whispers, raising his eyebrows as he sits up against your chipped wall again.

The world is fuzzy as he pretends to grab Misty--which is not actually physically on the floor or even in this room, for that matter--and settle her over his lap. Your throat is caked in beer still as he even pretends to tune, closing his eyes like he’s trying to really hear if she’s ready to be played. There’s a bubble in your chest--one that is bloated and filled with all the noise that you’re trying very hard to keep behind your grinning lips--and you’re afraid it’s going to burst when Jake starts strumming his faux-strings. 

“This one goes out to my best friend, Filly,” he says to his invisible audience, leaning up against the wall when he starts to slump over again. “She’s a pain in my ass and the love of my life,” he finishes.

“Really know how to make a girl swoon, don’t you, mustang?” You tease him, rolling your eyes to the high heavens but letting your cheek rest against the warm skin of his shin anyway. His leg hairs, the ones that you’ve teased him about since they first arrived in middle school, tickle your cheeks. 

You’ve been calling him mustang for a long, long time. Neither of you really remember when it started: it was sometime after you met in the quaint carpeted Sunday school classroom at Silverkeep Baptist, but sometime before you were old enough to steal cigarettes from your mama’s purses. You’ve always been a bit of a precocious child, unruly mop of curls a mirror of your quick wit and tenacity. Mustang just falls from your mouth so easily--partly teasing and partly not.

He’s been calling you Filly for as long as you can remember. It’s what everyone has always called you; your daddy started it up when you were young and you grew so used to the name that you preferred it. You even had teachers calling you Filly by the second week of kindergarten. It just suited you. 

“Every now and then,” he answers cheekily, giving you a grin that could blind a driver with his white teeth and wet lips and dimples and tan skin. “Shh, m’playing my lady.” 

You aren’t sure if he means you or imaginary Misty--he definitely means Misty, though.

You’re biting your lip hard, numb from the terrible beer Hyde was able to snag from the corner store, batting away the glassiness of your eyes as Jake pretends to stroke his guitar. He’s good at it, even if his guitar isn’t really in his arms. Lord knows you’ve seen him play enough times to imagine what the tune would sound like had he really had Misty sitting on his lap now. He’s good at a lot of things, which both endlessly annoys you and enamors you. He’s the best damn pitcher the Silverbullet’s have ever seen (and probably ever will see now that Jake’s aged off the team), he can handle more of that piss-tasting beer than anyone you know, he’s charming as a TV weatherman, and he ain’t half bad at riding all those horses he tends to on the Carolina’s farm on the edge of town. 

He’s still strumming that pretend instrument while you watch on, pretending to be annoyed. Really, though, you’re the opposite of annoyed: you’re overjoyed to be in here with him. He’s not supposed to be in your bedroom, especially without your parents knowing, especially this late, especially when the both of you are drunk. 

But the two of you are too excited to not be with each other right now. You graduated high school today, sweating through your polyester robes, walking across that rickety stage holding each other’s arms, celebrating with Hyde and Ruth with an entire afternoon (and evening) of drinking and smoking on the banks of Silver Spring. And when Ruth and Hyde decided to finally call it quits, Ruth whining about how early church was tomorrow morning and Hyde hardly able to keep his eyes open, you and Jake had silently agreed to keep your party going privately. 

So that’s how the two of you have ended up in your little bedroom, half on top of each other, Jake serenading you silently, your giggles hardly muffled by your wet lips. 

Free Bird finishes and Me and Bobby McGee by Janis Joplin begins quietly. 

“Any requests from the audience?” Jake asks, pretending to scan over a crowd as he looks over at your overflowing hamper and your drugstore makeup and your mismatched socks and your crate of old records. “I’ll take what I can get!”  

“Play Free Bird,” you mockingly call to him, grinning when he spurts out laughter. 

You’re definitely not sober and even if that fact had been lost on you earlier, the shiver that tickles your spine when his throat opens up and vibrates like that would basically be a flashing red neon sign that says you’re drunk! And also the fact that the two of you are being audacious enough to laugh out loud when your parents are sleeping a measly twenty feet away through two flimsy plywood doors is a screaming indicator.      

“Don’t know if I have a fourteen-minute guitar solo in me tonight,” Jake says quietly, raking his hands through his hair and finally dropping Misty back into the air she was born from. “What else can we do?”

The two of you both know the logical answer: go to bed. Jake should really get up and out of your bed while he’s still sober enough, walk on down to his house, climb into his bedroom window, and get a few hours of shut-eye before church. 

But neither of you are willing to leave each other. 

“Drink?” You suggest with a shrug. 

Jake points at you, lips pursed. 

“I like the way you think, Filly-girl,” he says. 

So you sink to the floor again, trying hard to be quiet as you push through all your old stuffed animals and candy wrappers and dust bunnies to pull out the dwindling case of Blue Ribbon you’d gotten ahold of a few weeks ago. 

It’s lukewarm at best, especially since your room is always so hot, but it’s all the two of you have right now. 

“Here,” Jake slurs, gesturing for both cans. He pops yours open for you so your fingers don’t get wet, never mind the droplets that landed on your quilt. “Drink up, buttercup.” 

The two of you unceremoniously clink cans before swigging the liquid. You can’t drink it without grimacing, even if you don’t exactly mind the temperature of it. It’s just that it tastes like fucking piss. Jake is too drunk to care about what it tastes like, but even if he did, he’s sure that twist in your lips and pitiful squint of your eyes would numb his tongue.

“That’s good stuff,” he teases and you laugh again. 

He really loves that sound, even when it’s whispered. 

“We’re livin’ the high life over here,” you whisper, biting your lip hard. “How’s your day today?” 

It tickles him that you’re asking as if you weren’t with him all day. 

He sighs, deciding to play along as he rests an arm behind his head, taking another long drink of the beer as you sip on yours. 

“Fine. Nothin’ much happened. Graduated high school. Smoked some weed. Drank some beer. Went swimmin’.” 

You nod, taking another drink, still trying to conceal a toothy grin. Your cheeks feel warm and fuzzy--probably from consuming another beer.

“Sounds like every other Saturday,” you tease. 

He nods, taking another drink. 

“Just another day in paradise, I guess,” he says. Then he looks at you with his eyes very soft, with his face very open. “How’s your day?” 

You know why he’s asking you. It’s because today marks the beginning of something that feels a lot like an end. It’s something that makes your belly ache just to think about. Today, the two of you graduated high school in the same building you started kindergarten together in. This will be your last summer with both of you living in Silverkeep because come August, he’ll be going to the University of Austin on a baseball scholarship--a full-ride. And you--well, you’re just staying here. 

“My day’s okay,” you tell him, trying not to let your face reflect the bitterness that has suddenly settled in the pit of your belly. “Ready for this summer.” 

At the mention of summer, and because of the way your lips twitched into an unintentional frown and your eyes getting glassy, Jake sighs. 

“Still got a weddin’ date in you?” 

That makes you smile. He’s really, really glad to see that little gap between your front teeth. He’d do just about anything in the world to see your lips curl upwards, to see those cheeks of yours turn pink as an apple.

You are mildly surprised, though, that it’s you he’s taking to the wedding. 

“‘Course you do,” you tell him with a smile, throwing your hair over your shoulder as you adjust to get comfortable on your little mattress. “Wouldn’t make you go to that weddin’ all on your lonesome.” 

“You’re a saint,” he says with a grin. 

The wedding the two of you are talking about is his oldest sister’s wedding. Harper Seresin is marrying Curtis Bennett, who is ten years older than her and looks and acts it, late in the month of July. Harper, who still lives at home, drives Jake absolutely up the wall. So does his other older sister Callie and his younger sister Brandy. Jake reckons the only people that don’t drive him crazy are you and his mama, who you affectionately call Mama Fran. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty much the best,” you sigh, pressing your face against his legs. “Gonna make me slow dance with you, mustang?” 

Carefully, you begin to stroke his leg. It’s honestly an absent movement, just something that you do to feel close to him, something you do without even really thinking about it. But you’ve grown so comfortable to the feeling of his soft sandy hairs against your skin that it soothes something in your chest that seems to always ache. 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jake says. “Gotta show you off!” 

You roll your eyes--ignore the stuttering of your heart. You take another drink and he can feel it against his ankle when you swallow. It’s such a fluid and soft movement, one that makes his own throat feel tight. 

“Sorry in advance for when I step on your toes,” you sigh, smiling coyly.

“No, you’re not,” Jake snorts quietly. 

You laugh--your breath is warm against his leg. It’s the warmest thing in the entire room despite the lack of air conditioning in your entire house, despite how stuffy it is in here, despite the rickety fan in the corner blowing warm air over his face.  

“No, I’m not,” you confirm. 

He’s grinning at you now, basking in the warmth of your flushed cheek against his naked shin. He’s certain there are little stars in his eyes as he lets them rest on the sweet curve of your nose and the pucker in your lips as you flutter your eyes shut to think of what to do next. Your face is a familiar one to him--one that he can hardly remember a time before, when he didn’t know those long lashes and that little gap between your front teeth. Everything about you is familiar; the sound of your open-mouthed laughter, the feel of your chipped fingernails against the skin of his scalp, your skin against his skin. 

He can’t help himself--he knows he’s drunk, he knows it only exacerbates his throbbing need to touch you all the time, but he submits to it now--as he leans forward just slightly to let his thumb rest against your lips. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend right now--Hell, he hardly thought about her at all today. He left Emmaline in the dust today to spend the first day of summer break with his friends--but really, he ditched Emmaline to spend the first day of summer with you. 

“Like your lips like this,” he says quietly, pretending like your spit on the pad of his finger isn’t making it hard for him to breathe.

“Like what?” You ask softly, voice thin. 

Your heart is starting to race--you can feel it pulsing behind your eyelids.  

“Naked,” he answers after a moment, throat impossibly tighter.  

What he means is that he didn’t like that Barbie-pink lipstick you wore to graduation, the one that came off in crumbs. He didn’t like your blue eyeshadow either or the way it coated your freckled cheeks when you blinked. Or the neon blush on your cheeks or the smudged glittery eyeliner haphazardly smeared on your eyelids. He likes your face like this: open and bare. 

The only thing he liked about that cheap-ass Barbie-labia lipstick was that you were unable to stop disturbing it, so it kept ending up smeared in the corners of your mouth or on your teeth. So Jake, being the Southern gentleman he is, corrected it for you. Which meant that he got to touch your mouth--which felt unholy and downright sacred. Once, when it was smeared across your teeth, he told you to snarl before he let his thumb run across the silky wetness of your teeth. Under the Texas sun on that stupid little football field with all of your graduating class (which was a whopping twenty-seven students), he was sure he was going to melt from the heat of your mouth on his finger alone. Especially when you had quickly kissed his finger, effectively staining it in the shape of your mouth, in a very you-way of showing gratitude.

Your breath is hitched right now as he stares at your lips. 

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. He’s drunk, he’s drunk, he’s drunk.

“Naked, huh?” You whisper, trying hard not to just open your mouth and let his finger come inside. “Reckon that’s scandalous, what with your girly-friend and all.”

You’re teasing him to mask the throbbing between your legs. You suddenly wish you weren’t on this bed with him, the bed that hasn’t been big enough to fit both of you since you were in eighth grade, the bed you two always squish together on. 

You gulp your beer, finishing half of it. 

But Jake knows you--knows you better than anyone else in the entire world. So he knows that when you tease him, when you call Emmaline Odette his girly-friend with that little bitter lilt in your voice, when your eyebrows blanche, when your lips part wetly that you’re defending something. He isn’t precisely sure what it is that you’re defending, but it’s something big--something soft. 

Jake is just drunk enough to say it to you, just drunk enough to get it off his chest the way he’s been wanting to since, what feels like, the dawn of time. He feels like he’s just the right level of lovesick and inebriated to say fuck Emmaline, I’m in love with you. If he was sober, he would feel instantaneously guilty. Emmaline isn’t a bad girl--she’s just prissy, which is why you don’t like her. And it isn’t Emma’s fault that she’s prissy, that she’s never really struggled in any capacity. It also isn’t her fault that she’s just a placeholder--a placeholder for you. 

“You’re right,” Jake says finally, pushing aside all thoughts of Emmaline and the voicemails she’s probably left for him on his family’s phone despite him constantly asking her not to do that. “Maybe I should just break up with her.” 

You’re shocked for a moment--shocked enough to laugh dryly. But his face is unchanging as he gazes down at you: his eyes soft and wickedly beautiful in the plastic lamplight of your room, his lips pink, his finger still pressed against your mouth. 

But then something changes. Your spine is tingling as you straighten it, fingers wet against the aluminum can in your clutches. You’re something between nervous and audacious. 

“Didn’t know you wanted to break up with Emma,” you whisper, unwilling to move your mouth away from his finger.

When his thumb comes down to grasp the point of your chin, when he practically holds you in place as his eyes darken, your toes curl into the cotton pillow they’re resting on. If your mama was in here, she’d be sighing and groaning about you laying on your bed without showering--especially since you were swimming all day. But right now, as Jake gazes down at you and lets his middle finger rest on your bottom lip too, you don’t care about any of it. 

“Do you want me to?”

Jake has put the ball in your court--he knows it and so do you. 

“I don’t know what I want,” you answer. 

It feels layered and you suppose it is. You don’t like Emmaline as much as she doesn’t like you. Girls like her, with their clean hair and manicures and thin eyebrows and bedazzled jeans, aren’t friends with girls like you. You haven’t had a new pair of jeans since your freshman year of high school, you bite your nails when they’re too long, and your hair is too rambunctious to even try and brush. You two are as different as silk and leather; one of you is much tougher, but more people prefer looking at the softer one.

It isn’t that you want Jake to be alone, even if you don’t love when he has a girlfriend. Of course you don’t like it--you’re in love with him, you think. Of course you’re not gonna like any girlfriend he has. But he’s a good sport when there’s some plaid-wearing boy sniffing around you and you try--not very hard, but still--to be good for him. 

“You don’t like her,” he says and he isn’t angry when he says this. He’s not accusing so much as stating.

