#the “him” is in the eye of the beholder

[toastiest-mittens]

Eliza Bouchard thinking about her dearest love, Johanna Leitner after their third, Gerold Robinson, mysteriously disappears (Eliza did that too).

it's funny to me when new transfems describe estrogen making them "girl horny" as like submissive and cuddly or whatever because actually it kind of just made me more violence-seeking. and it's escalating. i'm not complaining though, subby shy whiners make excellent victims. i need one of them to put in a cage and beat with a metal pipe or something so i can hear it yelp. she'd feel it so intensely. she's getting off on it too.

[gothcsz]

Hands To Myself | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~4k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You get to know the handsome stranger sitting next to you on your overnight flight to Mexico.

Tags: smut, reader is ovulating, hand job, fingering, dirty talk, lust at first sight again, sexual acts in public (on a plane), let's just pretend this is realistic okay, pwp, blowjob to completion, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, reader is a woman of color yet everyone is encouraged to read, no physical descriptions, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: this is all @probablyreadinsmut's fault tbh. coming into my inbox with horny thoughts, knowing i have to do something about it 😩 hehe i hope you guys like this, it's nothing special... i just need this man in any way i can get him! let me know what you thinkkkkkk🖤

You knew you were fucked the second you saw him at the gate. He isn’t just attractive—he’s ridiculously attractive. The kind of hot that only exists in movies or in passing, like some guy you make eye contact with and never see again. Except this time, he wasn’t just passing through. He was standing right there.

To make matters worse, your hormones are out of control. Peak ovulation. Just being around a man has your skin buzzing, like your body is betraying you on a biological level.

So yeah, you looked. How could you not? He’s tall, has broad shoulders, leaner than what you usually go for but still built in a way that makes your brain short-circuit.

Then the universe really had to mess with you—you are assigned the seat right next to him for the overnight flight.

Your stomach drops. Suddenly, your go-to comfy travel outfit, leggings and a cardigan, feels way too basic.

“I’m at the window seat,” you say, trying to sound normal.

He looks up, meeting your gaze, and smiles—actually smiles. His brown eyes are warm and a little intrigued as he gives you a once over.

“Okay.”

Just that one word and you are already overthinking. How good his voice would sound in your ear as he’s—

No, you won’t make things harder on yourself by having intrusive sexual thoughts about some stranger. No matter how good looking he is.

You shove your carry-on into the overhead bin and awkwardly step aside so he can stand and let you in. His body brushes against yours, and you get a whiff of his cologne, something woodsy, mixed with the unmistakable scent of whiskey from the airport bar.

Okay… so maybe you’d been watching him for longer than just at the gate. But who could blame you? The man is truly a sight to behold. It’s not like you were being a creep about it.

You mutter a soft “thanks” and sink into your seat, trying very hard to act normal while the flight attendants go through their safety spiel, though it’s hard to focus when you can feel his presence right next to you.

You need a distraction—fast. So, in a last-ditch effort to stop acting like a feral idiot, you pluck your book from your backpack and try to read.

It works, kind of. Not really.

“So, what’s waiting for you in Playa del Carmen?”

His voice, low and raspy, cuts through your attempt at reading—not that you’d absorbed a single word, still stuck on the same page since you opened it.

You glance over, and of course, he’s already looking at you. His leather jacket is gone, leaving him in a short sleeved button-down, a few undone buttons teasing the tanned skin of his neck, his thick biceps straining against the fabric.

You take too long to answer because he tilts his head slightly, lips twitching like he’s holding back a smirk. “Sorry—abrupt fuckin’ question.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You stumble over your words, mentally cringing at yourself. His brows raise slightly, amused, and you don’t miss the way his mustache tics when he presses his lips together. 

“A friend’s birthday trip. I got caught up at work, so I had to take a later flight at the last minute. What about you?”

He hums, the sound deep and thoughtful. “Work.” That’s all he offers. “Not as fun as what you’ll be getting up to, I’m sure.”

You bite your lip, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your book. “I’ve heard the beaches are beautiful. I’m excited to just lounge and take in the sun. It’s been so long since I’ve gone on a proper vacation.”

Your tongue is loose despite the way you’re vibrating under the weight of his attention.

“I know that feeling. Don’t even think my body knows what a vacation is…” He trails off, leaning back in his seat, thighs spreading in that way men do, which you usually find annoying but something about the way he does it has your pussy clenching, and you try no to let your eyes drop down to his crotch.

“How’s the book?”

You blink slowly, returning your attention to the paperback in your hand. “Got a slow start but so far it’s been alright.”

“I bet. You’ve been stuck on the same page since we took off. Must be the most riveting paragraph ever written.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and if it were anybody else, you’d be weirded out by their observation. Being hot does have its privileges. “Maybe I just like rereading. Really taking in the point the author is trying to make.”

“Uh-huh, right…” He chuckles softly and that sound triggers the desire that seeps into every pore of your skin.

The conversation continues flowing thereafter, which you definitely did not expect. His name is Javier, and he’s constantly traveling for work—though he’s vague on the details, and you’re not about to grill a stranger for his life story.

Instead, the topics meander, easy and flirtatious, both of you toeing the line between casual and something else.

You swear he’s flirting. He leans in slightly when you speak, holds your eyes captive just a beat too long, like he’s in no rush to look away.

You’re noticing everything the deeper you get into this… thing. The way lips form around each word, full and obnoxiously kissable. The way his brown eyes glint when he talks about things that should be trivial but feel interesting because he’s the one saying them. How the tendons in his forearms flex whenever he gestures, his fingers long and strong, the kind of hands that could make a woman very happy.

Your horny brain is spiraling.

“A mango marg is my go to. Preferably one of those ridiculously oversized ones with sugar on the rim.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You arch a brow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He scratches his jaw, flicking his tongue over his teeth. You admire how chiseled his jaw is. “Means you like to have fun. You probably get away with a lot.”

“And you think I get away with things?”

His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second. “I think you could, if you wanted to.”

You cross your legs, shifting in your seat like that’s going to help anything. It just makes it worse. Focus. He’s just a hot stranger. A hot stranger that smells like whiskey and cedarwood and keeps throwing you these amused little glances like he knows what the fuck he’s doing to you.

You should probably end this before you embarrass yourself. But instead, you just keep talking, keep flirting, and keep waiting to see just how far this can go.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Javier’s voice snaps you back to reality, and you blink, heat settling on your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up.

“Sorry, what?”

His lips curve slightly like he’s fighting a grin, but his eyes give him away. “You keep staring at my mouth…” He trails off, but there’s something in the way he says it. As if he’s caught you red-handed and is enjoying watching you squirm.

Your stomach clenches. Your thighs press together on instinct.

Fuck.

Panic surges through you, and suddenly, the cabin feels way too small, the air too thick. “No, uh—there’s nothing there. I just… I zone out sometimes.” You clear your throat, fingers fumbling with your seatbelt. “Would you mind letting me get to the restroom?”

You sound as pathetic as you feel, but Javier doesn’t let up. His smirk stays put, eyes flicking over your face like he’s contemplating something.

Still, he nods. “Sure.”

He stands, stepping aside, and as you squeeze past him, his hand just barely grazes your lower back. Light enough to be innocent, intentional enough to send a full-body shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, pretending not to notice—pretending not to feel the slick heat between your legs pulse at the contact—and walk as casually as possible down the aisle.

The moment you lock the restroom door behind you, you press your palms against the tiny counter, breathing hard.

Your reflection stares back at you, pupils blown, lips parted like you just stumbled out of a damn makeout session. 

You’re hot. Turned on from nothing but a little eye contact and some shameless flirting. And the worst part? It’s not going away anytime soon. Especially since you’re sitting so fucking close to him. Your body is wound tight, aching at the worst possible time.

Your panties are soaked, borderline ruined, pussy crying to get some relief, and you actually consider slipping a hand down there and rubbing one out. But you know yourself. Getting off with your fingers is a slow, frustrating process, and the last thing you need is to be locked in an airplane restroom, chasing an orgasm while Javier is sitting just outside, existing like that.

So you suck it up. Splash some cool water on your face. Take a deep breath. Get it together.

When you step back into the aisle, he’s already standing, leaning casually against the row of seats as if his demeanor and charm aren’t totally putting you under his spell. He looks even better now than he did before you left.

You give him a tight-lipped, awkward smile as you slide back into your seat. He follows, sinking into his own with a quiet grunt, the sound low and rough enough to send another spark of pleasure straight to your cunt.

“Everything good?” He asks smoothly, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness to it, like he already knows the answer.

You force your legs to stay still, clenching your thighs subtly as you nod.

“Mhm.”

He hums. “You don’t have to lie, you know.”

Your eyes snap up to his, heartbeat hammering. “What?”

“I know when a woman’s turned on. And you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Your stomach drops, your whole body flooding with embarrassment. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He shrugs. “Been thinkin’ about how good your ass looks in those leggings since I saw you back at the airport.”

Oh, you’re so fucked.

Your breath stutters, fingers gripping the armrest as if that’ll do anything to ground you. Maybe this is a dream, it has to be. No way he’s reciprocating the horny vibes you’ve been exuding because of your damn ovulation cycle. 

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips, shaky, uncertain.

His expression doesn’t change—still cool, still lazy, but there’s a darkness to it now. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything…” His knuckles graze your thigh, featherlight, making you shiver before he pulls away. “But I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like I’m not attracted to you.”

You lick your lips, watching the way he follows the movement, how his hand balls into a fist against his leg. The cabin is dim now, most passengers lost in their own worlds or asleep, and the seats around you are conveniently unoccupied. The flight attendants have finished their last walkthrough, leaving you tucked away in a private little pocket of space.

Your pulse thrums, a decision forming in the haze of arousal clouding your mind. “What if…” You hesitate, but then let the thought take control, logic be damned. “What if I wanted to do something?”

