#they all are just guys going the fuck through it....

[eiightysixbaby]

eat your heart out

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

in which eddie masters valentine’s day through the art of eating pussy

cw: 18+ ONLY — SMUT oral (f receiving)

a/n: an early valentine from me to all of u. mwah mwah hope u enjoy ❤️

Eddie Munson doesn't really know what to do when it comes to Valentine's Day.

It's not like he's an idiot; he understands that typically a romantic dinner or a bouquet of flowers and some chocolates are the perfect show of appreciation and affection.

But those things are typically reserved for your girlfriend, and you're not his girlfriend.

But you're also, like, not not his girlfriend.

Eddie doesn't really know what you are, and that's the issue. It started off with you guys just hooking up. Late nights in his van parked behind the school or in a dark part of some neighborhood. Quickies in the bathroom during a break in Hellfire sessions. But it's slowly started to morph into... something else? Eddie isn't one hundred percent sure, but he's noticed that you come over more often, and you don't just want to jump his bones and leave.

Sometimes you guys don't even fuck anymore. Sometimes you invite him over just to watch movies, or he'll ask you to go for a drive with him. You hold his hand under the table when you go out to Benny's diner with the friend group, and Steve keeps waggling his eyebrows at him suggestively every time he catches you two sitting extremely close to each other. Which just makes Eddie blush like a loser.

And, every time you two are about to part ways, you look like you really want to kiss him before he goes.

And sure, you guys have kissed before. He's not about to hook up with you without at least kissing you stupid first. But this is different. You've been looking at him like you just want to kiss him, with nothing to come afterwards.

It all makes him sweat if he thinks about it for too long.

So for now, in the midst of his anxious unwillingness to ask you the horrifying 'What are we?', he's simply decided to show his appreciation for you on Valentine's Day with the one thing he's certain you'll love. He can deal with his feelings and stuff, later.

Your hand fists its way into his hair, fingers gripping his unruly curls like they're the only thing still tethering you to earth. His knees press into the worn carpeting of the trailer, his mouth latched to your cunt while his hands keep the fabric of your skirt rucked up at your waist.

You’re standing with your back pressed against the kitchen counter, your sneakers still on. He barely gave you a moment to settle yourself upon arrival before he was on you like a bad rash.

What can he say? When it all comes down to it, he’s a simple man, and you’re his favorite meal.

“Eddie,” you sigh, tilting your head back in bliss.

His tongue swipes its way through your folds before finding your clit and sucking on it. He can feel your body tremble, your knees nearly buckling with the overwhelming sense of pleasure.

His big brown eyes chance a glance up at you, at the exact moment you’re looking down at him. Your lips part in a moan, his tongue flicking rapidly at your clit, though he’s not sure if it’s that or the eye contact that forced the sound from you.

He’s guessing the latter, because something in your gaze feels different. The entire moment feels different.

Before, being intimate with you felt reckless, hot. Now it’s like he’s spilling every word he hasn’t said to you into the space between your thighs, hoping you’ll read his secret code. Hoping desperately that he’s not seeing this wrong, that you actually do like him as much as he realizes he likes you.

He needs to chill before he whispers an I love you right here on his knees.

He breaks your gaze after a moment or two, letting his eyes fall closed once more. He can taste how wet you are, he’s lapping up your arousal with every swipe of his tongue, and he honestly would kind of be okay with dying right here. His face is completely buried in you, nose bumping your clit, tongue on a mission to be as deep inside of you as possible.

You let your hips buck, nearly grinding on his face as he licks and sucks and bites, his ringed fingers squeezing the meat of your ass now.

“Eddie, ohmygod,” you cry, your white knuckle grip on the countertop keeping you from collapsing.

“What is it, baby?” he asks sweetly, kitten licking your sensitive bud before taking it between his lips and sucking.

That’s another thing, he’s started calling you all of these pet names lately. And the more he does it, the more he finds he doesn’t want to stop. He might actually be physically incapable of stopping.

“Feels so good, I—” you gasp at the sudden intrusion of two of his fingers. “I fucking love you,” you rasp out, your body reaching its peak at the exact moment the words escape you.

Eddie’s eyes shoot up to look at you, going impossibly wide. Yet he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, he brings you fully through your high until you’re shaking all over. Your words did nothing but spur him on, more determined than ever to bring you crashing down around him.

Only once you’ve come down do you seem to process what you said, and for a minute all you can do is stare at each other.

“Eddie, I—” you scramble, but he’s quicker.

“No. Don’t backtrack. Don’t do that,” he says, still on his knees before you. Still tasting you on his lips, still feeling you beneath his fingertips.

He rises to his feet, hooking a finger under your chin. You’re giving him that look again. The one that makes it seem like you want to kiss him more than you want to breathe.

And so he gives in. Lips smashing to yours, in a completely different context than any of the times before. He hopes you can feel everything he feels just through this kiss. Hopes he’s getting his point across.

The way you pull him flush up against you to deepen the kiss gives him the idea that his point was received.

Eddie Munson is great at this whole Valentine’s Day thing.

[luvyeni]

THE HIGH LIFE 𝕼. ( 02z )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 박종성 x fem!reader )  ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. rich!enhypen , exotic dancer!reader , threesome , oral ( m ), unprotected sex, double penetration word count. 2.5k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis … jay doesn’t mind sharing his new and favorite girl

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ why can’t i ever find a good clear photo of these three … anyways here it is and I hope you like you !

jake and sunghoon walked through the club ; the different half dressed dancer staring at them with hunger in their eyes; it’s like they could smell the money radiating off of the boys — they could see it too , just by the way they skipped the long line outside.

“the internet was right , jay really outdid himself with this club.” sunghoon eyed up a dancer who just smirked at him walking away. “where is that fucker anyway?” they searched around the club , weaving through all the people. “there he is.” jake pointed , the boy was sitting in vip , surrounded by very beautiful women scrolling through his phone; sunghoon scoffed. “cocky fucking bastard.” they made their way over to the vip section. “did you forget you invited or what?”

jay looked up from him phone ; shooing the dancers away. “go have some fun , make some money.” he said , sending the bouncers waiting in front away. ”you guys are an hour late.” he said , jake and sunghoon sat down. “sorry we have our own businesses to attend to.” sunghoon said. “besides seems like you had enough company to keep you business.” jake smirked. “not like you paid attention to them , how the fuck could you be glued to your phone while surrounded by so many sexy ladies?”

the three current young; rich and trending men sat in the secluded section in the crowded club. “yeah they’re all pretty , they make me tons of money but that’s pretty much it.” he shrugged. “you serious man?” jake took a sip of his drink. “all these pretty girls and not one you’ve taken home to that big lonely apartment of yours?” sunghoon asked not convinced at the words he was hearing. “stop fucking lying.”

he sat back in his seat with a smirk. “well there’s one.” he said , his friends exchanging glances between each other. “only one? well she’s got to be real fucking special to get the park jongseongs undivided attention.” jake said. “are you serious with her?” jay shook his head. “that’s the thing , she’s not looking to date , just a quick fuck here and there.” he said. “and pay her fucking bills probably.” jay didn’t take offense to that , he did pay for your living , but with all the money he had it was nothing to him. “she’s happy and im very , and i like to keep my girls happy.”

“so let’s meet her.” jay raised his hands , calling over one of the dancers. “yes mr. park.” sunghoon rolled his eyes , while jake smirked. “go get yn , tell her to get pretty and come out.” the dancer nodded , walking away. “mr. park? you narcissistic fuckhead.”

meanwhile you sat on the pink couch jay placed in the room you and the rest of the girls got ready in. “you dancing tonight yn?” another dancer asked you. “or are you waiting for jay to get off.” you smirked hearing the condescending tone in her voice. “don't start this today.” hana a bartender that you were friends with said. “let’s be real here , yn is the best dancer here , has the nicest ass and a good pair of tits , if it wasn’t gonna be her than it wasn’t gonna be you.” the door opened with a dancer walking in. “yn you’re working vip tonight for jay and his friends.”

you stood up off the couch , undoing your pink silky robe. “have fun tonight ladies.” you said , staring at the dancer who was red with anger. “maybe when im done with him you can have him , that’s a big maybe and when.” you said , slipping into your heels walking out of the room ; letting them deal with the girls' tantrum , you’ve gotten used to it now ever since the girls figured out the situation you and jay had going on. that’s exactly what it was a situation — you and him had fun and he showered you with gifts, nothing more.

you immediately caught jays eye as you made your way over to the section with a fresh bottle of the most expensive alcohol in your hand that you got when you stopped by the counter. “that’s an expensive bottle.” jay said. “and i guess it was on my dime?” you smiled. “now why would it be on mine?” you sat it in the ice. “you called me out here didn’t you?” you said. “well that’s because i wanted you to meet some friends of mine.” you turned facing the two very attractive men sitting in front of you. “you have very attractive friends.”

“ah don’t make me jealous.” jay said , his arm snaking around your waist pulling you into his lap. “you called me out here to play and i want to play.” you pouted , your eyes trained on sunghoon. “i like that one.” you pointed , sunghoon raised his eyebrow. “me?” he said you nodded. “yeah you.” oh you were snippy , he liked that. “told she’s a handful hoon.” jay rubbed your waist , he allowed you to do what you wanted , but at the end of the day he knew whose bed you’d end up in once the club closed. ”hoon.” you let his name fall from your lips in a sultry tone. “is he paying?” you asked more so him. “i have the money.” jay removed his arm , you stood up walking over to him. “good.”

you sat down right on his lap; his arm came around you to keep you upright. “don’t be so scared , you can look.” you whispered in his ear. “or touch i don’t mind , but that’s gonna cost you extra.” you felt him gripping your side. “princess play nice.” jay said. “i don’t think i want to.” you bit your bottom lip. “she’s a brat jay , i see why you like her so much.” you moved around in his lap , he hissed. “she’s too cute though.” jay said , jake sitting there , he hadn’t said anything since you came over , but you could feel his eyes on you. “is he a little shy?”

you moved to sunghoons other leg , resting your arms on the chair ; you leaned over to him. “thats jake baby.” you smiled. “well jake are you shy?” he shook his head. “no?” you tilted your head to the side. “that’s good , shy men bore me.” jay watched you , a drink in his hand , lure his friends into your sexy but dangerous web. “princess.” he spoke up. “how about we move this to a more private space?” he could see your eyes basically light up , standing up , grabbing your hand. “you guys coming?”

the four of you definitely knew what you were on the moment the door closed to the red room; jay immediately moved your hair to the side , kissing your neck; pulling your straps to your bra down. “you know what to do princess.” the three men stood in front of you; you slowly peeled the very little clothing you had on , a look of hunger and lust in their eyes as your boobs bounced due to the lack of a bra. “fuck , sexy ain’t she?” the two boys nodded; you pulled your panties off , throwing them at jake , leaving your thigh garters and heels on. “don’t just stand there like a bunch of pussies.”

“you know i don’t really like that mouth she has on her.” sunghoon said , he was the first one to walk over to you. “makes you want to shut her up doesn’t it?” jake nodded. “she’s too talkative , let's end that.” jake said , already unbuckling his jeans. “shut her up.” he sat down , freeing himself from his pants , his cock springing up , slapping against his stomach; he was a nice size , thick enough. his tip was read and leaking with precum. “look at her drooling like a slut.”

“suck him off.” jay commanded ; sitting down in the seat watching as you took him into your hand , jerking him off. “fuck.” jake groaned. “so big.” you go face to his cock , your ass in the air giving jay and sunghoon a look at your drenched cunt. “look at that.” jay slapped your ass , you moaned ; jake grabbing the back of your head , pushing your head down on his cock. “look at that wet pussy.” sunghoon chuckled. “drenched like a fucking slut.”

jake had you by your hair , guiding your head up and down on his cock , gagging on it as jay sunk a finger inside you. “gotta stretch this pussy out before we completely ruin it.” you moaned around jakes cock which made him moan. “fu-fuck her throat is so fucking good.”

“she’s ready.” jay pulled his fingers out of your hole. “try and be a little gentle.” he told sunghoon , but the way the boy slapped your ass ; you could tell he was gonna be anything but that. “such a nice fucking ass.” he growled watching it jiggle. “pussy so wet , you’re fucking dripping like a little whore.” you moaned , pulling off of jakes cock with a pop , jerking him off. “are you gonna put it in or are you gonna stand there and slap my ass all night.” you teased , rubbing your ass back on his cock. “fuck.” he groaned , pushing himself right inside you ; you moaned out , taking jake back into your mouth.

“fucking slut just letting me in like that.” sunghoon dug his finger into the flesh of your ass. “pussy was waiting for one of us to fill it.” he moved his hips ; you tried to moan , but your mouth was occupied by jake bucking up into your mouth , the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. “ fuck fuck!” he cursed. “fuck im gonna cum.” jake pushed your head all the way down , his cock twitching as his cum shot from his tip into your throat. “ah fuck , fucking shit!” jake cursed , as you released your mouth. “shit that felt good.” he sighed , throwing his head back , your head was pushed against the couch cushions as sunghoon plowed you from the back.

“ah shit , slutty pussy got wet just from him cumming down your throat.” sunghoon thrusted deep inside you. “fucking nasty slut.” jay stood up from his seat. “pull out.” he said , sunghoon pulled out leaving you wanting more. “you gonna take us both princess , you cool with that?” jay said , you smiled , nodding as you climbed into his lap , your back against his chest. “used to taking more than one cock?” sunghoon said. “don’t think you’ll live up to it?” you bit back , he smirked. “bet.”

“both of you calm down.” you moaned as jay rubbed his cock along your folds , your head dropping back against his shoulder. “both of you are gonna get what you want.” he pushed himself inside you , filling bottoming out. “oh fuck that’s princess , let’s open you up for sunghoons cock.” his fingers coming to your folds pulling your pussy lips apart already being split by his cock. “don’t worry bro she can handle it.” jay said , sunghoon smirked , rubbing his cock along your folds. “not like she had much a choice anyway.”

sunghoon pushed himself inside you ; stretching you open along with jay. “ah fuck!” you screamed as they both moved the same time. “fuck fuck.” both of them moving , one in and one out; you were never not filled , both of them fucking you ; and then jake wasn’t done , coming back over to , slapped his cock on your boobs , rubbing his tip along your nipples. “mmh fuck , such pretty tits.” you tilt your head , taking his tip into your mouth. “fuck.” jay moaned out. “guess she wants her mouth full again.”

you nodded moaning as you bring him back into you mouth. jays hand came up to your boobs, squeezing them as he bucked up into you. “don’t cum.” he whispered in your ear. “you cum when it’s just me and you.” you moaned , nodding. “fuck , im gonna cum.” sunghoon said , pulling out jerking his cock off. “fuck.”

jake also pulled out , his tip pressed against your cheek as he stroked his cock. “down on your knees baby you’re gonna take all of our cum.” you stood up , legs wobbly as get down on your knees , letting them all circle around you jerking off , they all groaned as they came at different times , covering your face with their loads. “look at the slut.” sunghoon said , squeezing his length , milking himself. “covered in cum.” jay looked down at you , bringing his hand up to your cheek , pushing his thumb into your mouth. “good girl.”

jay covered you in his jacket ; letting you lay there while he handled business with them outside. “i really do fucking understand you.” jake said. “i wouldn’t mind taking her home for a few nights too.” jay shook his head. “what she does when i don’t see her is not my business.”

