#THE TEXTURE IT'S SO GOOD. IT FEELS SOS GOOD TO THE EYE

[p4ranormaluv]

DAYDREAM (s.jy)

♱ ; you’re hot boxing in your boyfriend’s car and struggling to ride his huge cock.

PAIRING: stoner bf!jake x gf!reader GENRE: smut CONTENTS: dom!jake, sub!reader, hotboxing & shotgunning (aka smoking weed), cowgirl position, starts out kinda slow and lazy, lil spanking, petnames (baby, princess), praise, spit kink, man handling, oddly loving at the end WC: 1.2k

NOTE: wrote this while listening to jake’s recent voice live (again). this was written very quickly and not proofread, keep that in mind

“that’s it. that’s it, baby.” jake croons in your ear, breath fanning against the sensitive skin of your neck. every sensation is heightened right now, thanks to the two of you hotboxing in jake’s car. the air has swirling tendrils of smoke, slightly foggy but definitely not as thick as it could be— it’s just that neither of you could keep your hands off of each other.

jake’s brown eyes are all gooey and sweet. when he looked over to you sitting in his passenger side with that look, you couldn’t help but crawl over into his lap. tasting the strawberry flavor of his chapstick from his plump lips, catching glimpses of the pink in his eyes while he sighed with satisfaction into the heat of your mouth— no one can really blame you for the position you’re in now, slowly sinking down on jake’s cock that you pulled out from his baggy jeans.

his voice is sugary yet slightly textured, that soft accent of his getting thicker as he feels you squeezing tighter around his dick, struggling to take him all due to his over-average size. but you want it so bad.

“y’can take all this dick inside you, right? not too big?” jake asks with a lazy smirk, noticing how your pussy is clenching uncontrollably around him, taking a while to adjust to his girth and length. if you weren’t so fucked up you’d probably notice the ego boost you’re giving him as your hands squeeze at his shoulders and you pant under your breath— but you don’t.

“yes, wan’ it so bad. been thinking about how good it’d feel inside me this whole time.” you confess quietly.

jake is in the middle of taking a drag when you finish your sentence, carelessly setting the blunt down to pull you against his lips. you moan into his mouth as you breath in his smoke, gray and white swirling around you as jake slips his eager tongue inside.

jake’s hips softly pushing deeper into your pussy reminds you how you were struggling to take all of him before, and now he’s completely sheathed inside. he groans as you simultaneously suck on his tongue and your cunt sucks him deeper.

“damn. yeah, baby? can feel how bad you want it, pussy’s so wet.”

your eyes zero in on how jake brushes his fingers through his hair, the softly curled ends immediately falling back over his brows, framing his face perfectly. you have no idea how he can be so cute and sexy at the same time, but he balances it effortlessly.

your hips start to slowly grind in his lap, jake returning the movement with lazy little thrusts. his hands move to grip tightly around your waist, you reacting with a small whine as you arch your back further, moving barely faster.

“fuck, atta girl.” jake murmurs, only motivating you to go harder, crying out as you start to full on bounce up and down his cock.

jake mutters a broken expletive under his breath, hands trailing lower to squeeze at your ass, feeling how it jiggles with each drop of your hips and wishing he could see it from the back. (next time, he’s fucking you in front of a mirror)

he feels his stomach tense, moaning in pleasure as his skull falls back against the head rest.

your pussy could be jake’s downfall, it could destroy him if you let it— and he really wishes you would. he might smoke weed a lot, but the only addiction he has is to you and your wet little cunt, always eager to take his fat cock— even when you try and play hard to get. and how gorgeous you look when you ride his face? fuck. nothing makes him feel as high as you do.

jake’s hand spanking your ass, the sting lighty burning into your skin as you gasp and take a deep breath of the foggy air— it’s like that’s enough to snap the last string of your boyfriend’s control.

there’s the sound of a drawn out ‘thunk’— then the driver’s seat is falling down, your barely covered tits that are suppressed in a tank top pressing against jake’s hard chest as you fall down with it.

“that’s it, princess. bounce that sexy ass on my fat cock.”

you can’t control the sounds that escape your lips anymore, whimpering and crying out as your wet pussy slamming against jake’s groin fills the car with the noise of slapping skin.

you sit up on your elbows, jake’s face practically in your tits with the new position. your thighs clench tightly around his body as he leans up to kiss at your neck, sucking marks into the skin with his hot mouth. he’s always messy— so whether it’s on purpose or accidental, his spit leaves a cold tingle against your skin. when you feel the faint tickle of a small droplet running down to your clavicle, you can’t help but whine out, opening your mouth to him while giving jake begging eyes.

jake obliges with a shaking exhale, face almost turning as desperate as yours when he sees your cute, fucked out face. his hand holds you still by the jaw, leaning up to spit in your mouth with a nasty, wet noise. your cunt squeezes so tight around him that jake can hardly keep from busting inside. he watches how you savor him on your tongue before swallowing, staring at him with your pretty eyes before opening your mouth and showing him how it’s all gone.

jake can’t help the growl he lets out, pulling you down somewhat roughly to passionately kiss you. he’s not even letting you move at this point, his hands controlling your hips and moving you up and down his cock like a fleshlight, fucking into you with complete unrestraint.