Javier’s brows lift slightly, intrigue flashing across his face. The shift is instant—his relaxed posture stiffens, his jaw ticks, and his eyes dip just slightly as if assessing exactly how far you’re willing to go.

You’re barely breathing as he lifts the armrest between you, his body pressing in tight, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You almost pass out.

“Yeah?” His voice is nothing but a whisper, matching the lust that’s thrumming in your veins. “Like what?”

The warmth of his breath has you letting out a soft, involuntary whimper.

“Anything,” you murmur, fidgeting with your fingers, the need unbearable. “I just need you to touch me.”

Javi exhales a low, quiet laugh through his nose, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. His lips ghost along the side of your jaw, teasing, taunting.

“I can do that.” His fingers then trail up your thigh agonizingly slow, stopping just at the hem of your leggings. “Just need you to keep quiet.”

You nod weakly, head tipping back against the seat as his mouth finds your neck. He starts slow, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive skin before sucking lightly, dragging his teeth over your pulse. You resist the urge to squirm as his large palm moves up your body, fingertips teasing along the curve of your breast over your top.

Your nipples tighten instantly, and when he pinches one between his fingers, both of you let out a quiet groan.

“So sensitive. You need more?”

You bite your lip, nodding desperately again. “Yes.”

His hand slips beneath your shirt and finally—rough fingertips meet your bare skin. He palms your breast, kneading, tugging at your nipple, sending sharp little sparks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You shift, desperately trying to find any friction. Your horniness is maddening and he knows it.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, tongue flicking out to taste your skin. “So worked up already. Bet you’re soaked.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you whimper, hips rolling ever so slightly.

Javier groans at the movement, shifting even closer, his thigh pressing against yours as he works your tits over with a practiced hand.

His lips move up to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. You turn your head, eyes locking with his for a brief moment before you both give in—lips crashing together, mouths desperate and hungry.

He can kiss.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting and exploring. The fingers at your breast keep working, rolling your nipple between his fingers, twisting just enough to make you gasp against his lips.

“Javi…” His name is exhaled breathlessly. “More. Please.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah?” Leaving your tits, he moves down between your legs and you spread your thighs, giving him enough room to begin rubbing you over your leggings.

You let out a sharp gasp, back arching slightly. The pressure has you melting, chasing the touch you so desperately need.

Javier watches you, drinking in the slight furrow of your brow, how your lips purse. “Goddamn.” He can’t help but nip at your lower lip, gripping your thigh with his other hand as he grinds a little harder against your pussy. “You soaked right through these.”

Your fingers dig into his forearm, the teasing unbearable.

“You’re so—” You shudder, exhaling shakily and he’s living for it. “You’re so fucking hot, I couldn’t help it.”

“I could probably make you come just like this, huh? Needy little thing needs her pussy played with so bad, she’s whoring herself out on a fuckin’ plane just to get an orgasm.”

Your jaw hangs open at his filthy words.

Javier is clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. His fingers keep moving, slow and firm, while your hand drifts down, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. Even through the thick denim, he’s big, and when you squeeze just slightly, his hips jerk into your palm.

He groans into the kiss you’re sharing, enjoying your touch. “This is risky, you sure?”

You nod, struggling to think through the fog of lust clouding your mind. “I don’t care.”

That’s all it takes.

He pulls back, just enough for both of you to move quickly. You shrug off your cardigan, tucking it beneath you before slipping your leggings and panties down to your mid thigh. You’re not about to put your bare ass on this plane seat.

He unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from his jeans, and holy shit.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s thick, a swollen, flushed cock with a prominent vein running down the side, curving just enough to make your walls flutter at the thought of him fucking your cunt.

Javi catches your lingering gaze and smirks. “You just gonna look, or—?”

You drag your tongue across your palm before wrapping it around his leaking cock, your touch making him shudder. Slowly, you stroke him, spreading the precum with your thumb, gliding it over the sensitive head before giving a firm squeeze, earning a growl from deep in his chest.

His fingers slip between your thighs, spreading your pussy lips open, and he wastes no time in teasing your sensitive labia, dragging his touch up and down attentively.

You moan quietly as to not get yourself caught. He groans at the feeling of you, slick and hot, his digits smearing your arousal all over your pretty pussy before pressing against your swollen clit.

“If we weren’t on this goddamn plane I’d fuck the shit out of you.”

You can’t hold back your soft whine, your head tilting back, wrist still moving, his own fingers working magic between your thighs.

“How? Please Javi tell me how you’d fuck me.”

He buries his head into your neck, licking, biting, sucking at your skin, his thick fingers now breaching the mouth of your cunt.

It’s pure bliss—the stretch so much deeper, fuller than your own fingers ever manage. His thick digits work you open, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you. The way he drags against your inner walls has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, but it’s the relentless pressure on your fleshy pearl that wrecks you, erasing every thought but him.

“I’d have you spread out, my head buried between your legs, fucking you with my tongue until you’re wet enough to take this big cock.” His hips grind into your jerking palm to emphasize his point.

You can only imagine how his wet tongue would feel up against your flesh, tasting every crevice, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you.

“Probably start over you, wanna see that pretty face while I slide inside this tight pussy baby, fuck,” he groans, fingers now knuckles deep inside your cunt and you moan, slipping into this fantasy with him, imagining how good it’d feel to have his dick stretching you out.

“Not really a missionary girl but I know you’d make me feel good, Javi.”

His thumb is slick with your sticky wetness, allowing him to swirl your clit around, massaging it and making your pussy drool even more. Your nipples are hardened and oversensitive, adding to the bliss when they brush against the fabric of your shirt with every deep inhale and exhale you take. 

Javi’s fingers begin to thrust into you more earnestly, the soft squelch of your pussy getting finger fucked thankfully drowned out by the hum of the plane. “How would you want it then? Tell me how you’d take it.”

Another bead of precum dollops from his slit and your mouth waters, picking up the pace to match the stroking of his fingers inside you.

“On top. I’d bounce on your cock until you’re filling me up. Put my tits in your face, make you suck on them.”

A thin sheen of sweat clings to your temples, the heat of his kisses still lingering on your neck making your temperature spike like a fever you don’t want to break.

Javier gets desperate, leaning in to put his lips on yours, imagining the way your pussy would feel while you rode him. You clench around his fingers, your orgasm on the brink of making a mess all over his hand.

“You’d let me come inside you?” His voice is a husky murmur, almost taunting, laden with lust as he cups your jaw with his other hand before sliding lower, wrapping firmly around your throat. Not squeezing, just holding, keeping you in place as he curls his fingers, brazen eyes boring into yours.

Your breath stutters as ecstacy coils impossibly tight. “Mhm,” you nod weakly, tears welling in your eyes from how good it all feels.

A wicked smirk spreads across his lips, his grip keeping you steady as he drags you closer. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ love that.”

His lips crash against yours again, swallowing your cries as his fingers work you harder, scissoring inside you, his fat thumb flicking your clit rapidly. 

It sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body clenches, muscles locking as waves of pleasure ripple through you, your release coating his fingers while you moan into his mouth, trying to keep quiet, trying not to let the whole damn plane know what he’s doing to you.

Your grip on his cock tightens but you lose your rhythm as he lets you ride out your orgasm, whispering praises against your lips, not seeming bothered by the lack of attention at his shaft.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, blinking away the stars clouding your vision while he pulls his fingers out, a sticky web following.

Javier lifts his fingers between you, still slick with your release, dark eyes flicking to yours as he takes in the scent of your pussy before he’s licking at them, using the hold he still has on your neck to bring you in so you’re both making out with his wet fingers between the two of you, your tongue moving sinfully, getting lost in the act.

You break away when his fingers are licked clean, attempting to catch your breath. After regaining some control, you continue to work his cock, urging him to slide into the unoccupied third seat by the aisle so you have room to take him in your mouth.

Javi blinks, caught off guard, dick twitching in your grasp as he registers what you’re suggesting.

“You sure?” His hands flex like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Yes. Don’t want to make a mess, right? Just make sure no one’s looking.” You purr, pulling your legging and underwear back up before shifting your body and bending over to lick at his tip, circling around his head before you’re taking as much as you can into your mouth.

The positioning is a little cramped and awkward, but you don’t care. He tastes so good, feels even better on your tongue. The blood is roaring in your ears, you can’t even hear any of the quieted noises you’re pulling from him but you do feel his hand landing on the back of your neck and he pushes you further down, forcing you to take almost the entirety of his cock down your throat.

You fondle his balls, sucking in your cheeks and bobbing up and down quickly. His stomach tightens and before you know it, ropes of warm and salty cum are filling your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. You moan around him, slurping him up before pulling away with a soft pop, wiping at the corners of your mouth where the fluids had smeared.

He looks just as wrecked as you had when you came, his cheeks a little pink, eyes dilated, breathing heavily. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair before tucking himself back into his pants, watching you with something dangerously close to admiration.

You lean in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his lips, returning the favor and letting him taste the last traces of himself.

“Where are you staying? This can’t be the last time I see you.”

You tell him the name of the resort, watching as that familiar cocky smirk creeps back onto his face.

“Okay,” he murmurs, mind already made up. “Can’t let you walk away after that. Pussy’s too good. Hope your friends don’t mind me stealing you for a night or two.”

He caresses your cheek and you melt into him, resting your chin on his shoulder, staring up at him with starry eyes. You already know you’re going to get the lecturing of your life once you disclose what just transpired to your homegirls.

“They will. Maybe I should extend my stay just a little longer…” Your fingers fidget with the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll pay for it. Anything to see you again.”

Oh god, is this irresponsible of you? Probably. But you’re not thinking with your brain right now, no, you’re straight up thinking with your pussy.