“just know she will always end up back in my bed , spending my dime.”

©️LUVYENI

[00valentina-writes00]

eating Grayson or Sevika out?

…or like both.

Here’s a little taste of what I’ve been working on (I want to keep you guys interested in me)

♡♥︎EATING MY MAMAS OUT♥︎♡

♡Grayson♡

Grayson sits stiff-backed in her desk chair, legs spread just enough to accommodate where you kneel between them. The candlelight flickers across her tanned skin, casting deep shadows over the firm muscles of her thighs, the strong cut of her abdomen. Papers are scattered across her desk, reports half-read, ink drying on unfinished signatures. But your head is buried between her legs, your tongue dragging through the wet heat of her cunt, and suddenly work doesn’t seem all that important anymore.

Her taste is rich—heady, slightly salty, with the deeper musk of arousal coating your tongue. She’s got a full bush, soft curls damp with slick, and you love the way it feels against your lips, the way it clings to your chin as you bury yourself in her.

Grayson barely makes a sound. No loud moans, no desperate cries—just the occasional hitch in her breath, the faintest grunt when your tongue flicks against her clit just right. But her body tells you everything. Her fingers twitch on the armrests of her chair, tightening with restraint. Her thighs flex, her stomach tenses. Most of all, her hips—no matter how hard she tries to keep still, they grind up, chasing the warmth of your mouth.

You hum against her, deliberately slow, dragging your tongue from her entrance up to her swollen clit. The slight tremor in her thighs tells you she liked that. You smirk, sucking her clit into your mouth, rolling your tongue over it in slow, lazy circles.

Her breath shudders out, one large hand coming down to cup the back of your head. Not pushing—Grayson never forces—but her fingers flex against your scalp, and you know she wants more.

“You should be working,” you murmur, lips brushing her, breath hot against her soaked folds.

Grayson exhales sharply, but her fingers stay in your hair. “I am.”

You grin, dragging your tongue through her again, slipping down to tease her entrance before pushing in. Her walls clench around you, hot and tight, her body drawing you deeper. The arm of her chair creaks under her tightening grip, but she still won’t give you a sound.

Fine. You’ll just make her fall apart another way.

You push deeper, fucking her slow and deliberate with your tongue, your nose pressing against her clit with each thrust. You slide your hands up her thighs, feeling the muscles flex and strain as she fights the instinct to buck into your face.

But she is moving. Even as she grips the chair like a lifeline, even as her mouth remains set in that firm line—her hips rock, just slightly, chasing the friction.

You move one hand between her legs, dragging your fingers through her slick folds, coating them before pressing your thumb to her clit. A shudder rips through her—sharp, uncontrolled.

That’s it

You roll your thumb in tight, slow circles, your tongue still thrusting deep, and finally—a low, quiet groan rumbles from her throat.

Her grip in your hair tightens.

Her hips grind down against your mouth.

You keep going, relentless, feeling her thighs tremble, her breath growing ragged. She’s right there—right on the fucking edge.

And then—her body locks up.

She exhales a sharp, heavy breath, her thighs clamping around your head, her walls pulsing around your tongue as she cums. It’s quiet, restrained—just a low, broken grunt and a deep shudder through her frame. But you feel it, the tension snapping, the wave of pleasure rolling through her.

You don’t stop until her grip loosens, her body sagging slightly in the chair.

Pulling back, you press a final, open-mouthed kiss to her soaked folds before sitting back on your heels, licking your lips.

Grayson’s breathing is deep and controlled, but her gaze is heavy when she looks down at you. A quiet hum rumbles in her throat.

“You’re insatiable,” she murmurs, voice just a little rough.

You smirk, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. “And you love it.”

She exhales, straightens her papers, and—like nothing happened—picks up her pen.

“…Shut the door on your way out.”

♡♥︎Sevika♥︎♡

Sevika spreads her thighs wide, the old leather of the couch creaking beneath her weight as she settles back, her cigar perched lazily between her fingers. Smoke curls from her lips, hazy tendrils coiling through the dim light of the room, the scent of tobacco thick in the air. She looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, lazy, unreadable, like she isn’t already soaked, like your tongue pressed against her isn’t affecting her at all.

She reeks of sex—musky, heady, and strong. It clings to your nose, coats your tongue, mixes with the smoke lingering in the air. She’s unshaven, dark curls thick around her mound, damp with her arousal, her folds swollen and slick. And fuck—her clit is big, prominent, flushed and twitching as you wrap your lips around it, sucking slow and deliberate.

Sevika smirks around her cigar, exhales a slow stream of smoke, and tightens her grip on the back of your head. Not pushing, not forcing—just holding, keeping you where she wants you.

“Yeah… just like that,” she mutters, voice low, gravelly.

You hum, the vibration making her hips twitch beneath your hands. You flick your tongue over her clit, dragging it over the sensitive ridge before dipping lower, pressing into the soaked heat of her folds. She’s fucking dripping, thick arousal smearing over your chin as you work your tongue between her lips, tasting her, lapping up everything she gives you.

Still—she barely reacts. No moans, no gasping curses—just the occasional flicker of her eyelids, the shift of her jaw as she rolls her cigar between her teeth. The only time you get a real reaction is when her head tips back, exposing the thick column of her throat, her lashes fluttering for just a second before she reins it in again.

You need to break her.

Sliding your hands up her thighs, you spread her wider, dragging your tongue up the full length of her cunt before wrapping your lips around her clit again. You suck, slow and deep, tongue flicking over the swollen bud, teasing it, circling, then sucking harder.

A grunt rumbles in her chest, deep and low.

Her fingers flex at the back of your head.

Then—she moves.

Sevika’s grip tightens as she ruts against your mouth, slow at first, rolling her hips, dragging her clit over your tongue like she’s using you as nothing more than a grinder toy. The weight of her against your face is heavy, suffocating in the best way, the thick scent of her arousal mixing with smoke as she takes another slow drag from her cigar.

Her hips jerk forward, impatient. Her grip turns bruising.

“Come on, doll—” Her voice is a rough, gravelly growl. “Put that mouth to work.”

You obey.

You moan against her, wet and messy, flicking your tongue in time with her grinding, letting her use you, letting her take her pleasure however she wants. Her breaths turn heavier, rasping through her nose, her abs tightening under the dim light.

Her smirk falters. Her head tips back again.

The next time she exhales, it’s ragged, her body shuddering, the cigar slipping from her fingers into the ashtray with a dull thud.

You feel it before you hear it—the way her thighs tremble, the way her slick coats your chin in a fresh wave as she cums, hips jerking, back arching as she releases a deep, shuddering breath and collapses against the couch.

Her hand slides from your head, settling lazily over her stomach

You pull back, panting, your face soaked in her. You watch as she lets her head loll to the side, blinking down at you, that signature smirk creeping back onto her lips.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” she rasps. “Think I might keep you down there all night.”

You grin, dragging your tongue over your lips, tasting the last of her.

“Try me.”

[hitlikehammers]

POV: when you overhear your boyfriend’s bandmates who ⛔️do not like you⛔️ talking to him—about YOU

“Be real though, Ed. Harrington? You can’t actually be serious, here.” Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle. Which is to say he totally does it. He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it. “You got me,” Eddie sighs, longer and deeper than can be taken wholly seriously. “I’m running my longest successful con to date.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, established relationship, corroded coffin, as in: the gang’s all here and being VERY JUDGEMENTAL of eddie’s taste in men, and maybe steve had to pick eddie up from practice today so he overhears it WHOLLY WITHOUT INTENDING TO OKAY?, no one ever REALLY want to hear what the people they love really think of them when said people don’t know who all’s actually listening, true love, declarations of feelings, it’s actually really fucking hard to stand up to your friends, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day ten: "We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." —Dr. Seuss

also! Unnamed Freak is Doug for the purpose of this fic because the book can fuck itself I say so 🖤

“Be real though, Ed,” the voice that filters through, and holds Steve’s hand from pushing the car door shut loud enough to notice, is fairly reasonable, like trying to talk down a suggestion absurd enough to send someone to the ER—which means, of the subjects at hand? It’s gotta be Jeff.

“You can’t actually be serious, here.”

Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle.

Which is to say he totally does it.

He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it.

“You got me,” Eddie deadpans, but it’s like, venom-laced. It stings just to hear and Steve’s struck with how much his life’s changed since Spring Break, and more still since…well.

Since Eddie.

Because Steve is well aware the man can cut glass with how sharp his tongue can get, they did go to high school together whether they ran in the same circles or not.

It’s just strikes Steve in the moment that not once since Vecna, has Eddie turns that tongue on him.

Now, other uses of his tongue—

“I’m running my longest successful con to date. Yep, totally pulled it over on all you bitches,” and where it could be playful, every single word is sharpened to stab, to pierce, to drag the wound out so it bleeds, like a shiv to remind someone where they fucked up, in perpetuity.

“Please applaud.”

And oh, even Steve flinches at that tone, and he’s not even the target. Hell, he’s still in the driveway—he doesn’t make a rule of crashing band practice, no matter whose parents’ garage they’re using; Eddie’s van is just regularly in the shop for one thing or another, so he’s gotta come get his man. But he doesn’t, like, push his way in. Sometimes doesn’t even get out of the driver’s seat. He knows Eddie would more than welcome him; has the handful of times he’s ventured to step in to apologize for interrupting but remind him they have to pick up the shitheads. But one: Eddie is alone in his welcome, and like, the polar opposite of the other three guys, who range from staring daggers at Steve to sneering so scrunched up to the nose that it’d give Carol Perkins at her snittiest a run for her money.

And Steve wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t know how to recognise where he’s not wanted, and learn how to make the calculated decision of whether to walk or push his way in. And much as he loves Eddie? Steve actually wants his friends to eventually come around from probably, like, muttering ancestral curses under their breaths at him or something.

Plus, from what Steve understands? Jam sessions are personal. Sacred. Eddie had blushes and stammered the first time he let Steve listen in on works in progress; and Steve had rewarded him for the gift of it liberally and with genuine gusto. It’s earned him repeat performances on the regular, but Steve gets it’s a private thing in general. And these guys don’t know him, don’t presently care to—don’t trust him.

He figures it’s like…masturbating in front of someone. The art thing, the depth of making music and stuff. Showing your soul a little bit, losing control for the betterment of the final product.

Now, he and Eddie definitely have masturbated together, it’s actually fantastic foreplay, or even just a deliciously sloppy go on its own. But that’s neither here nor there. And also totally fucking different.

Steve really doesn’t want Eddie masturbating in front of anyone other than him, ever again. Steve’s sure as shit not looking to on his end; definitely not with the other members of Corroded fucking Coffin.

The metaphor might have gotten away from him. But you get the picture.

“No, man,” and that’s, that’s Gareth’s voice, Steve’s almost sure. Sharper. Concerned but also caustic on the undertow. “It’s just,” he snorts, the disbelieving sort: “this can’t be real.”

Okay, yeah. Tone plus actual words add up.

“Yeah, just,” Doug laughs a little nervous, like of all of them, Eddie’s verbal attack had the most weight in tempering his response of the three of them; “blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”

They all chuckle, but it’s toned down the whole way around—even Steve can clock that. These guys are boisterous when left to their devices, Steve’s taken note of that. Mostly watching from the sidelines—almost exclusively when they don’t know he’s there to watch.

Again: does not condone eavesdropping.

Does not try at all to refrain from doing it.

“I mean, you don’t expect us to believe you’re actually fucking him,” and oh, yeah, okay: Steve was pretty sure he was the topic conversation here, and despite some of the setbacks of recent years, he’s not insecure when it comes to relationships especially.

He’s definitely the only one fucking Eddie. And Eddie’s the only one fucking him.

And while he doesn’t really hold it against these guys for being wary of him—he wasn’t really a perpetrator of their high school woes, but he definitely didn’t do anything to make them less…woeful—so he’s mostly bummed about it for Eddie’s sake, and on principle, but like, seriously.

Doubting Steve successfully scoring Eddie Munson? Like, Eddie’s a catch, Steve of ll people is well aware, but. Steve’s also been long past fishing the shallow end of the pond, y’know?

Give him some credit.

“Right,” Steve narrows back in on what’s happening in the garage that he’s definitely feeling less guilty bout, seeing as he’s definitely a subject of the debate unfolding, but Eddie sounds…angry. Pissed off in that way he gets when he’s fed the fuck up.

“I’m out,” Steve hears scraping of equipment, the guitar case flipped open; “can’t actually make it next week,” he adds like a footnote.

It’s clear within a second he’s the only one who takes it with that same…energy.

“But we have to practice before the open mic—” Jeff, ever the voice of reason, sounds baffled; on his way to ticked off but not quite there yet.

Eddie, however—as is his wont in this type of mood—could not give two shits where the people around him land on the anger-o-meter; he’s exceeded them, even if only in his own head, and they are all therefore irrelevant to his very responsible decision to put distance between himself and doing something stupid he can’t take back.

It’s not the nicest way to deal but, honestly? Steve’s mostly just proud of Eddie for sticking with a coping mechanism that, while not without consequences, generally works better than most.

“I’ll see you guys in two, then. Probably.” And the case clicks shut, definitive, and Steve’s proud of that too; that Eddie’s not digging a hole when the guys re trying to bait him, intentionally or not, over Steve.

Steve doesn’t need Eddie to complicate his band, his friendships, over what the two of them have. One, it’s not their fucking business. And two?

Steve doesn’t thing he’s being self-important in saying he and Eddie…are bigger, and more, than even the very beat high school band.

Not that Steve would ever ask Eddie to choose or some bullshit like that. And he really does believe Eddie’s going places, if that’s what he decides he wants. But…there’s that.

Then there is them.

Different, like, stratospheres.

“What the fuck came up that you can’t make it next week? When we’re staring down our first actual shot at Battle of the Bands this year,” and yeah, of course, if anyone’s gonna try to drag the whole thing out, it’s Gareth. Kid’s got a fucking temper.

“Something more important.”

Which yeah, that’s what was going through Steve’s mind, basically, but—

“The hell could be more—“

“I have plans,” Eddie hisses, viper-quick and fucking deadly, shuts them all right up for it, but then he spins a 180–preens so big Steve swears he can hear his shoulders go back and his chest puff out:

“It’s my anniversary.”

So…yeah. Just because it was where Steve’s head had just been at doesn’t mean his whole chest goes all gooey to hear it said out loud.

And in front of Eddie’s band, who…they aren’t hiding from, but they have discussed keeping kinda mum around. For the same kinds of reasons Steve’s been privy to just in the past couple minutes.

But then Eddie’s voice follows the feeling in Steve’s chest like they’re tethered there, and honestly, more times than not?

Steve thinks they just might actually be, and he’s not proven wrong with the way Eddie halfway coos:

“Our anniversary.”

“Your what?”