“No, I don’t,” you say, nodding.

 You’re an honest person--a brutally honest person. He likes that about you. You don’t dilly-dally around. 

“You don’t hide it very well,” Jake tells you. 

You nod again. 

“No, I don’t,” you repeat, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Do you? Like her?” 

Jake shrugs before he even means to. He knows that he shouldn’t be shrugging when you ask him if he likes his own girlfriend. But he can’t help but be honest with you--he’s always been honest with you. 

“She’s fine,” he answers. “She’s probably gonna be pissed that I wasn’t with her tonight.” 

He says this like he doesn’t already know that she’s pissed. They had argued about it earlier that day, just like they’d argued about him walking with you instead of her, just like they argued about him pointing to you in the crowd before hitting home runs instead of her. He couldn’t help it--it was just in his blood to think of you first.

“Probably,” you answer. “She gonna leave one of those pissy messages on your house phone again?” 

Jake groans and smiles at the same time. 

“How’d it go again? What’d she say that one time?” You’re laughing, basking in this feeling right now, laughing with the boy you’re in love with about the girl he’s dating. 

“This really reflects poorly on your character,” Jake imitates Emmaline, letting his voice raise a couple octaves--just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. 

And you do laugh--the pretty, pretty laugh that he swears he hears in his dreams sometimes. It’s a beautiful one--a perfect one. 

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathe, still giggling. “What a fuckin’ princess.” 

“What--you don’t think me missin’ our eight o’clock phone call reflects poorly on my character?”  

He still has his finger pressed against your lips--it’s grown comfortable there. There really aren’t many places on your body that he hasn’t grown entirely comfortable touching and your mouth is no exception; he pulled every single one of your baby teeth because it made you too squeamish. 

“She reflects poorly on your character,” you whisper, a boldness biting your tongue. “Don’t you worry about what she says ‘bout you when you’re not there?” 

Jake’s spine prickles at the thought. 

The Odette’s are probably the richest people in Silverkeep--like the kind of folk that could afford to live really anywhere else. The first time Jake went over to her house, the big old brick thing with freshly-painted shutters and bright green grass, he was afraid of drying his hands on the monogrammed towels in the guest bathroom. He felt dirty when he was around her--even if he’d just bathed. Even having sex with Emmaline was like taking a shower; he felt cleaner after. 

“Well, now I do,” Jake laughs dryly, pinching your lip softly. 

You don’t move away, just blinking up at him. 

“You should,” you tell him honestly, fingering the tab of your beer can. “She ain’t our kinda people.” 

Jake tuts, shrugging again. He knows you’re right. He really, really knows you’re right. And really, you’re the only person brave enough to say that about him. Your family is poor and so is Jake’s. Your parents work themselves to the bone to give you guys off-brand cereal and cramped bedrooms, neither of you have cars, all of your clothes are stretched to the limit, and a portion of both your paychecks go towards the house payment. Emmaline’s never worked a day in her life--if she didn’t want to, she probably would never have to. Jake knows this. And he’d be lying if he said the tightness in his chest was only from being so close to you. 

“Can’t say that,” Jake says, but his voice is thin. “We’re all supposed to love each other, right? Or whatever hippie-shit Hyde’s always preachin’.” 

He’s trying to make you smile, but you’re not. You’re suddenly worried about what Emmaline says about him when he’s not there. You’ve wondered the entire three months they’ve been together what she sees in him. It isn’t that you think there’s nothing about him that’s attractive--Hell, you think everything about him is achingly perfect. But it’s just that girls like her usually date boys that get regular haircuts and drive big trucks. They don’t usually date the fatherless boy that works his tail off shoveling horse shit to lessen the financial burden on his mama.

“You deserve someone nicer,” you tell him finally, your voice quieter than before but just as serious. “Someone that won’t make you get your license.” 

Jake nods along, not disagreeing with you. 

“Probably good to have a license,” he tries softly, shrugging. 

“You don’t have a car,” you say with a pointed look. 

You don’t say it, but you know that he probably won’t have a car for the foreseeable future. The only way he’d be able to afford a car is if he won the lottery or if someone died and left him money.

“Fine,” Jake sighs. “Then who should I be with?” 

You’re turning pink again--you can feel it flooding your face and chest. And you’re overwhelmed by the scent of him, by all the places your bodies are touching. So you just blink up at him, hoping that he can’t see the lump in your throat. 

And Jake is looking down at you with a sweet sort of softness, one that is usually attached to his level of drunkenness. He’s seems to have hit that sweet spot right now, that spot that makes him feel lovely and brave and scared and elated all at the same time. Just looking at you, looking at the flush in your cheeks and the slight tremble of your lower lip underneath his fingers--it makes him want you bad. 

He retracts his grip from your mouth, aching for the warmth and familiarity of your lips, but pushing through it. He picks up your hand, carefully detaching it from your beer can. He holds your fingers, his heart thumping in his throat, and glances down at your fingernails. They’re bitten things, always short and never even. There’s little half-crescents of dirt beneath them, too, because there isn’t enough time in your day to care about something so trivial. 

“Someone who’ll get some dirt under their fingernails?”

He’s not sure why he’s said it--but he has and now it’s lingering in the air. And it isn’t regret that he feels slinking up his frame, no, not at all. It’s a strange sort of relief. He’s said it--or at least suggested it. He’s never gotten so close to just blurting it out. But this will work for now.  

You’re certain that your heart stops for an entire minute as you stare up at him dumbly. You’re in a state of total disbelief right now because as much as you two touch each other, as much as your harbor feelings for him, as in love with you as you are, you’re entirely sure that it is one-sided.

But you know, know with your entire heart and every other organ in your trembling body, that there is dirt under your fingernails right now.  

And then he softly brings your fingers up to his lips, his eyes flickering shut as he kisses your knuckles. Now you really can’t breathe, really can’t move because you’re sure that if you do, this fragile thing will collapse. 

Jake feels the same, just inhaling your skin while you’re allowing him to, just trying to memorize the placement of every bone in your sweet hand, just trying to remember the exact way you smell. He can’t look at your face--terrified that you will be horrified. 

But you’re not moving away from him. You’re not moving at all.

He lets your hand fall back onto the bed and it lays there limp because you simply don’t have it in you to pick it up--you’re entirely paralyzed right now, trying to blink yourself back into reality.  

Then he touches your mouth again and you let him, trying to hide the hitch in your breathing, trying to swallow the bundle of nerves sitting thickly on your tongue. And this time, he doesn’t ask--he just presses until your lips are parted and then swipes his thumb across your teeth. There it is--that little gap he loves so much. 

“Someone with a gap between their front teeth?” 

You nearly moan out loud. Your thighs are burning because you’re pressing them together so hard, suddenly desperate for some sort of friction. In fact, you’re paralyzed all except for an ache in your core that is starting to radiate all across your body. You’ve felt this before, sure, having a handful of romps with boys here and there. But it’s never been from something as simple, something as sexy, as Jake touching these little parts of your body. 

“What’re you doin’?” You ask, voice trembling. 

And Jake retracts immediately, heat flooding his cheeks, a sick feeling washing over his body at the very notion of making you uncomfortable. 

But then you reach out and grab his wrist. You’ve touched his wrist before--Hell, you’ve touched just about every spot on his body. But right now, wrapping your fingers around those bones and that skin and feeling that quickened pulse, it feels very intimate. 

“I didn’t say stop,” you breathe. 

And maybe it’s because you’re drunk still, though significantly more sober from his touch, and maybe it’s because he’s drunk and a little bit high. Maybe it’s because he’s looking at you with such softness, his eyes wide and swimming in sweetness. Or maybe it’s because you’ve only dreamed about moments like this one. 

But you lead his hand back to your parted lips, eyelashes trembling terribly as you press his fingers into your mouth and let them fall on your tongue. His response is immediate--a little gasp catching in his mouth, his eyes bleary and wide, his cheeks reddening. 

You almost can’t believe that it’s happening; his fingers are in your mouth and you’re tasting his skin, all that dirt and beer and water and oil dissolving in your warm saliva. It slides down your throat as you very softly suck, swirling your tongue on his fingertips, blinking up at him with big eyes. 

He can’t believe it’s happening either--watching your tongue work around his fingers like you were born to do it, your lashes trembling ever so lightly as you look up at him, your body radiating heat. His mind is swimming and his heart is pulsing and his cock is starting to throb, but above all of that, all he can think about is you, you, you, you, you.

So he takes his fingers out of your mouth slowly, basking in the feeling of your tongue sliding across his knuckles, and catches a glimpse of that saliva coating his fingers before he lets his hand float down to your chest. 

Your breaths are rapid as you eagerly await his touch, suddenly dizzy with want for him. And he looks up at you as his fingers tug at the hem of your dress, the one you outgrew a few years ago, and you just nod. Of course you do--you’re desperate for him. 

His hand snakes beneath your dress, skirting across the curve of your hip and stilling when they land on the hills of your breasts. Your bra is honestly ill-fitting, too, and he already knows that from swimming earlier. He knows that you’re wearing yellow cotton underwear, too, and that they’re probably dried of spring water now but wet with arousal.    

Jake indulges that overwhelming desire to get closer to you. He moves clumsily and so do you, tangling in each other with bated breaths, trying to fit on your stupid twin bed.

Then the two of you are laying nose-to-nose, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, each of you too afraid to speak for fear of breaking whatever trance has fallen over the both of you. You’re close enough to kiss each other, but you don’t. He just rests his forehead against yours and you nudge your nose against his softly. 

His hand is still under your dress, hovering your breast. And before he can change his mind, before he can ruin this perfect moment, he swiftly pulls the flimsy fabric of your bra aside and lets his palm cover your exposed breast. 

Your moan is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard--it’s raspy and breathy, even better than your laugh, even better than your silly singing voice. His entire body reacts to the sound like some sort of dog-whistle. His shoulders relax, his heart practically melts in his chest, his cock jumps, his legs tense. 

Your breasts are just as soft as he imagined they’d be--supple and wanting beneath his palm. And when he pinches your nipple, lets it pebble between his fingers, you moan again. Now he’s beginning to ache with want, growing desperate for some sort of gratification. But he’s still too afraid to make any sudden movements, like you’re an animal that’s easily spooked. 

That’s the precise moment that you reach out for the first time and tangle your hands in his hair. You’re breathing hard, eyes shut, heart racing, beads of pleasure swirling around in your belly. You’re so close to him, so achingly close, but it is not nearly enough for you. You have to touch him in more places than just your noses, have to feel him all against you and all over you. 

So you let your fingers grip those shaggy locks, bask in the little sound in his throat, try not to let tears cloud your eyes when he grows confident enough to press his knee between your legs to effectively part them. 

“Jake,” you whisper, entirely breathless as he pinches your nipple again. 

“Don’t,” he whispers, shaking his head, pressing down harder on your breasts and relishing in that sweet sound again and again.

“We shouldn’t--I can’t, you have a--we can’t…” You’re trying very hard to make sense as you speak to him but it’s proving to be very difficult, especially when he presses his naked leg up against your heat and gives you that sweet, sweet friction. 

He shakes his head again, his beer-scented breath fanning out over your face. 

“Stop talkin’,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. “Unless you don’t want this. Then you gotta say it. You gotta say that you don’t want it.” 

You’re silent. You want this bad--you want it so bad that your fingers are starting to tremble. You want it so bad that your mind is totally empty except for thoughts of him. You’ve already submitted entirely to him and his hands. 

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding. 

He grins, eyes still shut as he shakes his head lightly. 

“I said stop talkin’,” he whispers. 

“Sorry,” you return in the same hushed tone. 

And usually, you wouldn’t be so malleable. You wouldn’t be so easy to render silent. You wouldn’t usually be so compliant. But you feel like you’re in some sort of dream-state right now, like you’re floating between this realm and a better one, like things are finally going your way. Because as unreal as this feels, you know that it is real. You know especially when his breath puffs against your face as he laughs softly and when a laugh bubbles out of you, too. This is real; it’s you and it’s Jake. It’s his hand and your breast. It’s his leg and your clothed cunt.

He’s silent after that, just looking at your face as he kneads your breasts and rests his forehead against yours. Your eyebrows are pinched and your lip is bitten and he can see that little gap between your teeth. And he can feel how warm you are between your legs, can feel wetness gathering in your underwear as he presses his leg up against your cunt. And your fingers are softly tugging his locks as you moan quietly and all those little touches and sounds are making him painfully hard. 

All thoughts of Emmaline have dissipated entirely--not that he even thinks about her very often at all.

Your lips are so close to touching his. You can almost feel the outline of his bottom lip against your top lip, can almost feel how wet his mouth is, can almost feel how warm his tongue is. But for some reason, you’re not kissing. You’re just hovering over each other, moaning softly, panting into each other’s mouths. 

The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen is playing now.  

“Can I?” Jake asks, letting his fingers dance across your belly again and land on the band of your underwear. 

Silently, you nod. Your heart is in your throat again, beating erratically. But you want this--you know in your bones that you want this. You want it so bad that you could cry. You’re glad that you’re not totally sober, glad that you have a bit of beer loosening your joints. 

Jake is so turned on that he could explode, but he’ll be damned if he won’t savor every single moment of this. He lets his fingers slip beneath the cotton underwear and keeps a careful eye on the hitching breaths in your chest. 

He moans softly when he feels your cunt for the first time. Here is a place he has never touched you before, maybe one of the only ones. And you are perfect, he knows it without even seeing you up close. The little stubble you have there pricks his skin as he carefully slinks his way to your folds. 

You’re gripping his hair, hips bucking towards him, eyes screwed shut when he lets just his middle finger carefully part your lips. Pleasure explodes in your body, hot as a gas stove, and you have to bite down hard on your lip in fear that you’ll wake your parents up. But it feels so fucking good just having his one finger against your wetness, pressing down on your clit. 

“Fuck,” Jake whispers, shaking his head softly, shuddering. 

He’s fingered his fair share of girls--being on the baseball team has its benefits--but he’s suddenly nervous to mess this up. You’re the most perfect person he’s ever met, the most perfect person he’s ever touched. He wants you to feel good and he wants to be the one that makes you feel good. 