“that’s my girl, my dirty little princess. lettin’ this dick stretch out your messy cunt.”

“mmm, fuck— jakey.” you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, needing something to hold onto as jake man handles you.

“i daydream about you all the time, y’know. missin’ you when i wake up without you, thinkin’ about your cute smile and cuddles.”

jake creeps one hand down to your pussy, starting to rub little circles against your clit. you swear you feel him trace a heart too.

“wanna— wanna wake up to you every morning, baby. wanna make you feel this good everyday. don’ wanna miss you no more.”

your ears pound, heart beating almost out of your chest as a spiral coils tighter in your belly, feeling like it’s about to burst. jake’s free hand is pressed on your back, making your pussy flutter with how large it is against your spine. your eyes sting from the smoke, but you force them open to gaze into jake’s pussy drunk eyes. the love that casts over the gorgeous brown with a glossy sheen has you hugging him closer to you.

“i’m— i’m close, jakey. please?”

“go ahead, princess.” you barely hear jake say over your moans and the blood rushing in your ears.

you cum with a cry, your release flooding over jake’s cock and dripping down between his balls. jake has a full body tremble, but he doesn’t let go— and he doesn’t stop his thrusts, still slowly fucking into you even after your high ends.

“wan’ more, baby? wan’ more of this cock?”

you wordlessly nod your head, delirious as jake fucks you stupid. all you know how to do is rock your little hips, taking the swollen, needy tip of jake’s dick deeper inside your creamy pussy.

“yeah, baby. use it like a toy, huh? use jakey’s big cock to make your little pussy feel good.”

REBLOG/COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 5

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I’ve got this queued up so if you asked to be tagged in the last 12 hours, I have not added you but will add you to the next one! It’s my masters graduation ceremony and I have a lot of people to catch up with so won't be very active today. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“From Behind Your Eyes”

Monday.

Things began to shift between you and Bucky in subtle ways. 

It started with small moments. Today, during a walk through the city, he asked if you wanted to stop by a bakery. 

“Your favourite," he said with a soft smile.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. You didn’t know it was your favourite bakery—it had only opened a year ago

You had no recollection of it existing, let  alone stepping inside.

Yet, when you stood outside the little shop, taking in the scent of freshly baked bread and buttery pastries, you sighed in recognition. Like your senses were telling you that this was the place, even though your mind was blank. 

Bucky held the door open, letting you step inside. The bell above the door jingled, and that sound struck something deep within you. Was it... loss? Or comfort? You weren’t sure. 

He handed you a croissant without a word. 

When you took your first bite, something clicked. It felt right, the taste, the texture—the buttery flakiness melting on your tongue. It was comforting, familiar, even if the memories that should accompany it weren’t there. 

You couldn’t explain why, but for the first time, a puzzle piece fell into place.

You glanced up at Bucky. His eyes were fixed on you, watching your reaction closely. 

"Good?" he asked, his voice careful, almost too casual.

"Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing the pastry.

It was more than good—it felt like home. Whatever that meant these days.

Wednesday.

The scent of pancakes filled the air on Wednesday morning.

You heard the sound of sizzling batter before seeing Bucky standing over the stove, smiling at you.

"A whole tablespoon of butter and two of maple syrup," he said, placing a plate in front of you. He was busying himself with the last touches, but you could see the concentration in his movements, the care he had put into even something so simple.

You stared down at the plate, your fork hovering just above the fluffy stack. It looked perfect, like it had been made specifically for you, and in a way, it had. You couldn’t remember ever eating this combination of specific measurements before— you always thought you were a cereal eater. But somehow, the moment you took that first bite, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

A comfortable silence settled between you two as you ate.  The pancakes were soft, the butter melting, and the syrup soaked through just enough to make each bite rich but not overwhelming. It was perfect. 

He was perfect.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. There was something endearing about how well he knew you, even when you didn’t know yourself. 

The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself drawn to him— not just because he was familiar, but because he made you feel safe. 

And somewhere along the way, that safety began to shift into something else.

Your heart started to skip a beat when he laughed. Your stomach fluttered when he’d touched you. You found yourself looking for more and more excuses to be around him. 

You caught yourself staring at him more than once—like now, as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed. 

Your chest tightening in ways that were starting to feel dangerously familiar. A crush. 

Bucky looked up and caught your gaze, and you quickly focused back on your plate, heat rising to your cheeks. 

Friday.

Today, you were curled up in the living room, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders when he handed you a book. 

"You read this a couple of years ago," he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. He held out the worn copy of a short book, fingers brushing against the frayed edges. "Thought you might want to read it again."

You took it from him, your eyes skimming the cover. The title stirred nothing at first—just another gap in your mind. 

There was a quiet confidence in the way he handed you the book that maybe, just maybe, this small thing would help. 

As you read, something unlocked within you. The words slipped into place like they belonged.

Like they had always belonged.

Sunday.

By the time you finished, it had become your favourite book once again.

"You knew," you said, feeling a little shy, admitting how easily you'd fallen back in love with it.

Bucky smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes, though there was always a hint of something dark behind it. "Some things don’t change."

You wanted to believe him, but you knew better.

The truth was, so much had changed. The pieces of your life felt scattered, rearranged in ways you didn’t always understand. 