Jeff, again, is that middle ground: actually confused, laced with being angry that Eddie’s ducking out.

“Six months,” Eddie answers, soft-like, a little dreamy but in this way that’s rooted somehow still, and in being struck all over again by a level of shock Steve understands, sometimes feels in reverse, but still doesn’t understand being felt so deep as it sounds, now, when it’s applied to…him.

It’s wild y’know?

“I’m like,” Steve hears Eddie’s curls brush against something as he shakes his head—Steve’s money’s on him crouched by his case, or having it already slung over his shoulder:

“Never thought I’d get something to celebrate like that in the first place, but get to keep it, that long without fucking it up?”

Steve, again, wants to give up the pretense and walk the fuck in there and kiss the shit out of his boyfriend because one, same, but two?

Dumbass.

Steve goddamn adores him.

“You mean, with Harrington?” Gareth’s spitting and Steve just shakes his head, a little sad—he doesn’t know what’s crawled up that kid’s ass about him, man; he’s not so much younger that Steve never saw him or didn’t know of him but godDamn: the circles he ran in at the time weren’t the ones doing shit yet when they were in the same elementary school, Steve was barely popular in middle school, and come high school the worst anyone he knew did to the frosh was bang them into a locker—not great, but.

Not worth this shit. And the worst part is if he doesn’t know what’s crawled he did to really piss Gareth off this bad? He can’t even try to Harrington-charm his way back into the guy’s tolerable category. Like, even his best fucking not-pot brownie recipe didn’t sway the fucker.

“Yes,” Eddie is answering, the answer emphatic, like he’s brimming with feeling over it, but then clipped too, like demonstrating that he was brimming and is now being forced to clip it all backis very much the intent: “of course I mean with Steve, who the fuck else?”

It’s not lost on Steve how Eddie says his name. Ever. All the name.

But right now, how he’s making a point to say it in that warm, kinda…beloved way, when anyone else uses his last name in a way that’s anything-but.

“You cannot be—” Gareth scoffs, Steve can imagine him throwing up his hands, that sort of deal, but then Eddie comes in, and it’s a tone Steve’s only ever hear when he’s about to run a campaign into the ground where the characters may never recover, and if somehow manage it, they’ll wish they hadn’t:

“Oh, I am deadly serious.”

Because it’s not Steve’s character, but in defense of Steve’s relationship, that tone trickles something molten through his veins and prickles up his spine and…he’s gone have to stick that one in his back pocket to explore at a later date, for sure.

“Six months?”

Jeff—and Steve kinda likes Jeff, and not for the reason his bandmates would like, that he kicks around Hawkins after graduation, too, but more because Steve knows why; that’s to make more money for a college outside Indiana, and Steve thinks that’s fucking cool—but it’s here where Jeff dips fully away from being angry to being stupefied. Steve lets himself smirk at nothing because fuck yes: him and Eddie.

Six whole goddamn months.

“I was actually gonna ask you guys to come over soon, introduce him properly and stuff,” Eddie says, the disappointment in his voice again; Steve’s niggling desire to go and hug him from behind, maybe kiss under his ear a little, back in full force.

“He picks you up from practice, we see him,” Doug pipes back up, likewise confused, but Steve just takes the useful confirmation that no one did catch on that he pulled up ages ago, now.

“We know who Steve Harrington is—” Gareth snaps, protests in the way that betrays his eye-rolling, his thin-wearing patience.

“No!”

And that comes out of Eddie fierce enough to echo down at least half the block they’re on—seems like Eddie’s patience was worn out a while ago.

“You don’t!”

And everyone is silent in that way Steve knows all too well: when shit’a gone down but now you’re waiting in the edge for the worse thing to hit.

Then it does:

“And it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it up because you dipshits aren’t ready,” Eddie snaps, says dipshitso different from how he does with the Party, theirParty, their kids; he says it here with something real fucking close to disgust.

“Asking hostage questions, fuck off,” he huffs, and Steve hears Eddie’s footsteps, can’t tell if he’s gonna leave it at that, come find Steve and know he’s been standing there but that’ll be fine, it’s not like Steve wasn’t going to let him know as soon as they left—but then:

“Look,” and Eddie sounds the way Steve sounds when he’s pinching the bridge of his nose to fight a growing migraine, the sting of tears for all sorts of pain behind his eyes, and that hurts to hear from his boyfriend, like, a lot.

It fucking hurts.

“I am not just fucking him,” Eddie growls through the bridge-pinching pain; “I mean, fuck yes, I am, but,” and Steve hears the way he swallows all the way down the drive:

“I’m in this for the long haul,” Eddie tells his bandmates like throwing down a gauntlet; “and if you can’t respect me enough, and my choices, that stings,” Steve knows Eddie shrugs then: “but I’ll live.”

Steve’s about a millisecond from saying fuck it, opening the door just to slam it to announce his approach, and then going to physically grab his boyfriend, drag him to the car, and park in the abandoned lot down from the Wheelers’ neighborhood to kiss him senseless because that’s the closest place he can think of and he doesn’t think he’ll make it to either of their homes before he can’t fucking handle himself.

“But if you are gonna disrespect the man I love, no. Absolutely not.”

Eddies voice is a deadly sort of whisper. Steve would cower at it, the way it washes through a person, if he hadn’t just…said.

That.

“You love him?”

And for what Steve thinks is the first time since he climbed out of the car and committed to listening where he wasn’t invited, Gareth sounds…muted. Genuinely asking a question.

Steve, for his own part, kinda expected that he’d be more breathless, heart racing and shit, to hear the answer but in reality?

“Of course I love him.”

Steve already knew that in his cells, in his bones.

In his steady, not all-that-fast but particularly-especially-happily beating heart.

“Have you guys, like, said it and stuff?”

And of course Steve already knows that answer, both the literal one and the one that matters more, but he does perk up a bit, curious to hear what—if anything of note—Eddie chooses to give away here.

“He has,” Eddie says, and now…now maybe Steve should stop listening because this part, the way Eddie says that as flat fact—Steve doesn’t knowthis part beyond speculation. But…

“I wanted to, like,” and eddies voice can’t hide the way he’s gotta have that soft smile, the one he used to hide behind his hair before Steve started pulling it back to see in full, so now he only brings his hair out just to tease, to okay.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted much in my whole life, but he’s,” and Steve thinks he hears how Eddie chews his bottom lip for a second, in the subtlest click of how it slips free before Eddie takes a deep breath and—

“He doesn’t know what he’s worth,” Eddie starts, a little mournful almost, even, and Steve is unexpectedly glued to the spot in his fucking Nikes.

“He doesn’t understand that I’d sell the sun and the moon just to keep him,” Eddie’s saying, and with passion. With whole-ass honesty. And here, maybe, is where Steve gets to have some of the heart:fluttery feeling after all:

“He comes out the gate with the whole you don’t have to say it back and I just,” Eddie sighs, sniffs a little before heaving another breath deep enough to stretch his shirt, which Steve’s not imagining or anything, at all;

“I couldn’t say it, not right then, and risk him everthinking it was something I’d done to like, match. Like that I didn’t mean it with everything I’ve got, when I mean it with everything I’ve got and then also everything else. Like, anywhere. Ever.”

Steve realized he’d stopped breathing at some point when the little dots start floating in front of his eyes and he sucks in a shaking breath because: he’s known Eddie loves him. Unshakeably.

But, but all this—

“I couldn’t say it and have him ever wondered if I wouldn’t rip my heart out of my chest just to keep his safe.”

And of-fucking-course Steve’s pulse is running fucking riot about how much he’s in love right now, make no goddamn mistake. Jesus, he—

“Fuck.”

And Steve has never heard Gareth Emerson pushed just this side of speechless but: that’s the best way Steve can describe the kind of breathless wonder he says it with, like watching a rare bird take flight.

“You mean it.”

And Steve can pick out Eddie’s huffs and categorize them, on demand at this point: he doesn’t need to see the eye-roll to know Eddie’s deemed the expression of pure shock to be so beneath him in this specific context that he’s deemed it unworthy of any more attention.

His heart’s not jumping that loud to have missed it. So.

Steve just kinda grins toward the blacktop under his shoes.

“Why didn’t you,” Doug starts, still—usually, really, in Steve’s limited experience at least—the peacekeeper, the one who’s most invested at the human level when he’s not getting swept up in whatever the rest of the gang has deemed the cool thing to laugh at or make fun of at any given moment.

The huff Eddie gives this time is his incredulous one, which allows for just the slightest bit more consideration:

“The fuck do you think?”

The slightest bit, being the operative point.

“I’d hoped you’d take it better but,” Eddie adds, and there’s less drama in it than Steve might have expected. He’s being serious with them, and he sounds…disappointed.

Steve kinda want to make some kind of noise, give away his position, and just…hug Eddie tight from behind, if nothing else. Be there. Solid against him, wrapped up around him. Never wavering. Always at his back as much as at his side.

But Eddie’s not done:

“I’m not even asking you to like him, just be decent,” and it sounds like it hurts him to say as much, and Steve knows why; he genuinely despises when anyone thinks Lea with a the very beat thing about Steve. Steve believes this to be n unreasonable standard, and has expressed as much to Eddie who nods and smiles and kisses Steve’s forehead and does absolutely nothing to change his stance, but deep down?

Steve fucking feels so…loved for it.

“And like I said,” Steve can hear the judgement in Eddie’s tone clear as day; “you’re not ready, and I’m not putting him in that kind of situation.”

Steve sucks on the inside of his cheek, lest his grin at the way Eddie is not just defending him, but…protecting him, not his honor but his heart…

No ones ever even tried that before. Steve may not need it, or maybe he just learned he couldn’t survive needing it.

Getting it now…now it’s just…

Wow.

“And I’m in this for keeps, like, this is a forever type thing, so long as he wants it,” Eddie saying, explaining the color of a sky to a small child like what these words are that fundamental, that unalterably true. “So—”

“We’ve known each other forever, man,” Gareth eventually mutters, sounds indignant, but mostly gutted.

Steve knows before it happens that it’s not gonna make a difference.

“And we can still know each other. Just not everything, anymore,” and Eddie does sound a little sad but he’s…he’s a monolith, unshakable. “I don’t trust you with the parts that revolve around him, yet,” and Steve feels more than hears the ways his friends deflate, maybe shrink for being deemed so…insufficient. In the eyes of their ostensible leader, no less.

“Eddie, we didn’t,” Jeff starts, slow, and he doesn’t sound remorseful but—Eddie has all those coping mechanisms for a reason, right?

Because he’s quick to feeling, good and bad, and sometimes neither is fit to the moment.

Steve can’t help but be kinda glad Eddie doesn’t bother with those mechanisms just now, though, if it means he gets to hear this part:

“I know you didn’t, that’s the fucking problem,” Eddie groans, Steve can see the way he lens, bends at the knees and throws his body around a little in sheer, undiluted exasperation. “

“Because I could tell you he’s changed since school, and that’d be true, but that’s not even it,” and there’s more of the frustrated stomping round, Steve can hear it, but he’s…he’s ready distracted by that thing in his chest that has to has to be tied up in Eddie’s, too, that thing tugging on him to pay the fuck attention.

And who is he to ignore it?

“he was never who we thought he was in school in the first place. He is,” Eddie licks his lips, just to snack them loud:

“He is kind and funny, and goofy, and such a fuckin’ nerd, and he’s smart in these incredible ways where he’s sees what everyone else misses, and he’s protective as fuck and he’s got a heart of gold,” and Eddie’s voice only gets more heartfelt in its own right that longer he goes and Steve just, he’s, it’s—

“And I would tear my skin off just so it doesn’t get so much as a scuff on it,” Eddie ends with the most scathing delivery imaginable: he fucking meansthis shit. And Steve is going o live and die next to this man, scuffed heart still kept safe to the fucking end, he will swear that shit to anyone who needs to hear it.

He is going to have a whole fucking life with Eddie Munson, and love him for every single breath of it.

“And I don’t trust you guys yet not to tempt me to tear off my skin,” Eddie says finally after enough silence to catch his breath, and temper his tone just enough to sound tired; a little dejected. “I don’t trust you with him, and until that changes, we’re still friends,” Eddie sniffs, breathes out long; “you just won’t get to know about that part of me.”

He says it so simple, like he’s not half-cutting off some of the longest, closest friendships he’s ever had, and for Steve.

Steve doesn’t know if it makes him a person, or a really selfish one or whatever, if he doesn’t feel any urge to talk Eddie down, to make him walk it back just a little.

He doesn’t think he cares, though, either way.

“Seems like a really big part of you,” Doug says, deflated entirely.

“It is,” Eddie answers, unapologetic in a way that swells and sparkles in Steve’s ribs. “He is.”

“You’d walk from the band?” Of course Gareth asks, but it’s the first time he sounds small in his words. Like he maybe knows the answer, and isn’t so okay with how he got around to it even before Eddie wishes all doubt:

“In half a fuckin’ heartbeat.” Boom. Done. No hesitation whatsoever.

Less than half-a-fuckin’-heartbeat.

“That’s not what I’m saying I’m doing right now, but,” Eddie laughs a little, and that probably cuts deeper than anything for the boys, Steve suspects, especially when Eddie makes it unquestionable:

“It’s not even a question.”

And…maybe that drives a knife deeper for the band, but for Steve?

Steve kinda wants to…giggle, or some shit. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted someone who answered a question like that, exactly like that, who talked about Steve exactly like that, without anything to gain, just because they…believed it.

“Jesus,” Gareth mutters, sounds kinda blindsided, kinda thrown and then some.

“If we,” Jeff clears his throat after a long period of quiet; “if we do better, could we meet him someday?” And the way he says it, earnest and shit:, like he wants to at least think about, at least maybe try:

“Like, really meet him?”

Like Eddie means enough that he’ll try, and that sings sweet in Steve’s veins because goddamn straight, his Eddie deserves that from the people hecares about. No matter who or what Steve is, Eddiedeserves that much, and so much more.

But he sounds like even just this is something amazing, Steve can hear the smile in his voice:

“Yeah, man,” he answers Jeff, claps him audibly on the shoulder; “I look forward to it.”

And shit, y’know what?

So does Steve.

“See you in two weeks,” and Eddies footsteps follow, guitar slung over his back for the way his weight falls with each one, but then:

“Eddie!”

That’s Doug; the footsteps stop close to the edge of the garage door as another set rushes to catch up, where he’ll see Steve if he walks much farther, where Steve’s got his hand on the door handle of the car, slowly inching it open to push shut and look wholly-unsuspicious now that Eddie might be followed out to his ride:

“Get him flowers. For your anniversary,” Doug says, tone low like a secret; “I know, like, it might seem like guys wouldn’t want flowers, but,” and Steve actually has to strain to hear the next part:

“My mom gets my dad flowers on his birthday every year, and he lights up like the Fourth of July.”

Steve remembers the first time he ever got flowers. His favorites, even if he thinks he only knew it subconsciously because they were handed to him with the stammering explanation of I don’t even know if you like flowers, or like these ones, but you look at them when we’re out, like, just walking or something and your eyes linger, and these ones just remind me of you and—

Apparently, Steve loves hyacinths. And sunflowers make Eddie think of him.

