#propane party

[zaroffs-submarine]

I stole @minty-3995’s idea of drawing my selfship as a Hallmark Christmas movie!

[generalzar0ff]

Cringetober Day 31: HALLOWEEEEEN!!!!!!!!

Since I was Tyler Durden this Halloween, I needed someone to be my narrator, and Vinny was perfect since we’re in looooove teehee!

I drew this in class lol

[generalzar0ff]

Hope you’re not being absolutely bombarded with these 💀

gUhh

Reblog this post and ill assign ur f/o an aquatic animal that i think fits their vibe 🐳

PROSHIP DNI

[nsxx99]

.

[doctorslippery]

I tell you whut, I fugging love it when someone is a dick to me when I make a point. Fuck 'em. I know how the block button works.

[stevesgother]

The 4th - S.H

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI NSFW, cursing, drinking, characters are all of age, takes place after the events of ST3, slight exhibitionism only bc they’re technically outside, it’s that slightly awkward but endearing sex you have when you fuck someone you like for the first time. It's realistic. Sue me.

AN: first time writing smut, i'm so nervous. fast times au?? If you squint?? the last half isn't proofread bc i simply cannot bring myself to read my own smut

‘American Woman’ by The Guess Who blares loudly from a twin pair of Hitachi speakers stationed on Steve Harrington’s back deck. On the hottest day of the year, The Party had decided to congregate at the only non-public pool they had unlimited access to.

To his relief, Steve had been assigned to grill duty again. The cherry red bikini you had sauntered through his sliding glass door wearing was starting to seriously inconvenience him. He had his Ray Bans on, albeit low on the bridge of his nose, to disguise where his gaze had been lingering all afternoon; the large propane grill hiding his lower half.

Lounging poolside on your towel, you hear before you feel a large ‘SPLASH’, and suddenly you’re soaked head to toe in overly chlorinated pool water.

“Ugh! Henderson!” you scold as you stand to replace your now drenched towel. The cheeky boy looks up at you from where he floats in the pool and mouths a half-hearted ‘Sorry’. 

“Steve! Would you happen to have an extra towel?” you shout to him as you hold up your ruined one, shooting him a deadpan expression. “Yeah, ‘course,” he sets down the grill tongs and awkwardly shuffles his way inside, keeping his back to you. Weird, you think.

Steve caught one look at you, hair wet and dripping, water beading down your neck and disappearing among the curve of your breasts; nipples taught from the sudden shock of cold water and visible through the fabric of your swimsuit, and he was grateful for the reprieve inside would offer him.

After close to 15 minutes of no Steve and more importantly, no towel, you decide to venture into the spacious house yourself. “Steve! – Oh!-” you startle as you run chest to chest into him, both turning a corner. “You scared me,” you say with a hand to your racing heart, “I was just wondering where you went,” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Yeah no, sorry, I just uh- got distracted,” he says, avoiding contact and handing you the fresh linen. You glance down, and notice the slight tent in his maybe too-tight swim trunks. You feel the heat of a rosy blush crawl up your cheeks, and a sudden flip of your stomach. Were you really the reason why he was acting so strange? That felt incredibly presumptuous of you.

“Well um…” you trail off, trying to keep your cool, “thanks. For the towel, I mean.” Steve had never made you feel so bashful and uncertain before. Something about the newly exposed skin and the salty smell of sweat mixed musk that radiates off of him from this proximity making your mind short circuit.

 –

When the cookout had dwindled down to just the adults and the sun dipped just below the trees, a joint had started to be passed around your small circle. “Well, we should probably head home,” Nancy announces in her usual demure tone, grabbing Jonathan’s hand helping him to stand. A chorus of goodbyes echo throughout the group, eventually leaving just you, Steve, Robin and Eddie.

An exaggerated yawn escapes Robin as she declares she’s exhausted and needs Eddie to drive her home in his rinky dink van.

“C’mon man! I just rolled this joi-”

Robin cuts him off with a harsh clear of her throat and an even harsher jab to his ribs.

“I. Really think. We. Should. Go.” She punctuates each word with a forced smile. Why was everyone acting so fucking odd today? You try to send her a panicked glance, fearing the potential awkwardness of being left here alone with Steve.

Being best friends with both of you, she was well aware of the searing crushes the two of you had on each other. This barbeque was her opportunity to light a fire under your asses to do something about it.