Bucky… he was a constant. It was as though he saw parts of you that you hadn’t yet rediscovered.

You noticed it in the quiet moments—the way Bucky would linger in doorways, watching you, or how his voice softened whenever he said your name, like he was holding onto a precious gem. 

You weren’t the person you had been before, and yet, with Bucky, you started to feel like maybe you didn’t have to be. 

Still, there was an unspoken thing that hung between you, something that Bucky carried but never fully acknowledged. 

Monday.

Bucky had trouble sleeping, as he would do when he was under a lot of stress.

He laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel his racing heart, as if it wanted to claw its way out.

In his mind, he replayed the moment that haunted him every night—the words he’d said to you.

“I feel like I can’t breathe around you.”

He had said it with a cold finality, and regretted it immediately.  

He’d only ever driven you away to spare you from the darkness he dragged around like ankle weights. You deserved so much more— someone free from shadows that never seemed to leave.

Even if you’d forgotten, he couldn’t unburden himself from the knowledge that he’d pushed you away when he should have held you close.

And when he did finally fall asleep, nightmares haunted him. 

In the dream, he watched realisation dawning on your face— as you remembered the things he’d said, the hurt he’d caused. You looked at him with that same raw, wounded expression he’d seen before, the same one that haunted him on sleepless nights.

In the dream, you turned away, just as you had before, only this time you were walking into the dark embrace of death. He reached for you, desperate to take it all back, but the distance between you grew. 

He’d run and run, trying to follow you, but at the end of the tunnel, he’d see you limp body lying underneath the rubble.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. He laid in bed, trembling, drenched in sweat.

Unable to stay there, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. He found himself heading down the hall toward your room. 

The light in the guest room was dim, the door left slightly ajar, as it always was. You told him it made you feel less alone, that someone was nearby if you needed them.

Bucky found himself standing just outside, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

You looked so peaceful, so innocent in sleep, untouched by the memories that plagued him. 

Quietly, he leaned against the doorframe. The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“I feel like I can’t breathe around you,” he whispered.

It was true then, and it was true now—though for different reasons.

Back then, he’d said it to drive you away, to keep you from seeing the broken parts of him he didn’t want you to know. 

But now, every small smile, every lingering glance, every hesitant touch stole his breath, until he was choking on the overwhelming affection he felt for you and on the regret of what he’d said to you.

“I thought I didn’t deserve you.” He swallowed. “I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping you away.” His eyes studied you, memorising every scar, every curve. “But I was wrong. and you’ll never know…”

All he wanted was to tell you the truth, to give you the choice to stay or to go. But the thought of you choosing to go… he couldn’t bear it.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, and Bucky’s heart skipped a bit. For a split second, he thought he’d woken you, but you settled back against your pillow, your cute snores filling the air again. 

He let out a small sigh of relief.

He lingered a moment longer, allowing himself this one selfish moment to simply be there, watching over you.

He stayed for ten minutes.

Ten turned to thirty.

And thirty minutes turned to an hour.   

Then, he started noticing things.

At first, it was subtle— his enhanced hearing noticed that your breathing quickened. He then saw your brows knitting together.

He knew the signs by heart— a nightmare.

His chest tightened as he watched, his metal fingers curling around the doorframe. He wanted to reach out, to wake you before the horrors took hold. But he froze, unsure if his presence would be a comfort or if it would only make things worse.

You whimpered softly, The sound was like a bullet to his brain, slicing through the peace he had found watching over you.

Bucky knew— perhaps too well— all the ways a nightmare could lay you bare, exposing the things you wanted no one else to see. Who was he to interfere, to try drag you out of the darkness when he himself lived in it?

Then you whispered his name. The sound sent a chill down his spine. His name, spoken with a tone so raw and broken it made his heart ache. Were you dreaming of him? Of the words he had said, the pain he had caused?

He didn’t know why he stayed as he watched you wrestle with whatever horrors your mind had conjured. He took a small, shaky step forward. His mouth opened but nothing came out. 

Your breathing grew ragged, your hands clutching at the blanket. Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, shame brewing inside him. 

He knew he should be there for you, but he couldn't bring himself to cross that threshold, to invade the fragile privacy of your dreams.

Finally, your breathing steadied, the nightmare subsiding. Bucky released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

He took a step back.

He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t tried to help.

He watched a second longer, making sure you’d found peaceful sleep again. When he was certain you had, he turned and left for his room.

As he closed his door behind him, Bucky let out a shaky sigh. His body slid on the floor, pressing his palms against his eyes as he tried to block out the image of you—fragile, broken, and alone in a nightmare he might have caused.

He wrapped his hand around his knees, rocking slightly in an attempt to keep himself sane.

He shifted slightly, feeling an odd dampness against his skin. It was only when he brought a hand to his face that he realised his cheeks were wet, his shirt damp where the tears had dropped. 

He hadn't even realised he started crying.

The tears kept coming, slow and steady, trickling down on his face.

He thought of you, peaceful again now, but still vulnerable, left to face nightmares he was too afraid to pull you from. He thought of the words he’d spoken to you, the ones he could never take back. The ones that had hurt you more than he’d ever wanted. 

The tears were relentless, a silent admission of all the things he’d buried—his regret, his self-loathing, his desperation for forgiveness he was too afraid to ask for. His body shook with quiet sobs, his breaths shallow and uneven.