Because of course Steve’s first gift of flowers came from Eddie.

“Thanks man,” Eddie sounds the lightest, most genuine Steve’s heard him since he pulled up and got out of the car; “they’re already ordered.”

And Doug chuckles, and Steve?

Steve bites down his smile to less exploding-star levels—if he’d just pulled up he doesn’t have a reason, save that Eddie is enough of a reason in Steve’s eyes, his mind, the way his chest expands just thinking on him—as he pulls the car door closed again, loud enough to be noticed.

For Eddie to walk out of the garage fast as anything and meet Steve with a smile of his own that justifies the fuck out of where Steve’s had started, anyway.

All star-bright and everything.

♥️🎸♥️

✨also on ao3✨

btw this is either titled ‘halcyon shoegazing’ or ‘heart in your shoes’ so if you have an opinion you should maybe tell me or something, my brain’s tired and is resisting decisions rn

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here

[formulawolff]

a weekend in buffalo — d.r.

pairing -> fem!driver reader x daniel ricciardo

word count -> smau

warnings -> none really, just some gossip accounts, some softness, and photos of a couple making out, internet hate/slut shaming, cursing

a/n -> life has been overwhelming but the idea of gg with daniel makes me want to write. for now my brain came up with this. i hope y’all like it <3

liked by f1fangirl, f1daily, alex_albon, and 73,029 others!

f1teaspill it appears that daniel ricciardo has been spotted out and about in buffalo. but this time, he has company…. ☕️

user9229 guys are we sure this is real

f1teaspill these photos were sent to me through dms by fans. i cannot confirm nor deny the validity of the photos. i only share what is shared with me! ☺️

redbull4ever so what you’re saying is that there may be a chance these pics are fake…

mercgirly420 MIND YOU IT HAS ONLY BEEN A FEW MONTHS SINCE SHE BROKE TOTO’S HEART‼️

williamsstan girl we don’t know the full story about that so let’s be mindful of criticizing someone for moving on…

mercgirly420 girl stfu we all know this girl is a slut and only used toto to gain an advantage at a better team. she basically said that herself at the press conference at cota. that’s probably when she and daniel started to [more]

williamsstan respectfully, i’m not reading all of that 🤍

goldengirlforever we don’t even know if that’s our golden girl so you need to shut the fuck up 🤍

f1fan03939 HELLO⁉️ ALEX LIKED THE POST⁉️

user820 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE⁉️

f1stan636 uhhhh … is that… golden girl?

mercfan67 i think so. the height, hair color, stature, all match.

user45 guys i'm going to the game this weekend. i'll keep an eye out for gg and daniel! 🫡

f1fangirl2003 this is going to be an insane weekend for the daniel and gg truthers if this proves to be true

dannyfantom i am going to lose my shit (in the best way possible) if it's true!

user2004 these pics are so grainy tho.. we can't really be sure it's her!

user1999 ew what a slut. can't believe she emotionally cheated on toto.

user2001 ugh he deserves better than that home-wrecking whore 🤢

goldengirl posted to her story!

danielricciardo just posted!

liked by maxverstappen1, goldengirl.jpg, joshallenqb, and 932,002 others!

danielricciardo another great weekend in buffalo

view 2,204 comments

joshallenqb who is that beautiful man wearing the hard hat? 😩

danielricciardo your bf

maxverstappen1 it's nice to see you enjoying yourself in the states mate! 😆

danielricciardo thank you! ☺️ i can't wait to see you at cota!

dannyricstan how do i like this post more than once?

user1998 wow i love paris this time of year

f1fan19972 daniel pls tell me you're not dating that slut from the states...

user45 screaming crying throwing up how is a man so beautiful

f1girly is this gg's burner cause...

yukitsunoda0511 i see this post made it to the wrong side of instagram 🙃

oscarpiastri what a man!

danielricciardo nah that's you sugar 😘

f1fan2023 why are you and gg both in buffalo?

f1user2005 yeah let's talk about that!

f1user05 praying that the rumors aren't true 😔

danielricciardo i fear that you have more important things to worry about

dannyric09 ummm so what's going on?

f1teapage no one knows atp

goldengirl.jpg just posted!

liked by danielricciardo, alex_albon, maxverstappen1, and 15,037 others!

goldengirl.jpg alexa, play this is the life by two door cinema club

danielricciardo slowly but surely indoctrinating you as a bills fan

goldengirl.jpg josh allen is a pretty cool guy!

maxverstappen1 nice to see you two enjoyed the weekend! 😄

alex_albon i say we get tix to a raiders game when we’re in vegas 🙂‍↕️

goldengirl.jpg brb running to check their schedule

goldengirl.jpg as long as we can invite my daniel i will be happy to go

goldengirlstan HELLO⁉️ “my daniel”

user7273 ISTHISAHARDLAUNCHICANT

gg939 GOLDEN GIRL X DANIEL TRUTHERS RISE UP‼️

lilymhe ugh stop it you look soooo good in the red + blue combo

lilymhe brb searching up how to be as gorgeous as golden girl

lilymhe also can't wait for the debrief. lmk when you're back home plssssss

landonorris love u both

landonorris mom n dad

goldengirl.jpg ugh love u son <3

oscarpiastri honorary parents

f1user2006 WHY IS NO ONE POSTING ABOUT THIS‼️

f1fan2004 YEAH I AM WONDERING THE SAME THING

mercedesfan2005 ew

georgefan2003 this is atrocious. you break toto's heart and now you're prancing around with this washed guy? unbelievable.

ggstan is this toto wolff's burner?

franscisca.cgomes AHH CUTIES!

lewishamilton so refreshing to see you on my feed again. missed you! 🤍 (p.s. great song choice)

carlossainz55 such a beautiful couple! 😀

alex_albon okkkk facebook mom!

jallen96 love you both! go bills!

hailee.jpg ugh imy already sweet girl

goldengirl.jpg ugh imy more. maybe i'll come down one weekend for girls night

danielricciardo my beautiful girl, everyone

f1teaspill is this a confirmation? check your dms!

f1gossip pleeeeaaasseee check your dm!

f1teadaily we need the tea girl!

[shaaknaa]

I've been getting into Fairy Tales lately. The old shit. Grimms and Lang. And let me tell you. There be politics in our shit I didn't realize existed until I cracked those open.

And it's not just the -isms. Because yeah. Racism, sexism, antisemitism, etc. The fact that the good guys are pretty and the bad guys are ugly. I'm not going to make a big deal about that because it's been done to death.

No, I'm talking about stories about like... assholes?

A gluttonous cat who eats through the stores he and his mouse bestfriend and then eats him when confronted. A serving girl who keeps tricking her boss into thinking she's working and she just... gets away with it? A rooster and hen who ask an innkeeper to spend the night for free, and in the morning the skedaddle, but not without leaving numerous mean-spirited pranks.

We don't... do that anymore. "Cartoons for babies and toddlers" are pure and wholesome. They have morals. They are very in line with Aesop, though I haven't read through him critically since adulthood. We use children's stories to teach. Having edgy children's lit is controversial.

So yeah. All media is political. But sometimes that means "clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere" or "sharing is caring"... or "Remember, real pirates don't steal from others" which literally but the political agenda above misinformation *JAKE.* I hope you don't have a moral about lying, cuz then you're a fucking Hypocrite *JAKE!*

everything has political content. sorry. theres some guys who get really really angy when you say this but its true

[bvrnesher]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘, 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄

cw: language! suggestive comments, sexual jokes, alcohol, make-out ¿?

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ🌙ㅤ˳ Part. i 𝒍𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏 ! 𝒇𝒆𝒎. 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

﹙𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆! ﹚ꪆ

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟑𝟎𝟏𝟏. 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌.

"𝗟𝗨𝗞𝗘, 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞, 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦, 𝗢𝗥 𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟," Chris said, shooting him a shit-eating grin.

Yeah, this was a bit of a twisted version of the classic kiss, marry, or kill, but no one really gave a damn about semantics. Not right now, anyway.

Luke wasn’t exactly feeling it—the whole campfire hangout (or, let’s be real, after-party) in the woods. But it was Sunday, and his so-called friends had dragged him here.

The actual party had died down a while ago, leaving only a handful of them—the ones not completely wasted—still hanging around the fire.

The flames flickered under the moonlight, the trees rustling just enough to send a cool breeze through the small clearing they’d basically claimed as Camp Half-Blood’s official party zone.

"Between…?" Luke asked, taking a slow sip of his beer, already bracing for whatever bullshit Chris was about to throw at him.

"Kayle, Jenna, and…" Chris let the last name hang in the air, scanning the girls around the fire, looking for the perfect final option.

Then, his eyes landed on you.

Oh, he was going to be an asshole about this. His smirk said it all.

He said your name.

Luke didn’t even flinch. Not on the outside, at least. Inside? Different story. His heart pulled one of those stupid, traitorous stunts the second he heard it.

Because Chris knew.

Knew that Luke had called you the hottest girl in camp.

But what Chris didn’t know was that Luke hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he actually thought about you.

Across the fire, you smirked, leaning in to whisper something to your friend from Cabin 4, completely unaware of the storm you’d just walked into.

Luke exhaled slowly, masking it with a lazy smirk of his own as he leaned back against the tree, arms crossing over his chest like this was the easiest question in the world.

"Kill Kayle," he said first, earning an over-the-top gasp from her—not that she actually gave a shit, of course.

"Kiss Jenna," he continued, throwing the redhead a teasing wink.

Then, without hesitation, "And I'd fuck her," he finished, tilting his chin toward you with an infuriatingly smooth grin.

If only you knew how hard it was to keep his voice steady when he said it.

Cheers and whistles erupted through the otherwise quiet forest the second Luke gave his answer. Stifled giggles, teasing remarks, and more than a few suggestive comments filled the air.

And, just to make things worse, when the playful chatter finally died down, the only sound left was the crackling of the fire.

You glanced around.

Every pair of eyes was on you, waiting for your reaction.

Your gaze met Luke’s for just a second—just enough for a spark of heat to shoot down his spine.

You casually tossed your hair over your shoulder, silently thanking the gods that the firelight masked the faint blush creeping up your neck.

"Oh, yeah?" You leaned in slightly. "What an honor, Castellan."

The exaggerated flirt in your tone sent another round of laughter through the group, though it quickly faded as everyone turned to Luke, waiting for his response.

Luke smirked, though his jaw was clenched a little tighter than usual. His posture was relaxed, but if you really looked, there was something a little too controlled about it.

Before he could say anything, a guy from the Apollo cabin jumped in with a wicked grin.

"Come on, Castellan, at least take her to dinner first. Three drachmas, and I’ll play background music." He joked.

Luke rolled his eyes, shooting him a look that lacked any real bite. Chris, on the other hand, was thriving.

"Luke, care to elaborate?" He nudged him playfully. "What exactly would you do with her?"

The others laughed and hollered.

You simply smiled—sweet and a little too charming—never once breaking eye contact with Luke.

Luke tilted his head slightly, the firelight reflecting in his blue eyes.

"That," he said smoothly, "is classified information."

Even Clarisse groaned in fake outrage.

"Oh, come on, you can’t just leave us hanging!"

That signature cocky smirk of his curled at his lips as he leaned forward like he was about to let them in on a secret. The others followed suit, huddling closer to listen.

A few beats of suspense passed. Then, finally,

"Well, if you really wanna know…" he started, voice dropping into a teasing whisper.

"Ask her later."

He finished with an easy shrug, feigning innocence.

The entire group groaned, clearly unimpressed with his little stunt.

You?

Gods.

There was no way you weren’t blushing now.

The flickering orange glow of the fire danced across Luke’s face, making him look even more impossibly attractive. And for Luke, that was saying something.

And as the words left his lips, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—you kind of wanted to find out.

Chris, grinning like the little chaos-bringer he was, let the game roll on after dropping his bombshell for Luke. The guy was going to have a field day tormenting some poor soul from the Hephaestus cabin.

With the attention finally off him, Luke let out a tired sigh. You leaned back, trying to unwind, but it didn’t take long before you noticed his gaze following you every time he thought you weren’t looking.

Honestly, you weren’t fooled. You knew he knew you knew. He never took his eyes off you. Not once. And you didn’t mind it. Not really.

Anyway, Luke wasn’t the type to dwell on things, so he just went with the flow, cracking jokes and making sure the victims of his pranks had a hell of a time.

But everytime he remembered the words, "I’d fuck her" slipping from his lips, his focus wavered. His eyes—those damn eyes—zeroed in on your lips every time you spoke. He couldn’t help it, even if he tried to play it off.

The night kept rolling forward, the fire crackling in the background, the air thick with laughter, alcohol, and the occasional whoop of drunken enthusiasm. And by alcohol, I mean the kind that was totally not allowed at camp.

You were enjoying yourself—honestly, you'd almost forgotten about Luke’s comment.

Almost.

"Come on, stop pretending," Lee chimed in. "Admit it. You’d totally fuck Luke if you had to choose."

The entire group burst out laughing. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Before you could throw some sarcastic retort his way, your friend leaned in, her voice heavy with mock annoyance.

"You know what?" she started, her tone dripping with mischief. "Great idea. Alright, darling," she said, turning to you, pulling all eyes on you. Just what you needed.

"Fuck, kiss, or kill," she continued, eyeing the guys. "Between Lee, Chris, and Luke."

A flash of heat ran up your neck. Damn it. You could feel all the eyes on you, some of them eager, some just waiting to see how you'd react.

You took a deep breath, took a long sip of your drink, and braced yourself.

"Kiss Lee. Kill Chris. And, I'd fuck Castellan."

The words spilled out like they were nothing. No hesitation. No second-guessing. And with that, you leaned back, a confident smirk tugging at your lips.

Silence.

Then, chaos.

The group exploded into laughter, hollers, and a few half-choked gasps. Someone actually dropped their drink. Chris clutched his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.

"Cold-blooded," he wheezed between laughs. "I’m actually offended."

"Yeah, yeah," you waved him off, taking another sip of your drink. "You’ll live."

Lee, meanwhile, was grinning like an idiot, throwing an exaggerated wink your way.

It wasn’t obvious—not to anyone else, at least. But you caught it. That tiny shift in his expression. That quick flash of something in his eyes, there and gone before anyone could clock it.

But you did.

And gods, it sent a spark down your spine.

"Well, well," Chris recovered quickly, his shit-eating grin returning at full force. "Looks like our golden boy is getting some love tonight."

Luke finally leaned back against the tree, arms still crossed, expression unreadable. But his smirk? Oh, that damn smirk.

"Guess I should be honored," he mused, voice casual—too casual.

You shrugged, mirroring his expression. "Guess so."

A beat.

For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, the noise of the group fading into the background. The fire crackled between you, but neither of you looked away.

Then, someone—probably Chris again—broke the tension with another wild round of "fuck, kiss, or kill," dragging the attention elsewhere.

You exhaled, finally looking away.

But Luke?

Luke kept watching you.

He wasn’t sure if it was the firelight or the alcohol—or maybe it was just you—but he knew one thing for sure:

This night just got a whole lot more interesting.