“Deal.”

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7. @mandaloriankait . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @clubsoft . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz . @manuymesut . @biapascal . @angiewatson .

[fyuyushia]

"There's a reason why people don't stay where they are. Baby, sometimes, love just ain't enough" — Sometimes love just ain't enough.

Ex-boyfriend!Sung Jinwoo who you had to break up with due to the need to be realistic.

You didn't want to leave him, really. Especially after things just started going awry for him. His dad's gone missing, his mother succumbed to eternal slumber, never to awaken for who knows how long. With him being the sole breadwinner left to keep the family from falling into poverty, he had to drop out and work as a hunter despite only being an E-rank hunter.

He's struggling enough as is, so you wanted to keep yourself by his side. However as it stands, it just wasn't possible. Your mother despises him, your father pushes you to focus on your career and forget about your fleeting highschool romance.

"You've grown past that age now," he had said to you once during dinner. "Be realistic, you can't survive clinging onto a man who can't give you anything. Even worse since he's having you help pay things off. Where is his pride? No man would let the woman he loves work hard to make ends meet."

You wanted to refute, but you knew deep down his words rang true. Bags grew under your eyes due to overwork. Even if he didn't want you to, you couldn't help but want to help ease his burdens somewhat. However, this willingness of yours had resulted in your health deteriorating to a sickening point. Your once comfortable lifestyle became a distant memory, now wrought with debts and an alarming amount of bills to pay. You hated yourself for thinking this way, but it was the cold and bitter truth.

Not everything could be resolved with love alone.

Ex Boyfriend!Jinwoo who's absolutely devastated by the news when you break it to him but still greets you off with a smile. One last time, he takes you out to a meal in some obscure diner—one you always frequented with him whenever there was something to celebrate.

Offering to pay for the meal, he takes the remaining bill on his wallet, insisting that he should pay since he was the one who insisted. Jinwoo, your beloved Jinwoo—he was always shouldering everything, insisting on spoiling you despite always struggling to make ends meet. Small trinkets, flowers, even this run down diner—he'd spend every single dime on you and his family but never for himself. It was physically painful to tell him that, hated how you had to be realistic despite wanting nothing more to stay by his side.

When the night's over he takes you home, walking you to the station. You were quiet the entire time, unable to meet him in the eye. Guilt wracked up your nerves, rendering you unable to speak. He didn't deserve this—didn't deserve someone who'd give up on him when the going got tough. He deserved someone who'd stick by his side, lending him their shoulder especially on moments like this.

"Ah, right." Jinwoo halted in his tracks, reaching for something in his pocket.

You stop as well, tilting your head up a bit to see what he was doing. He furrows his brows, feeling around in search of something. He visibly lights up when he finally finds it, making you even more curious. You raise your head, twisting your body to face him entirely.

"Here," stretching out his arm, he offers a box to you. "A little something for you..."

You blink, surprised. You look at him for assurance, he nods in turn, urging you to take it. You gingerly accept it, holding the small box in your hand. Curious about what it held within, you open it.

A gasp leaves your lips, eyes wide in surprise. You stared at your hands and then to him, lips trembling. "This is..."

It was a necklace—one you adored but didn't have the guts to buy because of the amount. Using what little money you had, you chipped in on Jinah's tuition fee, forsaking the chance to get that necklace for yourself in favor of helping Jinwoo. You thought you wouldn't ever see it again—get to wear it even—but lo and behold.

He scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed. "I saw you eyeing it when we went to the mall before. I wanted to give it to you since it's our 4th anniversary. Am I being presumptuous?"

You look at him, disbelief etched on your features. You know full well how pricey it is, how did he even find the money to buy this?

"Jinwoo I—you didn't have to."

"I wanted too. I know being with me is difficult, I'm poor and I always come back home injured. I owe you this much."

You bit back a scoff, baffled by just how selfless this man could get. You wanted to say something, berate him for being so stupid and going through such lengths for you. Instead, all that left you was a broken sob.

Tears ran down your cheeks, unable to hold in the guilt that ate you from in to out. Your shoulders trembled, lips quivering as you wept. "You idiot."

Your heart felt heavy, crushing your body with its weight. The waterworks quickly ran, never ending once it began.

"I"m sorry, I'm sorry. Jinwoo I—I'm sorry."

Breathless murmurs left your lips, apologizing profusely to the man who fate saw fit to make suffer.

Stupid Jinwoo, always so considerate. Offering everything to you so zealously, he was far too naive. "Do you think I'd appreciate something like this? You dummy."

Jinwoo flinches, panicking at the sight of your tears. "Hey now, why are you crying? Don't cry, you know I don't like seeing you cry."

He gives you a small smile, bringing you to his arms to give you a tight hug. You only cry harder in response, aching for this man—for this unbelievably sweet man.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too, I know it was a nightmare being with me."

"Don't say that." You bury your face against the crook of his neck. Circling your arms around him, your hands grip the fabric of his sweater. "You were a blessing."

"Thank you." He pats your back, not minding the fact that you've stained his clothes with your tears. "But there's no need to deny it. I know I haven't been the best boyfriend."

"I would've preferred it if I could give you a comfortable life as well." He pulls you closer, rubbing comforting circles. "You deserve more than this life. You deserve a man who can provide you with anything you want, not someone like me who can barely give you anything."

"Shut up." You bawl, knuckles turning white from the sheer grip you had on him.

He laughs. "I'm sorry, I wasn't able to give you that kind of life even up to the very end."

Ex boyfriend!Jinwoo who let's you go all too easily, trying to not mind the aching pain that grew in his chest. He knew it was for the better, you deserved better than him.

He sees other couples out and about on the streets, wearing smiles free of worry. He envies them, longing for a time when he can make you smile so widely like that as well. He knows it in his head. He knows it well—too well it absolutely ruins him. You deserve more than run-down diners and cheap gifts. You deserve more than having to worry about the roof on your head, deserve more than having to skip meals just to save money. You deserved someone that wasn't him. At least, the him he was now.

Ex-boyfriend!Jinwoo who, after years finally had his life back together. His mother woke up, Jinah's tuition problem was solved and he had enough money to not worry about the roof over his head now. He's grown stronger, better than the him of the past.

Ex-boyfriend!Jinwoo who you meet again after years. Your life turned for the better shortly after leaving him as well, no longer burdened by the never-ending bills you once worried about having to pay. He's standing in front of you, taller, cooler, you had a hard time reconciling him with the Jinwoo you once knew.

You peer into his eyes, noticing the innocence that left his eyes. Your heart pangs, what horrors did he have to face to end up where he is now? You worry for him, but you don't say anything, afraid of overstepping. Did you still even have the right to worry? After leaving him in the dust, leaving him to fend for himself?

"Jinwoo."

He replies with your name, bluntly calling you as well. You spend a few seconds trapped in this moment, staring into his eyes that you loved getting lost in.

"it's been a while. Seems like you've been doing great lately, good for you."

He nods, allowing a smile to break on his lips. It was bittersweet, and through it did you see a glimpse of the past, the naive him that disappeared as he had to survive for the sake of himself and his family.

"Care for a walk?" He follows up with your name, murmuring it so softly you were immediately thrown back to the past.

"Maybe a cup of coffee too while we're at it, just like the good times."

Wait hold on my creative juices aren't stopping whoa. Watch me disappear of of the face of the internet for another month again after running out of reserves.

[cherrycranes]

Hotter Than Usual (Emmett x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place 2) x Fem!Reader Summary: You've been drooling over your dilfy neighbor the whole summer, only watching from afar. But when he mows your lawn on a whim, you decide it's time to get close and personal. Word count: 2,781 Contents: (Minors DNI). No apocalypse AU. Unspecified age gap, oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, heavy flirting, public? kind of?? Author's notes: Behold, the promised neighbor Emmett fic made with @fuckiingloser. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Love you guys!!

It was a blistering hot July day, the sun sizzled on the pavement as you sat on your front porch swing, sucking on a cherry popsicle and wearing the skimpiest little red bikini. 

You were the only roommate living in your college house through the summer, and you filled your first two weeks of being alone tanning, napping on the couch in the air conditioning, or sitting on the porch swing, watching your neighbor across the street… Emmett…

Emmett was always doing something, and usually shirtless. Whether he was working on his old muscle car in his garage while listening to old rock music, weed-whacking, power-washing his driveway, cleaning his gutters, or mowing his lawn, you would see him. 

And he always saw you, giving you a subtle smirk or a little acknowledgment nod, sometimes even a wave when he spotted you on your porch and your eyes met. It all became a subtle game of silent flirtation. 

Today was one of those days. Emmett just so happened to be mowing his lawn shirtless, with a faded Chicago Cubs ball cap over his salt-and-pepper hair and looking as delicious as ever. No romcom or porn could ever compare, you had a real fantasy in the flesh right across the street from you, always there for you to watch.

And you knew he watched you too.

In times like these, when you baked under the sun and wore the tiniest bikini you owned, Emmett feasted his eyes. He tried to be sneaky about it, watching from inside his garage or the big front window of his house, but lately, he had gotten bold and blatant. Now he always watched you standing from his yard, looking over casually, drinking a beer, and flashing you his killer smirk.

You had met briefly once when you moved in a few months ago. You were getting a moving box out of your car, and Emmett came over to help and introduce himself. He was a polite, quiet older guy in his mid-40s, divorced with two high school-age sons who mostly lived with their mother. He was a perfectly normal man, yet incredibly sexy.

It was his scruffy beard with flecks of grey hairs throughout, soft desaturated brown curls usually underneath a worn baseball cap, the most beautiful pale blue eyes you’d ever seen, and a tan, muscular body he showed off any chance he got. Tattoos of mountains and eagles adorned his toned arms and made your pussy flutter whenever you got a glimpse of them.

