#There was no budget to draw a mouth

[mucho-tiempo-atras]

My little mew mew

"Draw a Batman from memory" -Said my friend, having no idea that I would spend the next two hours with my head buried in my tablet.

"Dibuja un Batman de memoria" -Dijo mi amigo, sin tener idea de que pasaría las próximas dos horas con la cabeza enterrada en mi tableta.

[thefandomexpert]

ok see kuro was my second anime it was Fundamental to baby meg right. and the new stuff looks good. it’s going with the manga. it’s well-drawn.

but now i have a master’s degree in animation and I just saw a gif of a ‘lipsync’ that made me sick

[this-should-do]

ugh

[planetaryupscaled]

Disenchanted 3: Public Indecency

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 3k, blackmail, cheating, creampie

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

Ever since the day at the carnival I sensed a change in Karina. It was almost as if her last few emotional links to Jaewook had finally fractured and torn. The consequence to this was our relationship, if you could call it that became stronger.

Karina was less concerned about being married, her go to line anytime we were about to part take in anything remotely physical. It got to the point that she removed her wedding ring every time we indulged ourselves in satisfying our desires for one another. Jaewook on the other hand began falling deeper and deeper into a downward spiral, we met at least once a week to talk through his issues with Karina. Every time his solutions for fixing his marriage became more and more desperate.

“I don’t know how long we can go on like this.” Jaewook said, as we sat at a random bar off the side of the highway.

“It feels like our marriage has turned into a set of a show, like it’s all smiles and waves for the public, but in private, we go our separate ways.” Jaewook followed up.

I sat back, knocking down a shot of whisky, placing my hands on his shoulders.

“Give her more time, it must be tough for both of you.” I replied.

Jaewook shrugged his shoulders, a solitary tear falling down his cheeks.

“We haven’t had sex in weeks, her answers are cold, I dunno how I can fix this...what do I do?” He asked, eyes pleading for an answer.

Hearing this, jabbed sharply at my conscience as it was only a few hours ago that Karina and I had fucked in her car after she dropped the kids off to school. I still had her peach-colored lipstick marks smeared along the length of my cock after sucked me to completion, taking my pent up load down her married throat. It was becoming her thing, swallowing was once a taboo, a no no, but ever since we got together, having me finish in her mouth had always hit the right spot. It gave me a sense of pride, knowing she only swallowed me, only my load satiated her hunger. Jaewook and I polished off another few rounds before I called him a cab to take him home. The situation was getting untenable in the Lee household, only pushing Karina further into my arms, it was the perfect situation form me yet little did I know, things were going to get much more complicated.

—

“Hey, so I had a chat with corporate, and they have green us the green light to roll some sample products out at the local businesses.” Nayoung said, handing me the paperwork granting us more budget for the final push marketing our new lines.

“Hmmm that is a great news...I was thinking, maybe we could do something along the lines of nature, maybe draw upon the ecological and environmentally friendly products we have.” I replied.

“I will run it past the team and get back to you.” Nayoung said with a smile before we heard a knock at the door.

It was Karina, her hair wrapped neatly in a bun, wearing a striking pink number, accentuating her flawless toned legs.

“Morning team.” She said smiling.

“Just spoke to Yeonjun outside, good work on securing more funds for our new lines. I was thinking perhaps, marketing some at the local aquarium, drawing upon our environmental packaging and natural ingredients. They have a save the ocean exhibit on at the moment.” Karina said.

Nayoung looked at me with a smile.

“Looks like you have got your answer Boss.” Nayoung said.

Karina looked at me a little perplexed.

“I was just saying we should link our products up with our local businesses, hammering down on our eco-friendly appeal.” I said smiling.

“Great minds.” Replied Karina, laughing.

“Great...team day it is.” I said.

“Gather the troops, maybe we can all go down there, perhaps get some contacts, throw some ideas around.” I replied.

“You free Karina? You can be our secret weapon in getting them to potentially work with us.” I said.

“Are you planning in using me to further your professional career.” She replied smirking.

“You hit the nail right on the head.” I replied, grabbing my coat and walking towards her.

Nayoung was outside with Sohye and Yeonjun getting ready to go. I took the opportunity to peck Karina on the lips quickly, getting another hit of her womanly scent.

“Minho! People...” She startled.