“That’s okay, Rob. Go home if you’re tired.” Always the gentleman. Right now you could kick him for it. If Robin notices your glaring, she doesn’t acknowledge it as she rises to her feet and heads toward the gate leading to the driveway.

“Bye losers!” She waggles her fingers at you as they make their exit, sending you a subtle wink that sets your cheeks ablaze. You now know without a doubt that this was intentional.

A hand on your knee as he says, “I can walk you home if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. We can finish the joint at least,” you smile timidly at him. Free weed wasn’t easy to come by these days, what was the harm in staying just a little longer?

–

2 hours later, you’re lying shoulder to shoulder on the rough concrete surrounding the Harrington’s pool. The joint had been snuffed out on the ground between you an hour ago, but with your thoughts dulled like this it was becoming increasingly easy to bask in the space you two had created for each other. The desire to turn heel and run with your other friends had long fizzled out.

“Hey, what was up with you today?” you ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “You just seemed really off,”

He looks suddenly nervous, “Oh I uh– I don’t know. Julys’ always a weird month for me, I guess,” he lies, carding a hand through his hair.

Taking the hand that’s not in his hair in your own, you ask, “Are you doing okay?” When he turns his head to meet you, your sincerity makes him blush - neck to ears. Your faces are closer than he thought they would be. He can count every eyelash from this proximity.

“Yeah– you know what,” He clears his throat, “I’m actually really warm,” he sits up clumsily as he pulls his shirt over his head by the collar, ruffling his hair and exposing the constellation of freckles and moles he has spattering the skin on his toned back.

“Okay–” You go to stand with him but he’s already dove into the pool. When he breaches the surface, he shakes his hair out like a dog and grins at you. You can’t help your eyes wandering to the dark patch of hair covering his chest. You’re starting to feel that warmth he had been complaining of.

“You gonna come in? Or just stand there and gawk?” He laughs as he floats over to you.

So you peel your shirt off and watch him stare intently as you unbutton your shorts, letting them drop to your feet. A less than elegant swan dive and you’re disappearing under the artificially blue water. The sudden coolness of it shocks you, sobering you up a bit.

You’re much more graceful than the boy when it’s your turn to come up for air, gently pushing back the hair that sticks to your face. He swims over to you unsuspectingly, then in the next breath and with a mischievous grin he lifts your body over his shoulder and essentially bodyslams you back under the surface.

More than the gesture itself, what shocks you the most is the warm expanse of his broad shoulders caressing you. You both emerge laughing, “Asshole!” you swat at his chest playfully.

When the laughter dies and fizzles out into an anxious energy, the air is filled with a sort of anticipation. The two of you are bobbing in the pool, faces no more than an inch apart.

“You have got to stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, breathlessly.

Just then he surges forward and presses his lips firmly to yours. The kiss is close-mouthed and chaste at first, giving you a chance to pull away. When you don’t take the opportunity, he deepens it. Your wet hands move to hold his face, breaching the water with a small splashing sound and his strong arms hug you at the waist, bringing you impossible closer. Pressed up against him like this you can feel all of him. The scratch of curls on his chest, the bulge of his biceps around your middle, the hard length of him pressed against your thigh.

Gasping into the kiss, you give him the opening he needs to lick hotly into your mouth, eliciting a breathy moan from your chest that sends Steve reeling. He starts to slowly kick his legs, swimming to push your back up against a vinyl clad wall.

Your lips move to lick the vein that runs down his neck, then up to a spot just below his ear. He groans when you take his earlobe gently into your mouth. Grasping your cheek in his hand, he forces your face out of the refuge his neck had provided from his intense gaze.

“Can I touch you?” He shudders when he speaks, having dreamt about this exact moment for years. Your response is an enthusiastic nod and another searing kiss to his lips - plush and pink and made for your own.

Steve’s knee moves to rest bookended between your thighs, keeping you open for him. In the water, he can’t feel how pathetically wet you are beneath your bright red bikini bottoms. You’re thankful for that, but even so, the whine that you release when his swift fingers push aside the fabric and start slowly massaging your clit is enough to give you away.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens, leaving small crescent shapes in his perfect skin. “Oh!-- God, keep doing that,” you pant.

“You like that, baby?” Steve tries to sound suave. Mr. Confident. King Steve. Honestly, he’s terrified. He has half a mind to stop and ask you to pinch him, not entirely convinced this is even real. But the sweet, sweet sounds you’re making are enough to persuade him otherwise.