Snapping back to reality and away from your horny daydreams, you finished the last of your popsicle, hopped off the swing, and headed back into the house to rinse away the sweat of the afternoon and the ever-growing attraction you felt for your older neighbor.

As you stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around your naked body, the familiar hum of a lawnmower right outside your window piqued your interest…

Peeking from behind the curtain, you saw him through the corner of your window. Emmett, finishing the last square of uncut grass in all of his sexy, shirtless, dilfy glory. 

Mowing your lawn. 

Fuck, if that didn’t make you feel something. You watched him wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, brushing it off on his khaki shorts as he finished the last bit of your lawn. Emmett pushed his lawnmower back to his yard across the street, leaving yours impeccable, but as you were about to turn away, he did something, the perfect proof of what you had suspected all along…. He turned around, looked up at your window as if he knew you were there watching him, and winked. 

And that’s when you knew. Emmett was not just a hot but clueless divorced dad across the street. This game of flirtation was a real thing, and every single one of your brief but repeated interactions was no other than deliberate seduction tactics. Schemes to tempt each other into making the first big move.

And this one had been it… And now, he was challenging you to make yours…

Decided, you slipped on a simple white tank top, a lace pink thong, and a slutty little jean skirt that hugged your ass and hips way too tightly, disguising you as the girl next door that could make him rock hard the second he laid eyes on you.

Damp from the shower, your hair soaked into the fabric of your cotton white tank lightly, your lips donned a shimmery coat of lipgloss and, to give you the perfect excuse to go see him looking like that, your hands carried a pretty plate with store-bought cookies that would serve as a makeshift thank you gift.

Motivated by the lonely, sexless summer you had had so far, you gathered your nerves and walked out of your front door. The hot dilf across the street basically begged you to come over and let him fuck your brains out, and you knew it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance…

You stared at his open garage, your pussy fluttering at the knowledge that he was there, just a few seconds away from you. Anticipation pumped inside your veins until you found yourself standing right in front of his house.

Old music posters and tin beer signs covered the walls of his garage. His vintage red Mustang, which you had seen him wash shirtless in his driveway countless times, stood there. Right in the back, there was a tool bench where Emmett happened to sit, drinking a cold Bud Light, shirtless and dripping sweat as the Eagles played softly in the background. 

He noticed your quiet presence and turned around, eyes immediately looking over your frame shamelessly, a smirk hidden behind the can of beer as he took a sip.

“Well, hi there…” His voice was so low and sexy, your thong dampened, and your mouth went dry. Your eyes feasted upon him, finally close and personal for the first time. His tattoos on his arms and the droplets of sweat running down his toned abs and into his fuzzy happy trail put you in a trance.

The sound of him setting his can down snapped you out of it, eyes quickly moving up his body to his pretty blue eyes, and finally making eye contact. 

“I brought you these as a thank you for mowing my lawn…” You chirped, so sweetly passing him the plate of cookies. Your hands touched briefly as he took them from you, a hint of a smirk on his face. The rough pads of his hardworking fingers contrasted perfectly with your soft, manicured hands, and it felt like a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Ah… how kind of you… Just trying to be a friendly neighbor is all…” Emmett replied with that raspy, sexy voice, gratefully taking the plate and setting it down next to his beer. He kept watching you as you walked over to peek under the open hood of his old Mustang.

Innocently and secretly calculative, you bent over the engine of the car, pretending to care about it as your tiny skirt rode up your legs. Emmett’s eyes immediately fell to the edge of the garment, taking in how the undersides of your asscheeks popped out the bottom. His cock twitched to life in his kakhi shorts and he held back a groan. 

There was silence, but no awkwardness between you as he practically drooled over you. The last few months from afar had been deliciously tense, and as tense as you both were, you were on the verge of snapping.

“Been a real hot summer…” You small-talked, cliché but useful. You could feel his eyes burning into your ass from behind while you still pretended to understand whatever went on at the engine. Finally, you turned around, looking at him across the garage. The humid air wasn’t the only thick feeling in the atmosphere around you.

Emmett smirked, adjusting his ball cap and taking a sip of his beer, flexing his arm just right to give you a nice view of his thick, sweaty, tattooed bicep. He nodded with a slight smirk on his handsome, bearded face, expertly tossing his now-empty beer into the trash can.

“Hotter than usual… and I think I know why…”  He agreed, taking prowler steps toward you that made your heart race. His strong arm snaked boldly around your waist and pulled you closer, chest to chest, his growing hard-on poking against you through his shorts. 

“It’s all thanks to you… wearing those pretty little bikinis… sitting on your porch in your underwear staring at me while you suck on your popsicles…” he purred, looking down into your eyes. His fingertips danced over the exposed soft skin of your lower back, sending goosebumps over your entire body.

With a smirk, you wrapped your arms around him, resting them on his shoulders, fingertips playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and sticking out under his hat. With each word, you got more turned on, your body buzzed with anticipation. 

“Why do you think I spend so much time out in my yard? Just to get a glimpse of you… I know you watch me too, baby…” He murmurs to you, your lips so close to touching but not yet. 

“Well… I'm here now… what are you gonna do about it?” You whispered sensually, looking up and giving him your best “fuck me” eyes, your lips ghosting over his, the tension seconds from boiling over.

His large hands fell from the small of your back down to your ass, grabbinng a greedy handful of each cheek and squeezing hard.

“Oh, don’t worry… I’ve got a few ideas…” Emmett’s voice dripped with cheeky confidence, a smirk forming upon his lips before they crashed into yours.

The taste of toothpaste and cheap beer filled your taste buds, and you couldn’t get enough. You kissed deeply and hungrily, tongues tangling together in a messy, lust-driven knot. 

All those afternoons of distant flirtation had paid off, and it felt more than good. You moaned into his mouth, his cock twitched in response, urging him to get more now that he had you. 

Strong arms picked you up like it was nothing, your legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands gripped the back of your thighs as he walked you across the garage, setting you on top of his tool bench.

Emmett stood between your parted legs, hands on your inner thighs now. You broke the kiss for air, panting from the intensity of it all. His eyes wandered all over you. He had you where he wanted you.

“I’ve been dreaming about this little pussy for months… wondering how it tastes… how it feels… how wet it would get for me...” He practically purred into your ear before taking your earlobe between his teeth, tugging on it playfully, his beard tickling your neck.

One big, calloused hand found its way between your parted legs, his thumb found your clit over the lace of your thong and rubbed painfully slow circles on it before sliding it down between your pussy lips. He groaned at the growing wet spot, and you moaned, completely speechless.

“Already so wet for me… good girl… I think you’ve been dreaming of this too…” He whispered into your ear, placing a wet kiss on your neck. He moved the flimsy fabric out of the way and groaned in pleasure when he finally got his first ever look at your pretty pussy.

Emmett stared in admiration, a hungry smirk appearing on his face before his tongue came out to lick his lower lip, wishing it was your cunt. It took an effort for him to peel his eyes away from your wet pussy to look into your eyes.

“I bet you taste as delicious as you look…” He said, big hands pushing up your thighs even farther apart. He went straight to the point, burying his handsome face between your legs and licking a fat stripe up your folds, groaning happily at your taste. 

“Emmett…” You whimpered loudly, his tongue circled and flicked over your clit expertly before moving down, dipping into your soaking entrance and making your hips buck into his mouth. He devoured you greedily, stealing all words from your mouth; it felt so good that you could scream.

Knocking his hat off his head, your fingers tangled in his curls. His tongue and mouth shamelessly worked on you in front of the whole neighborhood, and you couldn’t care less.

He moaned against your sensitive flesh, his lips nibbled on your nub, then moved to spit on your hole. His thick, calloused finger slid in easily and curled inside, hitting that special spot inside you, adding to your growing pleasure as he returned to tend to your clit.

The combined pleasure was too much, too good, your eyes nearly crossed, and you saw stars as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your tight cunt squelched around his finger and filled the garage with filthy sounds, arousal dripped into his palm just to evidence how much you enjoyed this.

Emmett pulled his mouth back for a painful second, just to look up at you. Your eyes snapped open, and you discovered just how wet you had left his lips and beard. Such an erotic view, the familiar burn in your stomach grew. His finger never faltered in its pace, pumping in and out of you.

“Come for me, pretty girl…” He cooed, little kisses peppering over your needy clit and pale blue eyes looking into yours. You nodded frantically, your mouth hung open, and your breath hitched.

With a sexy wink and a sly smile, he dove back in for more of you, shaking his head back and forth, slurping at your wet slit like a starved man. His middle finger curled inside you, massaging your G-spot and adding to the myriad of sensations as his beard tickled your inner thighs.  

Louder and louder, you moaned in utter overstimulation, your orgasm rapidly building thanks to him. 

“Holy f-fuck” You stuttered, your voice shaky. “I-i’m gonna come…” You warned with a whine, your back arched, and the back of your head brushed up against some wrenches and drill bits on the wall, too close to coming to care.

“Cmon baby… lemme have it…” Emmett groaned, his words muffled against your wet cunt. He slid in another thick finger inside you, lapping at your folds like an ice cream cone melting in the hot sun. Your loud moans now echoed through his garage, a mixture of gibberish and his name repeated again and again.

Your gaze connected with his, his eyes pleading you to come on his tongue as it swirled over your swollen clit then between your folds. Impossible not to give in…

Hard and sudden, your orgasm hit you like a train, the pressure finally boiling over inside you after half a summer of impatient waiting.

 “Oh my god… I’m coming…” You whimpered with tears threatening to swell up in your eyes. You gripped his soft hair tightly, afraid of being dragged away by your own tide of pleasure, and, instinctively, grinding your cunt on his bearded face, the tip of his nose bumping your clit.