“Might see...” I finished, kissing her again causing Karina to break out in a smile.

“Cmon, let’s go.” I said, opening the door and leading us out.

The local aquarium was only ten minutes away. The entire walk, Sohye and Nayoung updated Karina on various ideas they had on ways to spread our new lines on social media. I caught Yeonjun checking Karina out on a number of occasions, his eyes flickering towards her long slender legs as we reached our destination. I couldn’t blame him she was a very attractive woman. Nevertheless, I felt myself grow ever more protective over her, as I slowly began to realize, what we had was more than just the physical, I was actually falling for her completely.

My musings of how deep my relationship with Karina was, were quickly interrupted by the murmuring of the public around us. She had been recognized and approached by a number of fans asking for her autograph and picture. Karina dealt with it like a pro, smiling and stopping for photos while I flagged the manager. We spoke for a few moments regarding our impromptu visit and plans we had. The brief chat actually going better than I expected as he invited Karina and I to discuss our ideas in more detail. Flagging down Nayoung, I gave her the company card and told her to take the team out for lunch while Karina and I talked to the manager of the aquarium for a bit longer. He seemed, not surprisingly infatuated with Karina’s beauty, nodding and agreeing with everything she said. It took around fifteen minutes flat to organize a small event in the early part of next week to coincide with the finale of their save the Oceans exhibit.

“And that is why I brought you...” I said, whispering in Karina’s ear.

She smiled, slapping me on the arm as we finished up the meeting.

“Do you guys want me to show you around, we have special piece we are doing on Sea Turtles at the moment, not available for the public yet.” The manager asked hopefully.

Karina paused, looking at me.

“Sure.” I said, seeing Karina glare her eyes at me.

“Was this not meant to be a team day?” Karina said, whispering in my ear.

“Nayoung can look after them, besides, I told them to go around and get some lunch, we can all meet up after.” I replied, as we followed the manager around to the back of the complex.

The rumble of the public gradually dissipated to a low murmur as we made our way into a large open space, surrounded my glass screens, behind which was an endless volume of blue. Giant sea turtles floated gently by, as if waving to us as they circled upwards to the surface flanked by numerous colorful fish zipping effortlessly in and out of the artificial coral reefs.

“This is it!” The manager said proudly.

His eyes still glued to Karina as she stared at the beautiful creatures swimming in the deep.

“So when is this exhibit open?” Karina asked in wonder.

“About two weeks, you guys are the first to see it.” He said smiling.

I could see his eyes travel the length of her body the moment she turned around before his visual perversions were disrupted by a loud bang. It came from the main area down the hallway, with some load shouts. It sounded like there was a bit of a scuffle going down from the sounds of the screaming.

“Shit...what now?” The manager said, in frustration.

“Guys...have a look around and come back the way we came...my team will be in contact with you later this week to tidy up the details.” He said.

“It was nice to meet you...both of you.” He followed up, his face showing disappointment at having to leave the company of the once famous Idol.

We watched him leave before sighing in relief.

“He had such the hots for you Karina!” I said chuckling.

“I could feel his eyes on me every time I turned around...it felt- ughh a little creepy.” She said with a frown.

“Why...does it make you jealous when other guys check me out?” Karina asked closing the gap, gently smiling.

“A little...” I replied, kissing her lips.

“That is kinda cute.” She said kissing me back.

“I know right, it’s a problem the jealousy that is, it causes this really bad pent up tension you know.” I replied sarcastically.

“Oh...really.” She said raising her eyebrows.

“Don’t- don’t even say it mister.” Karina said, placing her fingers on my lips.

I looked at her suggestively, wrapping my hands around her waist as I eased her gently onto the glass of the aquarium.

“Minho...seriously...people...might...uhm...see...ughh...us.” She replied, her voice fading into light moans as my hands caressed her tight body.

“Let’s not pretend you don’t secretly like it...” I replied, kissing her down her body as my hands drifted up her dress.

“I do...ughh but- ohh god...that feels- good.” She replied, her pussy creaming in my palm.

“Just a quick...pump and dump.” I said with a smirk.

“A what...? who do you think you are talking to?” Karina said going bright red.

I kissed her full lips, biting down on her lower lip as I continued feeling her up under her dress.

“Shit...seriously- we...ughhh...might...unhh...get...caught...” Karina moaned.