A while later, when everyone was either drunk enough or just too tired to stick around, they decided to clean up any evidence of the party and head back to their cabins.

Summer had ended a few weeks ago, so there weren’t many campers who stayed year-round.

You and one of your sisters were among the few who did, which meant you basically had the whole cabin to yourselves.

The thing was, when she got drunk enough—giggling and stumbling into her boyfriend’s arms—he decided he’d be the one taking care of her for the night.

The last thing you saw of her were her clumsy steps leading toward his cabin.

You huffed. You hated sleeping alone.

As you made your way to your cabin, you waved goodbye to the others, watching as they disappeared behind their doors one by one.

Rubbing your arms in a weak attempt to keep warm, you muttered a curse in Ancient Greek, annoyed at the unbearable winter chill.

You were walking alone when, out of nowhere, something warm draped over your shoulders—along with a familiar presence right beside you.

"I’m not cold," Luke said, walking in step with you.

You blinked, glancing up at him with a hint of confusion. "Your cabin’s all the way on the other side, Luke."

"I know." He shrugged. "Saw your sister leave with her boyfriend."

Before you could say anything, he spoke again.

"Let me walk you back," he said, flashing a small smile. "I know you don’t need me to, but a little company never hurts."

You hesitated for a second before sighing. "Yeah, I guess a little company wouldn’t kill me. Even if it’s literally five steps to my cabin."

Luke let out a quiet huff, eyes flicking forward—where, yeah, your cabin was already right in front of you.

"Too late?" he asked.

"Nah, I’d say you’re just in time," you answered.

Five steps later, you were at your door. You pushed it open, then tipped your head toward the inside.

"You coming in?" you asked. "Pretty sure you’ve never been inside."

Luke’s heart kicked up, totally unprompted. Inside your cabin? Alone? At night?

Hell, yeah.

He tilted his head, smirking. "You’re right about that," he said, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

The inside of your cabin looked exactly how he’d imagined it would.

You made your way to your bunk, sitting down to kick off your shoes before crawling fully onto the bed.

The wall beside it was covered with little things that, without a doubt, reminded Luke of you.

He approached carefully, masking it behind a curious look.

"This place is ridiculously you," he teased, though you could tell it was more of a compliment. At least, you hoped it was.

Settling into the bed, you crossed your legs, sinking into the pillows.

Much to Luke’s frustration, your dress rode up slightly as you moved, revealing just enough soft, bare skin to have his brain short-circuiting for a second.

The air in your cabin felt warmer than it should. Maybe it was just the contrast to the cold outside. Maybe it was the aftershocks of alcohol buzzing in your veins. Or maybe—just maybe—it had everything to do with the way Luke was looking at you.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

Like he had every intention of figuring out exactly how far he could push you tonight.

"You’re staring," you pointed out, sinking a little deeper into your pillows, like that would somehow make you less aware of him.

Luke, still leaning against the opposite bunk, arms crossed, smirked. "You noticed."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look away. Couldn’t, really. He looked too damn good standing there, bathed in the soft golden light of your cabin, hair still slightly tousled from the wind outside. He’d ditched his jacket—the one he’d draped over your shoulders like some kind of quiet excuse to touch you—and now, in just his shirt and jeans, he somehow looked even more effortless.

Luke’s gaze flickered down, just barely. But you caught it.

It was quick—just a second. A glance at your legs, where your dress had ridden up just a little as you shifted.

Interesting.

You smirked, slow and knowing, tilting your head just slightly as you let your fingertips skim over the edge of your blanket, pretending to adjust it.

Luke exhaled, like he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Something on your mind, Castellan?"

He let out a short laugh, low and warm. "You keep saying my name like that, sweetheart," he murmured, voice dropping a little, "and you’re gonna find out."

Your stomach flipped.

His eyes were darker now—not just from the dim lighting, but something else. Something heavier.

He was closer than before. You didn’t remember him moving, but suddenly, his fingers brushed against the mattress, right near your knee.

Heat curled in your stomach.

Luke tilted his head slightly, watching you, waiting. Maybe for you to say something. Maybe for you to stop him.

You didn’t.

Instead, you lifted your hand, slow, reaching for the jacket he’d given you earlier. You let it slide off your shoulders, fabric pooling at your sides, before casually tossing it onto the bunk behind you.

Luke’s eyes followed the motion, his lips twitching, like he was biting back a comment.

"You’re taking up a lot of space," you mused, voice light, teasing.

Luke chuckled, low in his throat. "Funny," he murmured, stepping forward until his knees brushed the edge of your bed. "I was just about to say the same thing."

The tension between you tightened, electric.

His fingers curled just slightly around the edge of the mattress.

He leaned in—just enough. Not quite touching, but right there, enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of pine and campfire still clinging to his shirt.

His breath ghosted against your cheek as he murmured, voice softer, slower—like a quiet dare:

"Move over, sweetheart."

You raised a brow, but you didn’t move. Not yet.

"Why?" you asked, voice smooth, steady—way steadier than you felt.

Luke’s lips quirked, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, searching. Reading. Like he was trying to figure out if you were just teasing or if you were actually going to make him work for it.

Finally, he hummed, low and thoughtful, tilting his head slightly. "Because I want to sit down," he said, voice lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

You blinked. That was not the answer you expected.

Luke just shrugged, playing it off like this wasn’t a game he was carefully balancing. "But, hey, if you wanna keep me standing here all night…" His voice dropped, just a little. "Be my guest."

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. "Fine."

And you moved. But only a little.

Luke huffed out a quiet chuckle, but he didn’t waste any time. He sank down onto the mattress, one arm bracing behind him, the other resting lazily against his knee.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The warmth of him was everywhere now—closer than before, the bed dipping just slightly under his weight. Your bare knee barely brushed against his thigh, and you swore you felt the way his fingers twitched in response.

The firelight flickered against the walls, casting soft shadows across his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his lips parted just slightly when he exhaled.

And then his eyes—Gods, his eyes.

They flickered down, just for a second. Just enough.

And then back up.

When he finally met your gaze again, something shifted.

Neither of you were smiling anymore.

The teasing, the casual back-and-forth—it was still there, under the surface, but now?

Now, it was something else entirely.

Luke’s fingers lifted, slow, careful. Not touching yet—just hovering near the fabric of your dress, near your thigh, like he was waiting for something. For you.

Swallow.

Then, finally, you moved first.

Just enough to close that last bit of space.

Your fingers brushed against his wrist, featherlight, a barely-there touch that sent a quiet, sharp breath from his lips.

And that was it.

Luke didn’t hesitate this time.

His hand finally, finally found your waist, warm and firm as he pulled you just a fraction closer—just enough for his lips to brush against yours, teasing, barely there.

Your breath hitched.

For half a second, it was hesitation. Anticipation. The space of a heartbeat, hanging in the air between you.

And then?

Then, you kissed him.

Or maybe he kissed you.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, none of that mattered.

Because the second his lips fully met yours, everything else faded—your teasing, your nerves, the fact that you probably weren’t thinking this through.

None of it mattered.

Because Luke Castellan was kissing you.

And gods, he was good at it.

ꪆৎ. Part ii. Taglist open !

TAGS: @spider-ghoul @imafuckinstar @girl-detective16

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

MORE MEAN!RAFE PLEASE!!! Maybe leading from the last ask and it’s him being the desperate one and she’s just scared of him now but she still loves him or smth idk lols

even when you pushed me away

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — stalking

summary — rafe somehow finds you after you frantically ran away from home.

authors note — this is a continuation of my mean!rafe series. it is in my rafe cameron masterlist under “au’s” if you’d like it read it as a series instead of a standalone. thank you guys for all the love with this au, it means the world to me. please request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“why are you here, rafe?” you asked, your voice firm and unwavering even though you were slightly terrified and cowering behind your half-opened front door. “how did you even find me?”

he shook his head and brushed it off. “why am i here? because you just got up and left. no note? text? a call? nothing,” he explained calmly. “why? and where is all your stuff?” you bit your bottom lip nervously and stared at him. to your surprise, he looked genuinely confused. “did i do something?”

you almost laughed. did he do something? was he serious? “you should leave. i don’t want to talk to you,” you stated while beginning to close the door.

he lunged forward quickly and pushed back on it slightly, not enough for you to be scared that he was going to force his way in or anything like that, but just to keep you from shutting it in his face. “please, baby. i jus’ wanna talk to you. i want you to come home. i wanna know why you left in the first place.”

your resolve was beginning to slip. he was being so sweet and his eyes were all glassy like he was going to cry. “rafe, i don’t want to talk to you. i can’t,” you said a little more forcefully.

his bottom lip trembled slightly and he stared at you with wide eyes. “why not? what did i do wrong? if its about not spending enough time together, i promise i’ll change. i’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the week and we can spend every second of it together. jus’ please, come back home.”

“it’s not about that,” you replied. you wanted to leave with him so desperately. he sounded so torn and sad and it was beginning to make your heart break for him. “you’re not a good person. i can’t get mixed up with that.”

a tear slipped down his cheek as the realization set in. “baby, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered softly before talking a step closer to the door. you threatened to close it, narrowing the gap between you and him. that made him take a step back instantly. “please. jus’ come home and i’ll explain. i promise you. no lying, no bullshit. i’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

you felt your nose begin to sting and tears pool in your waterline. “i can’t, rafe.” you quickly shut the door and twisted the lock. a loud bang sounded on the door and you instinctively jumped back as you sobbed.

“open the fucking door!” he shouted angrily. you could hear his voice tremble before he began to repeatedly bang on the wood. “open the door!”

you slid down the wall and curled up into yourself, letting the tears call and the ugly cries escape your mouth. you’d never seen this side of him and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t terrify you to your core.

“baby, please! i’m begging you to open the door. i just want to talk to you,” he said, his voice slightly muffled through the barrier. “i need to talk to you. i need you to know that i’m not a bad person. please.”

you were pretty sure you were past that point now.

[diushek]

Well, he (user: HeavenlyPillar666) is just a guy who only reads a webnovel out of boredom after his martial arts classes and finds himself unfortunately trapped- the plot is uninteresting in the first instance, the descriptions are long and absurd (SERIOUSLY, FIVE PARAGRAPHS TO DESCRIBE A DAMN PLANT? TEN PARAGRAPHS TO DESCRIBE A MONSTER? More action scenes than dialogue!? Who the hell is that IcedBlueBeast and why the hell does he insist on making everything SO DENSE AND SLOW?), but... one of his characters? DEFINITELY HIS FAVORITE CHARACTER IN THAT HORRIBLE WORLD. HIS MISUNDERSTOOD BLORBO. HIS BELOVED.

In a summary not summarized, a story about two twin brothers who were separated at birth, and both found their way to cultivation world in different ways. Reunited first like disciples and then Peak Lords of different peaks of the same sect, suddenly, the brother who remained with his wealthy family - Shen Yuan - was seen as something of a villain for having had kind and lovely parents, a home and an education, always portrayed as the spoiled rich kid who bought his way into the Sect, while the REAL SCUM VILLAIN ACCORDING TO HEAVENLYPILLAR666, that bitch Shen Jiu who was stolen from his family and raised as a slave and then on the streets, ended with basically a harem of peak lords, fanning himself with his fourth-rate victim role.

And the rest of that pathetic novel it's just... shit full of dramas, betrayal and eternal descriptions being an ode to finding the hundreds of ways in which Shen Yuan's inherent kindness was misinterpreted as manipulation, judged and accused of wanting to do something bad just because he comes from a rich and well-off background.

And how it should be fair after all that gaslighting and psychological torture, Shen Yuan finally agree with them!

Crack under the pressure and the mistreatment of everyone, he just decide that if everyone thought he was a villain, then he was one!!

Allying with the demons first as an informant spy and then rising to power among the court, he ended up being something like a emperor-demonic cultivator eager for revenge and proving that no matter where he came from, he would show them what he was capable of! If the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect believed that a powerful cultivator was only forged through hard work and suffering, look at him now!

So all that good revenge plot would go to shit with Shen Yuan start to fucking monsters in scenes that were almost fade to black despite the deep descriptions and CHEMISTRY between the passionate Shen Yuan and the mythical creatures to have more power for the revenge that never seemed to come... To end with a completely unsatisfying shitty ending in which Shen Yuan gave up his revenge for filial love and the power of forgiveness, giving his own life to save his fucking damnit brother's life!

Where was the cruel revenge?! The taking over of the world?! HeavenlyPillar666 is RAGING, more than anyone else in all those damn comments!! Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel!!!!!

...

Yea, the user HeavenlyPillar666 shouldn't have said that while choking on his damn glass of water. It's not that he thinks he could die by drowning in a glass of water, LITERALLY. That's ridiculous. It's the height of ridiculousness.

But now he is dead, and he has transmigrated into one of Shen Yuan's less filial disciples who would ultimately be the person who would hurt him the most when he turned his back on him, after having been practically raised and adored by Shen Yuan, this damn disciple who always treating his Shizun with contempt and disdain knowing his invented reputation, but despite that, he was so dear to Shen Yuan who more than once was capable of putting himself at risk for him...

No, nothing like that!! No more of that trash!!! Shen Yuan deserves MORE, and the one who now is Luo Binghe is going to make sure Shen Yuan has all of it. A happy ending, a filial disciple, someone to count on, someone to stand up for him when no one else will. Someone by his side when he decides to destroy the cultivation world, someone to HELP HIM DO IT AND GET REVENGE ON ALL THOSE ASSHOLES SONS OF A B-

If only that fucking System would stop yelling at him for being OOC. Luo Binghe already knows!!! Fuck you System!! He's not going to respond that rudely to his Shizun, he is a beautiful little sun, what's wrong with you!?