“Yes! Ah– please, don’t stop,” you beg, even though you don’t have to. Steve’s positive he would do just about anything you asked of him right now. You have the sudden urge to return the favor, reaching down between your two bodies and palming him through his swim trunks.

“Oh -- my God, don’t,” he warns, the sheepish smile on his face signals to you that he’s not actually uncomfortable, “I’ll come in my pants like a damn teenager,” he gives an embarrassed chuckle.

Growing desperate for more, you say, “I want you to fuck me.” with an impossible finality. It makes Steve’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Wh-what?” He needs to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Steve. I need you to fuck me. Now.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you begin to press open-mouth kisses to his neck again.

“Oh my God,” The boy sounds absolutely wrecked already, barely able to contain himself. His hands fumble blindly for the ties on your bikini bottoms and he pulls when he finds them. Unwrapping you like his very own Christmas present.

You pull his trunks down and over his hips, just enough to fish his red and swollen cock out, careful to not let them fall to the bottom of the pool lest someone have to dive and retrieve them. You line him up hurriedly with your entrance, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Are you sure about this?” His brows furrow in that way they always do, when he's unsure. He has a crinkle above his nose.

“Yes” you half moan before getting a look at his face, “Wait, are you?”

“Yes! Yes– of course. I just– want you to be sure,” He kisses you softly after he asks

It’s so tender, you feel so safe with him like this. You fear you might be falling in love.

“I promise, I’m su–Oh!” he slides into you without warning, nearly knocking the breath out of you. He lets out a guttural groan into the space where your shoulder meets your neck as he starts to keep a steady rhythm.

“God, you feel so good,” he pants into your open mouth, ���i’ve wanted this for so long,”

His words have you keening. He wraps his broad arms fully around you now, hugging you close as he pistons his hips into you. Repeatedly hitting that spot inside your walls where you need him the most.

“Oh, Steve!” you moan loudly, no longer concerned about the neighbors hearing you. The pool water begins to form waves from Steve’s thrusting and splash up onto the concrete beside your head.

“Fuck, say my name like that again,” you can feel his hips stuttering slightly.

“Steve!” He whines directly into your ear when you say it, you never would’ve thought he’d be so vocal.

“Touch yourself baby, I’m close,”

You do as you’re asked and start to keep a frenzied pace on your sensitive bud. Having both kinds of stimulation, mixed with Steve’s sweet praise, is sending you closer and closer to your edge.

As you reach your high, Steve can feel your warm pussy clench around him, making him hurtle towards his orgasm with you.

With a strangled cry, “fuck- I'm cumming,” You finish together as hips slow and he rides out his orgasm with you. His body curls in on itself and he trembles slightly. You run a warm, soft hand through his hair and down his back, soothing him through the intensity of it.

“Shit- my parents are going to kill me,” he laughs and kisses you again.

Maybe you did like swimming. Just a little bit.

tags: @daisy-munson, @megxplryxb

[generalzar0ff]

Hi! Hi!!!

hope this crusty-ass gif is okay. Just wanted to get his attitude in ^-^

I wanna do my own reblog game so....

Reblog with a pic of ur f/o and I'll assign them a nu metal album!!

PROSHIPPERS DNI

[zaroffs-submarine]

Yes I see the irony of this meme coming from something Atlantis-related and me using my Atlantis F/O for it. With that being said… actually I have no clue what I was gonna say next. Just take it.

[generalzar0ff]

please help my poor cat he’s tired and wants to go home

[generalzar0ff]

HI a mutual sent me this post because I already f/o Vinny from Atlantis 💀

here is a collection of characters that i think people should f/o in some capacity

go ahead and take one. i will be back with more. this is like the free samples booth at sams club. have some fancy cheese.

[multiwreckedmess]

[12:39AM]

Remember when i said i'd write some mean yunho? for @yunlazia​

Pairing: cheater!yunho x cheater!fem!reader WC: ~3k Summary: A lowkey continuation of my Kinktober - Intercrural fic. You and Yunho have too many friends in common to avoid each other. So what if you don't? Standard disclaimer, this is meant for 18+ and my blog is 18+ please do not interact if you are not 18+ because I AM OLD. You don't WANT to interact with me just as much as I don't want to interact with YOU.

This fanfic is, as the genre defines it, FICTIONAL. It is in no way a representation of Yunho or any Ateez member.

TW/CW: Cheating. If you aren't down with a fictional cheating fic, just back out now. Also it is consented but not really? Extended below the cut.