My hand continuing to squeeze and massage her rapidly dampening pussy, causing her to adjust her stance to allow me better access to her burning sex.

“Maybe- ughh…maybe- a quick...pump.” She whispered breathlessly smacking my arm smirking, as she eased her legs open for me, the pleasure emanating from her slit causing a long groan to leave her lips.

Her purring was getting louder as I pierced her wet folds with my fingers, stroking her deep inside her womanly cavern. She ran her fingers through my hair, gripping my head tightly as I slung one of her legs over my shoulders, pushing her standing leg onto her tip toes. My tongue buried into the far reach depths of her married cunt as she flexed her walls around my face, creaming profusely over my mouth.

“Minho- quick…I need you…inside me...” Karina moaned impatiently, her need to be filled spilling out at the surface, rocking her head back and shutting her eyes.

I gave her folds one long lick, the drool from her pussy now forming thick strands on my lips as I hoovered up her sex for the final time.

“I thought...you were afraid of getting caught?” I said, raising my eyebrows as I slipped my drenched fingers from her glistening slit.

“Ughhh- fuck...I still…am, ohh…i can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me...” Karina replied, her eyes now filling with lust.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, petting her throbbing clit with my lips.

“Don’t you dare!” Karina, replied gritting her teeth and pulling me up to my feet.

“You want it?” I asked, taking her slippery tongue into my mouth and sucking down hard.

I could feel the vibrations of Karina groaning into my mouth, spreading her legs for me as I hiked up her dress.

“I love it...” She replied, kissing me back and wrapping her left leg around my waist.

Her hands were searching down my torso, fumbling for my zipper as we kissed deeply, our tongues clashing, exchanging spit as she finally set me free. My cock springing out from my trousers, the top of my shaft rubbing tantalizingly along the bottom of her sex. I could feel the warmth of her slit through her now soaked underwear, a mixture of her sensual cream and my spit coating my length as I rubbed up against her.

“Put it in...” Karina whispered, rolling her head into my hands as I supported her upper back in my right arm.

It was a moment of raw passion as we locked eyes, her mouth agape as I thrust my hips forward, piercing her wet folds with my cock. There was no time to take her underwear off I just wanted to be in her, as deep and as hard as I could, fucking my length up to the hilt till I bottomed out inside her precious pussy. Karina was slick, her hands clawing at my back as we found our rhythm, each pump of my dick bringing her further off the ground as her standing leg struggled to reach the floor.

“Karina...you feel so fucking good...” I moaned into her hear.

“Ughhh- keep going...just...like- that.” She replied, eyes shut tight as I nailed her against the glass.

All you could hear each time I penetrated her married cunt were the slaps of our flesh and a deep thud of her rear slamming hard against the aquarium wall. The coolness of the glass rubbing on her back side as I continuously stuffed her with my meat, stretching her tight pussy with my girth as my tip smashed up on her cervix, deep within her womb.

Karina scratched at my back, her breath now ragged as she was losing control, I could feel the walls of her cunt gradually intensify its grip on my straining cock as I pierced her slick folds. The cream from her cunt now dripping down my thighs as I fucked her full of my cock in the dimly lit aquarium.

“Fuckk...deeper- fuck...me...deeper...” Karina whispered hurriedly in my ear.

She was close, her body was tensing as I cradled both arms around her upper back, protecting the back of her head from what was about to happen.

“You want it deep baby?” I asked, my eyes burning with desire.

She nodded, biting her lip as her orgasm began to build.

“Hold on...” I said, kissing her deeply one more time as the brunette braced her core.

Karina knew what was coming, opening her thighs wider for me to allow for my deeper strokes. Gripping the back of her head I mercilessly pumped my dick deep inside her cunt, assaulting her married pussy with my invading cock as I stuffed her wanting womb with my meat.

“ughh...anhh...fuckk...” Karina screamed, her wails reverberating off the glass as I pummeled her cunt for all I was worth.

“Karina...I can’t hold on much...much longer...” I said, my breath now haggard as I continued to pump her.

“Fuck...unghh- inside...cum…inside me.” Karina moaned, now finding it hard to catch her breath as I began to creampied her inside.