You, on the other hand, have never been touched here. There was that one boy at the drive-in about a year ago that got a little handsy, but he never breached the waistband of your panties. This is entirely new pleasure for you, one that feels paramount and out of your control. You’re not sure if you loathe it or love it yet, so you just rest your cheek on the bed and gasp for air like a fish out of water. 

And Jake is moving closer to you, pressing his hips against your body. You can feel how hard he is, how uncomfortable that must be. But you’re too nervous to reach down and touch him, too paralyzed with pleasure to even move at all. 

Jake is panting now. You’re so wet and silky, hips moving subtly to meet every movement of his hand. And you’re breathing so loudly, redness gathering on your chest, mouth endlessly parted. 

This still feels like a dream. 

But it’s the best dream he’s ever had. 

He moves quicker, the pace something that he knows Emmaline and the other girls have liked, and presses his nose into yours as you grip him harshly. You’re so hot, squirming beneath his fingers, moving closer and farther from him at the same time. 

You’re not necessarily uncomfortable right now, but you feel like you’re rapidly approaching it. He’s touching you almost too perfectly, going almost too fast, pressing that one spot so harshly that it’s too much. And you’ve never been touched here by him or any other man and that thought alone is making you dizzy. You feel like something is approaching rapidly, like all of this is about to come to a head, and you’re afraid of what that is. 

So you clamp your legs together, pushing yourself against his chest. He removes his hand at once, jolting back into sobriety momentously. And he’s searching your face as it pinches, as you recover from almost cumming on his fingers, as you try and catch your breath. 

“Y’alright?” He asks, shaking his head softly as you swallow hard. 

You’re hot with embarrassment now, trying desperately to get some moisture on your tongue. Jake is worried he crossed a line, worried that you didn’t want it as badly as he did. But then you’re hesitantly looking up at him, shaking your head softly, and he knows that isn’t the case.

“It--it was too good,” you whisper, pulling your dress down over your thighs as you swallow harshly again.

Jake sighs, his shoulders slumping. So you did want it--he didn’t cross a line. 

“You ever done that before?” He asks. 

You both move to prop yourselves up on your elbows, still looking at each other. Jake subtly lets his fingers air out against his shorts as you pull into yourself with your hair mussed and eyes bleary. 

“No,” you answer honestly. “Not with anyone else.” 

He nods. He didn’t know that. 

“Should’ve taken it easier on you,” he whispers. 

You’re burning under his gaze, squeezing your thighs together as aftershocks of pleasure ricochet through your still-taut body. 

“Maybe,” you whisper. 

Then it’s quiet for a moment. 

Jake’s still trying to gather his thoughts and you’re still trying to get your heartrate back down. Both of you are in a state of disbelief, reeling at how quickly that all went and how sudden it was.

Neither of you will ask what it meant. Neither of you will tell the other that it isn’t just hormones and alcohol that made you feel the way you did just a few minutes ago. You’re both stubborn people and your boots are faster than your brains. Neither of you are the admitting type, especially when it comes to big things that matter. 

Because for Jake, the worst thing that could happen is that he hurts you. He says something dumb and he makes you cry or he does something you don’t like. And maybe you’ll forgive him, but you probably won’t because you don’t like to forgive people. He wants to be on your good side for the rest of his days. And if he fucks up and tells you that he is in love with you and that every other girl he’s ever touched has just been a temporary fix, he’s afraid that it will frighten and hurt you. 

And for you, the worst thing that could happen is that he doesn’t feel the same way you do. You’ve been in love with him for so long that the feeling has almost become a part of your personality. You are hopelessly in love with his shaggy hair and his stupid calloused fingers and his laugh and the dimple in his left cheek and the hair on his legs and the way he looks when he rides his bike. And if he didn’t feel that way about you then you would be turned inside out.   

“Do you want me to leave?” Jake asks softly.

He had planned on staying before it all happened, planning on crashing on your bed and waking up in a few hours to walk home to shower before church in the morning. But now he isn’t so sure.  

He’s blinking at you, wishing that the two of you were still touching. He’s bracing himself for your answer, bracing himself for that stiffness in your limbs and the bitterness in your tone when you tell him to get out. 

But none of that ever comes, none of that ever happens. 

You shake your head, your eyes soft and your lips parted. 

“No,” you tell him. “Stay.” 

And, really, it’s the most vulnerable thing you’ve said. Your mind is still clouded with a billion different words and thoughts and worries. What had he thought of the way your cunt felt against his finger? Had he wanted you to touch him? Is he just drunk right now? Had you really dreamt the whole ordeal? Was it going to happen again? Was he going to say anything about it? But you will never ask these things to him and it’s because you’re far too afraid that he will answer.  

“Okay,” he tells you. 

He’ll stay.

It’s something between awkward and familiar as you two settle back down on the bed together. You’re lying close to each other, which you always do anyway, but now there’s a hesitance on either end.

He’s looking into your eyes, trying to gauge what you feel, trying to figure out what the right thing to say is. But nothing is coming to his busy mind, no words are biting at his lips. So he just leans forward slightly and rests his forehead against yours. 

For right now, it’s enough for both of you. Just to have that point of connection, just to touch skin against skin, just to know that the other feels the staleness in the air too--it makes you both sigh into the bed. Even with all these unspoken minutes and actions between the two of you, all these confusing little moments, the both of you accept this small touch.  

You move a little bit closer to him and he moves his arm to rest across your body, which is a familiar motion. He weighs you against the bed and you sigh into his mouth. Your breath still smells like cigarettes and beer. 

“I’m breakin’ up with her tomorrow,” Jake says as your eyes flutter shut. 

He’s still watching your face, watching the way it finally goes slack in the pink light of your bedroom. You barely react, just nod very softly.

If you were braver, you’d say why? If you were braver, you’d say good.  

But instead you just whisper, “Okay.”

Neither of you are certain what the morning will hold. But Jake’s holding you and your arousal is dried on his fingers and there’s finally saliva on your tongue and you know you’ll be okay. At least for right now, you’ll be okay. 

Just as you fall asleep, crossing that threshold of dreamland with a rapid pace that always sparks envy in Jake’s belly, he leans forward and dusts his lips against your nose. Just the very tip of it, that warm place that he’s kissed before. And you don’t move at all, barely even to breathe. Then he falls asleep, too, letting his forehead rest against yours. 

Neither of you stir once.  

✯ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

✯ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

✯ 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✯ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @hazyretina @violetta-ximena @illicithallways @winterrebel04 @chicomonks

[snailor-bee]

(Re)Decorate My Heart

I participated in the @onepiece-blorboexchange ! I got @mirkaaaluv who had such lovely prompt ideas I ended up doing two. 8'D HAPPY CHRISTMAS! Sorry it's so early I got impatient and just busted these out... Hope you enjoy!

Kidx F!Reader / SFW  / 1.3k

Summary: Kid is working on something and you end up helping! Warnings: Some cursing.

Muttered cursing perked your interest as you made your way through the Victoria Punk. Your eyes examined the captain’s quarters door. You pressed a finger to the bridge of your glasses, pushing them up fully.

It wasn’t surprising that Kid was swearing loud enough to be heard through the thick wood but you debated if you wanted to poke your head in or not. Yelling in general couldn’t tell you what his mood would be, sometimes it was fine to interrupt and other times the red-heads rage was so extreme you had to beat a hasty retreat.

You hesitated more, trying to decide if it was worth it before the door suddenly slammed open and you jumped.

There was no one in the doorway but his voice growled out, “Don’t fuckin’ hover, get in already.”

Smiling wide you skipped inside, pulling the door closed behind you. Kid actually wanting your company was a relief and quickly you crossed over to his workbench and wound your arms around his broad shoulders. Leaning into his space you pressed your chest to his back and let him take on your weight. He wasn't wearing his metal arm today, content without the strain pulling down his muscles on that side, no matter that it might make his task a little easier. 

“Whatcha working on?” you asked.

“Fuckin’ Christmas shit, don’t know why I bother,” Kid grit out, annoyance laced through his tone. You tilted your head with surprise before looking down at the mess of his workbench.

Metal bits were scattered around, grease and oil stained into the chipped wood. A dirty hand held a perfectly round ball, chipped black nail polish on fingertips that spun the orb around. You blinked with surprise.

“A Christmas ornament?”

“Something like that,” he muttered. “Missing somethin’ though, and it looks shitty.”

“The bauble is missing the part on top where you can put a hook through it,” you informed gently. It was just a ball with no topper with badly designed metal snowflakes that stuck out. It looked more like a weapon than an ornament, like something you could throw at an enemy's face. If you had to hazard a guess, you would bet the whole thing was solid and would just break a Christmas tree’s branches.

Kid shifted and crimson red eyes stared incredulously at you. “The what??”

“The bauble? You’re literally making it.” When his face didn’t change, still twisted up with confusion you went on, “The ball, Kid. It’s literally what they're called.”

“Is it? Sounds dumb.”

You laughed before unwinding from his torso and dragging over a stool that was quickly becoming ‘yours’. Hopping up onto it you squeezed into his side and grabbed the ball. As you expected, it was heavy.

“This should be hollow you weirdo, you’re gonna break the tree.”

Ignoring Kid’s offended ‘hah??’ you contuined, “Also maybe you could carve into the metal a design? You can do that can’t you?”

“’Course I can!” Kid said gruffly, as you knew he would. You hid your smile by ducking your head. Sometimes he was easy to gauge, easy to rile up and lead in the right direction.

“Let me grab some paper—” you began before he interrupted.

“Don’t bother.” He dropped the bauble and it made a dull thud as it hit the wood before raising his arm and digging in some overhead drawers. You watched with confusion until he withdrew a sheet of parchment and tossed it in front of you. He'd never had that before, did he specifically move this here just for you? 

A low oh didn’t stop him as he leaned into your space, and you felt the hard muscles and the heat of his body suddenly engulf you, making you flush. The metallic smell that constantly followed Kid around filled your nose making you vaguely dizzy. You loved the way he smelled, loved to bury your nose into the crook of his neck and breath him in, get past that metal exterior and bask in that scent that lingered underneath that was so uniquely his.

Straightening up he held out a pencil and slowly you took it, blinking away your thoughts as a smile broke over your face.

“Thank you.”

Kid grunted in acknowledgment before picking back up the ball and frowning as he looked it over. “Hollow you say…” he muttered under his breath.

You ignored it, knowing the statement wasn’t really for you. Quickly you started doodling out some designs, lines of ‘wind’ with snowflakes fluttering in between, another with pine trees covered with a heavy sheet of fluffy snow.

The two of you worked side by side quietly. These days were your favorite, you mused. Just a comfortable silence broken by random grunts or maybe a question or two. Just sharing a space. There were times when Kid would blast music, loud enough to make your teeth rattle but more often than not it was just this. When he got too involved in his work it was like everything else faded away. 

Sometimes you just hung out on the bed reading a book while he puttered about, but Kid preferred to have you by his side.

He was handsy, in a way you didn’t expect. He didn’t enjoy you prodding too much at him as he worked and it’s not like he had both hands free to touch you back but he made up for it in the way he frequently leaned into your space, his arm pressing against yours or how he’d look over at your stuff silently before kissing your template gently.

It was sweet, he was sweet in a way you didn't expect when the two of you first met, not with the way his gruff demeanor made every conversation an argument at first. Yet, here you were, silently enjoying each other's company. 

When you finished one page and silently slid it over, he took it without comment and you started on another page. This time instead of designs, you started drawing 3D designs he could do himself, sketching out the outlines of better looking snowflakes that wouldn't look like a spiky weapon but more as they should be. 

"How's this?" Kid asked, breaking the quiet and you blinked before he dropped the ball in front of you before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in close. 

Picking it up, you were pleased by how light it was. Although still metal, now it wasn't going to break again. You smiled as you ran your fingers across the lines that had been carved into the metal, showing the snowflakes floating on the breeze. 

"It's lovely," you breathed. 

Kid sniffed. "'Course it is," he said with pride. Then his hand squeezed you tighter against his side. "Had a good design to go off of too." 

You giggled and pushed at him slightly with your body. "Sap. It's not that great, we could ask someone else who's a better artist to do something else." 

"Fuck no," Kid denied immediately. "It's amazing 'cause I said it's amazin' got it?" 

He turned to you, expression fierce, leaving no room for argument. You smiled. 

You wouldn't dream of it. 

"Got it," you said softly. 

"That's my girl," Kid said proudly, nuzzling your temple with his chin, making you laugh as you pushed on his chest but his strong grip on you didn't loosen at all.

"Kid!!" you cried through your laughter. "Stop, you'll ruin my hair!" 

"Hm? Oh yeah? Wanna stop?" He drew away leaving you panting and happy. When you looked up the intensity shining back at you in his eyes made you freeze. "Maybe we can do something better."

As he leaned closer, automatically your eyes fluttered shut as your arms wound around his neck. When his lips brushed yours, you sighed, butterflies erupting in your stomach and sending tremors throughout your body. 

When he drew back just the smallest bit, it was enough to whisper, "This is much better," you told him and he grinned before he pressed in a for another kiss, harder than before. 

And you got lost in it. 

[theodoraflowerday]

young royals s3e5 episode reaction:

well I really hope the cliffhanger isn't horrifying bc this week is gonna be really fucking long

let's fuckin do this

"tired" and it's just him contending w the fact that erik might have been violently homophobic

i can excuse [rolls down a 6ft long papyrus] but I draw the line at being racist - august, probably

"family" LMFAO sure dumbass

seriously those girls are acting like sara and felice broke up (and I get it, friendship breakups are horrifying but damn)

"are you on something?" MY LITERAL FIRST QUESTION SKFISJFKSJFKDJF

I feel like micke is gonna die. idk.

his own letter? why?

oh. hello ludwig. i forgot what your voice sounded like.