TW/CW: Unrealistic, time-jumpy, not proofread. PIV sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside. Big cock Yunho. Minor hand kink. Fingering (fem receiving). Rough. Reader doesn't say yes but also is given very clear direction that if she says no, Yunho will stop. Reader called Princess a fair amount.

 It would’ve been more understandable if you were blackout drunk. Or even just more than half a watered down drink into the night. This, this you couldn’t blame on anything but your own weak will.  “I need some air,” Yunho tugged at your elbow, more lightly than you’d care to admit for how easily you followed him. A bad idea. “Be back soon,” he volleys a wink at the pretty thing he’s been chatting up for the last fifteen minutes. Dickhead.

 Yunho’s strides are long, his legs extending much farther than you remembered, as you practically trot alongside him to keep up. “Where the fuck are you taking me in such a fucking hurry?”  He stops and blinks. “I’m getting a pack of smokes.”  “Why the fuck do you need me?”  “I don’t.” He resumes his strides as you follow, indignantly half stomping when you’re able to catch him.  “Then why did you pull me along?!”  Yunho shrugs, “I tapped your elbow. I didn’t expect you to follow me. You could always turn around and head back to the party.”  You groan. Mostly upset with yourself for falling so easily back into his stupid games. “You’d leave a lady alone in the middle of the dark?”  “No, I wouldn’t leave a lady alone,” his gate slows as he eyes you up and down meaningfully. A smirk tickles his cheeks. “Yeah, I wouldn’t leave a lady, would I?” He resumes his brisk pace with you in tow.  “What the fuck are you implying?”  Yunho turns quickly on his toes, letting you smack full velocity into his chest. One hand holding you by the base of your spine to him. “A lady,” he sneers, “wouldn’t let a man cum in her panties while her boyfriend waits for her in the adjoining room, would she? If I can remember correctly your tight little cunt was practically begging for it. So no, I wouldn’t leave a lady in the dark, but you, I’d do a lot of things to you I wouldn’t do to a lady.”

 His hand burns in its place miraculously through your layers of coat and sweater. His leg slotted between yours just subtly enough to make it feel unintentional, natural, like he’d never left. As if the flames of hell themselves had come from the ground to lick the side of your face you can feel arousal creeping up from your core and catching in your gut. It’s not until he releases you to start briskly walking towards the light of the gas station that you realize you hadn’t breathed since he caught you. You follow after him, jaw tense and tongue tied. If you could prove him wrong you would, but you can’t, so you stew.

 Yunho stays exactly one pace ahead of you. Just fast enough that to keep up with him you’d need to swap to a slow jog instead of a quick walk. The bright lights burn cold overhead. Nasty lighting. It turns the white propane tanks dingy and grey below it.  “I hate it when you smoke.” The words hit him as his hand presses into the metal push bar of the door.  “So why did you keep following me?”  “I don’t feel right about that-- what we--you--no, we. What we did.”  Yunho smirks over his shoulder, “first time?” The door swings open as he continues through, leaving you staring aghast at his sheer audacity momentarily before following after him. “It was fun though, right? Exciting?” His eyes scan the shelves of snacks, not seeming to really look for anything.  “Immoral.”  “But that doesn’t preclude being a good time. In fact-” he turns suddenly to you, arm reaching just over your shoulder, as if you weren’t even there “-it can make it even more erotic. Found them.” Yunho winks down at you, pulling a bag of chips off the shelf as if the position hadn’t stopped your heart.  A thin stream of air escapes as you deflate. “We shouldn’t have, regardless. Regardless it was wrong and- Yunho- can you listen to me? What about that…her…that girl I keep seeing you with?”  Passing the chips over the counter and asking for a fresh pack, Yunho shrugs at you. “As replaceable as what’s his nuts- your beau.”  “I thought you were friends!