It was like breaking a dam, as a river of warm sticky spunk flowed from my tip, seeding Karina’s married pussy. Spurt after spurt coated her pink womb as her cunt walls sucked on my shaft like a hoover, her thighs shaking as we climaxed simultaneously. Holding me close in her grasp, she swayed her hips forward, fucking more of my spasming cock into her tight cavern, milking my meat to completion as I pumped her full of my pent up sperm. Our sweaty bodies slowed in tempo, my twitching dick still buried inside her as I lowered her legs back onto the floor, my warm sperm leaking from her slit and trickling down her toned thighs as we kissed deeply, my hips thrusting one last time to make sure she took all my load inside her womb.

In the thralls of passion, I thought I spotted another person’s reflection in the glass, turning around in a shock but to no avail.

“What...what’s the matter?” Karina asked breathlessly.

She continued to rock her hips, not letting me disengage as the she reveled in the feeling of my seed swimming around inside her.

“Nothing...thought I saw something that’s all.” I replied, still gathering my thoughts.

“I feel so full...you came a lot” she said smirking as I slipped my member from her depths.

A stream of my cum came pouring out, mixed with her womanly grool and cream. The milky substance leaving a trail of destruction down her legs as the rest splashed on the concrete floor.

“You are so bad...” She smiled seductively, hitting my arm.

She was right, we were a very risky pair indeed, seeking out dangerous situations to satisfy our darkest desires.

“Hey, are you guys still here?” The manager’s voice called out from behind us.

Startled, I quickly buttoned my cock back into my trousers, handing Karina a tissue to wipe up the mess I made down her inner legs. Slightly red faced I turned around waving to him as I approached.

“Lovely turtles.” I said, motioning to the deep blue.

Karina joining me by my side, like nothing happened smiled and thanked the man for showing us around. It seemed to work as he flushed red showing us back to the entrance. She still had a smudge of my spunk on her inner leg which she quickly dispatched before the manager noticed, taking it between her pink lips and swallowing it down discretely.

“Your friends have been waiting a while, they are just outside.” He said pointing to the door.

We shook hands once more and departed, meeting the team outside.

“Where were you guys?” Nayoung asked.

“Eh the manager was a bit of a fan, he insisted in showing us around the new exhibit, we figured it was the least we could do for allowing us to market some of our products here.” Karina replied smiling.

Nayoung smiled giving me a small post it.

“Hajoon our director was here, he left with Yeonjun and went back to the office, he says he wants to discuss something with you guys.” Nayoung said slightly concerned.

“Is everything ok?” She asked.

“I assume its to update him on our progress, but why did Yeonjun go?” I asked.

“Dunno Boss, they were talking about a proposal of some sort.” Nayoung said shrugging her shoulders.

Karina looked at me slightly confused as we made our way back to work. Back inside, Karina went ahead to Hajoon’s office while I fixed my sweaty appearance, washing my face with cold water to gather my thoughts. When I knocked on the director’s door and entered, Karina was already sitting down, her expression looked worried for some reason.

“Please, sit Minho.” Hajoon said, pointing at the chair next to Karina.

Yeonjun was sitting on the side his face slightly piqued at my entrance, taking a seat on the cool leather chair.

Hajoon sighed, pushing out a phone on the table.

“It has come to my attention, that a senior manager and an important member of the board have been...partaking in less than professional activities.” He said.

I gulped hard, sweat now forming on my brow as he continued to speak ushering Yeonjun over to us. Yeonjun air played the phone to the tv monitor on the wall, pressing play. It was hard to make out at first, but when the video came into focus there was no denying what we were watching. It was Karina and I, fucking in the aquarium, you could clearly see her face resting on my shoulder, moaning into my neck as I was thrusting my cock deep inside her.

Hajoon’s face was oddly stoic, like we were in a business deal as he wrapped his fingers.

“You both know what this means, if this was to get out.” He said.

“That sounds like a threat...” I replied, my anger building as I turned my attention to Yeonjun.

“Seriously, leverage?” I said to Yeonjun, who remained looking at the floor.

“Don’t blame him, he was in the right to come to me.” Hajoon said.

Karina was sitting quietly next to me, her hands pressed together as we both listened to how our fates would unravel.

“So, what now?” I asked curtly.

“I can make this go away, delete this video and we can all go about our lives.” Hajoon replied, his voice taking on a sinister tone.

“What’s the catch...?” I asked.

“The catch is… a night with me.” Karina replied, her face flushed in embarrassment.