With thighs shaking and toes tightly curled, your orgasm ripped through you, your gummy walls pulsed around his fingers gradually, slowing to a stop. His work on you didn’t end there; he gladly lapped up all your sweet release and fed from it, doing the same with his fingers when he pulled them out of you. His needy tongue took care of the sticky arousal that had pooled in his hand, savoring every drop of your taste with a groan.

Finally, he stood to look at you, admiring the state he had put you under, your face, your puffy, sensitive pussy and your ragged, disbeliefed breathing. You had never come from head before… Not before him…

Emmett flashed you his sexy smirk once more, squeezing your thighs with both hands. He could still smell you on his beard and the tip of his nose.

“We should've done that a lot sooner…” You admitted, still processing just how real it had been, coaxing a laugh out of him. He leaned in, capturing your lips in one last hot kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

When you broke the kiss, he put his forehead, damp with sweat, against yours. His hands rubbed the soft flesh of your thighs gently, and he gazed into your eyes with a determined, yet tender look.

“Good thing we’ve got all summer…” 

Pinterest board by @fuckiingloser

[whateverisbeautiful]

Richonne in Retrospect - The 💋 List

(every Richonne kiss ranked)

#1: The Epic Reunion Kiss (1.02) 🎉

🏆🎊🥳 #1!! 🏆🎊🥳 The winner for my favorite Richonne kiss of all time goes to Richonne's epic reunion kiss. It's gold, it's triple platinum, it's magnetic, it's everything. My goodness, they did their big one with this kiss. 🤩 Our captains always understand the assignment when it comes to Richonne - as evidenced in every single one of the scenes on this Top 30. But the big and highly anticipated assignment of portraying Richonne's first time in front of each other and first real kiss in years was going to have high expectations - and y'all, they aced it to perfection with what they delivered during this Richonne reunion.

This kiss is the definition of a soul kiss. Because truly it feels like this is Richonne's souls interlocking in this moment as they bask in the bliss of finally being reunited with their soulmate. At long last.🥹...

I always say when Rick and Michonne are together the world can wait. And the kiss they had during this reunion took it a step further because truly time stood still. All there was for a moment was Richonne and their love and it was a breathtakingly beautiful thing to behold. The reunion was already so perfectly crafted with the explosive way these two end up in the same vicinity and Michonne taking out soldiers left and right before putting her katana to a masked Rick's neck. And then when they lay eyes on each other for the first time and are hit first with a wave of shock and then a wave of emotions as they realize the love of their life is in front of them. 😭

I love seeing the way they approach each other with tears in their eyes. Those magnets kick in immediately and lead them to have such a heartfelt first embrace - with snow naturally falling and making the moment even more enchanting. Michonne's joyous declaration of "I found you" and Rick nestled into her, receiving warmth like this for the first time in almost a decade just puts a tear in my eye. I love that being a true father through and through, Rick's first words are checking in on Judith. It's precious how happy Michonne is to assure him their baby girl is alive and how relieved he is to hear that. And then it's so sweet how Rick is nervous as he finds the words to assure Michonne that he's not really with these other soldiers and Michonne doesn't hesitate to let him know she already knows.

And then once they've addressed their daughter and Rick's status with these masked folks, it's time for the two to more personally address each other. And I love that they do so with a gorgeous kiss that speaks volumes. You can visibly see Rick become entirely focused on loving on Michonne and he truly leans in like her kiss is the nourishment he's desperately needed for so long. And Michonne's joyous smile as she knows she's about to finally kiss her husband after years of holding onto hope that he was alive from afar. I've said it a lot in these posts but it's just the best way to put it - I love the way they lock in with this kiss. And I love that Richonne didn't have to hesitate or wonder if the other had moved on. All they had to do was look into each other's eyes and know the love of their life was still very much theirs.

It's great how Rick is both hungry for Michonne's kiss and eager to shower her in kisses. And I adore the way Michonne wraps her arms around him and truly conveys that she still has all the love in the world for him. They never stopped loving each other and this kiss assured them both of that. There are 7 kisses within this kiss and y'all know my extra self could write a whole paragraph about each one. I love that they both don't want to stop as they pull each other in close. They so clearly felt alive in this kiss. They'd gone through so much hardship over the years and they'd even just been through some pretty wild stuff mere minutes before, but for this moment all of that faded to the background as they just got to exist in their impeccable love.

After being unwillingly kept apart for so long, they kiss here like they want to be as attached as possible. They kiss like in no time at all, they're back to organically feeling like one intertwined soul. Also, this reunion kiss made it clear that no matter what was in store for Richonne in TOWL, Rick and Michonne were going to figure it out and rise above because their love was still as bright, enduring, and alive as ever. And so long as they have this love they really can overcome anything.

If someone said I have to select just one of Rick and Michonne's kisses to convey the cosmic soulmate level of Richonne to people unfamiliar with them, I'd choose this reunion kiss. It's incredibly romantic, heartfelt, sexy, intimate, hungry, sincere, vulnerable, joyous, loving, and passionate on the highest level. It's Richonne. And I love that every time I see this stunning reunion scene I can palpably feel the joy radiating off my two favorite characters as they relish in having found the other half of their soul against all odds. Rick and Michonne's connection is one of a kind and their every kiss reflects that. And this #1 kiss is a shining example of why Richonne has a love supreme. Truly a love story for the ages. ♥️

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"YOU CAN NOT MATCH THEIR FREAK

(Smut maybe kinda this ain't to deep but I just wanted to test the waters to see if I got that dog in me)

Many people think (including wb!readers partners) this is some kind of a prude—you back away when it comes to hugging, hell, you lean away when it comes to kissing. You get flustered over holding hands, and you get shy at hugging; they can feel your body shiver at the slightest touch. They start to think you’re touch-starved, but your friends do that stuff all the time, so why are you getting all shy when the manor is empty, and it's just you and them on your bedroom floor? Lack of partners, maybe? Your corner's first crush, lack of experience—Jaime's never been with a boy. You're insecure; Bart thinks you're the most beautiful girl to ever cross his eyes, but you’ve just never kissed anyone before. Cassie has never kissed a girl before; you’re both even. But really, they don't know how much of a freak you are—like, AT ALL. You paid five dollars for NSFW content from a dating sim, and you own the freakiest mangas you can get your grubby little hands on. You read and write the nastiest of smut; if they saw your freaky side, they wouldn't survive it—none of them.

You're hanging in your room with Bart. He starts to get nosy, looking at your manga collection. He sees a small compartment in the back hiding some more manga. He's thinking you didn't have any space, but lo and behold, it's something downright freaky: "Lady K and the Sick Man." He flips through a few pages, and by God, was it graphic! He didn't know the 21st century had this kind of stuff. And you owned physical copies. He’s blushing, skimming through the pages gently, imagining the two of you in these types of positions. His hands are getting clammy with sweat just at the thought of you getting off on this. God, you’re perverted, laying on your bed, breathing heavily, fingers dancing and teasing your clit as the posters on your wall stare at you, knowing how you really are when you’re all alone.

"Bart, stop snooping around; if you want to read some, I'll let you borrow them." His body is shocked when he hears your voice, but he doesn't drop the book. "So you're saying I can keep this, right, pretty girl?" You turn your head just to feel your stomach drop—you can't wiggle yourself out of this one. He's walking over to you slowly, stalking like a hyena to its prey. "Not so innocent, are you?" Jaime doesn't think it's fair that you act so shy, but he heard in your past relationships you were so open with your lovers, so out there, so handsy and grabby. With him, the two of you had a small kiss, and that was a stretch, because your first kiss was on Valentine's Day—corny, I know. You fell to your knees the moment your lips touched, but to take things slow is to take things easy; he can wait. No, he can't. Maybe you're hiding something in your sketchbook; you're always drawing in that thing. Maybe he'll find something that will give him answers.

So when you leave to go to the bathroom, he grabs your backpack and scavenges through it like a hungry raccoon, pulling out the notebook with the cute little sticker and faded paint on it. Time to know what's on your mind, and let's just say what's on your mind is him. It's filled with him and just him. He's never thought he looked so good in your eyes, never thought you saw him like this. The pride is kicking in. He lingers on every page until he finds "that one": a sketchy drawing of the two of you making out, bodies closer than he can ever imagine. It looks like a small comic with sketches of his pleasured reactions. The next one is a body spread page of you judging him in the most compromising positions— you behind him, kissing his neck as you played with an now-erased drawing of your hand on his cock, pulling the back of his long hair as the two of you kissed, and so many more. It's enough to make him go crazy! Is this what you've been hiding from—pushing him away for throwing pages in the trash can?

When you come to see the sketch, you tackle Jaime to the floor, flustered, trying to get it out of his hands. He holds it out of your reach as you sit on top of him; he can’t stop laughing, calling all kinds of perverted names. He throws the sketchbook across his room. You’re ready to get up, but he pulls on your hips, pulling you down on top of him. "I could always do a nude painting for you, cariño." He kisses your neck, and your body jolts. "Acting all shy when this is the kind of stuff you draw? I'll send you pictures if you need a reference," he teases. "Shut up! I just get curious!" You shout—way too curious.

You and Conner love musicals. You always have new bands for him to try out, and he's always finding new songs he wants you to put on your shared playlist. Whenever you play a song that is a little bit perverted or a little bit inappropriate—maybe a bit suggestive—you always seem to hold a straight face. But when you kiss, you can barely stand on your feet. Sometimes, you gatekeep songs with silly excuses: "It's for the girls" (lie), "Oh, it's in another language" (lie), "You just wouldn't get them like I do" (lie). But he won't bother you about it; if you don't want to tell him, don't tell him. He'll figure it out on his own. If there's one thing Tim taught him, it's that stalking is like research; you have to discover things no one has ever reached.