"it's hard for her to show weakness" yeah well so it is for all of us. be a mother. show up for your son.

naaaaaaaaaaa volvete serio ludwig

wdym he was perfect. are you serious. do no adults in this show have the slightest bit of common sense?? you're talking to erik's spare my man. erik's little brother who now has to take on everything erik had to do. be the most fuckin for real rn

of fucking COURSE

"it'll be nice to celebrate you. and to meet simon too" ok that was sweet.

yeah wille being in the choir was starting to feel too weird skfjdkfjd

okay? calm your tits my man? simon hasn't said anything?

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON????? HE'S LITERALLY DEFENDING ERIK?????????

oooooookay kristina jr.

ohhhh it was sara's locker. ok.

oh micke is dead isn't he

FELICE DOING WILLE'S NAILS AAAAAA

HE'S PAINTING THEM PURPLE SOULMATISM

also is this the writers acknowledging the nonbinary wille headcanons bc.......

I can't believe wille likes doing his nails. that's so fuckin nonbinary of him.

god I wish micke had been dead. that is SO much worse.

pls don't get into a car crash sara

linda honey no. it doesn't fit him perfectly it's goddamn huge on him.

love shouldn't be this hard I agree linda

oh fuck me

oh her little face sara no

oh sara is breaking my goddamn heart

WILLE'S PURPLE NAILS

wilhelm, why do you have nail polish remover in your room

MI WILLE I'M GONNA FUCKING BLOW MY BRAINS OUT

omg malin was willing to be bribed. back to fanon malin we go (after the shit show that was season 2)

WHY IS HE WEARING THE PYJAMA PANTS AGAIN SIMON

okay this is killing me inside. this is too much.

BECAUSE THERE'S A RISK OF POISONING SJFKDJFKJFDKFJDKFKFKFKDLRK

simon's FACE im

SHE CURTSIED @ SIMON

I know he must have felt disgusting sjfkdjfk

after pretty much 3 years of a polar opposite fanon interpretation I cannot *believe* I'm witnessing kristina and ludwig being genuinely happy about meeting simon. this is so insane

august are you staring at sara's boobs

oh a rolex

OH IS IT BECAUSE OF ERIK

IT IS BECAUSE OF ERIK OG FUCKKKKK

I missed sara and felice I'm ngl. I love my tiny baby girls

oh kristina is about to throw up isn't she lmfao

ludwig is being weirdly nice. this is so strange.

ludwig and simon chatting away while kristina is about to choke and die

hold on. IS kristina gonna die?

even during wille's birthday they can't stop yapping about erik. my god do royals genuinely only care about their firstborn? god

NOT DILF HUNTER SJROSUFOSIDOD

class bad boy slfjdlgj I think they had to have done that on purpose. I mean vincent didn't wanna give him the satisfaction of giving him another award. I can assure you.

august is such a *sad* character oh my god

I WISH I HAD DONE THINGS DIFFERENTLY WITH YOU NAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWW

oh of course she kissed him.

WHAT A SNITCH WTF

im

"please don't leave me alone with your parents like that again" honestly wille they could've eaten him alive

my god wilhelm you're being SO NASTY

OH HE'S GOING OFFF

oh ldkgldjgldjfldjffl

I can ASSURE YOU during my s2 liveblogging at one point I basically wrote "[points at ludwig] AND YOU" bc i was so fucking done with his bullshit skrjdlrkdlrkld

to hear wille going AND *YOU* is fucking sending me help

IT ISN'T EASY TO BE BOTH YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR BOSS OH FUCK OFF KRISTINA

I NOTICED BECAUSE YOU'RE SO USELESS AT BOTH HOLY FUCKING SWEET JESUS CHRIST

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD

me rn:

my god this is the most cathartic shit I've seen in my life

OH AND SIMON IS WATCHING THE WHOLE THING

god

I knew the cliffhanger was gonna be that

but I didn't expect them to cry like that nor did I expect ME to cry like that

bro I'm sobbing I can't wait another week

[banannabethchase]

New Year's Buzz - also on AO3

~

Matt and Mox get the same idea: to determine the final winning team, everybody wears vibrators to the AEW New Year's Eve holiday party.

~

Surprise finale! A trilogy only, but one that I thought was necessary. Welcome to true chaos. Same disclaimers as the previous fics in the series, but if you're reading this one, I assume you've read these. I hope everyone has a happy new year <3

~

Adam

With all the chaos of the past few months, it takes until right before the annual New Year’s party for Matt to get really riled up again, which Adam supposes is a victory in itself.

“Hey,” he says, throwing a leg over Adam’s lap. “I want to hang out with Mox and Yuta again.”

Adam raises an eyebrow as he settles his hands on Matt’s hips. “Hang out with, huh? That what the kids are calling it now?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Adam asks. He slides his hands down to Matt’s thighs, pulling at the fabric of his sweatpants. “Maybe I want you to say it.”

“God, fine,” Matt says, but he rolls his hips forward and Adam can feel he’s already getting hard. “So, what if – you know how we have that New Year’s party on Sunday?”

Adam blinks. “What’s that go to do with anything?”

“That’s my idea,” Matt says. “We all wear vibrators this time. Except, instead of during a match, it’s during a work party.”

“That,” Adam says, flipping them over to pin Matt to the mattress, “is fucking insane.”

Matt shrugs, looking smug. “Yeah, but you’re about to rail me about it.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “I hate it when you’re right.”

~

Mox

“Yoots, come look at this.” Mox holds up the message on his phone as they get settled into the hotel room. “Matt’s texting me about if we’re going to the New Year’s party.”

Yuta peers down at the phone, squinting. Mox should make him put the glasses on again. “Oh. Tell him we’re going.”

“We are?” Mox frowns. “I don’t want to. I have a match tomorrow night.” He falls back on the bed. “I’ll have three new belts to polish.” He grins up at Yuta. “And maybe to wear while we fuck.”

“You’re impossible,” Yuta says, typing something on Mox’s phone.

“Hey!”

“Told them we’re going,” Yuta says. “What. Are you going to argue about it?”

“No,” Mox says. He leans up and snatches the phone from Yuta’s hands. “You should expect me to be awful that night, then. If you’re gonna make me go.”

“You’re always awful,” Yuta says. He yanks Mox by the ankle so hard he slides off the bed.

“You just pulled me off the bed and I’m the awful one?” Mox grumbles as he stands. Yuta’s grinning at him. “I hate you. Lay down on the bed so I can suck your dick.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” says Yuta, and Mox wishes he didn’t love this idiot so much. It might make sticking to his guns easier.

“You know,” Mox says, pulling at Yuta’s sweatpants, “I got an idea.”

“Idea?” Yuta asks, lifting his hips. “I usually never say no to your ideas. What’s up?”

“What if,” Mox says, throwing Yuta’s pants away as he gets himself situated, “we try that foursome thing again?”

“What?” Yuta asks. “You’re fucking – holy shit –”

Mox gives him a thumbs up and swirls his tongue around the head of Yuta’s cock. He goes at it for long enough, for intensely enough, that Yuta’s incapable of anything but swearing.

“Fucking – Mox, fuck.”

Mox laughs around him and then digs his nails into Yuta’s thighs. He grins as Yuta’s hips snap up into his throat and he comes in record time.

“You should show that party trick to Hangman and Matt at the party,” Mox says, wiping his face on Yuta’s sweatpants.

“What party trick?”

“The one where you can come on a hair trigger.”

“Yeah?” Yuta asks. He puts two fingers into Mox’s mouth, who is sure to get them dripping. Mox shuffles his pants down his hips and groans as Yuta wraps his hand around Mox’s cock. “What else should we do?”

“We – fuck, you keep doing that, I won’t be able to talk.”

“Consider it a challenge,” Yuta says. He lowers his lips back toward Mox’s nipple.

“Fuckin’ can’t stand you,” Mox mutters. Yuta bites up to his neck, sucking.

“C’mon,” Yuta murmurs. “What else should we do with them?”

“Could break out the vibes again,” Mox cuts himself off. “Jesus fuck, you a vampire now?”

“Yeah, and you like it.” Yuta bites down again and Mox fights a whimper. “So,” Yuta continues, “you wanna do the vibrators again?”

“All of us,” Mox corrects. He kind of hates that Yuta teasing him works so well, but he also sort of loves it. “At – somewhere weird.” He lets out a little whimper as he fucks up into Yuta’s hand. He starts to laugh at the idea that just came to mind.

“What’s so funny?” Yuta murmurs. He bites at Mox’s earlobe.

“What if we all wore the vibrators at – at the work party?”

Yuta laughs. “Sure. That’s a great idea.”

“Don’t be all condescending,” Mox gasps, “you’re hot when you’re being a little shit.”

Yuta’s smile is all predator. “I know.”

Mox is terrible at fighting how much he’s into Yuta. He comes all over himself and Yuta’s hand. “Damn it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Yuta says, wiping his hand on Mox’s shirt, “I do that on purpose.”

“I know you do, and it pisses me off that it still works.” Mox pulls his shirt off over his head and mops up his stomach. “So, what do you think?”

Yuta frowns. “About you coming when I’m being a dick?”

Mox snorts. He chucks his tee shirt into the corner of the hotel room and says, “Nah. About the vibrators during the work party.”

“I thought that was dirty talk.”

“It can be both.” Mox stretches out with his hands behind his head, turns to Yuta, and sighs. “I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“You’d be too chicken to do it.”

Yuta’s jaw drops. “Don’t fuckin’ – don’t goad me into this.”

“It’s the best way to get you into it.”

Yuta groans. “Fuck you.”

“Already did.”

Mox gets hit in the face with a pillow, but it’s worth it.

~

Wheeler

Wheeler can’t sleep. Worlds End wasn’t the best end to the year for himself and Mox, who is next to him snoring without a care in the world. At the very least, he thinks Mox and Eddie are friends again. He smiles to himself.

He snuggles further down into the cozy hotel bed, scooting up to get closer to Mox’s warmth, and begins scrolling Twitter. One of the first posts is a photo from Blood and Guts, where he and Matt are on the top of the cage, and he’s jettisoned back to that night. And to Mox’s suggestion from the night before this one.

He pulls up Adam’s number – he has it in his phone with the cowboy hat and boots, minus the word bitch – and looks at the screen.

The last time they’d texted was after Blood and Guts.

He’s never been the one to text first.

Mox is fucking weird.

His thumb hovers over the send, hesitation battling with curiosity. He presses it.

He’s shocked to see the answer come back almost immediately. No shit Sherlock. Why this time?

Wheeler’s a little giddy to see how quickly Adam responded, how it’s clear he still has Wheeler’s number in his phone.

He thinks all four of us should wear the vibrators to the party tomorrow night.

There’s a much longer pause. Wheeler wonders if he’s overstepped.

And then the phone call comes through.

Wheeler scrambles out of bed and into the bathroom. “Hey.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope,” Wheeler says, “he said it.”

“Matt said the same fuckin’ thing,” Adam says. “Fuck. Now we have to do it.”

“We do?”

Adam chuckles. “I mean. Tell me you don’t carry your vibrators in your luggage, just in case Mox wants one.”

Wheeler pauses. “Yeah, they’re in the checked bags.”

“It’s fate,” Adam says. “And, you know. We are tied.”

Wheeler groans. “Goddamn it. Now we have to do it, so Mox and I can beat you.” He sighs. “Alright. Let’s get brunch tomorrow. Ten.”

“Eleven,” Adam says, and he pauses, yawning. “I’m fuckin’ tired and I wanna sleep in.”

“Deal.”

Wheeler hangs up and leaves the bathroom to see a bleary-eyed Mox looking at him. “What’s up?”

“You and Matt,” Wheeler says as he prepares to explain it to Mox, “are the same fucking person.”

~

Matt

Matt’s literally bouncing in his chair with excitement at brunch.

“You know that this is a war, right?” Adam asks. “We’re here to beat them.”

“We’re also here to discuss sexy work party shenanigans,” Matt says. “I don’t know about you, but this makes a work party way more fun.”

They sip their waters until Yuta and Mox, looking tired but happy, walk in.

“Hey,” Yuta says. “You two order yet?”

Matt shakes his head. “We were waiting for you.”

They don’t start the conversation until everybody’s got their food in front of them, almost done. Adam had suggested waiting until everyone was completely finished, but Matt isn’t that patient.

“So,” Matt says. “What’s the plan? Whoever comes the most, counting all 3 times, loses as a team?”

“Sure,” Mox says, and Matt can’t quite understand what the devious look in his eyes means.

“We need to have more rules than that.” Adam leans back in his chair, more relaxed than he should be. “Like, no intentionally grabbing each other’s junk to get them off.”

“Hands off,” Yuta says. Matt glances over to him, where he looks calm and collected. Jerk. “That makes sense.”

“And nobody presses a fuckin’ button until we’re done with the photos and the investor shit,” Mox insists. “If we fuck that up, we could fuck up AEW.”

“Definitely agree on that one,” Matt says, nodding. “Buzz time is when dinner starts?”

“Gotta be. Speeches and cocktail hour are before then,” Adam says, scrolling through the invite on his phone. “So we’ll have pictures and schmoozing and shit, vibrators in but not doing anything, until we all sit down to eat, deal?”

“Works for me,” Yuta says. “Then after dinner…”

“We’re dancing after until the ball drops,” Matt says. He adjusts on Adam’s lap. “And then, um. After.”

Matt feels himself glow red when Mox levels a look at him. “After, the four of us go wild.”

“Calm down, Mox,” Yuta says, elbowing Mox. “We got, like, at least twelve hours before that.”

“Got a point there.” Adam grins. “Also, no fucking with the vibrator if we’re in the middle of an important conversation. We don’t want to make anybody uncomfortable.”

“Oh, fuck,” Mox says, frowning. “Yeah. Safewords still the same?”

Everybody nods.

“Cool,” Adam says. “And no being douchebags if somebody’s gotta tap due to work or mental stuff.” He levels a glare at Mox. “Right?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Mox asks, leaning back in his chair. “I’m only a douche in a nice way.”

“That’s not – okay.” Adam sighs.