“What? No, absolutely not.” I replied.

Hajoon smiled, silently surveying us both, he had us dead to rights as he wrote something on a piece of paper.

“As you both may know, I am stepping down soon, the rumors are true.” Hajoon said.

“Now, I like you, I really do Karina, you are hardworking and great for the company... you are also very beautiful.” He followed up.

“I was actually going to offer this in exchange for...your body, but Yeonjun with his evidence had made it too good not to accelerate.” Hajoon said calmly.

“When I retire, I will transfer my shares to you Karina, giving you 30% of the company...in return for a night with you.” He said.

“As part of this deal, Yeonjun will also want a night with you, in return, he will delete the video once we finish… our transaction.” Hajoon said coldly.

I nearly punched both of them right there, before Karina grasped my hand.

“Don’t...” She said exasperated.

“I’ll do it... I’ll do it as long as you are there with me.” She said, a tear tricking down her face.

There was a deft silence in the room, I had no idea how to react to that before Hajoon spoke up.

“See, an amicable solution.” Hajoon said.

“After this Yeonjun, I am firing your ass.” I said, my voice laced in venom.

He shrugged his shoulders smirking.

“It’s totally worth it.” He said, pointing at the television as Karina and I fucked on screen.

“See you both soon...” Hajoon said, showing us the door, a wry smile spread on his wrinkly old face...

[beomiracles]

for kinktober i'd like to request taehyun + public sex & beomgyu + cockwarming <3 thank u!

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

DAY 13 : CHOI BEOMGYU + COCKWARMING — “Getting your dick wet isn’t enough?” You seethe, fingers twisting in his dark locks and Beomgyu shivers under you, cock twitching at your words. “Need to get fucked dumb until you’re satisfied.” 

Cock Warming is a sexual act consisting of holding someone's cock in either a mouth, or another orifice, as if to keep it warm with body heat.

pairings beomgyu x fem!reader warnings cockwarming, sub!gyu, meandom!reader, little bit of hair pulling, creampie, kind of edging I guess?, beomgyu gets called puppy, mentions of oral (f. rec) towards the very end.

#serene adds ✎ erm, I love puppy!gyu agenda sorry not sorry :> and I've received more than one request for public sex with taehyun so it's happening too, though in a week or so :3

i’m 20 minutes late because of @bamgyw ‘s fugly ass THIS SHIT ACTUALLY SLIPPED MY MIND SO BAD. this is what i get for not trusting tumblrs schedule option

EVENT POST

“Stay still”, you hiss, the small command is met by a mere whine as Beomgyu’s face buries deeper in the crook of your neck. You tsk, gaze slowly returning to the movie in front of you as you let yourself get immersed in the painfully obvious storyline. It had been a terrible choice of film, and just as you were about to suggest turning it off, had Beomgyu pressed his hard cock against the curve of your ass, murmuring a shy request that you had been unable to deny. 

Alas you continued to sit through the agonizingly cheap and badly directed movie, except this time with Beomgyu’s throbbing erection nestled deep inside of you as he struggles to remain composed. — He’d promised to be good, promised to be both quiet and still, you wouldn’t even know that he was there. That’s what he’d said. But Beomgyu was a terrible liar. 

He’s practically panting against you, his heavy and warm breath fanning across the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder. You feel him swallow, his fingers twitching in the fabric of your shirt as he bunches the garment up. — “Please.” The quiet whisper is almost inaudible and you barely catch it over the lame fight scene on screen. 

“Hm?” You don’t spare him more than a soft hum, not bothering to turn and face him as your eyes remain trained to the Tv. Beomgyu impatiently huffs behind you, thighs tensing before he relaxes against the couch once more. — A minute later, he tries his luck again. “Please, more.” 

His plea makes your brows twitch and you regard him through the corner of your eye. “More? But I thought the whole point was for this to be low maintenance.” — Beomgyu remains silent as he bites the inside of his cheek. The slight shift of his hips makes his cock brush up against you in a way that almost has you shudder and you hold off a small sigh. “Besides”, you continue as you turn back to the movie, “I’m enjoying this one, you can’t seriously expect me to turn it off now?”

That was a lie, the movie was complete trash, but he didn’t have to know that. 