And for the first time since he thought he’d lost you, Bucky let himself cry for everything he’d lost. 

For the moments he’d missed, the chances he’d thrown away, the love he’d pushed aside out of fear. And as his tears finally slowed, leaving him a hollow shell of himself, he realised that this was the price he’d paid for pushing you away all those years.

Tuesday.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” you asked between breakfast bites, trying to sound casual as you picked at your food.

You didn’t know how to admit it at first, but even when you slept through all of last night, you hadn’t slept very well. Every time you’d close your eyes, you’d find yourself trapped under layers of crushing weight, and the fear would trap you in unconsciousness, unable to wake up, unable to separate what’s real or fake.

Bucky paused just slightly before he looked up. For a moment, he didn’t know how much to say.

“Yeah,” he replied finally, cautiously. “It used to be worse.” 

You nodded, encouraged by his honesty. “Mine are… strange. They’re just pieces. I don't remember them all.” You looked down at your hands, unsure how to continue. “It doesn’t even feel like they’re mine.”

“How come?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s�� I—I feel like I’m trapped under something heavy. I can’t breathe, and when I try to move, it just…”

You stopped in your tracks, the nightmares slipping away just as your memory had. 

“And I see you sometimes,” you admitted sheepishly, “I feel you pulling me out of the dark.”

Bucky’s hand brushed yours across the table. 

He swallowed hard, knowing that was where he found you. How he found you. Crushed under the rubble, barely alive.

Still, a wave of relief washed over him. If there was any comfort to cling to in all of this, it was that he hadn’t caused your nightmares. You hadn’t heard his quiet confession from the night before, those fragile words spoken in the darkness while you slept. You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what he said.

You didn’t know. 

You can’t ever know.

A twisting guilt formed in his stomach— would I really rather have her dream of a crushing pain over the painful words I said?

“They can’t hurt you,” he said finally, his voice stern with conviction. He was convincing himself, really, more than you. 

You felt the cold of his metal hand, but your cheeks started burning. 

You met his eyes, and for a moment, the vulnerability between you was tangible.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Your voice was barely a whisper. “For making me feel like I’m not alone.”

He looked down. A small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “Anytime.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. His hand lingered on yours, fingers tracing small circles against your skin. 

You didn’t even realise you were leaning in until you felt his breath against your lips—warm, shallow, like he was fighting the same internal battle you were. His eyes flicked down to your mouth for the briefest second.

The pull between you was magnetic.

His fingers trailed up your arm, lingering at your forearm, and it was that touch—the coolness of his skin against tour veins—that undid you. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst from your chest. 

And then, without thinking, you started closing the gap.

His lips hovered over yours, not quite touching, the tension so thick it was suffocating.

It was a heartbeat away. 

But then—

The sound of your phone shattered the moment, vibrating against the table.

Sam’s name flashed on the screen, his timing almost painfully ironic.

“Hey,” you answered, forcing your voice to stay steady.

“Hey!” Sam was his usual chipper self, oblivious to what he’d interrupted. “We’re discussing a training program for you if you want to come back on Thursday?”

You glanced at Bucky. He had turned away slightly, focusing on his half-eaten plate. “I— I’ll think about it,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as you hung up.

You glanced at Bucky, wondering if he felt the same strange disconnect.

He didn’t say anything. His expression had shifted back to that neutral calm he so often wore.

You wished you had the courage to say something, that you could break the silence and address what had nearly happened between you. 

You were too unsure, too awkward to bring it up. You weren’t sure what it even meant—whether it was a lapse in judgement, a moment of weakness, or if it was something more that neither of you were brave enough to confront.

“I think I’m gonna start training again on Thursday.”

-to be continued...

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[squoxle]

[10] GOOD BOY ~ L.YB

needy!felix x horny!reader

plot: after waking up horny as fuck, you strike a deal with your best friend Felix that he can’t pass up… | wc: 1.4k | cw: smut, situationship, cuddling, tit sucking, pussy eating, kissing, pet name

Felix had called you over late last night, and even though you didn’t do anything, you ended up sleeping next to each other.

The two of you started a sexual relationship about 2 months ago after one too many drinks led his dick inside of you. You couldn’t say that you hated it, and that was the reason it kept going.

Even though you could agree that he was cute and sweet, a relationship was the last thing on your mind. All you wanted was sex. And you made that very clear. So you found it strange when he called you last night just to sleep with him.

You woke up to see him nuzzled into your chest with one hand reached under your shirt, cupping your tit.

Finding his plump pouty lips and peaceful countenance somewhat attractive, you turned your body in his direction, wrapping your arm around him to play with his shaggy blonde hair.

You watched as his eyes fluttered open from your touch. “G’morning,” he hummed.

“Morning,” you smiled gently as he pressed his nose against yours. You felt his hand give your tit a gentle squeeze before he retracted it.

“Sorry for calling you over so late last night…I just didn’t feel like being alone.”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged.

“Thanks for coming…I really appreciate that,” he smiled before pecking you on the lips. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick and I’ll be back, okay,” he pulled the cover off of his body, climbing out of bed, before walking down the hall.