They finish eating, chatter turned to a review of Worlds End. Matt still feels weird that it’s the first pay per view the Bucks weren’t at in the history of AEW, but he, Nick, and Adam needed a break. And they’re here tonight to make an appearance

Adam pats Matt’s thighs once they’ve all finished and Matt’s paid the check. He’d figured it was only right, since it was kind of his idea to meet at this brunch place.

Matt turns to Adam. “What?”

“Probably time to get ready to go,” Adam says. “We need to head back to the hotel to take a nap and get ready.”

“Sorry, you tell him when it’s nap time?” Mox scoffs.

Matt stares at him. “Okay, first of all, that’s kink shaming. You’re a kink shamer.” He’s emboldened by Adam’s chuckle next to him and stands up. “Second of all, you make fun of me for being a bottom, but I bet I can get you begging me to let you come later tonight. You’re all talk right now,” he tries his best glare, “but wait until later.”

The table goes quiet.

“Well fuck,” Adam says. Matt can feel his presence over his shoulder. “Maybe Matt will figure out how to be a top tonight.”

Matt grabs Adam’s hand and doesn’t look back.

~

They nap and relax until the evening rolls around, where Adam suggests they take thorough showers alone to prevent temptation. They both figured waiting until the last minute could be the best strategy, since they aren’t likely to take their time when they head back to the hotel.

“I was just saying,” Matt says from outside the door Adam’s locked him out of, “if we both get off now, we’re less likely to break later!”

“I’m not fucking you!”

“You could blow me!”

Adam must have turned the music up on his phone, because suddenly Orville Peck is screaming through the door.

“Fine,” Matt says. “I’ll do it myself.”

He lets memories from the last two times wash over him. The way Yuta felt inside of him. The way it felt when Mox was in front of him, his cock in Mox’s warm mouth. The hard wall against his back when Mox screwed him halfway to oblivion.

It’s races toward him, steady, insistent, and he doesn’t even hear the door to the bathroom open again.

“Goddamn.”

He opens his eyes to see Adam staring at him, eyes dark.

“Not fair for you to start without me if you weren’t gonna listen.” Adam walks over to him and drops his towel. “Get in the shower.”

Matt blinks, feeling his orgasm slow to a halt. “Shower?”

“Won’t fuck you – not a good idea when you’re gonna be wearing a vibrator all night – but I will get you nice and open so we can get that vibrator inside you.” He leans down and kisses Matt, possessive and demanding. Matt whimpers. “You’ll come, baby, I promise. But from my fingers only.”

“Okay.”

Matt walks, in a giddy daze, to the shower, where Adam does as he promises. Matt’s whimpering, desperate as Adam keeps his hands on Matt’s skin while he showers. Adam washes his hair while Matt soaps up.

“You ready for the vibrator?” Adam murmurs into Matt’s ear. “You wanna come with it in you?”

Matt shakes his head. “Fingers,” he murmurs. “And – and your hand.”

“You got it.”

Matt’s whining and pleading almost immediately as Adam works him open. It’s less than usual, only needs enough for the vibrator to slip in, so Matt wants to come now.

“Please?” Matt begs. “Please, make – I wanna come, please?”

“You gonna make Mox beg pretty like that tonight?” Adam murmurs. Matt can feel his hard dick against his ass.

“Fuck me?” Matt tries, one last time. “That way you can come.”

“Nah, don’t wanna,” Adam says, grinning. “I know this one doesn’t count as the full competition, but between you and me I want to win.”

“You and – me?” Matt can barely focus.

“Yeah,” Adam says, and he crooks his fingers just right, “I’m gonna win.”

With a whimper, Matt comes, surrounded by Adam. “That’s not fair,” he whines. “You always make me come more than you do.”

“You ready for the vibrator?” Adam asks. “God, you look so fucking good taking my fingers like this.”

“I need a second,” Matt pants. He braces himself against the wall with both hands until he gets his breathing under control. “I forget how – how good you get when you’re all competitive.”

Adam laughs and slowly takes out his fingers. “Part of my charm.”

“Yeah, it is,” Matt says. He exhales slowly, all aftershocks and oversensitivity washing away as he breathes in through the steady stream of the water. Adam’s hands gently run along his sides. It’s soothing. Adam’s always so soothing. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I’m ready for the vibrator.”

“Great.”

It’s smooth and a little cool, so different from Adam, but it settles neatly into Matt. Without the vibration, he barely notices it’s there.

“You need help with yours?” he asks, grinning as he grabs at Adam’s ass.

“It’s already in,” Adam says.

“It’s already – and you didn’t let me help?!” Matt glares at him. “So not fair.”

Adam grins. “Would if help if I said I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it together if you were helping me with it?”

Matt shrugs. “I guess.” He turns off the shower. “Alright. Let’s get ready.” He wiggles, feeling the barest hint of the vibrator shifting inside of him.

~

Nothing interesting has happened in four hours. Between dressing, traveling, listening to the speech, and talking to Very Important People who Matt finds incredibly boring, sitting down at dinner is almost a victory.

“Don’t look too excited,” Adam says. They’re at a table with Tony, his father, Nick, Pat Buck, Madison Rayne, and Christopher Daniels. The absence of Kenny, who usually sits with Kota right next to them, is glaring. But Matt knows Kenny’s safe at home, with Kota keeping him from doing anything stupid. And it’s only one party. Just like Saturday night was only one pay per view.

The concern is almost enough to take him off focus of his vibrator, but when he leans over he’s very strongly reminded of it. Matt’s going to have to deal with this night trying to be as normal as possible, next to multiple high level people in his company.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Is this a bad idea?” Matt murmurs as the drinks get served. “What if we can’t keep it together? I feel like I need to be prepared or something.”

“Exactly,” Adam says. He leans in and kisses Matt’s forehead. “We should be ready for them to get us whenever they see us.” The two of them glance around. “I don’t think they’re in here yet, though.”

Matt is halfway through his second hors d’oeuvre when he yelps and leaps an inch off the chair.

“He get you?” Adam’s expression is carefully blank. Almost too careful. He coughs a little.

“Yeah,” Matt says. “He’s playing with it – oh – weirdly, too.” He turns around, determined to glare at Mox, but it takes a while for him to find where the BCC and a few others are seated halfway across the room. He sees Yuta first, who looks infuriatingly good in a suit with his belt over the back of his chair.

Yuta’s already smiling at him, smug and triumphant, patting at Mox’s hand.

“Dick,” Matt says. He slides his hand in his pocket and pretends to fiddle with it, eyes locked on Yuta’s. The smugness slips off of Yuta’s face, replaced with guarded anticipation. But Matt feigns confusion, still not pressing the button. He frowns and pretends to check it under the table. He can feel Yuta’s eyes on the back of his head.

He lifts up, continues the frown, and watches Yuta relax in the chair.

“Adam,” Matt mutters into his ear, “hit Mox with it when I kick your shoe.”

Adam looks down at him. “Not now?”

“Not yet,” he says. “I’m going to piss off Yuta first.” He grins. “The goal is to throw them off, right?”

Adam grins. “So you’re getting evil about it?”

“Yes, but only because Yuta started it by pressing Mox’s buttons.”

Adam raises his eyebrows. “Really. Yuta’s been trying me all night, but I’ve figured out how to –” he does a weird little cough, “turn it into a cough when I’m surprised.”

“Believable,” Matt deadpans. He settles back into his seat, trying to look annoyed. When he looks up again, he sees Yuta full on laughing.

He kicks Adam’s shin as he turns Yuta’s vibrator up to the highest setting.

Matt is pretty sure he’s on top of the world as he watches Mox and Yuta freak out at the same time. Mox actually yelps, which makes Matt giggle. He shoots the best grin he can get over at Yuta and Mox. He’s prepared for the retaliation. He knows how to handle it.

They go back and forth for the entire five course dinner. Managing to keep up with eating, talking, checking the other table, and playing with the vibrator is difficult but definitely not impossible. Keeping it together? Much more difficult. Matt thinks Adam’s about to crack when he sees Yuta twirling the remote around and set it off, but Adam stays steady.

“You,” Matt mutters as he eats the filet mignon, “are impressive.”

“The coughing is working,” Adam says. “People might think I have COVID, but we all tested negative before walking into the building so I think I’m okay.”

Matt laughs. “Yeah, I –” He cuts himself off. “Oh, I hate Mox.”

“He do that wave thing you like so much?”

Matt nods, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can do this,” he says. “I’ll be fine.” He jacks up Yuta’s vibrator in retaliation, because if he’s suffering so is Yuta. “Watch,” Matt says. “He’s going to lose it.”

“Oh, I’ll do Mox, too!”

Matt and Adam pretend to be deep in a conversation, when Matt looks back over to Yuta to see an interesting look on Yuta’s face.

“Adam,” Matt whispers, “I think Yuta’s about to lose.”

Sure enough, Yuta runs out of there like a bat out of hell.

“I should go check on him,” Matt says primly. “It’s only – oh god­ – kind.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Mox kick it up again?”

Matt whimpers. “Yeah, but I’m fine,” he lies. “I’m going to go check on Yuta.”

~

Wheeler

“If you’ll excuse me,” Wheeler half whimpers. He stumbles, brain mush, over to the nearest door and throws himself into the bathroom and shoves his pants down his thighs. Now that he’s alone, safe, he can’t hold it back anymore. He gets a hand around his dick, stroking furiously. He doesn’t fucking care if he loses. He needs this.

The door bangs open.

“Fuck,” he pants. “Fuck.”

“Oh Wheeler,” comes the worst possible voice right now. “You okay? I saw you running in here and I thought I’d be the caring EVP and check on you.”

Wheeler didn’t lock the stall door.

Matt pushes the door open, and Wheeler looks over his shoulder to see him grinning like a demon. And he comes all over his hand.

Wheeler closes his eyes in defeat. He grabs some toilet paper to try and get himself slightly presentable.

“Oh, you lost,” Matt says, false pity in his voice. “That’s kind of sad. I would have thought a big ol top like you would last longer.”

Wheeler glares at him as he shoulders past Matt to wash his hands. “Yeah? I bet you’re close.”

“And?” Matt says. He folds his arms over his chest, looking unfairly good in his suit with his hair half up. “You just came all over yourself.” He must read something in Yuta’s eyes, because he licks his lips and adds, “Also, you can’t touch me.”

“Can’t touch you,” Wheeler says, “but I can talk to you.” He stares dead in Matt’s eyes as he adjusts his dress pants. In a miracle, they’re completely dry and clean.

Matt’s eyes widen.

“Bet you feel it really good right now, yeah?” Wheeler asks. “Is it doing that wave thing you like.” Matt whimpers. “I bet it is.”

“Even if – even if I lose, I’ve been practicing coming dry,” Matt says, gripping his own forearms tight enough it looks like it hurts. “I won’t make a mess of myself.” He tilts his head to the side. “Maybe yours should count for double.”

Wheeler stares at him. “You wanna come so bad, don’t you,” he says. If he’s gone down, he’s taking Matt with him. “You’re talking such a big game, but I can tell you’re about to lose it in a bathroom. All our bosses are out there, Matt.” He walks toward Matt until he’s backed up against the wall. Wheeler leans down and whispers, “What if somebody walks in and sees?”

He can tell by the noises Matt makes that he’s lost already. There’s a tiny bit of panic in his eyes, but only for a second before he just looks relieved.

“That,” Matt pants, “was a dick move.”

“Yeah?” Wheeler says, and god if he could touch Matt right now. “If my memory’s right, you seem to like my dick moves in the past.”

Matt groans and rolls his eyes before leaving the bathroom. “You’re the worst!”

Wheeler laughs, hoping he gets a chance to get his hands on Matt at least a little tonight. “I’m a little shit.”

~

Adam

“Oh, you lost,” Adam says, before he thinks about it.

“What did he lose?” Nick asks, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Matt says. He sits down a little more carefully than before.

Nick eyes them. “You sure?” he asks. “Matt’s looked weird all night.”

“He’s got a little cold,” Adam says, “we both do. It’s not Covid, though.”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “So the flu?”

Matt shakes his head. “No. It’s not like that time when I was in high school, so I doubt it.”

Nick wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, that was rough.”

“I’m sensing a story where we can make fun of Matt,” Adam interjects. “Tell it.”

Adam relaxes as the conversation starts turning to funny childhood stories. Madison has a great one about losing her teeth while locked out of her house that has him laugh so hard he almost chokes on the vegan mousse on top of the fruit tart.

“I got locked out, but I never lost my teeth in snow!” Adam says as Matt pats him on the back. “That one’s less embarrassing than Daniels’ pants wetting incident.”

“I was four,” Daniels says, elbowing Adam. “Cut me some slack.”

Dinner ends calmly, which makes Adam itchy. He and Matt kept glancing over to Mox and Yuta, but after Matt and Yuta’s bathroom interaction it seems Mox and Yuta have chilled it out.

“Maybe they know something about how dancing’s gonna go,” Matt mutters in his ear. “Or maybe Yuta’s embarrassed.”

“Maybe,” Adam echoes. “Either way, this should be fun.”

Dancing is fun. At first. They start off with Mr. Brightside, which gets a great response, and transition into mostly 90s and 00s hits that catapult Adam back to middle school dances. Nick and Daniel Garcia get into a dance battle while Despacito plays in a surprising shift from the older stuff, only to both lose to Prince Nana.

Adam doesn’t even look at Swerve. He has other things to worry about tonight.

He gets the next major set of jolts while Get Low starts. “Oh, fucking hell,” he mutters. He can’t stop twitching, just a little, and hope it looks like he just sucks at dancing.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, and Adam can see the way he’s biting at the corner of his lip to fight his smile.

“Mox – Jesus – keeps pressing the button to certain lyrics,” Adam mutters. He wishes the room were bigger. “Hit him with one of the really hard, high level ones. That’s what screwed him up at Anarchy.”

Matt nods and starts messing with the controller. “High as I can get it, I think.” And then he yelps. “Oh, it worked on him,” Matt squeaks. “Oh, I can tell it’s working because Yuta’s going so weird with it.” He exhales. “What time is it?”

“Eleven,” Adam says, checking his watch to try and disguise his wiggles as something akin to a dance.