 Yunho lights his little half-sober ill-advised treat. Even though he’d told everyone who cared that he’d quit, even though he didn’t take breaks at work anymore, even though he knew each consumed cancer stick took from his life, he couldn’t help himself when his judgement was loosened. His nose is red with the cold. Ears too. “Did you want anything?” He mumbles, cigarette tucked between his lips.  You sulk, leaning into the cold cement slab wall. “No.”  He cranes his neck up and to the side, blowing smoke away from you. There’s something alluring about his neck. His jawline is perfect, especially in this strange harsh light.  “I’m cold,” you complain to get him to hurry up. There’s no sign of movement as he takes another slow, steady drag. Yunho unbuttons his peacoat with one hand, tapping inside slightly with one brow raised.  “Cuddle up, buttercup. Or freeze. I’m not moving.” He smirks as you begrudgingly shuffle in front of him, leaning in to fold yourself into his embrace. Cold face pressing to his cozy sweater, a warm sigh reveals your true feelings.  “You’re such a shit.”  “You doth protest too much, methinks.”  Yunho smells like sweet smoke and cedar, cozy and inviting. He’s easy to get sucked into, easy to let yourself relax against. It feels like a home that you’d never left. The world spins when you close your eyes. Maybe you’re more drunk than you give yourself credit for. Maybe you’re just more tired than you realized. Maintaining appearances, spinning the plates just so, making excuses where needed. Slowly without you completely realizing it, your arms snake around his waist. Blame it on muscle memory or maybe you just wanted to warm your hands. All excuses. His back feels strong as ever, long lean muscle from top to bottom. Good for wrapping your legs around.  Yunho crushes his half finished cigarette against the wall. A better treat easily in his grasp. His newly freed hand roams south of your waist, testing to see if you retaliate. Instead he feels your face press harder into him, trying to hide your guilty expression. Suddenly he fully gropes your ass, fingers digging into the flesh through your skirt and stockings, peeling your cheeks apart slightly.  “Yunho!” Your head jerks away to blink up at him.  “Princess,” he responds with a purr.  “Your…whatever she is!”  He leans over and kisses your indignant mouth, half expecting a slap. Instead you seem to yield into it, still holding onto his waist, your hips bumping up against him. “I’m not too worried,” he barely breathes, eyes fluttered shut. He kisses you again just to make sure. Just to test his fate. To be positive you weren’t just stunned.  Yunho’s mouth tastes like the ashes of a burnt marshmallow. Kissing him leaves you thirsty, mouth dry, getting high off the nicotine remnants that cling to his lips. A disappointed moan pulls from your lungs as his lips leave yours. Your weight falling into his chest fully, he takes the opportunity to turn your back into the wall, caging you with his body. Still as hard as he presses to you you pull him in. Breathless and stunned your eyes study his face, both of your mouths panting, sharing clouds of condensation between you.  “I have to pee,” you manage to squeak out as a lame excuse.  “I have the code on my receipt.”  “Code. Right.” You make no move to escape despite your brain practically screaming at you to do something. Anything to make some plausible deniability. You cannot be complicit in this as fully as your heart is. Instinctively you reach into his front pants pocket, fishing for the slip of paper.  Yunho chuckles, loosing a tense exhale into the air. “Careful there princess, a man might get the wrong idea.”  “Shut up and give me the code.”  “Paying customers only,” he winks, hand dipping under your skirt. Your eyes roll back as his fingerings worm their way between your thighs, sliding along your slicked tights. He presses more instantly as you shudder. “Only one of us has paid babe. How bad do you want it?”  Your hips betray you, canting up towards him. “Yunho-,” your voice warbles as you try to sound stern and commanding.  “How badly? Do you? Want? It?”  “Please.”  Yunho smirks, suddenly pushing himself off the wall, pulling his hand from between your legs swiftly. Popping his damp fingers between his lips he tilts his head towards the building. Looking at the ground you scuttle behind him. The kid at the counter barely looks up from his phone as the two of you make your way to the back, down the service hallway lined with overstock, and to the unisex bathroom door. A few swift presses and the door chimes an alert that its successfully unlocked, Yunho ushering you under his arm inside. It’s all so fast you barely notice him slipping in behind you and shutting the door. Every move is so slick, you know he’s done it before.  “Yunho! I really-” your gasp breaks your sentence early, Yunho pulling you to him, pressing his fingers to your pussy once more.  “We both know how dumb of an excuse that was,” he hisses. “I can feel how much you want this, or are you going to lie again?”  “Yunho, we can’t-” “You keep saying we can’t. So tell me no. Tell me stop. Lie and tell me you don’t want to fuck your propper little pussy in this nasty bathroom. Do it and I’ll leave.”  You whimper and grind back against him. You can’t do any of it. You were never good at denying yourself of what you really wanted, even if you knew it was bad for you. Chocolate ice cream during a cold, caffeine past 6pm, stalking his profile on social media, all things you couldn’t help but indulge in. His fingers grip either side of the seam of your tights, ripping them down the middle with such force you topple forward through his arms, bracing yourself on the sink. You can just see your eyes in the lower portion of the dingy mirror, Yunho's full face in view until he leans over you. His long fingers push your panties aside, slicking himself up with your release before sliding two digits between your warm walls. Your breath hitches, leg kicking up as your knees tremble.  “Can’t ever say what you really want can you,” Yunho muses. His lips rest between the shell of your ear and your hairline, speaking with an intense hushed whisper. “Can’t even admit how wet you are for me. Feels good being bad, right?”  “Yunho,” his name is a wet shaky word drizzling out like water from a leaky pipe.  “You can’t even say yes, can you?” His fingers beckon inside you, rubbing along that front wall, stroking that small gummy spot that most hadn’t taken the time to find but he knew so well. “Can you tell me, do his fingers feel as good as mine do? Does he push your buttons like I do?”  “No,” you sob an honest response as Yunho abuses the spot faster, making the knot in your core twist and tighten into a ball of ecstasy. His cock pokes the meat of your ass, a promise of what’s in store for the two of you.  “Does he know how hard you cry when you cum?” You gulp back another heaved half sob half reply. Of course your boyfriend didn’t. Only Yunho could take you apart like this. The sweat slicked porcelain sink slips beneath your grasp. He catches you just barely with his other arm wrapping up over your chest, his fingers resting at the base of your throat.  “You going to cum for me princess?” He taunts you.  You nod, biting your lips shut between your teeth. “Yunho-” his name leaks out of the corners of your mouth.  “Let go, I’ve gotchu,” his hand fully eclipses your mouth, clamping firmly to muffle your wail. Your entire body tenses as you peak, coating his fingers in your essence. His arms hold your stiffened body before you collapse into boneless bliss. “Hold onto the sink, princess. It’ll only be a second.”  You whine as his fingers leave you empty, wobbling like a newborn giraffe. The telltale zip and shuffle is all you need to know of what's going on behind you. The blunt tip of his heavy cock prods your greedy cunt.  “I’d love to savor this moment but if we take too long that kid will get suspicious and come looking.” Your hips rock against him subconsciously.  “You know how much I love taking what isn’t mine.” He barely buries the tip inside of you, relishing in the way your walls attempt to draw him deeper, the way your body trembles on the edge of anticipation. “Just the tip right? If it’s just the tip it doesn’t count. That’s what I’ve heard.”  “Fucking jackass,” you seethe.  “You don’t want to be a cheater, right? You’re a good girl.”  You stomp your heels, you can’t be the one to break. It has to be him. It’s your last vestige of deniability. Your last claim to him being the tempter, the actor, the one in charge and at fault for all of this.  Yunho fucks his tip in and out maddeningly slowly, chuckling as he watches your hole flutter and clench. Teasing as he stretches you around his thick length. “Oh you poor thing, big mean Yuyu dragged you away to get smokes and wouldn’t let you go so you just had to fuck. Right? That’s how this happened, right? You never said yes so really…it was all him. Mean ol’ Yunho. You didn’t want it at all.”  Except you did. You did want it. You wanted him to fuck you so badly the anger was seeping out of your pores. You needed him to push himself as deep as you knew he could go, deeper than your boyfriend ever had. Mold your walls to him again. “Yunho- please-”  “Please what?”  “Yunho! You know I can’t say it! Please!”  His fingers tighten at your hips.  “Please what?” He asks again, cruelly thrusting just a bit deeper, angling just enough to skim your spot.  “Just do it already, just do it. Please, god, fuck, Yunho. Please. I can’t- I can’t-” you repeat until your breath runs out, arm reaching behind for something to pull him closer, fingers waggling as they search for fabric to grab.