So, on his little mission to find out what you're listening to, he figured out a way to get into your Spotify. Nothing different—just a few new songs or more. They're not as bad or as underground as you; they were just regular songs, so why hide it? But this definitely wasn't what you were listening to. He had to up his game. Flying over to the manor, he was going to confront you until he heard a moan are you in pain. Oh god, he's flying to your window; your curtains were drawn. All he could see was the blue light from your laptop screen touching your face gently. He heard another moan; you were not in pain. He pressed himself closer to the window, seeing your headphones over your ears, your hand in your panties as you whimpered sweetly.

Oh, oh, OH. He didn't know you—wow, it's always the quiet ones, huh? His ears perked up hearing the sound of a guy groaning. Okay, you're definitely not listening to music. "Kon," you whined out as your fingers moved in imperfect circles. He's breathing heavily, feeling the fabric of his suit get tighter as he watches you tremble, struggling to keep your voice down. "Fuck...~" Okay, that's enough; he can't sit there and watch. He needs to help you, and you're going to help him. You hear a knock on your window; you whine, turning your head to the side and seeing those blue eyes. Oh god, he wasn't watching you, was he?

[starscream-is-my-wife]

ANHHHHHHHJHHJHNJMNJNNNNNNMMM

I’m just realizing the baby is mimicking Starscream’s ‘behold’ pose in the first image.

You're right! Like father like child

(3 more asks under the cut)

Thank you!! Also youre also right, ngl I in my mind I was thinking that 'ehh the sparkling can probably escape through an air vent or something pretty easily' and then I totally forgot that a jet does not have the same interior as a car, whoops! It would be alot easier to sparkling proof a jet cockpit then a car even if the Sparkling dosnt really have a solid physical form, but at that time, Im just going to say Starscream doesn't want to be interested in the sparkling that he's going to make an orphan

Looks like Starscream is gonna have to carry the next sparkling so Megatron can get his own clone. For some reason the first child always resembles the Father

But before that!

Megatron can only handle so much of the sparkling, he is technically, a single parent, so he has Soundwave look after them when he needs some alone time.

Whenever he does, Soundwave can feel the glaring Starscream is doing to the back of his head and dispite not being told what happened he can piece it together, even without the telepathy. So he let's the sparkling slip out and they will naturally be drawn to Starscream, the seeker that hangs out in the throne room the most.

Starscream pushes the little sparkling away the first couple of attempts but caves in unnaturally fast. Starscream hates this as he grows more attached to the little brat, they even recognize his greatness and copies what he does!

Starscream goes through an entire arc of learning to not loathe the sparkling due to its parentage, because family is not determined by coding, but by the bond that it the members share with each other :)

... only to have it be voided by the elation that Starscream has when the sparkling forms to be exactly like him! Not only did Megatron get sparked up by him, he didn't even have to suffer through the sleepless nights of actually taking care of a newspark! And he got to bond with his sparkling early enough to influence that he's super cool in their eyes! He's going to rub it in Megatrons face so much, their sparkling... looks just like him!

[munsonfamilyband]

(Not) Getting Married Today

I posted about this idea I had based on the song Getting Married Today from the 2018 London cast of Company last week and I finally had the motivation to write it up.

This is going to actually be a submission for @stmarchmm for day 14: second chance romance (and sort of day 24: arranged marriage/bond of convenience).

As this is also a songfic, it may help to look at the lyrics and/or listen to the song especially since the vibe of the song is pretty consistent with Steve's emotional state for most of this fic.

Bless this day Pinnacle of Joy Boy unites with boy The heart leaps up to behold This golden day

The singing echoed out from the church hall into the "bridal suite". Just calling it that almost made Steve laugh. The "suite" was just a back room that had been repurposed for him to get ready before his wedding. It smelled like moth balls and the chair he was sitting in was barely better than a folding metal one. It's all so sad that he would laugh if it weren't for two important details.

His mother was currently standing directly behind him, pinning his hair into place. And, more importantly:

He's barely avoiding a full blown panic attack (which is being held back by his mother's oppressive presence and his heart breaking).

The conflicting emotions on his face must have shown somewhat, because his mother stopped what she was doing suddenly and placed the hair pins in her hand on the table in front of Steve. She then carefully leaned in to press her cheek to Steve's in a half-decent attempt at compassion.

"I know you're nervous, so was I on my wedding day. But when you get to the end of that aisle all the nerves will fall away and all you'll have to do is say 'I do' to Paul and then you two can live your lives together. Today is for you, Stevie. Paul is going to cherish and keep you, forever."

Steve gave her a small smile that even he could tell was barely more than a grimace. He knew she was trying to be comforting but all he could focus on was his panic. He needed to be alone, and soon, or he was going to lose it. "Thanks, mom. I'm sure I'll be fine once the ceremony starts."

She gave him a smile and a quick kiss to the cheek before straightening up and resuming her work on his hair.

Thankfully, she finished quickly and pinned his veil in place before stepping back and helping him stand to go over to the standing mirror that had been brought in. His mother was practically beaming at him from her reflection but Steve could hardly recognize himself.

His mother had insisted that he just had to follow the current trends for omega wedding fashion so he's in a dress with too much lace and sleeves that are too puffy. It has a high collar made of, of course, more lace and he lost count of the number of layers in the skirt. Sure, the dress is nice and it fits him well but it's definitely not what he had pictured for his wedding day. At least he was able to convince his mom to let him pick the veil and hairpiece. So, instead of the giant poofy veil and tiara his mother wanted, he was wearing a simple veil with a thin lace trim and a simple flower crown that El had made from fabric flowers. Even his scent had been smothered in perfumes courtesy of his mother. Her joy was only grating on his already fraying nerves with every second, so he forced his best smile and made eye contact with her in the mirror. "Thanks for helping me get ready. Do you think you could go check on everything out there and give me a bit to myself?"

She smiled somehow wider and gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Of course, sweetie. Your father will come get you when it's time to go. I'll see you out there." And with one last kiss to his cheek, she was leaving and shutting the door behind her.

A beat.

A deep breath.

And Steve was rushing over to lock the door, pressing his back against it as if angry Russians were going to try to break it down. He took two gasping breaths before he was off, pacing the small jail cell room.

"Okay, Steve, you can do this. You can go out there and get married. You asked for this." As he paced, he caught his own gaze in the standing mirror and he stopped, staring at himself. Could he really do this? Sure, he agreed to it but only because of, well...

Following the Spring Break from Hell in '86 Steve found himself in a whirlwind relationship with one Eddie Munson.

Steve from before the Upside Down could have never imagined the future Steve was now experiencing but that Steve was an idiot. Eddie is everything he had ever wanted in a mate but could never quite put in words.

He's kind to a fault, cares about his family with his whole self, and he truly understands Steve in a way that no one but Robin ever had. Not to mention he was gorgeous and he smelled like heaven - campfire smoke and fresh cut grass with bits of cinnamon and pine. The first time Steve realized his nest had taken on scents other than his, and how well they meshed with his own lilac, lemongrass, sage and summer rain, he didn't stop purring for hours.

Everything was perfect for once in his life. The Upside Down was gone, everyone was back in Hawkins and closer than ever, and he was well on the way to courting with his dream alpha. But then, his heat was late.

Steve tried not to panic, it didn't mean he was pregnant. His doctor had said that going off suppressants and the sudden lack of stress in his life could mess with his schedule. But then it didn't come after a week. Then two weeks. And halfway to three weeks, Eddie asked about his heat and Steve broke down crying.

Once Eddie calmed Steve down enough, he called Robin and told her they would be picking her up. Eddie drove them to the pharmacy, bought a couple pregnancy tests - and ran into Joyce while there who said to try one now and then again the next week in case it's a false result - and picked Robin up on the way back to Steve's house. They both sat with him for the 10 minutes and then they both held him when nothing turned blue. And sure enough his heat came a few days later, which he spent at Eddie's place.

Unfortunately, when Steve got back a few days later he walked into the house only to be confronted by both of his parents standing next to the dining room table. And on top of that table was the remnants of the pregnancy test packaging.

It was a screaming match between him and his parents, his father red in the face and his mother sobbing loudly. It only ended when his father scruffed him and dragged him to his room, locking Steve inside. As he banged on his door, screaming for his dad to let him out, he heard the front door slam and a car leaving the driveway.

His father never did tell him what he did that day, though Steve had his own ideas. He tried to not linger on those ideas, they just made it harder.

After that day, Eddie stopped contacting Steve completely. The one time Steve tried to call him his father stole the phone before he could even get a full word out.

He got sick after that, and it only got better when his mother finally agreed to let him see Robin, but the message was clear to both of them. The only way Robin would be allowed to see Steve was if neither of them mentioned Eddie.

Slowly he got better, but the rejection sickness never fully went away. His mother kept trying to set him up with people and he kept refusing until 1991, when the loneliness and desire for a family won out over the betrayal. He agreed to meet someone.

And now he was supposed to be marrying him. By all meanings of the word, Paul was an excellent alpha. He was gentle if sometimes too quiet, handsome even if he didn't have the big brown eyes in Steve's dreams, and he smelled nice enough but in the end it came down to the fact that he deserved more than Steve.

Maybe he could go out there and just say, "Pardon me, is everybody here? Because if everybody's here, I want to thank you all for coming to wedding, I'd appreciate your going even more. I mean, you must have lots of better things to do, and not a word of this to Paul, remember Paul, you know, the man I'm gonna marry, but I'm not, because I wouldn't ruin anyone as wonderful as he is, but I thank you all for the gifts and the flowers, thank you all, now it's back to the showers, don't tell Paul but I'm not getting married today-" He cut off with a gasp for air, having just worked himself to near hyperventilation.

Just as he was about to try the little speech again he heard the music from the church again followed by a knock on the door.

"Steven, it's time to go," his father's voice came from the other side of the door.