“Oh thank god.”

Adam pulls his remote out of his pocket. “You said Wheeler got you by talking to you, right?”

Matt nods. “Also, does his count double if he didn’t come dry? I feel like that should count as a double fail.”

“That – no,” Adam says, frowning. “I feel like that’s, like, biased against people who aren’t bottoms.”

Matt grins. “Not my fault you guys are weak.”

Adam glances around and grabs Matt’s ass. “You be careful or I’ll sacrifice our win just to get you under control.”

“Rude,” Matt grumbles, but he steps closer against Adam. They dance for a little, weaving in and out of backstage and talent and friends as they move to the music, but Adam has a plan to sneak up on Mox when he’s alone and he least expects it.

The attempts at being sneaky are ruined by Adam slipping on what he can only assume is a puddle of cocktail. He has to lean to the side, and crashes into Daddy Magic.

“Hey!” Magic says. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry,” Adam says, hands up in front of him. “Seriously, I didn’t –”

“Chill, Pops,” Garcia says. He claps Magic on the shoulder. “We’re partying tonight. We’re gonna get bumped.” He nods at Adam, surprisingly calm. “Hey, man.”

“You’re being weirdly calm,” Adam says.

Garcia shrugs. “We’re here to start a new year, not to start shit.” He looks Adam up and down. “Though getting a match in with you would be a good way to start the year.”

“Talk to Tony,” Adam says, smiling. “Tell him I’m in.”

What Adam hopes he did a good job of not letting on is that Yuta, wherever he is in the room, has been messing with the vibrator the whole time.

“Wow, you handled that great.”

Adam jumps in spite of himself at Mox’s voice. “Oh, you fucking asshole.”

“Don’t give me that,” Mox says, and the two of them seem to automatically move to the corner of the room. It’s probably a bad idea. “I saw you walking toward me. I knew what you were going to do.” He pulls out the remote. “I can’t touch you, though.” He turns up the vibrator to the highest setting. While intense and a little brain jiggling, it’s not the way Adam knows he’ll come.

“You’re right,” Adam says. He leans against the wall, one foot up against it. “You can’t.”

“Yuta says all he had to do to get Matt was talk to him a little dirty.” Mox grins and pops his gum. “You that easy?”

“Are you?” Adam replies. “I’m shocked you haven’t lost yet, with how much I’ve been playing around with this.” He pulls out his remote. “Maybe I should get you a little –” He cuts off with a gasp. “Fuck.”

“Fuck?” Mox says, grinning. “Oh. Oh, you’re gonna lose.”

Adam has the wherewithal to look around and run into the empty hallway before it hits him.

“Fuck,” he says, gritting his teeth. He wants to get his hands on Mox, maybe dig his nails in. But he can feel from this that it’s dry – he’s not going to ruin his pants, at the very least.

When his eyes settle again, Mox is staring at him.

“That was unfairly hot,” Mox says.

“Yeah?” Adam says. “Survive this.” He jacks up the remote to its highest setting, only for Mox to shout.

“Fuck off,” Mox says. He falls forward, a hand on either side of Adam’s head. He’s so close Adam could kiss him. But Adam’s not allowed to. And doesn’t that make the incessant waving in his ass that much harder.

“You coming, Mox?” Adam purrs. “You gonna get yourself all messy.” He leans in, lips near enough to Mox’s ear that the effect words, but not so close they could touch. “Sounds a little desperate.”

Mox grunts. “Not – messy,” he manages to pant.

“Oh, good!” Adam says. “Maybe you aren’t leaking so much it’s showing on your pants. If you’re lucky.” He ducks out from under Mox’s arm, glad he doesn’t have to stay if he’s not under control. “See you later man.”

As he walks away, he glances over his shoulder. Mox is still standing there.

“What’d you do to him?” Matt asks, looking a little awed as he peeks over Adam’s shoulder into the hallway.

“Okay, first, yes I did come first, but then he –”

Matt groans and rolls his eyes. “Oh, my god. Like I said. Tops can’t hang.”

Adam rolls his eyes and pulls Matt in for a kiss.

“You kiss me when I insult you now?” Matt asks, beaming up at him. “Also, you’re,” he checks his watch and shows it to Adam. 11:53pm. “Cutting it pretty close to the ball dropping, isn’t it?”

“There’s a joke I could make,” Adam says as the music changes. He grabs Matt by the waist and pulls him in. Matt wraps an arm around Matt’s waist and grabs one of Adam’s hands. “I didn’t expect them to play slow dance middle school music. This is nice.”

Whitney Houston croons over them, and Matt falls into Adam’s chest.

“I love you,” Adam says, and it’s nice to not to panic about who sees or hears.

“I love you, too,” Matt says. He pulls his head back, eyes shining. Instead of whatever he’s about to say, he makes the strangest honking noise.

“Oh, I’m gonna kill him,” Adam grumbles. “He get you?”

Matt nods, wiggling. “I’m not going to come again,” but it sounds less like an assurance and more like a demand upon himself.

“No,” Adam says, taking a step back. “You’re not. Maybe the next song will be awful.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “We’ve had sex in the locker room while Penta and Pac were having an argument in the next room over. Do you really think music is gonna get me out of the mood?”

Achy Breaky Heart starts playing. Matt wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, okay. That’ll do it.”

The announcement of the ball dropping happens in the middle of the worst song in history, which Adam considers a victory.

“There goes 2023,” Matt murmurs. He and Adam are wrapped up in each other. For a moment, Adam forgets the two of them are in a vibrator related battle with two of their fuck buddies. “Only a few seconds left.”

“Only a few seconds left.”

2023, the year where he got Matt and Nick and Kenny back. The year when he had a title for less than a month, but won matches that mattered more than that. The year when he lost two pay per view matches in a row, but surviving them is what mattered.

The year he found exactly who he is.

“I love you,” Adam says. The countdown is at 9. He wants those to be the last words he speaks of the year.

“I love you, too,” Matt says, grinning up at him.

And those are the last words spoken directly to him of the year.

“I got an idea,” Matt says. Okay, so maybe not.

“Three! Two! One!”

Adam grabs his controller out of his pocket as he yanks Matt in and kisses him. He can hear the click of both controllers.

“Did you just turn up Mox’s controller while we kissed at the ball drop?”

“Did you just do the same with Yuta’s?”

Matt laughs and dives back in to kiss Adam again. When they’re just about to really get into it, he gets a jolt of lightning up his spine. Among other places. “Jesus,” he hisses. “I’m gonna kill both of them.”

“Wait until we get back to the hotel,” Matt murmurs, pressing a kiss to Adam’s neck. “Plus, maybe we’re, like, super tired and we can head back early.” He pulls back, and the stars in his eyes have been replaced with a little heat. “Text Mox and Yuta.”

“Yessir,” Adam says, winking.

The two of them get out of the hotel after goodbyes, using the excuse of the Lyft arriving soon to avoid money related conversations with Tony, and Matt’s already handsy.

“Get it under control, baby,” Adam laughs. He does slide a hand into Matt’s back pocket, though. “So, we’re all at one, right?”

Matt nods. “Unless something happened with Yuta and Mox.”

Adam shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out.”

He’s about to plan for Mox and Yuta to take their own Lyft back, but then they pop out of the door.

“Oh, shit, it’s here,” Mox says, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go. I’m cold.”

~

Mox

It is way too quite in this damned car. Mox keeps trying to figure out what to say, since the driver’s got the radio off, but nothing works.

Eventually, he starts playing with the remote, just to see Matt’s thigh twitch and his hand grip at Adam’s thigh in panic.

Adam pays for the Lyft like a true adult – Mox can’t relate – and they all make incredibly boring conversation through the lobby into the hotel.

“So,” Matt says, sounding far too casual, “how long does the no-touching rule last?”

Adam shrugs and looks at Mox. “I don’t even have to touch him to get him off, so I don’t really care.”

“Just for that,” Yuta mutters.

Adam’s hips fly forward in a horrible thrust. “You fucking suck,” Adam grumbles.

“So, now,” Matt says, shrugging. “We can start touching now?”

“Wait until we’re not in public, god,” Yuta says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, you’re hoity toity for someone who came all over himself in a public bathroom and didn’t even lock the door.”

Adam barks out a laugh as the elevator door opens. “Good one, Matty.” He rests a hand on Matt’s lower back to guide him out.

Mox clears his throat. “Yuta, aren’t you going to be all romantic about it?”

Yuta rolls his eyes, but he does slip his hand into Mox’s back pocket, so that’s a win at least.

Mox is able to keep his shit under control after getting in the room, and he’ll lord that over Adam Page for the rest of his life. He doesn’t even get a chance to sit down before Adam’s grabbed him by the waist and slammed him against the wall.

“Not even a –”

Adam kisses him, tongue and teeth and intent. He gives Adam as much as he can back, hands up the back of Adam’s shirt and sliding his hands into the back of Adam’s dress pants.

“Fuck,” comes Yuta’s voice. “Matt, c’mere.”

Mox can hear Matt and Yuta making out, can feel everything from Adam, and he’s not going to give up now. He tilts his head to the side and Adam immediately bites down his neck, nails digging into Mox’s sides.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Page,” he gasps. “Desperate much?”

“Talk about desperate,” Adam growls against Mox’s skin. “Look at you. You’re already almost on your knees, aren’t you?” He steps back. “I forgot. Matt’s going to try and top you today.”

Matt turns from where Yuta’s got him laid out on his back, a smiling, floppy mess. “Oh, right,” Matt says. “I’m topping tonight.”

Yuta snorts. Mox snorts. Adam presses his lips together.

“What?!” Matt asks. He sits up, his unbuttoned shirt fluttering around him. Reminds Mox a little of the romance novels his mom used to leave around the house. “I can top!”

“You tried last time,” Adam corrects. “Like, hard, to be fair.”

“Get on the bed,” Matt says, pointing next to him. “Get on the bed, Mox, and let me see you take out that vibrator.”

Mox decides to do as he’s told, just to see what Matt does next. But he makes a show of it – he stretches out, ass in the air. “Maybe you should help me, yeah?” He looks over his shoulder. “That’s what good tops do.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “God. Fine.”

“What are you looking at me for?” Adam asks.

“You know where the lube is,” Matt says. “Can you get some for me?”

Mox feels Matt’s hand give a gentle, attempt at a tug of the vibrator and he can’t help but squeak.

“Okay?” Matt asks, hand rubbing Mox’s back.

“That’s sweet,” Adam says. “Good job, baby.”

“Let me top!” Matt insists, almost bratty.

Mox looks over his shoulder. “Can I get fucked over here yet?”

“Oh, my god, here,” Mox can see Yuta digging in his luggage and shoves something into Matt’s hand.

He gasps as the chilly lube drips down against his hole and the flared base of the vibrator. A little makes it closer to his skin, and he shivers. “Come on, Matt,” Mox says, shoving his ass further back. “Top me.”

Matt huffs, and Mox takes the moment to shove his face into the pillow, letting the feelings take over.

Matt’s almost too careful right now with the way he gently twists the plug out. It’s not how Mox would do it. It’s not how Yuta would do it. It’s different, and Mox isn’t going to complain.

“There you go,” Matt murmurs. “Are you two going to get started?”

“I’m good watching.” Mox lifts his head up to see Adam in the chair in the corner with Yuta in his lap. They’re both shirtless, but that’s all.

“Yeah, I wanna watch too,” Yuta adds. “More fun this way.”

“Alright then,” Mox says. “Fuck me, Matt. Give it to me good.”

Matt exhales. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Mox whines as Matt’s fingers probe, as he opens Mox up a little bit more than the vibrator.

“Can you, like, I guess, lean down?” Matt asks. “I can’t – the angle is wrong.”

Mox turns over and lifts his hips to shove a pillow under them. “Forgot you’re so short.”

“Forgot you’re so effing annoying,” Matt retorts, but he’s stroking his cock and looking good enough doing it that Mox isn’t going to complain. “You ready?”

Mox nods. “Go for it.” He grins. “Top me, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby when I’m about to be inside you,” Matt grumbles. And he slides home. “Oh, boy.”

Mox laughs. “What, I’m too good for you?”

“Look, we’ve all been on edge all night,” Matt says, thrusting slowly. It feels beyond good to have something real, something warm inside of him. “And only one of us has come for real all night, unless something went down that I missed.” He turns to glare at Yuta as he does one firm snap of his hips.

“Jesus,” Mox says. “You’re right, though. I’m – god, this is embarrassing.” He reaches down to wrap a hand around his dick, but Matt grabs it and pins it to the side of the bed.

“I touch you,” Matt says firmly.

“Alright.” Mox leans back, arms behind his bed. “You touch me.”

It really is embarrassing. It takes a few more thrusts, a few more strokes of Matt’s hand, and then Mox has hit the wall. He groans, wordless, as he comes all over his fist. “Matt,” he gasps. “Fuck.”

“I am,” Matt says, grinning down at Mox.

“C’mon, baby, you can do it,” Adam says. Mox looks up to see him behind Matt, hands roaming. “Come in him. Show him you mean it.”

Matt’s eyes flutter closed as his thrusts get more forceful, more erratic, and then Mox is filled with warmth. Matt doesn’t make noise this time, just gasps and slumps back into Adam’s arms.

“You two wait on the bed,” Adam says. “You got a better view over here.” He pulls off his pants and throws them toward Yuta.

“Hey!”

~

Adam

“If I don’t take off my pants, I can’t fuck you, right?” Adam asks. He runs his hands along the muscles of Yuta’s back. The man really is gorgeous. “You still want that?” He takes a second to work his vibrator out. He feels a little weird after it’s been in for so long, but he’s also very focused on the man in front of him, so he’ll be okay.

“Yeah,” Yuta says. “Unlike you and Matt, Mox and I are able to understand that we’re actually switches.”

“I just topped!” Matt says, for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’m officially a switch.”

“Sure you are, baby,” Adam says, and he sends Matt the wink he knows turns Matt to jello. Matt turns and buries his face into Mox’s shoulder.