 He pulls your hips flush to his suddenly, the glide easy but the stretch sinfully tight. Both of you groan deeply as the wind leaves your lungs by force. Yunho doesn’t waste time, setting a grueling pace as his hips snap against your ass. Rough and claiming as he curls over you. His pants and subvocalizations clear in your ear as you fight to stay standing. Your skirt is more a belt around your waist as he uses the band as leverage to maneuver your hips back against him. His lips settle concerningly close to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his favorite place to nuzzle, and to bite.  “No marks,” you plead. “Yuyu, no marks. I just can’t have any marks.”  “Yeah, got it,” he growls, tilting his head down between your shoulderblades. “Cock’s going to leave an imprint.”  “Fuck, I hope.”  “Going to go home and have him fuck my cum deeper into you? Going to pretend you’re just that wet for him? Bet he wouldn’t know the difference.” His pace slows and stutters, close to his climax. The thought excites him too much, gets him just too close to the edge. Stilling completely his hand finds your clit, tracing quick circles around it, attempting to pull another orgasm from you.  “Shit, Yunho, I can’t- I can’t- I really have to pee- Yunho-” your voice shakes as fear grips your chest.  “It’s fine- you won’t- just let go-” he bounces your hips just slightly, jostling against that spot inside you with his length. Your gut flips and turns, eyes rolling back.  “Yunho-” you whine pitifully once more, trying to warn him.  “Cum for me princess, you know you can, cum on my cock.”  His fingers press against your clit harder as your eyelids flutter, vision going dark as you gush over him. Your walls work him, clamping hard down, trying to pull him deeper. His hips snap, a couple resounding hits before you feel him paint your walls in return. His cock pulses as your cunt milks him. Traitor.