Steve took one last look in the mirror and took a deep breath, pushing his shoulder back and stabilizing himself. "I'm coming." As he unlocked and opened the door, he could have sworn he caught a whiff of pine and cinnamon before it was gone.

Bless this day Opposite of joy Boy gets yoked to boy The heart sinks down and feels dead This dreadful day

Steve felt like he was watching from outside of his body as he was escorted down the aisle by his father and he lifted the veil over Steve's head, only coming back to himself when Robin stepped up to take his bouquet with a sad smile and a quick squeeze of his hand.

Steve returned the smile and turned to face Paul. Paul looked so happy and it just made Steve feel worse but it was as if his feet had turned to lead and his mouth had been cemented shut. He barely heard the vicar speaking but as Paul started his vows he tried to focus except he suddenly caught that same scent again. He could feel someone staring at him and he had to just take a quick look, just to convince himself he's imagining things. It'll be fast, just a scan of the pews and he'll be able to get back to his weddi-

Halfway through his scan, Steve felt the world stop rotating. He was there. Eddie was there, at the very back of the church.

He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and just staring directly at Steve. He looked, well, he looked good. His hair was still the same, long wild curls, but it looked healthier and he had grown a beard. He was wearing all an all black suit and he skipped the tie, instead leaving the top few buttons of the dress shirt undone.

Steve could have sworn he wasn't even breathing, just making eye contact with Eddie for the first time in 6 years. He looked so different but Steve still felt the exact same feelings surging up to the surface, almost dizzy with it and-

"Steve."

He blinked rapidly and turned to face Paul who had just whispered his name and quickly realized that he was supposed to say his vows. Almost without his control, Steve glanced back at Eddie, noticing that he had stopped leaning against the back wall, his arms no longer crossed over his chest.

"I'm not getting married," Steve whispered, not even aware he had said it outloud until Paul called his name again.

The world started spinning again and Steve remembered where he was, what was happening. He made eye contact with his parents, glanced back at Robin, then turned to Paul fully.

Steve whispered a quick, "I'm so sorry," to Paul before he turned to the gathered crowd. "Thank you all for coming but I'm not getting married today. Listen, everybody, look, I don't know what you're waiting for, a wedding, what's a wedding? A prehistoric ritual where everybody promises fidelity forever, which is followed by a honeymoon, where suddenly he'll realize he's saddled with a nut, and wanna kill me like he should-" The crowd gasps, but all Steve notices is Eddie taking a single slow step forward. "So listen, thanks a bunch but I'm not getting married. Go have brunch, but I'm not getting married. You've been grand, but I'm not getting married. Don't just stand there I'm not getting married today!" Steve did recognize that he's seemingly falling apart at the altar, but no one was moving and he needed them to understand.

"Go, can't you go? Why is nobody listening? Goodbye, go and cry at some other person's wake. If you're quick, for a kick, you could pick up a christening, but please, on my knees, there's a human life at stake! Listen everybody, I'm afraid you didn't hear, or do you want to see a crazy person fall apart in front of you, it isn't only Paul who may be ruining his life! I'm not well, so I'm not getting married." At that point Steve was pulling pins from his own hair and just tossing them to the floor, desperate to get the veil off his head. "You've been swell, but I'm not getting married. Clear the hall 'cause I'm not getting married. Thank you all, but I'm not getting married. Look, you know I adore you all but why watch me die when I'm only being nice? So take back the cake, burn the shoes, and boil the rice." He finally got his veil free and threw it aside, quickly followed by the shoes he kicked off before moving on to the too tight collar of the dress.

"Look I think I'm gonna faint, so if you wanna see me faint, I'll do it happily, but wouldn't it be funnier to go and watch a funeral? So thank you all for the twenty seven dinner plates, and thirty seven salad bowls, and forty seven picture frames and fifty seven candleholders, but I'm not getting married!" With a gasp he finally gets the buttons undone on the collar. "See? I'm not getting married. No, I'm not getting married today."

When he finishes he's breathing heavily, chest heaving with each breath as he looks around the room. He sees Eddie starting to walk toward him just as people start standing and shouting in the pews, slowing him down. Steve makes eye contact with his dad who is nearly purple with rage and quickly averts his attention to Paul, grabbing one of his hands in two of his own.

"Paul, I'm so sorry to do this, but I can't marry you. You deserve someone who truly can love you, but that isn't me. I wish I could explain it all to you now but I need to run before my father gets to me."

Paul stares back at him and Steve watches some kind of understanding flash across his face. "Go, I'll try to slow him down. Whatever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

Steve grabbed Paul's hand tight in his, "Thank you thank you thank you. Hopefully we can talk at some point so I can explain everything." With one last squeeze of Paul's hand, Steve pivots and starts to run, grabbing his skirts in one hand and Robin's hand in the other.

They crash through the side door of the church into a side hallway and Robin takes the lead, guiding them through the back halls to an exit door and suddenly Steve is gasping in the fresh air, feet stinging as he steps on the concrete.

"I can't believe you actually did that! Steve! What was that back there, I thought you were okay with marrying Paul, what change-" Robin's nervous rambling was cut off sharply by a new voice and a wave of smoke and cinnamon.

"Stevie?"

Steve had been bent at the waist, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath but that one word had him standing up so quickly he nearly fell over, only staying upright by Robin grabbing his arm.

But there was Eddie, only a few feet away. His eyes big and brown, his hair ruffling with the light breeze, and god, had Steve missed him so much.

"Eddie. It's really you." That got Eddie to crack a smile, his dimple popping up on his cheek. They seemed to be moving together like magnets, slow steps toward each other until they were breathing the same air.

"Hi, sweetheart. I've missed you."

Steve didn't even bother responding, he just jumped at Eddie, finally able to kiss his alpha for the first time in years. And with that one kiss, being back in Eddie's arms once again, Steve felt his broken heart finally weave itself back together.

Eddie drove the three of them to get all of Steve's important things and then Wendy's. A few months later they get married in a small ceremony and Steve gets to wear the dress of his dreams. They have all of their chosen family present and they eat cake and dance barefoot. The Steve of a few months prior couldn't see a future this full of joy.

And there it is! Hopefully it's coherent, this kind of exploded out of my brain. I also want to make sure everyone knows that Steve did meet up with Paul a couple weeks after the wedding the didn't happen. They sat down and Steve explained the whole history with his parents and Eddie, then Paul gets to meet Eddie and after some awkwardness and hurt feelings they ended up being friends. Paul does go to Steve and Eddie's wedding reception (he said it was too soon to go to the ceremony which Steve fully understood) and a couple years down the road, the Munson's get to attend Paul's wedding to a sweet girl who is a much better match for him.

I did want to include some visuals for Steve's two wedding dresses because I have very specific vibes in mind for both.

This one is almost identical to how I picture the one he's wearing for most of the fic, the only difference is the veil/headpiece are the pictures on the right.

THIS DRESS!! This is what he wears for his and Eddie's wedding, except it doesn't have the higher neckline. Steve's just has the ruffles as the neckline (anything above the red line in the image to the right is gone in Steve's dress).

[v0rewhxre]

Tour Ticket Woes

This is just a funny little thing idea I had in my head after the Sleep Token presale . And yes, I finally remembered my password to Tumblr once again! It's written for Noah Sebastian but there's not a ton of mentions of the partner throughout.

CW: Some language, anxiety inducing, a little fluff

Topic: Noah x Reader

"Goddammit!" You screamed as you frantically tried to purchase tickets to the most anticipated tour of the year for your favorite band.

The queue just opened, and low and behold you were 14,567 for a 15k cap venue. Not to mention the fact that your presale code was never sent to you via email the way it should have been. You had to contact your brother, sister, and mother in order to receive a code. You made them all sign up just in case, thank goodness you sometimes let anxiety run your life.

Your boyfriend, Noah, strolled into the small office you set up in the smallest bedroom of your new house. A small smirk on his face as he gazed down at you hunched over your laptop.

Working in the industry, Noah knew just how intense obtaining tour tickets could be for more popular artists these days. He could pull any string with the newfound fame he had after The Death of Peace of Mind, get you on any guest list you wanted.

But you preferred the adrenaline of the hunger games of ticket purchasing somehow.

Of course, Noah already guest listed you at the concert anyways in the off chance you couldn't get the tickets fast enough. He would surprise you with them at dinner in a few days, but for now he would allow you to try and do it on your own.

"Could this little man walk any slower?" You questioned with a frustrated huff.

Noah chuckled, approaching you before he stopped to peer over your shoulder, "What little man?"

You forcefully pointed at the little figure walking in place as you waited in the queue, "This dude! He's not moving the way I need him to."

Noah looked at the number: 9,435.

"Well, I'm sure he will move soon. All you can do is wait," Noah placed a hand on your shoulder. He knew there would be immediate disappointment if you did not get these tickets.

You had been following this band since they were younger, newer to the scene. They exploded quickly and the high demand for tickets worried you every year they came back to LA for tour. And they only grew bigger and bigger. Soon it would be a luxury to see them.

"If I wait any longer, I am going to not only sweat through my deodorant but potentially my clothes too," you let out another short sigh, perking up when the little man moved a few centimeters forward.

6,767.

"As long as your celebration involves a shower afterwards," Noah wrinkled his nose earning a small slap to the stomach.

"You know I can't help it. My body doesn't understand the difference between buying tour tickets and being held at gunpoint," you looked up into his deep brown eyes.

You both smiled softly at one another, when movement caught the corner of your eyes.

2,341.

"We are in the home stretch now," you leaned forward, hunching closer to the screen to see. You forgot your glasses downstairs but it was imperative to stay glued to the screen now.

389.

"You have the security code for the credit card?" Noah asked, his voice stressed as he leaned closer to the screen as well.