[angelsndragons]

so my forever gm needed a break. given that this was my only in-person game and i wanted to retain that connection to my community, i volunteered to run the next campaign so she could take a break and just enjoy playing.

i decided to go with a module i knew, having been a pc in it a few years prior: storm king's thunder. i took her copy of the book and started reading.

and nearly threw it through a window in frustration.

for those of you who don't know, the core giant races in the book are very star trek hat-esque. they have Their Thing and that's it. almost all of the giant npcs are evil and out to destroy the world of smallfolk using their delegated hats. there was a shakespearean drama happening at certain points behind the scenes but nothing else in the book supported that level of complexity with the giants or with the scripted encounters in the book. okay so you're telling me a small goblin tribe has holed up in a cave system and when a bunch of villagers flee into said cave, they...take them all prisoner and go raid their village? after learning that the villagers were fleeing from a giant attack on said village? after learning that most of the guards are still in the village proper, defending the broken keep? really? nah, man, that's just not engaging with the goblins as a culture and people.

i think the worst offenders are the hill giants. they're given heinously low soft stats, are treated as nothing more than glutinous sacks of hit points, and they're the fucking butt of the joke. two hill giants can't navigate their way back to their home base after an attack (meaning that the players can't use said hill giants to scout and find the place either). they're tricked at every interval. the big hill giant plot is for the chief to eat literally any and all food her minions can bring her so that she'll grow to be the biggest giant in existence. yes, she too is treated like the butt of a joke for daring to think that that plan is good or viable. she's so fat (and the book goes into this over and over) that she can no longer walk and the wagon she's seated on is broken and hasn't been repaired. she is in fact so fat and so stupid that she forgets that she has a macguffin the party needs. oh and the book goes into great detail about how slovenly and disgusting her place is and then has the nerve throw in a "overbearing wife beats and bullies her husband" joke in there just to round out the misery. this whole ass culture of bad guys is treated like they are goddamn animals, not people.

needless to say i have chucked a great deal of this. the goblins are practical survivalists (we are small and easily squished, if we can't hide we go along until we can escape) and when ogres and giants moved in, they decided to follow orders to gather food right up until the party gives them a legitimate out. thanks to their intervention, this group of goblins are off the board as future enemies and will in fact be appearing as occasional help (one of my players decided they liked the goblins so much that they created a new character to be from that group).

the hill giants now have traditions surrounding food preparation and preservation that go back thousands of years and much of the small folk's current tech in that department is based off of hill giant innovations, which the party is learning about. their ancestors sleep in the hilly regions of the world, growing and growing together, their sometimes living bodies make up the very ground that the small folk walk on and find nourishment from. the hill giants, along with their stone and cloud brethren, are the only giants who remember that giants become one with the land. one amongst many slowly dying giant races and they choose to, well, not embrace it but find peace in it. they're still gullible and still view size as incredibly important but one's skill in the culinary arts can propel them to leadership. chief guh is a culinary visionary who perfected the art of preparing dragon meat and as giants and dragons are enemies beyond memory, that is quite the feat. will the party come to blows with her? i mean, maybe. but at least she and her people won't end up as 'dumb, slow, fat' person jokes.

framing is so important you guys. it's work but it is so worth it. i had my players spitting nails at the racist, isolationist elves whom the village the party was helping were counting on for survival. i had them tearing up as they decided to knowingly walk a group of orcs to their deaths at the hands of the racist, isolationist elves because it was the only way the elves would agree to supply the village through a brutal winter after the village lost everything. one elf, just one, was curious, if completely incorrect, about the outside world and mostly respectful to the pcs. one of the players is now penpals with him and has sent him a history of the sword coast he otherwise doesn't have access to because his people Do Not Care about the world beyond their borders. the campaign is richer for delving deeper into these cultures and people

Putting all tabletop players into a college level ethics class and forcing them to turn in a paper on moral philosophy before buying a new book

[sosasturns]

bad ideas & good distractions - c. sturniolo

fic, part one of bed chem… next door neighbor!chris x beauty influencer!reader

the first time you notice the moving boxes in the hallway, you don’t think much of it.

it’s a nice apartment building, and people come and go all the time. besides, you’re too busy editing a new video to care about whoever’s moving in.

then, later that night, it starts.

the music.

so loud it rattles your walls, pulsing through your head as you stare at your laptop screen. you try to ignore it, try to focus, but the bass is relentless.

eventually, you sigh, shut your laptop, and crawl into bed, hoping it stops soon.

it doesn’t.

this continues for the next few nights—loud ass music, doors slamming, voices in the hallway. annoying as hell, but not enough to make you confront your new neighbor.

until one night, around 1 a.m., when it’s actually a full-blown party.

laughter, shouting, people stumbling up and down the hall like they pay rent here.

you lay in bed, glaring at the ceiling, seething.

what the hell is his problem?

but instead of doing anything about it, you toss and turn, forcing yourself to sleep.

the next morning, you’re filming a get ready with me for an upcoming event, sitting at your vanity, blending concealer under your eyes.

“i did not sleep last night,” you say, “my new neighbor—who, by the way, i have not met yet—thinks my apartment complex is a frat house, apparently.”

you shake your head, dabbing in more product. “anyway, i’m going to this event later, so let’s fix my face and act like i’m not sleep deprived as hell.”

you post the video and go about your day, shoving the whole situation to the back of your mind.

but that night, when the music starts up again, you’re done.

at first, you try to ignore it, sipping on a glass of white wine as you edit a brand deal video, but then there’s moaning. loud, exaggerated, fake as hell.

you slam your laptop shut.

this motherfucker has lost his mind.

you storm into the hall, crossing your arms as you knock on his door, loud as hell.

the music doesn’t stop, but the door swings open a moment later.

and that’s the first time you see him.

low sweats. shirtless. hair slightly messy.

he leans against the doorframe, eyes dragging over you—your heartless hair curlers. pink pajama set. silk robe. fluffy slippers. the sleep-deprived glare on your face.

you looked like you just woke up from a slumber on twenty mattresses and still felt the damn pea.

then he smirks. “cute pajamas.”

you shift your weight onto your hip, unamused. “most people on this floor are in bed sleeping right now.”

his smirk deepens. “clearly, i’m not most.”

your eye twitches. “turn the music down. and the fake ass moaning, too.”

he chuckles.

you wait. “so?”

he shrugs, barely moving. “i’ll think about it.”

oh, you hate him.

“whatever.” you spin on your heel, stomping back to your apartment and slamming the door behind you.

the next morning, your head is pounding, but you push through and meet your girls for brunch.

“babe,” one of them says, stirring her mimosa. “you look rough.”

you sigh, stabbing your eggs. “my new neighbor is a fucking menace.”

they lean in. “spill.”

so you do.

you tell them about the loud music, the party, the smug ass smirk.

they listen, nodding along, sharing their own bad neighbor horror stories.

but one of them grins. “he’s hot, though, right?”

you hesitate. “that’s not the point.”

“but he is, isn’t he?”

you purse your lips, sipping your mimosa. “whatever.”

they laugh. “oh, you so think he’s hot.”

you don’t answer.

but you don’t deny it, either.

a few days pass, and you avoid him.

not hard to do.

but the thought of him lingers, especially late at night, especially when you’re in bed, mind wandering.

he’s just a guy.

just your annoying ass neighbor.

but you can’t stop thinking about his voice, his smirk, the way he leaned in the doorway—

get it together.

except you can’t.

and eventually, you come to terms with it.

it could just be a singular fuck. nothing more.

just something to scratch the itch.

so, one night, against your better judgment, you grab your keys, take a breath, and step out into the hall.

heading straight for his door.

@ sosasturns

part two 02.14

sosa mafia taglist: @submattenthusiast @sophand4n4 @secretlocket @mrsdillonx @ch6rm @sweetrelieef @gabri3la-sturns @inspiredangel @sturn777 @et6rnalsun @faiyaz555 @whore4mattsturniolo @courta13 @katie-tibo @ifwdominicfike @raesturns @adoremattsturns @conspiracy-ash @chrisslut04 @ily-tothemoonandback

+ @riasturns @angelic-sturniolos111 @cinnqmonsw1rl @blushsturns @fratbrochrisgf

[wandassweetheart]

Rafe Cameron x it girl kook reader smut, she first gives him head telling him how lucky he is to have her then after he fucks her for being the brat she is

WHO’S THE LUCKY ONE?

pairing - rafe cameron x it girl!kook!reader

warning! - 18+ mdni, smut, oral (m receiving), sort of toxic idk??

a/n - genuinely need to be in between rafe’s manspread rn. GUYS I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I’VE BEEN GOING THROUGH A LITERAL IDENTITY CRISIS AND MY MH HASNT BEEN FANTASTIC RECENTLY AND IM TRYING TO GET BACK ON TRACK OKAY?? I LOVE YOU ALL AND STAY HEALTHY AND HAPPY. credits to @thecutestgrotto for the divider!!

“you should be lucky that i’m even in between your legs right now,” you reminded him as you guided your head up and down his length at a painfully slow pace. as your hand palmed the bottom of his cock, rafe’s head tilted back with his lips softly parted open. eyes shut and everything, you were the only one who could make him feel that way. you bobbed your head along his solid shaft listening to the way you were turning him on with his quiet groans and the grip on your hair becoming tighter.

you came up with a little pop! before repeating, “you’re so lucky you have me”. you continued on whilst fisting his cock in the palm of your hand. “don’t think sofia could treat you this way,” you picked up the pace with your hand. “ah, shit!” rafe groaned your name out whilst tugging on your hair a little. “don’t gas yourself up yet, baby —shit. haven’t seen you take all of me in that proud mouth of yours.”

rafe jerks his cock forward into your mouth, which surprises you making your gag reflex surface. with a smirk, rafe cocks his head back and huffs out a laugh, “not so bratty when that mouth is put in good use, huh?” all you could do was look up at him pleadingly, you were still trying to adjust to the surprise of his length being invaded into your mouth. you could feel the drool starting to coat rafe’s dick and smear around your mouth.

“it’s no use for you to just stare up at me is it?” rafe muses, whilst grabbing your hair up and almost pushing and pulling you up his cock. “oh fuckk,” he groans with a light chuckle. the noises that cane out of your mouth were almost ridiculous, the squelching and the gagging —but it just felt so good and you felt so lucky. “i love how your mouth takes me so well, baby. let’s see how good your pussy does, hm?”

rafe pulls you up onto his couch, spreading your legs wide open. he forcefully tugs you towards him and leans down onto you, gripping your hips in place and carefully tracking soft bruises down to your entrance with his lips. slowly, he lifts his head up, towering over you with a small smirk on his face. he aligns his cock between your folds, sliding through the slick of your pussy— making you shiver a little.

as he pushes into to you with a groan you cant help but a let out an almost pornographic moan. “shiiit baby, you take me so well.” no matter how many times you and rafe fucked your pussy could just never get used to the stretch of his length. he steadied himself before rutting into you like there was no tomorrow, he bent down to press his front against yours. “what a brat for thinking you could talk to me like that,” his hand ran up to your breasts as if using them for support. he kneaded into them whilst you clawed and dug at his back, leaving red lines and scratches.

you arched your back whilst rafe was going absolutely animalistic into you. “who’s the lucky one?” he huffed out, slamming into you faster. you don’t say anything, still trying to focus on the pleasure that was possessing your body. “answer me or i won’t let you cum, who’s the lucky one?” you try to find your words and your throat is so sore from screaming. “m-me,” you squeak out, feeling a bruise starting to form from the way rafe was manhandling your breasts. “that’s right,” rafe breaths out before continuing, “good job, baby. you’re my smart girl, right?”

your body jolts from the sudden burst of satisfaction. “mhmm! rafe i’m gonna cum,” you lament, trying to hold back from losing total control of your body. “together, baby.” he ruts faster. “3…2… shit!” rafe hurriedly pulls out as he spurts his mess all over your stomach whilst you spasm beneath him, experiencing your high. your whole body feels numb as you catch your breath and rafe drops down next to you.

“you did so well, baby. never forget that you’re the one who’s lucky to have me.” he gives you a small kiss on the top of your head before engulfing you into his arms.

[littleindulgences]

Your day was going pretty good for once, all things considered—you woke up feeling rested, it was your day off, you even finally managed to finish the errands you were forced to put off all week!

…Then you get home. Your fridge is dead.

Of course it is.

You stand in front of the open door with one hand on your hip, the other on your chin, contemplating when the fuck, how the fuck, this could have happened. Your fresh groceries sit on the counter behind you, stuff you just went out to get because you assumed your fridge would still be operational when you returned. It’s your fault, really, for putting the bar so high.

Finally, after a whole three minutes of bemoaning your luck, you resolve to pull out the old cooler you shoved into your closet and put everything that would turn into a food poisoning nightmare on ice. Once you get everything put away, and the puddles of water mopped up, you put in a maintenance order and pray the landlord actually sends someone this time.

You leave the cooler in the corner, crack open a bottle of wine, and mourn the loss of your good day.

A couple days pass and you forget all about the work order. You figured out the next morning that the fridge wasn’t dead after all, it just got unplugged…somehow. Just added fuel to your “the building is haunted” fire. You simply plugged the fridge back in and went about your life, no biggie.

It was a big biggie.

You’re just out fetching the mail when it happens.

“Hello? Maintenance! Is anyone home?” The gruff, deep voice carries easily down the hall. You don’t register it at first, flicking through your mail, until the voice calls out again: “Hello? Maintenance, comin’ in!”

Wait. Maintenance.

The fucking fridge!

You dash down the hall, practically skidding to a stop in front of your apartment where two large—and you mean large, damn—men hover.

You avoid looking them directly in the eye as your pulse throbs in your throat, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You’re sure the whole hall must’ve heard them, fuck.

“I’m so sorry!” you say, awkwardly pushing yourself between the biggest man and your doorway. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing actually wrong, I fixed it already! There was nothing wrong with the fridge, it just came unplugged.” You force a laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You still don’t look at them.

“‘S alrigh’ ma’am, no problem at all,” says the man, and wow his voice is nice—

“It’s just, there wasn’t a way for me to cancel the work order,” you explain. “I’m so sorry you had to come all the way up here.”

Oh God, what if they try to come inside to double check? You’re cursing yourself for picking today to go out in your house clothes—short shorts and a tank that doesn’t completely cover your stomach—but the building was always so hot and you would’ve melted if you stayed in your work uniform—

“It’s okay, ma’am, really,” he’s saying again, “We’re glad there’s not an issue. You live on the second floor with no elevators, we didn’t want to bring a new fridge up anyway.” You giggle for real this time.

Then you risk glancing up at them.

Oh God…

They’re fucking beautiful. The man in front of you—his name tag reads John—is an absolute bear. Thick and broad, covered with hair, smiling gently at you like he really doesn’t blame you for your mix-up. And the guy behind him, you think his tag says Kyle, could be a supermodel: smooth, dark skin, a little leaner than John but still mouthwatering. The lopsided grin he’s giving you makes your heart race. The cap he wears makes him look almost boyish.

“Right,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as breathless as you feel. “Sorry again.”

Kyle absently licks his lips and you think you might pass out.

“Here. In case something else happens, you can reach me directly.” John hands you a crisp business card, lingering just slightly when your fingers brush his. They’re rough. Makes sense.

“Thanks,” you breathe. Kyle looks at you like he’s suppressing a laugh, then taps John on the shoulder, signaling him to leave.

“Take care, love.” John turns away from you with a wink, and you watch his arm flex as he hoists his toolbag and follows Kyle to the staircase. Kyle waves cheekily back at you before he descends.

Once you’re safely inside the apartment, you bury your face in your hands with a deep groan. And if you already begin brainstorming other things that might mysteriously break in the near future, well, that’s your business.