“Let me help you here, Yoots,” Adam drops to his knees. “God, you look pretty with that in.”

“I’m not Matt,” Yuta snaps. “You don’t have to be precious with me.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Just for that.” With the aid of a little lube tossed to him by Mox, Adam’s a little rough with the way he works the vibrator out. “You have fun tonight?” He lines his body up against Yuta’s. He’s tall and lanky, flexible, and Adam’s got some ideas about it.

“Yes,” Yuta says. He turns around and grins at Adam. “You gonna fuck me or propose?”

“Get – fuck off.” Adam grabs his thigh and throws it over his shoulder. Yuta’s eyes widen. “Yeah. Didn’t know you could do that, did you?”

“I did,” Yuta replies. “Just didn’t think you knew I could do it.”

Yuta and Adam do a balancing act to get Yuta in the right position. Adam’s slicking up his cock with his free hand the whole time. They may have teased Matt and Mox for being quick, but he’s not sure he or Yuta are going to last long this time either. “You good?”

Yuta raises an eyebrow, then shifts so he slides down on Adam’s cock, just a bit.

“Jesus Christ,” Adam says, shifting his hips to get a little deeper. “God, you feel good.”

“You two look good,” Mox says.

“Yeah?” Adam asks. “Yuta, you like to be watched?”

“Who doesn’t?” he replies, smarmy grin on his lips. “I’m not as bad as Matt, though.”

“Hey!”

“He’s not wrong, baby.”

The angle is out of this world – Yuta clenches around him with every thrust.

“This ain’t gonna last long,” Adam drawls, unable to keep the accent from coming through. “Fuck.”

“No kidding,” Yuta gasps. He braces a hand on the chair then slides down, eyes fluttering closed. “There,” he mutters. “I – I got a foot on the ground. You don’t have to go easy.”

Adam takes that as an invitation, and goes wild. Yuta swings his leg off and Adam catches it, giving the two of them better leverage.

“So flexible,” Mox says. “What I like about you, Yoots.”

“Shut up, Mox,” Adam and Yuta say at the same time. They look at each other and grin.

“I like this,” Yuta says. The way he’s lifting on his toes to drop back down on Adam’s cock is incredible.

“Good,” Adam says. He curls a hand around Yuta’s cock. “Because you gotta come soon, or else I’m gonna ruin it for you.”

Yuta laughs and throws his head back. “Yeah? Race you.”

Adam goes a little wild with it when Yuta clenches down on him, when Yuta comes all over his hand with a cry.

“That’s what I thought.” Adam leans in and sucks a bruise into Yuta’s collarbone with his last few thrusts, and then it’s all over. He almost collapses with the force of it, but Yuta holds him up with strong arms.

“You good, man?” Yuta chuckles.

“Yeah,” Adam breathes. “Just – long day.”

“He decided this morning he wasn’t allowed to come,” Matt offers from the other side of the room. “So that’s his first, like, big one in days.”

“Thanks for that, baby,” Adam says. He pulls his face off of Yuta’s chest. “Fuck. You two scoot over.”

Yuta and Adam drape themselves over their partners, and they all breathe in silence for a few moments. Adam’s struck with how comfortable it is, and not the way Mox’s leg is digging into his thigh.

He may have accidentally fallen for Yuta and Mox through all of this.

The silence is broken sometime later when Matt makes a happy little noise.

“What’s up?” Mox says. He moves and Adam gets knocked over off the bed. He stands up.

“I topped,” Matt says. He looks so proud of himself that Adam almost feels bad about the next words.

“You did,” Adam agrees, “but you’re the only one who still has the vibrator in.”

Matt frowns. “I am?”

Adam nods. “Obviously, Mox and Yuta had to take them out, but I,” he nods over to the desk, which he’ll have to remember to sanitize, “took care of mine ages ago. So, you’re a top with a vibrator in your ass.”

Matt yelps, hips twitching. “Oh, Mox, that was mean,” he gasps.

Mox grins over at him, his hands in his dress pants pocket. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Let go of it.” Adam helps Matt work the vibrator out, then grins as he collapses onto the bed with a smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Okay. Onto important things. What’s the final tally? Who won?”

“I mean, in total?” Yuta asks. “I came twice tonight.”

“We all came twice tonight,” Adam says. “And Yoots and I came twice at Blood and Guts.”

“Yoots?” Yuta asks, a little smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” Adam says, and he feels a little fluttery when that smile is directed at him. This crush wasn’t supposed to happen, but he might be sticking himself and Matt with Mox and Yuta for the foreseeable future. “But, also, Matt and Mox only came once the other time.” He frowns. “Do we have a tie?”

Matt sits up. “Counts double!”

“What counts double?”

Yuta groans, dropping his head back. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“The only person who didn’t come dry, throughout all three, is Yuta,” Matt says. “It should count double.”

“It’s only one!” Yuta says. “Mox, back me up.”

Mox frowns. “We have to have a winner, and I’m gonna need, like, a day or two before I can go again.”

Matt snorts. “Same.”

“I think,” Adam says slowly, “in that case, Yuta loses.”

“Damn it,” Mox grumbles. Adam expects him to argue, but he doesn’t.

“What?!” Yuta asks. “No, we can’t just give up!”

“Tell that to the guy who came in his pants at work party,” and Matt looks way too fucking giddy to say it.

Yuta launches at Matt and gets him in a seatbelt pin, which looks hilarious when they’re both stark naked.

“Adam, get him off!”

Adam cackles. “Sorry, baby. Already did that tonight.”

~

Mini Playlist: Mr. Brightside - The Killers Get Low - Lil Jon, The Eastside Boys I Will Always Love You - Whitney Houston Auld Lang Syne - Robert Burns FUCK - Snow Wife

[hunter-sylvester]

Rating Hunter Sylvester's Outfits

Cause I'm gay, let's go Putting the outfits in the order of when they appear in the film, rather than a ranked order. Since many get the same rating. Please take this with the lighthearted intent it was written in.

With gifs~

1. Sleeveless Madhouse. It’s very good. I like it a lot. We take note of the nail polish, we enjoy it while we can, it will disappear shortly. 8/10

2. The Flannel Trooper Technically this is the second outfit we see Hunter in. It belongs more to a later scene but that’s just this film’s odd relationship with continuity and time. It’s also his worst fucking outfit. I don’t know if he just does not suit plaid. I certainly think the jeans don’t quite work. Whatever it is, it’s not great. Love the Iron Maiden shirt, tho. 4/10

3. The Hidden Shock Shirt ft. The Jacket™ Solid outfit, love that edgy shit for Hunter. Want that shirt. Debut of the denim jacket. Sadly includes the grey jeans that I do not fuck with. 8/10.

4. Misfits At A Party We love an all black vibe. Striking Misfits skull, all around a great look. 9/10.

5. Judas Brat Another all black number. With or without the black denim jacket, it's a major vibe. I like the all-black converse. Very good. 9/10.

6. The Last Supper for Hunter's full head of hair. Second to worst outfit in my opinion. It's basically a copy of the third outfit but without any of the flavor. 5/10.

7. Slayer Shirt For The Hurt Calling this a comfort outfit. I like it a lot. Shirt looks kinda worn and soft and it’s a good level of oversized. Those fucking grey jeans again tho. But black converse, so~ 8/10.

8. No Sleeves No Chill Debut of the newly altered battle jacket as well as the earring. We also get the T-Shirt referencing the film's tagline, very good. The scribbled on 'tattoos' are so stupid and I love them. 9/10

9. The Violent Outfit Of Reason Back to all black! And it looks comfy. I love it. I actually really like the, what looks like, black cargo pants??? This outfit was me at 13. Seriously, it looks like it was plucked straight from my teenage closet. I'm gonna be biased. (Tbf I would 100% wear this now, as is the case for most of his outfits.) 9/10

10. Completely Gay The sleeveless shirts are a gift that keeps on giving. (also the faded shitty little scribbled on 'tattoos') 8/10

11. The Best Outfit This is it. This is the best one. Hands down, his best outfit. One may count the Rhoads as a part of the outfit idgaf, it’s his best outfits regardless. The silhouette, the battle jacket, the symbolism. Chef’s kiss. 10/10

12. Gym Shorts eheheheheheheheh look at him 7/10

13. Ready For Battle We’re considering the corpse paint as part of the outfit. It’s so very extra in the best way possible. The fact that they fit 2 continuity errors into 1 outfit and have the blue light randomly turn off, it's great. Bonus points for Demonias~ (That collar looks so uncomfortably snug tho but I wear them really fuckin' loose when I do so maybe this is normal?????) 9/10

14. Rehab Boy #1 I actually really like his rehab outfits???? Idk I think they're cute. I mean I don't fully get WHY Hunter has to wear sweats when everyone else in rehab seems to just be in their own clothes????? I'm guessing Alan "Father Of The Year" Sylvester, dropped him off without any change of clothes, so these were probably provided by the rehab center. 7.5/10

15. Rehab boy #2 See entry 14, but beige. 7.5/10

16. Battle Of The Bands I like it but I am SEVERELY disappointed by the LACK of eyeliner. I just think it could be more extra. Like mf really pulled out a custom Jackson but couldn't whack on some eyeliner or smth. We know Hunter can do extra, so give me extra. Still like it tho. 8/10

17. Reformed Asshole At first I really didn’t like how they put Hunter in a very light outfit now that he’s ‘nice’ like some cliche visual shorthand. But I’ve grown to love the outfit over time. It looks comfy. Cute hurt boy vibes imo. 9/10

[gotatext]

JUDE & CHARLENE — DAY TWENTY-NINE.

location :   dressing room.

time :   during the dry bit of the day when everyone’s bored shitless. 

description :  charlene paints jude’s nails and honestly when i’m on my death bed and they ask me what my regrets in life are it will be never getting the time to finish this thread.

featuring :    charlene  /  @guttcd

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

"kay, so should we paint them black or do you wanna look at all of the colors i have?"  she's holding jude's hand with one of her own, while the other is working  on buffing his nails with a light purple block. "i'm like, pretty good at nail art too. i could do a little smiley face or a lighting bolt if you're feeling fancy." how did they get here? probably jude picking at a hangnail and charlene offering to help by dragging him into a full on manicure session. 

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

jude's never been a guy so insecure in his masculinity that he couldn't wear nail varnish. he's grown up with two sisters, he was one of the first in his secondary school to spearhead the earring movement ( "that's gay, bro" "nah, it's only gay if it's in the right ear, bro" )  and he's always been willing to let a girl guinnea pig him about a bit if it means they'll give him attention. "man, that sounds so cool. can you do like, checkerboards and shit? a little acid house smiley would tight as fuck, though."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

she looks up from his hands to flash him a grin, pointing at him with the buffer in her hand. “you got it, babe. that’s so you. stick with me and you’re gonna be like, the e-boy of this generation.” cue the the snap and point gesture “you have nice nail beds so I could probably fit in a flame or write down ‘fck’ on one middle finger and ‘off’ on the other. flip people off in style!” she feels like jude would be into that.

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

charlene's the best. if someone doesn't snap charlene up, maybe jude will. as if she'd even let him. "okay, i've got five fingers, so how about, flame on the thumb, 'f' 'c' 'k' across the middle ones, acid smiley on the pinkie finger, same on the other but with 'o' 'f' 'f', y'know?" for a moment, he snaps his hands away, stretching out his fingers. "can i do anything to help or whatever, or you just want me to sit looking pretty?"

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

ever since there first interaction, charlene has developed a weird sort of affection for jude. he was crass and kind of a prick and yet in the same breath... was also kind of a sweetheart? it's equal parts confusing and enticing. "hell yeah, you're gonna have the best nails in the villa. aside from my own of course." she wiggles her fingers, showing up her sparkly nail polish with a playful grin. "you can sit there and look pretty but if you want time to pass by faster you should totally tell me about you! hometown, how do you like it? siblings, you got any? favorite foods, you into spicy or more of a sweet tooth kind of guy?" she doesn't reach for his hand when he moves it way, but she keeps hers in position, closing and opening repeatedly in a 'gimme gimme' type of way.

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

jude narrows his eyes at charlene’s nails, taking one of her hands in his and turning it over in his much larger one to examine each fingernail in turn. “yeah, they’re pretty fuckin’ good, actually. you could like… put this shit on tiktok. they love that crap.” by they, he means gen-z freaks like his sister siobhan. she’s running his socials right now, had practically jumped at the opportunity to do so. probably coming up with some bare funny captions, too. charlene pinches the air, and jude offers his hands, palms down, suddenly aware of how large and stumpy and coarse his fingers must seem.  “feel like i’m at the hairdressers. uh… okay. grew up in rochdale. it’s like, a suburb of greater manchester. it’s kinda fine, but actual manchester’s the tits. i love it, would live there forever if i could. i’ve got two half-sisters, aoife and claire, both older, one younger sister, siobhan. think i have a half-brother somewhere but i’ve never met him. siobhan’s my favourite person in the world, probably. uh… i like spicy shit. i used to do those hot ones challenges for shits and gigs. don’t have a sweet tooth. i like cats over dogs. i’m a sagittarius, if you’re into that?”  that feels like the most he’s spoken in one go on the show, except from trying to cover up his jenny mess last night with romi. not that it was even a mess—he helped her make drinks. no need to deep it. “what about you? tell me the fuckin’ charlene story… do you have any weird pets? phobias? you seem like the type to either have tarantulas as pets or be deathly afraid of them.” 