A soft whine escapes his bitten and swollen lips but he falls silent after that as his chest slumps against your back defeatedly. — It was endearing really, having him so worked up beneath you whilst doing something as mundane as watching a movie together. Though you were unable to ignore the way your cunt would occasionally clench around him, drawing strangled moans from him as Beomgyu held his tongue.  

Another fifteen minutes pass, by now you’d manage to guess every single plot twist of the film as well as the obvious ending. The cheap costumes made their budget clear and you wondered why they had even pursued the ordeal. Even the actors were mediocre and awkward, delivering their lines with either too much enthusiasm or none at all. — The only thing keeping you from going completely insane was the consistent throb of Beomgyu’s cock, joined by his labored breaths, fanning across your shoulder blade. 

“Please”, his voice is hoarse, laced with desire as he ignores your previous command of silence, “I-I can’t take it anymore..” Maybe it was the way the words rolled off his tongue, or the way his large hands clawed at your hips, or even the way his body trembled against yours, as if he was on the verge of breaking out into tears. 

With one swift motion, you reposition yourself on his lap, turning to face him, the movie easily discarded. — “Can’t take what?” You jeer, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you pull his head back. “Can’t take the privilege of being allowed inside my cunt?” Your eyes narrow down on him, catching his breath hitching in his throat, prominent adam's apple nervously bobbing as he swallows a gulp. “I give you so much, but it’s not enough for you?” A tug to his hair makes him whine as his hips buck, raising himself off the couch in an attempt to feel you clench around him. 

“Spoiled fucking puppy”, you grunt, leaning forward to press your lips against his in a kiss long overdue. Beomgyu groans into your mouth, practically licking your face as his greedy tongue darts out to meet yours. His sheer desperation was gullible and your body moves on its own as you grind against him. — “Getting your dick wet isn’t enough?” You seethe, fingers twisting in his dark locks and Beomgyu shivers under you, cock twitching at your words. “Need to get fucked dumb until you’re satisfied.” 

He gasps out a shallow ‘yes’ when he feels your throb around him, thighs tensing as his long awaited orgasm approaches. — “Greedy pup”, you moan, teeth closing around his bottom lip as your nails dig into the flesh of his neck. Beomgyu merely whines in agreement as his hips jerk up to meet yours, blabbering complete and utter nonsense as he begs for you to let him cum, telling you over and over that he’d been good. 

“M’was completely still..” He breathes, hands grabbing at your chest, searching for anything to ground himself with. “W-Was good..Wasn’ I?” He wails, big and round eyes searching yours with urgency. — He looked adorable like this, his expression completely dazed and gone, sweaty and shiny, warm and flushed. You couldn’t find it in you to deny him; “Fine, you can cum.” 

The small confirmation made his hips violently buck against yours one last time before his warm release spread inside your clenching cunt. Beomgyu’s lips fervently latch onto yours as he seals you in a messy kiss, saliva seeping from the corner of his mouth as he moans onto your tongue. — You let him have his way, feeling his cock spasm inside you before it softens. And only when he’s fucked his cum back into you throughly, does he withdraw with a small pout. 

When you climb off of him, he nearly whines, and you have to ignore the throb between your legs as you push him down onto the floor between your feet. — Confused, he glances up at you, a question waiting on his lips. “Well go on, clean me up puppy.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t need to hear it twice before his face is nestled between your legs, tongue eagerly lapping against your soaked cunt. Like a good puppy.

kinktober taglist (send an ask to be added) — @sweetpotatogyu @aduh0308 @joieouioui @inkigayocamman @bambammtori @hkplushier @gyusoulz @eliluvsjjunie @velvetmoonlght @izzyy-stuff @hwanghyunjinismybae @lunathewritingcat @ninitorih @run4gyu @beestvng

© all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[tragedy-of-commons]

no pickles

stellaron hunters & gn!reader | wc: ~750

In which they get your order wrong. Kafka, dear friend that she is, decides to make it known.

tags/warnings: crack, reader is not described, vague canon-typical violence, comedy, found family, everything is platonic

notes: oops updated formatting

When you first joined the Stellaron Hunters upon Elio’s suggestion (death threat), you never would have imagined the scene unfolding in front of you now.

Silver Wolf is double-dipping a greasy french fry into a dollop of ketchup. Kafka is dabbing her mouth with a napkin after her only sip of whatever soda she decided to humor, and Blade is standing guard by your table like some kind of intimidating fast-food sentry.