@beloveds-embrace ✨

[worseandworsebytheday]

I had a whole long response typed out and I had to step away and I came back and it was gone so I’m going to have to abridge it because it was a masterpiece of a response and I can’t recreate it. In short elden ring lore is stupid it’s one selfcest god that crafted a bunch of incest demigods (curing mogh and the cursed half brother). The “dungeons” you speak of are mostly just caves and mines with a few legacy dungeons. Some of which are more annoying than interesting. Saying it’s “visually stunning” or whatever is stupid you’re comparing a current game to one over a decade old that honestly still looks great. But even so, simply comparing visuals is hardly a fair argument. Your pot man’s quest wasn’t sad it was stupid. Whack him out of a few holes and then shatter his ass in azula. I felt nothing doing it. Ranni and her ending were at least interesting and her as a character I actually liked. And she lead to the moonlight sword which is a staple of the games. Yes I know bloodborne and dark souls have insane lore but it’s actually good and worth looking into. Your beloved elden ring locations are big empty areas where you will either just wander around doing nothing or get annihilated by a rune bear or T. rex bird every 2 minutes. There’s no engagement. No imagination there. Skyrim had replayability. Multiple quest lines for factions or the open playability to just wander around and make your own story. I’m sorry you lack and and all ability to think outside of a stupidly structured game. The absolutely godawful takes I’ve been getting inundated with the past couple days are avail it’s bullshit I really expected better from all you stupid fucks. You remind me of when I was in highschool and idiots would say halo was better than Metroid because it “defined a genre” completely disregarding what came before. Or that master chief could ever take Samus in a fight simply because he was the newer guy and all they knew. You’re lucky my original reblog got deleted and I’m getting yelled at and this is all I could say back to you otherwise I’d have much better words than you’re a bumbling fucking moron with absolute shit tastes. Go choke on your shit opinions and enjoy your garbage ass fucking game. (I’ll update this post as I remember more things to add on if I do).

When I was mentioning the shitty locations I think I forgot to specifically name drop caelid. Can’t forget FUCKING CAELID SPECIFICALLY.

Also you think the only interesting location in DS1 is he dukes archive?! Motherfucker we got ash lake, the seat of the FUCKING MULTIVERSE. We’ve got, quite literally, hell, izalith. Oh and I don’t know how you got to the archives without passing through anor londo. Because you CAN NOT tell me that place wasn’t fucking stunning. And AND AND the way they BUILT the locations. Seeing izalith and ash lake from the tomb of giants. That not only has LORE REASONS but if you look at the 3D rendering of the maps IT ACTUALLY PHYSICALLY FUNCTIONS AS SUCH. Like literally the world building is top notch and you’re going to downplay ALL OF THIS?!?! Motherfucker get your fucking head out of your motherfucking anus and open your shit crusted eyes at the marvel you downplayed to “one interesting area”. And on top of that “oh boo hop the pot man was so sad” fucking SIF AND ARTORIAS. You want sad fucking...just fucking...now that I took a moment to re skim your response to me now I’m just fucking angry with you you fucking idiot among fucking idiots.

Like really your shit ass Fucking tastes about skyrim are bad enough but to lump bloodborne lore in with elden ring lore and then shit on dark souls world building?? Motherfucker I will physically fight you to the death over this one I’m not even messing around. That’s 3 real games you’ve dragged through the dirt defending the elden trash heap. Fuck all of you.

elder scrolls or elden ring. there is a right answer

Listen I love skyrim, but you have to be a bumbling fucking moron if you think it's better than Elden Ring!!!!

[sailorsoons]

You. Always. (k.sy)

Pairing: Soonyoung x f. Reader 

Summary: Soonyoung isn’t a jealous guy - he’s not. But sometimes it gets to him, the way other people look at you and fall a little in love with you. Don’t they know you have him? 

Word Count: 5055

Genre: Established Relationship, pwp

Type: Smut, Fluff

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Almost jealous Soonyoung, a little hint of insecurity but nothing crazy, recreational drinking, Mingyu and Wonwoo lowkey being a little annoying and drunk, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), praise kink, pet names like baby and good boy, reader on top, spit and other bodily fluids, not explicit dom/sub dynamics but Soonyoung is very soft in this and reader is guiding him in parts, biting, both reader and Soonyoung are a little dazed and kinda spacy but it’s not explicitly subspace or described in the same way. THIS FIC IS UNEDITED.

A/N: This was originally posted on my old blog sailorrhansol and is now being re-uploaded here :)

A/N 2: This is straight up from a dream I had, no joke. Woke up and was like I just had the weirdest dream about Soonyoung but it was in the Bahamas and a cruise ship was involved at some point but this is almost scene for scene from my dream. I feel blessed. 

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“Try this one,” Mingyu insists, laughing. He shoves a drink in your hand, all smiles and glittering eyes. You take the cup from him, the music of the club pulsing around you. A soft buzz ripples through you, a little drunk from the long day out in the sun followed by drinks at sunset, dinner and the afterparty. “It’s soooo good.” 

You trust Mingyu’s judgment - about drinks, anyway. Wonwoo cheers for you, clapping to the beat of the music as you bring the cup to your lips and knock it back. The soda mixed in the drink bubbles in the back of your throat but the taste of something strong burns and you cough, pulling the cup from your mouth with a grimace and squinted eyes.

Both of them begin laughing hysterically, throwing back their hands and clapping their hands. You laugh too, setting the cup down as you try and clear your throat from the liquid fire, tongue stuck out as you reach for a sweating glass of water. 

Wonwoo orders more drinks as you suck down water, freeing your mouth of the bitter taste of whatever it is they gave you. You turn on the stool, looking around the beachside club for Soonyoung. You catch him on the far side leaning against a wall, waiting for the bathroom. Sensing your gaze, he cranes his neck to look toward you, eyes pinning you to the spot immediately. 

Even from across the room, his gaze makes your stomach flip. You grin shyly, waving your hand a little. His lips twitch but his gaze shifts toward Mingyu and Wonwoo. His mouth tilts down a little before the bathroom door opens and he turns away entirely, vanishing down the hall. 

A server appears with a round of clear shots, setting them down on the table. Mingyu leans forward, picking one up with the intention of handing it to you, but you wave him off. “I’ll wait for Soonyoung.” 

Mingyu cranes his head. “Yeah, where the fuck did he go? I kind of forgot he was here.”

It isn’t Mingyu’s fault - he hasn’t known you for very long. Soonyoung has a habit of making friends anywhere the two of you go on vacation, though, and through the last week, you’ve managed to make Wonwoo and Mingyu regular friends while enjoying the summer off the coast of Greece. It had started with a volleyball game and now it has escalated to lunches, dinners and nightly escapades. 

Ever the talker - much like your boyfriend - Mingyu turns to the table next to yours and strikes up a conversation with the group of people there. Within a few minutes, he’s pulling their table to yours and shouting their names at you. You shake unfamiliar hands and grin, just happy to feel the balmy air on your skin and feel the heat of summer. 

Another round of drinks appears in clear, plastic cups, obeying the no glass on the beach rule. The beach club is lowkey and tucked away into the side of the mountain at the very end of the beach, requiring a trek through the sand to get there.

The area is open to the elements with wooden pavilions housing a few tables and benches. In the middle of the club is a long, illuminated shallow pool with tables for guests who are willing to take off their shoes and wade through the cool water to get there. 

You look down at the red drink in your hand, raising a brow as you watch everyone else throw the drink back, chugging as quickly as they can. When they put their cups down and realize you haven’t had yours, they immediately start yelling at you, Mingyu grabbing your forearm to shake you back and forth as he pouts and yells at you to chug.

“I’m gonna get too drunk,” you whine, holding onto the cup and trying not to spill the liquid as Mingyu complains. He pouts and gives you puppy eyes, clasping his hands together as he begs. Wonwoo and your new friends immediately join him, all of them peering up at you. 

“Please,” Wonwoo pleads from across the table, clasped hands tucked under his chin. “Please please please please.”

Before you can tip the cup back, it’s being pulled upward and out of your grip. You look up in surprise, mouth falling open as Soonyoung frees it from your grasp and tilts the cup to his lips. You watch as he drains it, head tilted back to expose the tan softness of his throat. Some of the red spills over the side, running down his chin and throat. 

You watch the beads of liquid, suddenly unable to focus on anything else but the way he looks in that moment. When you blink, Soonyoung’s head is no longer tilted as he leans forward to place the empty cup on the table. He doesn’t bother to wipe the red on his neck and you instinctively grab napkins as he throws himself in the booth across from you. 

He notices you holding them out and he takes them wordlessly, his energy shifted suddenly as he wipes the sticky red from his skin. If your new friends notice, they don’t say anything, cheering for him and then ordering more drinks as they shout over the music. 

When he left to use the restroom, your boyfriend had been in high spirits and a rowdy mood. Now, he’s subdued, eyes flickering between Wonwoo and Mingyu, a little darker than before. You frown, finishing the rest of your water as you drink in Soonyoung’s posture: slouched, mouth pouted, eyes narrowed.

Mingyu asks if you want another drink and you watch as Soonyoung’s mouth turns down. Ah. You decline and immediately Mingyu makes Soonyoung the same offer, but he shakes his head, suddenly interested in his phone. You think Mingyu notices this time that one of your party is clearly no longer in the drinking mood and disengages, turning easily to the others.

You nudge Soonyoung’s foot under the table. He looks up at you, a little dejected and shrugs his shoulders as if to say what? You nod your head toward the exit, raising your brows. He follows your meaning  and pauses for a moment, as though he’s torn between ending the night far earlier than usual or trying to endure his mood. 

Eventually, he nods, turning off his phone and shoving it in his pocket. You stand and announce that you’re feeling a little tired, but thank your friends for the drinks. They all immediately complain, begging you to stay for at least one more round.

“It’s always one more round with you all,” you shoot back. “We can catch up another day. I’m tired and honestly I really just want to lay in bed with my boyfriend.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu huffs, waving you off. “Do whatever it is couples do on vacation.”

Without a word, you hold your hand out to Soonyoung to leave. He stares at it for a moment before his mouth twitches upward and he takes it, lacing his fingers with yours. You give him a gentle squeeze as you lead toward the exit of the club, waving to the manager who is used to your group’s presence by now. 

Outside, the world is only lit by the moon. It sits high up in the sky, turning the world a dark blue as you and Soonyoung walk the beach. The quiet tension follows him outside of the club and down a few meters. You wait for him to say something, peeking at him from the corner of your eye.

In the years you’ve been dating, you’ve learned to read him pretty well. You know something about your interaction with Mingyu and Wonwoo bothers him, but you’re unsure of the specifics. Soonyoung isn’t a jealous boyfriend, but every once in a while there is something that bothers him. An old wound that peels open at the edge and stings him. 

You tug on his hand. He’s surprised, stumbling a little as you yank him off balance and into you. His cologne is laced with his own natural scent, making your head spin as your chests press together and you bring a hand up to his face, stroking a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. 

Soonyoung is beautiful. You’ve always thought so. Eyes that can go from intense to gentle, a round face that is somehow also sharp, a cute mouth prone to laughing. You’ve traced the lines of his face over and over again and still, every time you’re this close to him, you feel your heart skip a beat. 

“You’re not jealous right?” he shakes his head imperceptibly. He looks down at you, bottom lip jutting out a bit. You fight a smile, trying to focus on making sure he’s okay instead of the way his face has melted from contemplative to pouting. “You can tell me if I did something that made you uncomfortable, you know that right?” 

He nods in tiny. His hands hang at his sides, like he’s hesitant to touch you. To do anything. You take his face in both of your hands, cocking your head to the side as you study him. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s bothering you?”

“I’m not jealous,” he starts and stops. You wait for him to continue. You’ve always been better at putting your thoughts to words than he has, and you know he just needs the time to organize them. “And you never do things that make me jealous. I just…” 

Ocean water surges behind you, the gentle push and pull of the swells the only sound as Soonyoung strings his thoughts together. You continue to cradle his face in your hands, thumb stroking back and forth on his cheek. You feel him lean into your touch, going a little weak under your attention. 

“I just know how easy it is to love you,” he finally says. He chews his bottom lip a little and you catch it with your thumb, keeping him from breaking the skin. “You are beautiful and charming, and I can always tell when other people realize it too. It isn’t that… I think you’d like them back or anything. I just feel possessive and then silly for feeling that way.” 

“It isn’t silly.”

“It isn’t?” You shake your head and his voice gets small and soft. “I don’t want it to seem insecure or annoying, and I don’t know why I suddenly felt that way. I usually don't.”

“It’s not silly,” you assure him again. “It’s okay to feel that way sometimes. You’re a human being and you’re allowed to feel things, even if you don’t necessarily know why or how you feel them.” 

“I’m sorry I made us leave early.”

“You didn’t make us do anything, and there is nothing to apologize for. I like going home and just spending time with you. I came here with you. We can make vacation friends all we want, but I have the most fun when you’re involved.”

His mouth twitches in a smile and he nods a little, affirmed by your words. “Can we go home?” 

“Mhmm.”

You lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his mouth. Immediately he wants more, chasing your lips but you skip away from him, tugging him along by his hand. He frowns, a little put out. You try not to giggle, feeling your stomach flip a little. 

Soonyoung is so rare like this. He loves being soft, but this is something even gentler. Something delicate and wonderful and endearing. You can’t help but keep him trailing after you, feeling the way his eyes linger on you. Hungry. Wanting. Needing. 

You keep him waiting. 

Catching a taxi up the mountain to the house you’re staying at is easy. The driver rolls the window down, letting the salty air drift in as he goes up and up. You lean against Soonyoung’s shoulder, putting your entwined hands in your lap. He melts into you, head atop yours and eyes fluttering shut as the breeze lifts his hair. 

You love him like this. He looks so young, so capable of love. It’s your favorite thing about him, his ability to love freely, deeply and often. There is so much affection and kindness in him, a well so deep that you have yet to hit the bottom. 

Soonyoung is a little drowsy when the taxi pulls up to the village square. He rouses with a mumbled thank you and clambours out the car behind you, eager to follow your lead up the winding steps that lead through the village houses.

It’s mostly quiet, with the echoes of voices drifting up from open windows and patios, the din of voices from restaurants in the main square hanging on the wind. You manage not to get lost this time as you navigate the winding pathways to the correct house, the blue fence blending in with the dozen other blue fences. 

The cicadas are quiet as you walk down the steps to the front of the home. You tap Soonyoung’s pockets and he blushes, forgetting he has the keys. He’s quick to produce them and pass them over, watching you expectantly as you unlock it and step into the darkness. 

Cool air drifts in from the open windows. There’s no air conditioning in the rented house, but the ocean wind that comes in at night through open shutters is enough to cool you off. 

Soonyoung is quiet. He follows your lead up the stairs to the second floor where the bedroom is, lingering in the doorway when you drop his hand and turn to face him as you walk backward into the room. He’s hypnotized as you unbutton the top of your shirt slowly, staring at him. 

The way he looks at you ignites a fire inside of you. No one else could look at you like this, equal parts reverence and hunger. No one else could make your hands shake as you stare at him staring at you, his lips parted a little, tongue darting out to wet them as he swallows. 

Your blouse falls open and you shuck it off, letting it hit the floor. Moonlight paints your side profile. Soonyoung doesn’t dare move from the door until you hold out a hand, palm upward. “Come here,” you whisper. He obeys immediately, nearly tripping over his feet to get to you. 

His hands go around your waist, warm against your skin. You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him in close, fingers threading in his hair and pulling a little. He lets out a soft sound as you tilt his face toward yours, forcing him to meet your eyes. His pupils are blown and you can feel his heart thundering against yours. 

“You know I love you more than anything else, right?” For a second, he just stares at you, eyes fixated on your mouth. You pull his hair a little more and he sucks in a sharp breath before nodding a little. He seems too dazed to do more than the barest acknowledgement. “Do you want me to show you?” 