You couldn’t understand why looking at him seemed to turn you on so much but all you could think about right now was watching his pretty face get pussy drunk for you.

You reached your hand between your legs before circling your clit. You touched yourself while keeping that thought in mind, you pulled your fingers back, spitting on them before pushing them through your entrance.

A little part of you felt guilty that you were pleasuring yourself in his bed when he didn’t seem to have any sexual intentions, but the horny demon inside of you wanted him more.

“Hey, what’d you want for breakfast? I’m cooki—“ Felix paused in the doorframe as he saw you on his bed, laying there biting your lip with a lustful expression on your face. Soft, breathy moans escaping your lips.

“C’mere,” you hummed, directing him with your gaze.

“What’re you doing,” he asked, knowing damn well what was going on underneath that blanket.

“I hope you didn’t think I was gonna leave without getting off at least once,” you bit your lip, catching a moan in your chest. You watched as he pulled the covers back to see your fingers buried deep in your pussy.

“Can I…uhm?” He stuttered.

“Yes,” you shook your head, pulling your fingers out as his replaced the spot. You brought your fingers to his lips as he sucked your juices off, moaning just from the taste.

You looked over the edge of the bed seeing his dick hardening through his pants. The sight made you even more horny as you watched him lick his lips. But it also gave you an idea.

You watched as he pulled his fingers out, sucking them before pushing them back inside of you. Just as he loosened the string on his sweatpants you stopped him. “Ah ah, since you didn’t fuck me last night, you don’t get to fuck me now.”

“B-but I—“

“Nope. I want you to get me off and if you do a really good job and make me cum, THEN I’ll let you fuck me,” you smiled.

“Hmm…okay,” he hummed before going under the covers to lick between your legs.

“Mmm,” you moaned at the textured sensation of his tongue. He climbed over you, hovering over you as your legs raised. He leaned in to kiss your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth as he dry humped you, moaning as he satisfied himself and you at the same time.

As good as it felt, you had to keep him in line. You grabbed his chin, stopping him in his tracks. “What do you think you’re doing, huh? You’re supposed to get me off first and then it’ll be your turn. Not before.”

“I-I know but I just—“

“You were trying to find a loophole,” you chuckled as he pouted before raising his hips up.

“Spit in my mouth,” he hummed.

“What?”

“Spit in my mouth, please,” he opened his mouth, eagerly waiting for your saliva. Fuck, whenever he said please like that you just wanted to ride that pretty boy until he cums all inside your pussy.

Just the thought of feeling his body shake beneath you was enough to tell him to just use his dick right now.

But those weren’t the rules…

You spit onto his tongue as he pulled it into his mouth, crawling back between your legs before spitting directly on your clit.

You were using him to play out the fantasy in your head and it was turning out better than you expected.

He sucked on your clit, pulling his fingers in and out as wetness dropped down to the sheets. “Mmm, you’re so fucking wet,” he hummed as you felt the vibrations from his voice.

He pulled his fingers out, using his thumb to stimulate your clit as he slipped his tongue in. You felt it worm up inside of you as you threw your head back, moaning with pleasure.

“Do you like that?” He asked, licking your entrance.

“Mhm,” you nodded as he lowered his head and moved his tongue faster. “Uhnn, fuck baby,” you moaned. He moved his lips, pushing his fingers back in before raising your shirt to suck on your tit.

“Ngh!” You raised your chest as you felt yourself about to cum.

You felt the warm wetness of his lips sucking on the flesh of your chest as he fucked you harder and faster. A high-pitched whine escaped your lips as the feeling intensified. “Fuck, you sound so pretty,” Felix cooed from between your tits as he moved up to your neck.

“Please cum baby so I can fill your pretty little cunt and watch it drip out,” the way he was talking to you right now made you want to cum immediately, but you wanted to enjoy the feeling for a bit longer.

He lowered down as he gripped onto the outsides of your thighs. He squeezed them as you gripped onto his hair. His nose grazing your clit as he moaned with every lick.

You pulled his head up to see your release all over his face as he stuck his tongue back out before going down on you again. He kept eye contact with you as you moaned, cumming hard as your body shook.

He held your lower half in place as he kept licking and sucking your pussy to help you ride out your orgasm. “Good boy,” you patted his head as you caught your breath.

“Now can I fuck you?”

“Yes,” you chuckled as he quickly pulled his pants down, slamming his dick into your pussy.

He grunted as he pumped into you quickly, gripping your hips and raising them to angle your hole with his dick. He lowered your body back onto the mattress as he pressed onto your lower abdomen. You felt his dick going in and out of you as he panted with broken moans escaping his lips.

You couldn’t help but moan with him as he used you like a sex doll. He leaned forward, pulling your legs back and fucking deeper into your throbbing cunt. He whined as he came inside you, pumping faster as he filled you up.

You pushed his cum out, causing it to drip down your ass as he pulled out. He plopped down next to you as the two of you laid next to each other.

“_____,” he called your name.

“What?”

“Can I tell you something…”

“Sure.”

“I hope it doesn’t make you feel weird or anything…”

“Just say it already.”

“I can’t cum without you,” he lowered his gaze as you looked at him.

“What…”

“I don’t know why…I just can’t do it unless you’re here with me…”

You knew what this meant, but you didn’t want it to be true.