"Of course I do... I have it memorized!" You grabbed the computer mouse and wiggled it to keep the screen awake.

The little man moved almost to the end of the loading bar, bells rang out from the screen causing a small jump from you and your boyfriend.

It was go time.

The screen reloaded, a small box appeared for the presale code once again. You copy and pasted from the computer screen sticky note, your hands shaking slightly.

Once you entered, the arena map began to load. The room was completely silent as the sections highlighted in blues and grays, blue for the available tickets and gray for the sold out sections.

You clicked one section, the tickets quickly depleting any time you tried to click. You moved to the next one, got tickets in your cart, and then hit proceed only to be met with a message saying they were gone.

"Come On!" You yelled as you moved to two more sections, with no luck in grabbing a pair.

Noah's breath tickled your ear, you moved to the upper bowls only to be met with a new message saying the show was sold out.

The feeling of defeat washed over your body, once shaking with adrenaline now shook with small sobs as you realized the tickets were gone. You could try for the general sale but the chances were really slim. And resale was so ridiculous you didn't want to waste the money.

Noah kissed your cheek and silently walked away, knowing you preferred space when you felt disappointed. A few tears made their way down your cheek as you closed the browser tab out.

You had seen the band quite a few times, though not seeing them for the first time ever made your heart feel raw. You should feel fortunate and lucky to have watched them grow, other fans should have the opportunity to experience them live too. But it still hurt.

Your phone buzzed, a text from Noah appeared on the screen. You grabbed it and unlocked the phone, met with a, "Noah transferred two tickets to you", link to Ticketmaster.

You clicked on it, two tickets to the band appearing in your account on the app for the LA show.

God you loved that man so much.

:)

[valentine-cafe]

🍒 𓂃 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑷 : tiramisu !! . . . immortal inhuman mercenary ⊹ male reader .

. ᘛ 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔​​​​​​​﹕verse 781 ꮽ  alessio arias

 𐔌𖹭 ˖ ࣪  who's that ?⠀﹕a flirtatious inhuman mercenary, with charm and provocative jabs for days

ּ  ֗ recepit ℘ ... face to face with your rival, you let him have a few last words as you point your gun at him. only to draw it back when he begins sucking on it ⊹ cw ٬٬ suggestive . gun kink . 

"It's not every day I get the Reaper on his knees."

The glock of your gun follows a deep chuckle. What exactly is this man? Laughing in the face of bullets. You shouldn't expect anything less from your rival. Even when his dark-cladded pants dig into the ground and he's helpless to everything, including your tight hand in his hair, the bastard still smirks.

"Good enough for you?" Alessio muses, just barely tilting his head amongst your tight grip in his inky strands. "You sure you're gonna be able to put a bullet in my pretty lil' head?"

The yank of his head should be answer enough. He'd be stupid to underestimate you. Pretty rival or not; at the end of the day that's all he is. An opponent.

Your finger gaps poke with dark tuffs. Your nails scratch at his scalp — not that he's really complaining. "Don't hold your breath on it, Arias." His wrists bound behind him should be a testament of how seriously you took this. Took the bounty over his head.

A grasp to the trigger. Instead of flushing the muzzle to his temple, you drop it to his lips. Since he loves talking sooo much.

The grin on your lips is near-sadistic. He catches your malicious glimmer and can only muffle a chuckle. The night wind flutters his heavy lashes. Still, his gaze fixates on you.

"Guess it was fun while it lasted, huh?" Another yank arches his neck. You behold the bob of his throat as you shove the gun further. Straight past his lips to rest on his tongue. "But our little games have come to an end. I'm tired of you."

He barely flinches. If anything, the creases at the corners of his eyes tell you that he's the furthest thing from frightened. The fucker's amused. Imagine.

It curls an ugly chord in your gut. So you yank on his head again and behold his mouth take the barrel further. A clear threat together with your index digging into the trigger. "I'll give you ten seconds to reflect on your shitty life. Or spend it looking at me. Whichever."

The last thing you expected is Alessio's lips to creep further up the barrel. Your grip loosens on his hair in the slightest. Pupils dilating as the mercenary uses the opportunity to push his head forward. So that the barrel nearly kisses the back of his tongue. Is he fucking sucking down on the damn thing!?

In shock, you halt. Behold the man as his emerald eyes stare at you through his lashes. A small pink dusted over his fair olive face. His throat bobs again, this time it leaves you clearing yours.

A sneer snaps over your features. You yank the gun from his mouth and watch the strings of saliva rope along. Even more so — watch Alessio chase after it. Press his tongue to the muzzle and circle it. All while his gaze never leaves yours. Hell, he even casts you a little wink.

You smack the gun across his face. His head snaps to the side. A bright red blossoming over his cheek. He only sucks in air, then lets out a breathy chuckle.

"What's wrong?" He croons. Deep and drawled. Promises whispered on every word. His craned head allows him to stare up at you from an angle. Through a window his dark, messy hair. His pierced tongue runs over his lower lip that soon twitches into that damned grin all over again.

"Thought you were tired of me, baby?"

꒰ ۪ ˖ ࣪ 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑢 ... info ꮽ mlist ꮽ verse ꮽ wiki .

[historieas]

drowning in a pool of ecstasy, silas would have let amara drink him dry if it were possible. he feels a sense of self-satisfaction watching as she delights in the taste. no random stranger has ever made her face twist so deliciously. it’s a sight to behold and impossible to look away from. crimson staining clothes and bedsheets. such mess might have repulsed him then but right now, he doesn’t care. lips make contact with every bit of exposed skin he can find as she drinks him in. spreading messy kisses and breathing heavily into the crook of her neck and shoulder. a soft whine falls out in protest as she pulls away. they both look on as the incision closes and heals right before their eyes. when their gazes meet in the moonlit room, silas’s dark, heavy-lidded and caught in a trance. faint heartbeats thrum in sync. hand closes in around the knife after it falls in his possession. an idea born from petulance and jealousy. he hadn’t been expecting her to want the same.

silas lifts her wrist hesitantly, eyes flicker to hers after planting a soft kiss on her palm, “your wish is my command, my love.” he winks before carefully dragging the blade along the flesh. bringing his mouth over the cut and devouring every drop. a heavenly, sweet and exultant elixir. reminiscent of the potion they ingested in order to become immortal. providing that same high from 2,000 years ago. a feeling of omnipotence. wielding more power than what they knew what to do with.

he licks the cut clean until it closes and mends on its own. keeping his eyes fixed on hers, using his leg to push hers apart and flips them so that she’s laying back on the bed. after removing his button down shirt, silas hovers and kisses her so deep he tastes a fusion of their bloods. lips fall to her jawline down to her neck. fingers work on the buttons of her dress before trailing his mouth on every inch of exposed skin. “look at you,” he breathes, taking her in with loving eyes, “you’re beautiful.” and she’s his just as he is hers. silas doesn’t fight back the stupid, smug grin that spreads across his face. with a hand, he pushes the hem of her dress up to expose her thighs. silver reflects the moon’s glow as he carefully runs the knife’s blade along her inner thigh then catches the running blood, closing his mouth over the incision. digits curl around her limb, lashes flutter as he consumes ravenously.

the longing in his voice takes amara to a far away place. to their past, to the thrill of what it felt like to know someone wanted her. she didn't sense his jealousy when she drank from the woman on the street, would have played with him more if she had. not to torture silas but rather, to escalate his emotions. not that it matters. the sense of urgency is there from both of them without any games. their chemistry and attraction to each other took no effort.

she tosses her head back with a laugh when his arms envelop her, silenced only when they arrive home to the darkness of their apartment overlooking the city. a split second passes wherein silas' intentions flash like a fiery blaze within his eyes. somehow she finds enough time to think of what she wants. that way, when they land on the mattress with amara in silas' lap, she knows where to cut first. her fingers move across the hilt of his knife, noting its details with a smile.

the first prick of his finger is cautious and curious, so small that only the tiniest bubble of blood reveals itself to her. amara takes it to her mouth, gaze set on silas as she begins. within a few moments, her body feels a sensation unlike anything she's ever felt. as a human or an immortal. the taste of silas saturates her tongue. it causes a need for more. without warning, she drags the blade against the entire length of his palm; causing a flood that would have her intoxicated beyond any prior measure. she can taste his magic. his blood isn't like that of what she's come to know since being reawakened. it drips down his arm and onto her thighs, causing the mess they both knew they'd create. but all she can hear is his pulse, barely able to feel his other hand resting against her back in order to steady her. even when amara nearly rolls him over, silas remains a pillar.

when she pulls back, it's only because her body is so alive with feeling that she can't stand to keep the sensation to herself. the immortal woman could only be selfish for so long. she turns his hand upright, watching as it slowly begins to heal. and given the look on his face, amara can tell she's all but driven silas insane. the knife is no longer in her hand. she shrugs off the light cardigan she'd been wearing, exposing more of herself for his choosing. "be gentle with me," she teases before leaning in slowly to place a kiss to his lips.

[rylekayner]

[jokamachai]

“LOOK AT THE SKY, MARTIN… IT’S LOOKING BACK!”

Hello son, I came back and brought the milk too!! Anyway yes I’m relistening to TMA (again) so there’s a chance that I’ll be posting some more art (maybe). Either way enjoy some delicious crazy Jon vibes!!

[noyu-drg]

pov v1: when it wasn't you who filed for divorce.

pov v2: when you realized you're not the beholding's special boy.

or come up with any other pov here.

[jouxlskaard]

there isn't a barber in prison

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Whenever fanfiction has Dean say he hates Cas’s coat or thinks it's stupid or ugly and he wants to see Cas out of it as soon as possible I simply must disagree. He kept that thing for a whole year full of rank water. He saw Cas back in his usual getup and gotar bonar. Dean loves cartoons. He loves costumes. He loves Cas’s coat.