You lean up to brush your nose against his. Soonyoung’s eyes fall shut and you feel a shiver go through him. His breath is unsteady when you brush your mouth against his in an almost kiss. “Do you want me to show you how much I love you, Soonyoung?” 

He nods again, unable to find words. Your nails scratch at his scalp gently and he lets out a breathy moan, melting in your hands. “Okay,” you whisper, pressty a soft kiss to his mouth. He tries to chase your lips again but you step back and tug at him. “Come lay down.” 

Soonyoung obeys. He’s always been a good boy, but having him like this isn’t common. You like to think that you’re both equal parts in charge in the bedroom, flowing with whatever the other needs. Having him like this, sitting down on the bed and looking up at you like you cradle his world in your hands though… it lights you up. 

“Lay back for me,” you instruct gently. He does immediately, bouncing a little on the mattress. You climb onto the mattress, knees on either side of his waist as you crawl up toward him, settling your weight on his hips. Immediately his hands reach toward your hips and stop, hovering as he gets stuck between doing what he wants and waiting for you to tell him. “Go ahead,” you whisper, leaning toward him. “Take whatever you want. You can have whatever.” 

Warm hands grip your waist. Your fingers expertly undo the buttons of his shirt and you make sure to brush them against his stomach as you move upward. You feel the muscles jump and he lets out another breathy sound. His hands just remain on your sides, not ready to explore more as he fixates on the way you pull his shirt off of his shoulders.

He’s a little clumsy when he leans up to help you shuck it off. You don’t care, surging forward to capture his mouth in a full kiss as he does. He forgets all about taking the shirt off, sleeves halfway down his arms as he leans forward to lick into your mouth, hungry and desperate for whatever you’ll give him.

You don’t hold back, letting him consume you. His mouth is warm and wet, tasting faintly of cherry from one of the drinks he had earlier. You love it, humming delightly as your hands brush from his shoulders to where his shirt is stuck near the elbows. You tug but the material is restricted, making you break away from the kiss with a laugh. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, letting your hips go to take the shirt all the way off. 

Immediately your hands seek the heat of his skin, brushing from his shoulders to his chest and down his stomach and back up, fingers loving every groove and plane. He shivers under your touch, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so pretty,” you whisper, pushing him back gently so that he’s laying down again. He lets you trace him, though you can feel his hips twitch under you, turned on by your exploration. “So pretty, Soonyoung. Do you know that?” 

Again, he gives the tiniest nod. You smile and lean forward, holding yourself up by planting a hand on either side of his head. You catch his mouth again and he lifts his head up, eager to taste you. A hum of appreciation escapes you as you kiss him slowly, pressing your hips down into his. 

Soonyoung moans and it’s so delicate that it makes you dizzy. You feel fucked out from this version of him already, the room spinning as you rut gently into him. You grab his hands that rest on your ass and pull them up your sides to your bra, a command. 

He understands immediately, pulling at the clasps to undo the back. You break the kiss again, mouth feeling bruised, to lean up and toss the garment. His hands find your chest immediately and you feel goosebumps burst on your skin at his touch, large hand squeezing. 

You let him rub his thumb over your pert nipples, spiking the pleasure in your stomach. You let out a light sound and shiver in his hands, ducking back down to press your mouth to his lips, the corner of his mouth, his chin - anywhere you can kiss. 

His skin is salty and sweet, your tongue darting out to soothe his flesh after a sharp bite. He’s putty beneath you, completely at your mercy as your mouth maps out the way you love him. Every kiss, bite and lick is another declaration: I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Light moans drip from his lips as you pepper him with kisses. Dragging your teeth across his chest lightly, you watch as he shivers and squeezes his eyes shut. Grinning, you move your mouth over his nipple, tongue flicking out lightly. A sharp hiss escapes through his gritted teeth, his head digging backward into the bed as he arches under you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. 

A hum escapes you as you close your mouth over his nipple, sucking gently. He’s so sensitive, whining and squeezing your sides. You trail your mouth across his chest, leaving a wet trail as you do before dragging your teeth across his other nipple. 

“Pretty,” you mumble again, moving your mouth lower. You teeth at his skin as you go, feeling him twitch beneath you. His hands drop to the sheet, twisting them in a vice grip as he lets you scoot down his lap until you’re off the bed and on the carpet, undoing his pants as you go. 

Getting him out of his pants is hard - Soonyoung is loose-limbed and clumsy, hands shaking as he helps you pull the fabric down followed by his briefs. You let out an appreciative moan when you take his cock in your hand, heavy, warm and leaking at the tip. 

He can barely keep it together when you stroke him, hand firm, thumb brushing over the sticky tip. You watch every reaction, eyes focused on the flush in his cheeks, the way he chews on his bottom lip to try and keep from whimpering, the way his fingers twist in the blankets. 

“So perfect,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his inner thighs as you continue to work him with your hand. His hips twitch upward and you let him, continuing to run your tongue along his thigh. “You’re the perfect boyfriend.” 

“Hnnn,” is the mumbled answer. 

Leaning up high on your knees, you tilt his cock toward your mouth, licking leisurely around the tip. He keens and you smirk, feeling your cunt clench as you take him in your mouth properly, spurred on by the way he falls apart instantly. 

This is another thing you love. It doesn’t matter the dynamic, Soonyoung always crumbles at your touch - craves it, needs it, wants it more than anything. It’s hard not to feel like a god as you hear him pant your name, watch the way the breath catches in his throat as you take him deep into your throat, the flat of your tongue scraping the underside of his cock as you go. 

You’re not clean with it. You let spit drip out the corner of your mouth, let yourself gag a little. Work what you can’t fit past your lips with the rest of your hand, getting carried away. His hand shoots to your head - he doesn’t push or pull, just leaves it there, like it can ground him.

Pulling off with a loud pop, you give his shaft a squeeze, kissing the inside of his thigh again. A mix of cum and spit shine in the moonlight when you pull your mouth away. 

“I love seeing you like this,” you rasp. “Love watching you fall apart.”

“Please,” he gasps, managing to lift his head up and look down at you. His hair is damp with sweat and his eyes are fucked out, gaze unfocused. “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.”

“I’ve got you.” You give a single, long lick up his shaft for good measure, feeling him tremble before you stand up to take your pants off. He makes a pitiful sound, hand shooting toward you, hating being away from you. “One second, baby. Sorry.” 

“S’okay.” 

Naked, you crawl up the bed again. His hands shoot to your thighs, kneading the flesh and rubbing his palms up and down, warming you up. You feel the wetness drip down your thighs, worked up from working him up. From the way he moans when you press your pussy to his cock, you know he can feel it. 

“All good?” you ask gently, pressing your forehead against his. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You hold yourself over him with one hand and bring the other up to brush the hair off his forehead. “Too much?”

He shakes his head. “No, just. Sensitive.”

“Mhmm. You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”He nods in tiny, opening his eyes to look up at you like you’re the sun, the moon, and all of his stars. “Good boy,” you breathe and he moans, hips canting upward to rub his cock against your folds. “I love you.”

He nods again, eager and desperate. “Love you.”

Sitting up on your knees, you reach a hand under you, gripping him firmly. Soonyoung opens his eyes, making sure to watch your every move with swollen, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. You feel drunk from the way he looks at you, as hypnotized by him as he is of you.

You press the tip of his cock against your entrance, both of you groaning. Carefully, you sink down on him, your breath getting stuck in your throat. The stretch punches the breath from your lungs but it’s good, the ache replaced with something stronger, better. He fills up every part of you - you feel him deep in your stomach as you full seat yourself on him, ass pressed to his pelvis as you fight for air. 

“Fuck, Soonyoung,” you mutter, falling forward to plant a hand on his chest. You lean your weight forward, pushing him into the mattress and holding yourself up. You can feel his thundering heart under your palm, beat matching your own pounding pulse. “Feel so good.”

“Wanna be. Wanna be for you.”

“You are. You always are. I could never want anything else, you know that right?” A tiny, barely there nod. “You make me feel so good. Always do.” 

“Please.”

You know what he’s asking. You give it to him, slowly lifting yourself until you’ve almost pulled off him entirely. You drop back down hard, knocking the breath from your lungs as you spear yourself on him. It is intoxicatingly good, pleasure rippling outward like a stone dropped in a lake. You chase the feel, repeating the motion until you’re nearly mindless and out of breath. 

“Shit,” you swear, laughing a little as your head drops down. You can’t focus on anything but rolling your hips, fucking yourself onto him as his hands grab your ass, not controlling you but gripping fiercely. “God damn fuck.”

Soonyoung laughs, deep and gravely as the cockiness you’re used to bleeds back in for a moment. “Yeah?”

You clench your cunt as you sink down on him, making him let out a high-pitched noise at the move and you grin. “Yeah,” you shoot back. “Thought so.” 

A knot twists in your stomach as you set a smooth pace, thighs burning. Pleasure ribbons through you, twisting and turning, his hands dimpling your flesh. He lets you keep your pace at first, taking everything you give him, his feet planted flat on the mattress as he tries to contain himself, curses escaping between clenched teeth.

Your legs tremble. Your nails dig into the hard muscle of his chest. He senses your movements get a little strained, the pleasure making it harder to focus on lifting yourself. You feel his grip on your ass change, Soonyoung putting power behind it to help lift you up and pull you back down. He thrusts up to meet you, the wet squelch of his harder thrusts intoxicating. 

“Fuck yeah,” you gasp, giving up the pretense of riding him and letting him take over. “Fuck me just like that.” 

It’s all he needs before his grip turns iron and he’s fucking up into you with abandon. Your hand slips on his chest as the power of his thrusts knock you off balance. You let yourself crash together, chest against chest. Soonyoung wraps his arms around your back, holding you to him. 

Your mouth finds his neck, burying your face in there as you try to steady your breathing. It feels like your heart might explode, his name falling from your lips as you press them against his neck. He mumbles something unintelligible, pace picking up. 

“Shit,” you pant. “Shit shit shit shit - Soonyoung - shit.” 

He huffs, something like laughter before his pace is brutal. He fucks you fast and deep, your mind blanking as you crest upward. All you can do is hold on to him, mouth panting against his throat, your muscles squeeze squeeze squeezing until you’re coming hard. 

Everything goes blank. Your ears ring and you’re vaguely aware of his wild thrust as he chases his orgasm. You melt in his grip, letting him use you, completely boneless. 

Soonyoung growls your name  as he comes, pace slowing as he fucks you deep until he stills. You feel the stickiness between you and the way he’s still shaking. You rise and fall with his heavy breathing, both of your heartbeats erratic and thoughts staticky. 

You lay there like that for a while, a pile of exhausted limbs and few thoughts. His arms loosen their grip around you and he starts rubbing his hands up and down your back. It draws you back into the moment more and you open your eyes to look up at him. 

Soonyoung’s eyes are closed and his breathing is deep. You can tell he isn’t asleep, but rather enjoying the moment, his face tilted toward the window where the moon floats over the mountains. He looks so pretty like this, face soft and serene. 

“You’re staring at me,” he murmurs, his voice low and spent. “You could at least tell me I’m pretty.”

“I just did. Several times.”

His mouth tilts upward but he doesn’t open his eyes. “I like hearing it.”

“Fine. You’re the prettiest boy.” 

“Hmm. Yeah?”

“Yes. And I love you.”

“Say it again.” Soonyoung opens his eyes and they meet yours. They’re clearer now, and crinkled at the sides when he gives you a smile that feels far too innocent for the fluids running down your thighs and the way your cunt still clenches around him. “I like when you say it.”

“I love you.” 

He smirks. “Just me?”

You lean up and nip his neck. He giggles, leaning away from you. “You. Always.” 

He sighs. “Me,” he agrees. “Always.”

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[strayingawayy]

jisung x reader (with insane daddy issues)

warnings: mdni! extreme authority, explicit daddy issues, forced submission (consensual), deep emotional exhaustion from reader's end, aggressive dominance (slight choking omfg can you guys believe it), power imbalance, forced vulnerability, slight degradation, dominance but it's aftercare in a sense really. no actual smut though. hah.

"put it down."

jisung’s voice is low, sharp, full of warning.

you pretend not to hear him.

your head is pounding, your hands are shaking, and your body feels too fucking heavy to move properly, but you don’t stop. you keep typing, keep forcing yourself through the pain, keep ignoring the way everything in you is screaming to just take a break.

because you don’t get breaks. you never in your life have.

because if you stop, everything falls apart.

because if you don’t handle it, no one else will. because he was never there to handle it.

and jisung-

he has no fucking right to tell you otherwise.

"baby."

his tone is different now. lower. more dangerous. a borderline growl.

you know that voice.

but you don’t care.

so you keep going.

and that’s your mistake.

because before you can even think of a retort,

he moves.

his fingers wrap around the laptop screen and slam it shut.

"what the fuck is wrong with y-"

you barely have time to react before he’s grabbing your wrist, yanking you up from the chair, and forcing you against the desk.

"i said, put it down. yeah? i'm not fucking around here, sweetheart."

his grip is tight, unrelenting, pinning you in place.

your breath catches.

"who the fuck do you think you’re ignoring?"

you try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge.

"get off me, jisung-"

"not happenin."

he presses you harder against the desk.

"you don’t fucking listen, do you?"

his fingers wrap around your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him.

his eyes are dark, burning with a certain rage. not towards you but towards the man who made this part of you.

"you think you can handle everything by yourself?"

your jaw clenches. "i don’t think. i know."

his lips curl but not in amusement.

in warning.

"funny."

his grip tightens.

"because you look like you’re about to fucking collapse."

you scoff, trying to shove him away again. but he grabs your wrists, yanks them behind your back, and traps them there.

your stomach flips.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

he leans in, lips brushing your ear.

"showing you what happens when you don’t fucking listen."

your breathing is uneven, but you refuse to give in.

"i don’t need you to take care of me."

he laughs.

but there’s no humor in it.

"no?"

he yanks you away from the desk. then forces you onto the couch, straddling you, caging you in. you'd think you'd be scared but no, the position screams comfort, all because it's jisung. your jisung.

his hands grip either side of your face, holding you still.

"then who does?"

your stomach drops.

"who the fuck has ever stepped up for you?"

your throat tightens.

"who made sure you ate? who made sure you slept? who kept you safe?"

his fingers press into your skin.

"who, baby?"

you can’t answer.

you don’t need to.

because he already knows.

"no one."

he exhales, slow, controlled.

"no one fucking did."

your body tenses.

because it’s true.

because it always has been.

he leans in, lips brushing over your temple.

"so you think that means you have to do everything alone?"

you don’t answer.

his fingers slide down your throat, trailing lower, pressing just enough to ground you.

"news flash, baby."

his voice is smooth, taunting, absolute. and it almost makes you whimper.

"you don’t get to make that decision anymore."

your breath catches.

"you’re mine."

his grip tightens.

"which means i take care of you whether you fucking like it or not."

you swallow hard. "i don’t know how to let go."

he exhales, slow.

"good."

he presses you further into the couch, trapping you beneath him, lips brushing against yours.

"then i’ll do it for you."