“I think it’s because…I like you…”

𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

@chlorinecake

@wonbinisbabygurl

@nishiimuranights

@wildflowermooon

@heeseungshim

@ramyeonzprincess

@bangchans-gf5

@wand3rlustm3

@heeseunghee7

@norihoyeon

@gacktsa

[peppymintdreams]

a fic of pickle not being able to find their comfort item and they start growing anxious :3

Anxious

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

I don’t even know what to write on how to describe this it’s late and I’m tired

Pickle stood in the middle of the room, their hands on their hips as they stared at the pile of blankets and pillows strewn across the bed. Their chest tightened with each passing second. Where was it?

Their comfort item a worn, soft hoodie that had been with them through countless sleepless nights, rough days, and every anxious moment in between was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t draped over the chair like usual, and it wasn’t tangled up in the bed sheets. Pickle had checked the closet twice, rifled through the laundry, and even peeked under the bed, but there was no sign of it.

Frustration began to bubble up inside them, mixing with the growing anxiety that gnawed at their mind. The room suddenly felt smaller, too bright, too cluttered. Their breathing quickened as a wave of panic started to creep in.

Where is it? they thought, their heartbeat drumming in their ears. The familiar weight of the hoodie had always been there to ground them, its scent and texture offering them a small sense of peace when the world felt too overwhelming. And now, it was gone.

Pickle’s mind raced. What if it had been lost for good? What if they had accidentally thrown it out? The thought made their stomach twist. Without it, the comfort they’d clung to so many times before seemed unreachable, and the thought of sleeping or even relaxing without it felt impossible.

"Okay, okay... it has to be here somewhere," they muttered to themselves, pacing the room. Their fingers tugged at their shirt as the anxious energy built inside them. They started tearing through the room again, checking drawers, shaking out blankets, growing more frantic by the second.

By the time Isaac walked into the room, Pickle was kneeling on the floor by the couch, checking under it for the third time. Isaac’s eyes widened, immediately sensing the tension in the room.

"Pickle?" he called out softly, watching them scramble. "What’s going on?"

Pickle barely looked up, their voice tight with panic. "I can’t find it I can’t find my hoodie, and I—" They paused, swallowing hard, trying to rein in their spiraling thoughts. "I need it, Isaac. I don’t know where it is."

Isaac’s face softened as he took in the scene, understanding immediately. He crossed the room in a few steps, crouching beside them. "Hey, hey," he said gently, placing a hand on their arm. "Take a breath for me, okay?"

Pickle shook their head, their breath shaky as they tried to push the panic down. "I’ve looked everywhere," they whispered, their voice on the verge of cracking. "I don’t know where else to check."

Isaac squeezed their arm softly. "We’ll find it," he assured them. "But first, I need you to slow down for a second. I’m right here. Let’s breathe together."

Pickle blinked, their vision a little blurry as they tried to focus on Isaac’s calm, steady voice. They could feel their heart racing, the tightness in their chest making it hard to think straight.

Isaac gently guided them to sit down on the edge of the bed, sitting beside them as he kept his hand on their arm. "In through your nose," he said softly, demonstrating with an exaggerated deep breath. Pickle followed his lead, though shakily, letting the air fill their lungs.

"And out through your mouth," Isaac continued, exhaling slowly, his eyes never leaving Pickle’s face. They copied him, feeling a slight, almost imperceptible shift in the pressure inside them.

"That’s it," Isaac said, his voice soothing. "We’re going to take this one step at a time. We’ll find the hoodie, but I need you to know that you’re okay, even without it, alright?"

Pickle nodded weakly, though the anxiety still gnawed at them. "But it helps," they said, their voice quiet and strained. "It always helps."

Isaac nodded in understanding, his gaze warm and compassionate. "I know it does. And we’ll look until we find it, but I’m right here in the meantime. You’re not alone in this."

Pickle took another shaky breath, feeling a small sense of relief just from having Isaac beside them. His presence alone helped soothe some of the jagged edges of their anxiety.

"Let’s retrace your steps," Isaac suggested, his voice calm and methodical, giving Pickle something tangible to focus on. "When’s the last time you had it?"

Pickle thought for a moment, their brow furrowed as they tried to recall. "I had it last night... and I think I left it in the living room this morning after I had my coffee."

Isaac smiled softly. "Alright. Let’s start there."

They stood up together, Isaac keeping close, guiding Pickle toward the living room. Sure enough, after just a few minutes of searching, Isaac spotted a familiar bundle tucked behind the armchair, half-hidden in a pile of magazines.

"Found it," he said, holding up the hoodie with a small smile.

Pickle’s shoulders sagged with relief, and they rushed over, taking the hoodie from Isaac’s hands. The familiar weight of it in their arms was like an anchor, grounding them back in the present. They hugged it close, feeling the tension in their chest start to unravel.

Isaac watched them, his heart softening at the sight. "Feel better?" he asked gently.

Pickle nodded, their voice small. "Yeah... thank you."

Isaac wrapped an arm around them, pulling them close into a comforting hug. "You’re always welcome," he murmured into their hair. "Next time, just tell me when you’re feeling anxious, okay? You don’t have to go through it alone."

Pickle rested their head against his chest, clutching the hoodie tighter. "I’ll try," they whispered.