 “Now go fuck that clumsy bastard with your eyes closed and try to pretend he’s me,” Yunho doesn’t mince words as he pulls from you, yanking your skirt over your rear. “Go put together your perfect pollyanna life. I’ll be here. Waiting.”

hopefully that fits the mean yuyu bill! If you want more...here;

cheater!yunhoverse:  [9:42PM] | kinktober | [12:39AM] | [10:45PM] if you liked this and wanna see this just get worse and worse....yeah there is the order.

a related ask as well here

[patheticjayce]

Listen, I keep thinking stuff ok?

(this is not a finished thing it's literally just me rambling no editing just don't expect quality just tell me if u see the vision yes?)

also there's mentions of death (no one dies but they're gonna?), alcohol and drug use but not in a tragic way more in a necessary medical and recreational way

Cross-Faded:

Viktor knows that he’s dying, and is not getting better, but doesn’t want his family to worry about him so he hides it from everyone. His (Friend? Cousin? Sky?)  is getting married. Since he wants his family + friends to think he’s ok, he decides to bring a date to the event and pretend that they’re in love so they’ll think he’s being taken care of.

 He knows the obvious choice is Jayce, not only because his family has already spent years convinced they’re together, but because the title of “ partners” is ambiguous enough, right? It’s easy to circumvent the truth and keep everyone involved in the dark. That way he can introduce him as such, and no one would be the wiser.

The problem is that he didn’t consider the fact that the alcohol at a party from his side of the family would be boasting a proper alcohol content and not that triple-filtered watery swill they serve back in Piltover, which makes Jayce arrive at the other side of tipsy by the time they start serving dinner. Sure, he can hold his liquor pretty well but said liquor usually has a 40% water content, not… whatever there is in this murky soup of unidentifiable solids that smells like jet fuel and tastes like a tank of propane exploded inside a fruit stand.  

The problem about The Problem is that Viktor wasn’t counting on the fact that Jayce is embarrassingly in love with him, and, motivated by the romantic atmosphere and the Fruit Juice From Hell, had decided that tonight was the night he would finally make a move on Viktor. Jayce has been like an overexcited dog all night, overly attentive, and once he starts sampling the bar menu he’s handsier than he’s ever been with Viktor. By the time the dancing starts, Jayce is getting way *waaayy* too close whenever he needs to say something to Viktor, close enough that the buzz of the words in his ear sends a shock of electricity down his spine. 

The problem about Problem One and its Derivative Problem, is that there is a third problem to consider, which is the fact that Viktor is so in love with Jayce that it makes him physically ill (yes, he knows it’s not the meds. He can tell. Shut up.) and even though his tolerance to the provided spirits is much higher than his partner’s, the moment when Jayce touches his knuckles slightly with the tip of his finger to bring him back from his trips into his mind palace and viktor feels the current of warmth spreading all over his body from the single point of contact, he knows he’s fucked up. Because between the current lineup of medications, the joint he smoked once the ceremony was over ( it’s medicinal. It’s not cause it’s fun or makes him more social or relaxes him enough to get through with the social part of the situation, or that it will help his appetite so no one wonders why he isn’t eating, wait, see! That’s a medical reason!) he really shouldn’t have accepted those drinks from Jayce. Now Viktor is sitting there thoroughly cross-faded. And everything feels *so good*. ..

[seat-safety-switch]

Hey friend. I know we all managed to escape the holiday season by the skin of our teeth, but it's time to start thinking about next holiday season. After a couple years, or in some of our cases, a few decades of feral snarls at anyone who comes near your house, people expect you to go out in the world and interact with human beings again. That means you need to update your "talk like a person" list.