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

Always overjoyed to her a compliment, Charlene can’t stop herself from beaming at Jude. “Thank you so much! Maybe — I’m a total novice at it compared to some of my other friends. I have a friend who does celebrity nails, she goes crazy with it.” The moment she takes Jude’s hand back, she continues to work on buffing the shine out of his nail beds, eyes focusing on their hands. “You like the city then? Why don’t you live in actual Manchester.” The mention of Jude’s siblings brings Charlene to stop what she’s doing enough to look at him with a pouted lip. “Aaaaaw! That’s cool! I wish I had siblings. So you’re closest with your your youngest sibling? Are you the protective older brother type?” An impressed whistle escapes her then and she lowers her gaze to focus back on her handiwork. “Shit, Jude. Those hot one challenges are no freaking joke. Maybe after this you can get bag an hot wing interview guy. You’re into film, right? So you have any pets? Oh — Fire sign. I should have known. You totally have some spunk to you” Done with buffing nails, Charlene takes a moment to look into one of her bags as she speaks. “My story? Nothing super exciting honestly. Born in New Orleans but Ive been in New York for most of my life. Raised by my grandma and grandpa. Taught me everything I know about music. Did a couple of shit jobs after high school before landing my current gig at the lounge I work at.  I hate falling asleep in cars cus I have an irrational fear of the door opening and me flying out. I kind of hate sleeping in the dark. No pets – I live in one of those shitty dorm style studios. Barely enough room for me in there.” She pulls out a curve pusher,  using it to point at Jude. “Tarantulas are cute and fuzzy! I like them, but I would rather die than look at a centipede. No siblings. I like spicy food and sweet food. I think I’m more of a dog person but both are super cute. I’m an Aquarius. What are your phobias? Got any irrational ones?”

[cashthecomposer]

Various ideas I've had for costumes for my musical:

Byron should wear an absolutely flamboyant smoking jacket with gold thread and red roses and no shame, whatsoever. I already found the perfect fabric!

Mary is breastfeeding at this time, so I need to make a corset (well, stays) and bodice for the gowns she wears that make for easy removal, or partial removal, to lend authenticity.

Percy is married to Harriet at this time, so I was thinking of giving him a lover's charm brooch, bearing her gaze, watching as he defies their union. Even though the audience won't notice, care, or understand, I feel like it'll add something for the actors on stage, particularly Mary, to see that. To feel that. :))))))

Percy has this ~thing~ with drowning. So, I want a water motif in each of his outfits! Maybe like, a vest with an ocean scene painted on it? A scarf with lil fishies on it? SHOULD I GIVE HIM TINY LITTLE FISHY EARRINGS???? idk

Also, like, when he's soaking wet... which happens twice in the show lmao... surely there's a way to mimic that with a costume, rather than drenching the poor dude twice a night for the whole run lmao. I'll have to research that.

Mary died of a brain tumor. I feel like she should wear a headpiece in every part of the show, as an ode to this fact.

On that note, as the show goes on, I'd like her costume to reflect her state of mind, and slowly deteriorate. If we do wigs, then I'd like her hair to go from elaborate/near, to simple/messy over the course of the show.

I feel like Mary should wear simpler clothes, dark colors, or maybe just like, all black, while Claire should wear fancier clothes, bright colors, or even all white. Either way, they should contrast each other at every turn.

Polidori is a goth. With a top hat. I must insist on the fucking top hat.

Should everyone wear black lipstick and nail polish? I have a thing for black lipstick and nail polish. I vote YES.

Uhhhhhh I feel like they should have a change of clothes each 'day', that foreshadows what's going on, as well as the stories to be told that particular day. Idk though. That's a lot.

When it comes to Frankenstein, I literally just want [redacted bc spoiler] to wear, like, glasses, and a lab coat. And the monster? I want a naked BEAST (but idk if my director will go for that) with scarred stitches across his body that are warped and horrible, grey skin, long beautiful black hair, the works.

And the Vampyre? fuckin Bela Lugosi that shit. Like I wanna stop just short of getting sued for copyright violation, that's how bad I want to rip off his look lmao.

Claire is pergananante so, I think her costumes should all reflect 'life', creation, that sort of thing. Like, pretty flowers, birds, fire, all could be motifs explored in her gowns. Youthful, is the other key word to her look.

That's about it, for now. May add to this post later. May delete later. Who knows for sure. If you have comments, I'd love to hear them.

Obligatory Patreon link

[mobbu-min]

☆ jjk hands hcs ☆

a/n: @levi-lover graciously helped me getting the visuals for this! Thank you so much bestie <3

on a total side note, im incredibly in love with all the charas i wrote for and i had a literal blast writing these (physically and figuratively) and i might want to do more??? either more jjk or another fandom idkidk, but this is my first jjk hcs so enjoy the feast!

characters: megumi, maki, toji and nanami -> jjk

!warning! NSFW(16+), all characters are aged up, afab reader(but other then that its pretty gender neutral) fingering, slapping, reader is mentioned to be chubby in nanami's section, sub reader

megumi <3

⋆ Prettiest hands ever

⋆ They’re so slender and smooth. Incredibly soft and well-manicured. He’s practically Gojo’s adoptive son, so I highly doubt Gojo will let Megumi live with crusty ass hands. Gojo the definition of a material girl

⋆ Anyways, Megumi obviously wears nail polish and if you disagree then you need to get your eyes checked- His go too is obviously black, but Nobara said that's lame and gave him a set of blue nail polish.

⋆ It takes him a while to use it but does after you point it to him. He left it on his desk, so it caught your attention. He lets you paint his nails for him.

⋆ Megumi wears rings, there I said it. It ranges from really dainty simple ones to thick edgy ones. Most of the time the ring itself (despite the aesthetic) has a simple design that goes with every outfit.

⋆ His hands are always insanely cold??? Like it could be the middle of summer and his hands will feel like the fuckin artic. Nobara and Yuji have commented on it multiple times.

⋆ Sometimes, especially in the beginning of your relationship, he’ll mutter offhandedly how cold his hands are (tbh it doesn’t bother him) just for you to go and hold his hands. He’ll do it even further in your relationship. Gumi’s shy.

⋆ His hands aren't that thick but rather long and slim. So, if you have big hands (like yours’s truly) it really does look like that one meme of the guy's hand with a spiked bracelet and the girl’s hand with the kandi bracelets.

nsfw

♡ Okay so now this is the real reason for this post

♡ First of all, the first that came to mind is how much control Megumi has over his hands, especially his fingers.

♡ So he no doubt makes you cum like 3 times just by his hands. His slender fingers pumping out of you in a slow and languid motion while his thumb circles around your swollen clit.

♡ He likes to go slow most of the time, Megumi strikes me as a low energy type of person and that applies in the bedroom as well.

♡ Sometimes tho, when he’s particularly irritated or riled up, he’s vigorously pumping his cold, slender hands out of you like it’s the last time he will. His thumb pushing harder and faster on your poor cilt.

♡ Cold fingers ghosting over your nipples only to pinch and pull at them, groping them.

♡ Just to make you an absolute mess underneath him. Mewling his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer. Your flushed trembling body and teary face really gets him going.

♡ I mentioned rings earlier, but omg imagine Megumi wearing chains similar to Kurapika(and no it’s not bc i’m hopelessly in love with them both and desperately want to be wrapped in kurapika chains as he does the unspeakable to me)

♡ They're so dangly and cold and ghost just above your burning skin to leave goosebumps and your breath hitching. I am in love with this idea so much <3<3<3

♡ Overall very pretty hands used for very naughty things

maki <3

⋆ Very pretty hands

⋆ They aren’t as delicate as Megumi's, but they’re so soft. She has little calluses on the padding of her fingers and palms.

⋆ Maki uses a really nice moisturizer that smells really relaxing. It’s just kinda fresh and airy. It just smells clean, y’know.

⋆ She’s definitely very heavy handed. So she can’t just slap your back without you feeling some pain. She doesn’t mean to hurt you, but Maki forgets her strength.

⋆ Maki wears very simple rings, like silver bands. You’ve gifted her rings before(matching ones) and she never takes it off. If it's not on her finger, then it's around her neck on a chain. Maki appreciates the significance of it and does her best to never lose it.

⋆ Compared to Megumi, Maki’s hands are always warm. Not the sweaty, kinda icky warm, but a pleasant type. It feels really nice against your cheeks during the winter and soothes your nerves during stressful times.

⋆ Maki has incredible grip strength. It’s practically impossible to take anything from her hands. Once Inumaki tried to take her phone and proceeded to fall flat on his face because she just snatched her hand back the moment, he touched it.

⋆ Overall, very comforting hands.

nsfw

♡ Maki loves to pin your hands above you, so she could have control. As I said before, her grip strength is strong and she has amazing stamina, so she’ll hold you down for hours.

♡ It leaves light bruises around your wrist, that she’ll gently ice and kiss after.

♡ She’ll get incredibly smug at the handprints left on your hips and thighs. To Maki it’s a mark of claim to anyone that dares to get too close to you. She’s not incredibly possessive, but that sense a pride she gets whenever she sees the marks is like a high to her(its a zenin/fushiguro things tbh)

♡ Just like Megumi, she makes you cum with her fingers until you’re begging her to stop, begging for her to replace them with her mouth and tongue.

♡ Maki ranges from sweet and slow to absolutely brutal and fast. She's leaving your thighs quaking, mind numb, and unable to walk the next day either way.

♡ I’ll add this, but Maki likes to give punishments as she sees fit. Spanking is her go too, and goddamn does it hurt and turn you on. She’ll work her way up from soft pats to hard slaps on your ass. You’re crying by the end of it and she’s gently wiping away those tears with her fingers. Licking up the salty liquid after and humming in satisfaction at your trembling, flushed body over her lap.

toji <3

⋆ I simply cannot leave this man out(This is basically a zenin/fusiguro simp list)

⋆ His hands are huge; it can practically engulf a child’s head. And damn are they thick as well. Veiny too.

⋆ They aren’t as pretty as Maki and definitely aren't delicate like Megumi's, but one could consider them attractive. They look nice and feel incredible, and I’m so sorry, but these hands can do things. And I mean things.

⋆ Anyways, he wears rings. Like the thick silver band types. They're simple but kinda forgettable.

⋆ His hands are always warm, it’s not even funny. It’s the warmth of lukewarm water, not incredibly pleasant, but not unbearable. But they do warm you up during the winter.

⋆ Like Maki, he’s incredibly heavy handed and he has incredible grip strength. You literally had to ban Toji from slapping your back/ass, just because it would bruise so fuckin fast and hurt like a bitch the next day. And he’s promised to be careful, but man’s reckless and kinda forgetful, so…

⋆ Surprisingly enough, Toji moisturizes. Not often, but enough to keep his hands smooth.

nsfw

♡ What else is there to say other than that this man is a beast.

♡ He's holding you down no problem, bruising your soft body and manhandling you no problem.

♡ His stamina is incredible, so Toji can hold you in a certain position no problem. His nails digging little crescents into your skin.

♡ Toji’s fingers are thick and have you wincing just with one. He’ll go slow the first time and gently(as he could) insert finger after finger into you. Slowly pumping in and out while kissing your clit. His other hands groping and massaging your tits.

♡ As much as you like his hands, he loves yours. The feeling of your hands over his body, his chest and thighs gets him riled up. Fingers combing through his hands as he goes down on you is enough to make him groan in pleasure.

♡ He likes the pain that comes from your hands digging into his back as he pounds into your cunt while his fingers rub vigorously against your throbbing clit. Toji is down bad.

nanami <3

⋆ I love this man, so I just had to add him.

⋆ Handsome, attractive, lovely, beautiful, what isn’t perfect about this man? Nothing, he’s perfect in every shape. God, I love him.

⋆ Anyways, Nanami takes incredible care of his hands. He takes care of himself in general. We love a self-care king.

⋆ His hands are huge btw, not as big as Toji but it’s impressive. They are also so delicate, not in appearance but in the way he holds things. As if he'd break it, if he were to hold it too tight. Cups, food, drinks, you, Nanami is so fuckin soft and gentle.

⋆ And he doesn’t even intend to, it’s just second nature to him. He’s just naturally caring, and that just grows the older he gets.

⋆ He doesn’t wear rings(unless you put them on), but he used to when he was a teen. So he has a box of them in his closet that he keeps for old time sakes. He keeps a small box in his nightstand that holds the rings Haibara got him on his birthday. Nanami doesn’t wear them in fear of losing or breaking it, so he’ll dust them from time to time.

⋆ Sometimes you’ll catch him holding the box with the fondest smile. His eyes glowing with unforgettable memories as his fingers ghost over them.

⋆ Nanami's hands temperature flows with the season in ways you wouldn’t expect. Like in the summer, his hands are cool to the touch. In the winter, they’re warm like a summer breeze.

⋆ You once asked him if it was a cursed energy technique and Nanami just shrugged and left it at that. Since then, you’ve been baffled.

⋆ Nanami’s hands exclude a sense of comfort. There’s this instant wave of security and relief every time he touches you.

⋆ And he gives amazing massages. You brag about it every chance you get, because how often do you get to fall in love with a perfect man who knows how to give incredible massages? Not very often.

nsfw

♡ You know how I said that he’s incredibly gentle with you, well that doesn’t hold up if you get on his bad side.

♡ If you’ve been particularly bratty, he has no qualms from slapping it all away. Your body sprawled out across his lap. His hand’s attacking your ass leaving it red and tender.

♡ One the other hand, Nanami loves to tease you. Loves to take his time with you. His hands sensually caressing every part of your body, every bump, scar, stretch mark.

♡ And if you're chubby, Nanami is literally in heaven. He loves to hold onto you so much. Loves to dig his hands into your plush thighs, hips and waist. Loves the way it squishes, how soft it feels in his hands. How flushed you look, so shy but he knows you like it. Nanami aware of the way you looked yourself up and down beforehand.

♡ And he adores that. Adores that confidence and how it seems to grow with his deep groans as he hands wander your body. Savoring you like it was his last feast.

♡ He'll kiss every part of you like you were an angel(which you are, don’t ever doubt that) and treat you as such. So gently and lovingly.

♡ Nanami loves to hold you down by your hips. Loves the way you squirm under his fingers as he plays with your cunt. Nanami lets out the deepest, sexist chuckle at your whining as he massages your clit and slowly dips his finger into you. His fingers curling up and pumping out of you.

♡ He’s down bad and will make you cum just by his fingers until he’s satisfied. Until you’re begging and pleading for him, for something more filling then his thick, long fingers. Something that will make you see heaven.

♡ Maybe I’m just down, but damn, Nanami just wants to love you.

(I am in love with the second picture ( ˘ ³˘)