Isaac smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of their head. "That’s all I ask."

[sejarcus-archive]

Some fluffy modern Sejarcus scenarios and headcanons, that have been on my mind:

(Premise: in these Sejanus is not an early bird at all, cause so many cute scenarios can be born from that)

Their morning cuddles usually end with Marcus trying to get up to start the day and Sejanus not letting him go, wrapping one arm around his chest and leaving repeated kisses on his shoulder, while mumbling to please stay in bed a little longer.

After Marcus is done applying moisturizer on his own face, he asks Sejanus to face him and delicately applies it on his, too, but he can’t help himself and keeps leaning in to give him quick kisses, before pulling away to actually look at what he’s doing.

Sejanus takes charge of the cooking most of the time, seeing that he’s a bit more experienced and really enjoys it, as well, but in the morning he’s always too tired to function, so preparing breakfast is a task that falls on Marcus. He really doesn’t mind, he’s good at it too, and while he’s not as passionate about it as Sejanus, he has no problem cooking. The real problem arises on days when Sejanus manages to get up from bed at the same time as him, ‘cause while he’s trying to get everything ready, he clings to him from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his head against his shoulder, and following Marcus’s every step around the kitchen, making it so difficult for him to move and heightening the probability of either of them getting burned on the stove or the hot pans. But saying that it bothers him would be a blatant lie.

(This is just me trying to spread the koala Sejanus agenda)

Sejanus mostly follows his ma’s recipes that he grew up with, but sometimes he likes to venture out of his comfort zone and experiment with combining ingredients in new ways. He has a lot of fun doing it, but is always scared that Marcus won’t like the dishes he makes. But Marcus always responds so enthusiastically to them, praising how good they are and asking him so many questions on how he made them, what ingredients he used, how he achieved those textures and flavors. Sejanus still gets butterflies at Marcus’s sweetness and thoughtfulness, even after years of being with him; Marcus gets butterflies at seeing Sejanus so happy and talking with his eyes all sparkly and a smile so big, but still somewhat timid at the praises and attention.

Marcus does some sort of manual labor job, which makes it so his back and shoulders are often sore. Sejanus takes it upon himself to help him, by giving him massages most nights before bed, even when Marcus tells him he doesn’t have to, that he’s fine. But Sejanus loves how both his body and whole demeanor start to relax under his touch, it makes him feel good in turn, knowing he’s helping Marcus feel better. Plus he loves physical touch too much to let an occasion for it slip by, and Marcus is the same, so he doesn’t really insist on not needing it.

Marcus gives Sejanus massages too. He works as a nurse and has to stand for hours during his shifts. When they're both home in the evening, Marcus takes Sejanus’s feet on his lap while they sit on the couch, and massages them as he listens to him vent about his day.

For a while Marcus worked at a job in which he had to bring his lunch from home. Sejanus took charge of the meal prepping and packing, insisting that it helps him destress. He would put a little note with each lunch, reminding Marcus he loves him, or wishing him a good day, or writing little inside jokes and scribbling doodles on them. Each one felt like a warm hug to the heart for Marcus. He kept them all and put them inside a little wooden box that now sits in his night stand’s drawer.

Sejanus gets a slight pout when he’s upset. It’s not that noticeable if you don’t pay attention, and he himself isn’t aware of it. Marcus, on the other hand, is extremely aware of it and one little look at Sejanus is enough for him to know he’s upset. He finds it very cute, and thinks that if Sejanus was to ever look up at him with his huge eyes and that slight pout, and ask him to cut his own hand off, he would do it with zero hesitation.

Marcus’s absolute favorite jacket is a vintage leather jacket that fits him like a glove. Sejanus’s brain short circuits every time he wears it (he wears it a lot).

They fight for hours over who has to make the phone calls, ‘cause neither of them wants to. Somehow, 99% of the time, Marcus is the one giving up first and doing it.

Marcus genuinely thinks Sejanus is the funniest person on the planet (he is). Everyone could tell he was into him, because of how hard he laughed at his jokes. Similarly to this, Sejanus only ever gets super giggly around Marcus, and everyone could tell he liked him because of that.

Sejanus likes to sit on Marcus’s lap any chance he gets. They are that couple at a party. You turn around and you see them sitting at the edge of an otherwise empty couch, Sejanus on Marcus’s lap, with his arms around his neck, and they just keep whispering stuff to each other and chuckling and kissing. Marcus loves whenever Sejanus sits on his lap, ‘cause he can wrap his arms around him and hold him so easily, which is his favorite thing in the world.

And since we’re on the topic of Marcus holding Sejanus, I’m gonna add here three headcanons that I had shared in the tags of a post on sejanusarchive some time ago:

Marcus can’t help himself from hugging Sejanus whenever they’re in the same room, and he accompanies each hug with a very essential and mandatory kiss on the head.

Sometimes, when Sejanus is feeling tired or lazy, he uses his tall, strong boyfriend privileges, and asks Marcus to carry him. Marcus pretends to be annoyed by the request, to tease him, but the fond smile on his lips, that he didn’t quite manage to conceal, gives away the fact that he’s actually very amused and endeared by it.