When I first started socializing, I thought it would be easy. All I'd have to do is find another person and start talking about the things I liked. Then they'd talk about the things they liked. Then we would be instant friends and throw each other into a fountain and drink coffee together, like on teevee. Unfortunately, it didn't quite happen that way. It turns out that the things other people care about are really boring, and they think that the things I care about are really weird.

To survive, I've developed a sort of party planner kit, but it's only useful when you keep it up to date. Let me explain by way of an example. Here in Canada, a lot of people like ice hockey. It is a perfectly valid sport, but you are expected to have opinions about it in order to have polite discussion with people. I have developed exactly three opinions, and use them at random when interacting with new people. Unfortunately, the opinions need to keep up with the times.

In hockey, as in life, players move on or get injured, teams move to different cities, and the Zamboni® is no longer powered by a propane-fuelled Volkswagen inline four from the 1980s using an overcomplicated carb hat arrangement. See, that last one? I did it again. To help keep this from happening, I have to do some research, and update my bon mots to make sure that they're the bon most they can be. I do it around now, when my motivation is at its peak and it is too cold to interact with any other human beings. After spending about an hour googling for "who is the worst NHL player right now" and "A1 vw rabbit coilover conversion kits for british lever shock cars" – shit, I did it again – I have my inoculation against other people thinking I'm weird. You don't think I'm weird, right?

This can work for all kinds of other sports, and even business events, if you live in a country that hasn't yet invented sports. I strongly encourage you to figure out three facts about something that is popular, and use them in rotation like me. Hell, you can probably get away with two, as long as you immediately make up an excuse to leave as soon as you've run out of ammo. And that's what the holiday spirit is all about.

[generalzar0ff]

Ok, my followers might be surprised that I think this, but I’m glad that the consensus is a No on this one. While this man is very compassionate toward his friends and isn’t outwardly chaotic, he still blows things up for fun (including an ancient pillar). He also lists grave robbing as something he isn’t proud of, but then proceeds to list “plundering tombs” as another thing he’s not proud of, which — I don’t know how to tell you, Vinny — but that’s the same thing. This heavily suggests that such an act is, or was, common for him. Anyway, back to blowing stuff up. Near the beginning of ATLE, Professor Whitmore glosses over the logs of the expedition crew. In an art book, if that is the correct origin (correct me if I’m wrong), we can see the full version of these logs. Vincenzo’s log mentions that he worked for a mining company. After detonating a few delivery trucks, he disappeared from the public eye. Later, his boss and 4 of his former coworkers were found dead in an explosion. I think we know what happened.

So yeah, as I have demonstrated, concerningly thoroughly, Vincenzo “Vinny/Enzo/Tex’s Boyfriend” Santorini is NOT a noble man whatsoever, ergo: he is unfitting to wield Mjolnir.

also do Vinny from atlantis

[elbiotipo]

I think Hank Hill would be so happy under communism. He would go to all union meetings and be proud his work is being recognized. He would be like "I'm glad the party is paying proper attention to the propane and propane accessories industry I tell you what"

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Who would like to own a property that's name literally translates to "Fart?" The late owner was a retired, decorated Viet Nam navy veteran from Brooklyn, NYC, who fell in love with the Terlingua, TX Ghost Town. The property is up for sale for $1.3M.

Every year he had a fundraiser to benefit the Fire Department and the EMS, called The Rocket Fuel Party.

Inside the fence is a full-size conning tower of a submarine, a replica of a sailing ship, and a small Statue of Liberty that lights up at night.

The owner's name was Jimmy and he began building a fleet.

He also built a propane-powered volcano and tiki bar to complete the south seas feel.

The submarine USS Thresher (SSN-593) was the lead boat of her class of nuclear-powered attack submarines in the United States Navy. She was the U.S. Navy's second submarine to be named after the thresher shark. On 10 April 1963, Thresher sank during deep-diving tests about 350 km (220 mi) east of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, killing all 129 crew and shipyard personnel aboard.

That's most of the history of Passing Wind.

The property has fallen into disrepair and needs a new owner to bring it back to life. This is the closest structure that I can see that looks like it was the tiki bar.

Here's the trailer Jimmy must've lived in. It looks to be in good shape from the outside.

And, there's also this building.

The land is 3.44 acres. I guess the new owner would have to be interested in military history enough to want to invest in making an attraction dedicated to it. I have no idea if this would be a tourist destination.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/Highway-170-170-Terlingua-TX-79852/2054487857_zpid/?