Contrary to Sejanus, Marcus is an early bird. In the morning he is super active, waking up and getting ready for the day with no problem and in no time, but having to help a very sleepy Sejanus get ready faster or else he’ll be late. At night the roles are reversed. When 9pm rolls around, Marcus is already falling asleep, fighting with everything in himself to keep his eyes open, while Sejanus is the most energized he’s felt all day, and just keeps yapping and yapping to poor Marcus, who really wants to pay attention to what he’s saying and is trying very hard to, but his brain won’t let him.

Sometimes when they cuddle, Sejanus climbs on top of Marcus to lay completely on him like a baby otter does with their mother, and jokes about sleeping like that the entire night. Obviously he doesn’t, ‘cause it would be too uncomfortable for both of them after a while, especially for Marcus, but he can still dream for a couple of minutes.

When Sejanus was a child, he used to watch romcoms with his ma all the time. From them, he learned that gifting flowers is one of the most romantic gestures out there, so he grew up internalizing that. On his first date with Marcus he felt shy and nervous, and didn’t know how the flowers could have been perceived by him, so he didn’t bring him any. But on the second date, with the confidence of how well the first one had gone and how sweet and gentle Marcus was, he brought him the most beautiful bouquet ever, with flowers in all shapes and sizes, and colors of the rainbow. Marcus was incredibly surprised and flustered; no one had ever gifted him flowers before, and he had to fight the urge to get down on one knee and ask Sejanus to marry him then and there. After years together, Sejanus still brings him bouquets of them every once in a while. Marcus still feels like he could explode with love each time.

[beeholyshit]

I'M GONNA START CRYING I'M SO ILL RN

[b4kuch1n]

siren

[fbfh]

just woke up from a baby dream and I'm a sobbing wreck :) anyway Logan Huntzberger doesn't expect much from his future besides monetary success, partying, and a lot lot lot of sex. he definitley doesn't expect to look up one day and realize he's sharing a home, a life with someone. not only that, but he's the one that instigated it. he told you in college he didn't like you being around other guys. he stopped caring about the girls that he would go between, because now he just seems to care about you. everything else falls to the sidelines. so he comes back to his big fancy house after an important business meeting on the golf course, and he sees you there. some old sitcom is marathoning on tv, and you're wrapped up in fluffy blankets, hair up and out of your face. you look so cozy, so comfortable. you keep adjusting the blankets, fussing with them as you hum softly. he walks closer, overcome with a feeling of love and swelling pride and... paternal instinct he's never felt. your son Henry, just a month or two old is bundled on your arms. you look up at Logan and smile so warmly he could cry just from the look on your face when you see him.

"hi," you breathe softly. Henry's settled down, so you don't want to rile him up too much, but he's not all the way asleep.

"hey ace," he breaths, sitting next to you. he wraps you in his arms and kisses you, meeting forgotten as you both admire you baby boy together. you rub his tummy gently, soothingly, and Logan smooths his hair. it's short and fuzzy, and a little prickly. it makes him laugh softly. Henry is wearing the white and blue onesie Honor got for him at the baby shower. he makes a mental note to take some pictures to send her of him wearing it. the soft fabric of his polo shirt and the smell of his cologne mixed with the distinct remnants of golf course air is so comforting. he watches you admire your son, trace the shape of his cute little nose, copy the faces he makes, babble little noises at him. he watches you smooth his hair and help him get comfortable in your arms, watches you place your finger in his hand so he can hold onto it with that surprisingly strong baby death grip. Henry wiggles around, getting comfortable in your arms, and you kiss his forehead again. once you're sure that he's settled, not too warm and not too cold, comfortable and lying safely, you can finally relax. you rest your head on Logan's shoulder, closing your eyes and finally letting yourself relax and rest a little. you take in a big deep breath of his masculine scent, somehow both spicy and refreshing, and sigh. you're content. you're more than content, he realizes. you're happy. Logan... made you happy. he found out what you wanted and built you a life you want, a life he wants. it hits him like a ton of bricks in one overwhelming, amazing moment, and he soaks in the feeling, watching the way your sleeping babys face and yours mirror each other.

[cozylittleartblog]

new stickers 💖 all the red on kris + their sword is holographic

[jrueships]

anybody else have a food they're allergic to but still eat anyway

[cursed-rat-of-homosexuality]

local man reads physical comics for the first time and is irreversibly changed

no more news at 7 because he fuckin died

[sysig]

Being a villain isn’t all fun and games! Just mostly (Patreon)

[nobodybetterlookatme]

how are you feeling today? did you make it through unscathed?

Yeah I definitely didn't 😭 I've been hella congested all day and I definitely have a cough, but it's more bc my throat is bugging me than anything. I don't think I technically have a fever, my temp's just slightly elevated from where it normally is. It's fucking miserable bc I can't breathe through my nose and the damn thing fucking hurts, and I'm kinda uncomfortable and a little achy, but other than that I'm mostly just tired and a little hazy and generally just don't feel great, so I'm not dying like my partner was lmao. But yeah, all this to say that I'm fucking pissed at him and I literally feel like a goddamn plague rat 😭😭

[milo-is-rambling]

I did my make up also doby is here

[rashfordian]

daily shuffle ting 📸

[cool-as-steel]

finished steadfast — as expected, the extremely compelling setup did not turn land on its feet as well as hoped, but I had fun anyways