You, squished between all of them, lament your existence. Sam got to stay behind to “keep watch”, but you know the truth. His robot suit would terrify any children within a fifty mile radius, and this CosmiBurger is teeming with them. 

“Silver Wolf,” you mutter.

“I’m not sharing,” she answers immediately.

“That’s not what I–! Ugh, whatever. I was gonna ask why you chose this place for lunch. Don’t you think it’s a little below our pay grade?” “We don’t get paid, newbie. Elio doesn’t cover us eating out, so we have to be cheap.”

“You’re just saying that because you blew our budget on Roblox Premium,” you deadpan.

Kafka interjects. “Look on the bright side, hm? The novelty here is something we rarely get to experience - and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bladie this happy.”

You spare a glance at your colleague. His scowl speaks for him.

Ignoring the fact that apparently Kafka’s got jokes now, you heave a sigh and poke at the lump of foil in front of you - a tangible warning of an impending stomach ache. The burger inside will have to serve as sustenance if you don’t want to wait twelve more system hours to eat.

Since Silver Wolf is now preoccupied with one of her handheld consoles, you don’t delay with your squabbling any longer. When you unwrap it and take your first bite, you’re blindsided by the overwhelming sour note of what can only be The Condiment That Shall Not Be Named. You can’t obscure the subsequent (ugly) scrunch of your brow and lips.

“Cyanide?” asks The Gamer That You Will Strangle One Day.

You glare at her and deposit your now even-more-unappetizing sandwich on the table. “You wish. They, uh, just got my order a bit wrong.” There’s a contemplative hum from your side that makes your heart skip a beat. Kafka stops playing with a strand of Blade’s hair to give you a coy smile. “Is that so?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you complain. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just not a fan of pickles.”

“You should ask for a replacement. After all, you did mention that in your order,” she drawls.

You bristle. “I doubt the employees get paid enough to put up with that.”

Blade speaks for the first time today in that gruff tone of his. “You draw the line there? You’ll slaughter on command but stop at inconveniencing the working class?”

“Everyone’s picking on me! Smear campaign!” you accuse, pointing at the brooding man.

You don’t expect a reply from him, which he honors by staring at your outstretched finger with what could be described as murderous intent. Kafka chuckles.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling. I’ll handle it.”

“Wai–”

You don’t get another word out before she confidently rises from her seat and saunters over to the register, leaving you with your jaw on the floor. 

Silver Wolf is back to blowing bubblegum and spawn-killing some poor sap, but she makes the time to snicker at your plight. “That’s weak, newbie.”

All you can do is become an idle passenger in your own body as the scene unfolds in front of you. Maybe you try to stop her, but Blade’s lanky arm blocks your path. 

Sometimes you wish she’d just have a little more fear. Kafka converses with the cashier with her innate allure as you resign yourself to your fate of public humiliation.

The words audible over the ringing in your ears sound through the air in Kafka’s dulcet voice.  “They asked for no pickles.”

When she returns from the counter two minutes later with your presumably correct order, you’ve already decided that today has been the most harrowing twenty-four system hours of your long-life. Your stupor is cut short as the new pickleless burger is dropped into your hands like a gift from the Aeons.

“See?” Kafka teases. “It was no trouble at all.”

“..Thanks,” you cough into your hand awkwardly.

Lunch resumes its usual flow, but you’re still stewing in regret that boils down to a simple, bitter thought: You should’ve just ordered the chicken nuggets instead.

[janeyseymour]

The Artist in Me

Summary: a request from a LONG time ago. Reader is the upper grades art teacher, but when the lower grades art teacher has to leave, Reader ends up taking over the arts for the entire school.

WC: ~3.45k

By some Grace of God, Abbott Elementary has it in the budget this year to hire a second art teacher. And you, after leaving your old school due to issues with the principal, were able to snag the position to teach the upper levels of the school.

In the time that you’ve been at Abbott, you mostly keep to yourself upstairs and throw yourself into providing the best education that you can for these kids. Despite being a related arts teacher, you’re also able to integrate different core subjects into your teaching, and you love being able to help enrich students with information that they might not get otherwise.

You’ve also made yourself out to be a bit tougher- the younger elementary art teacher is all sunshine and rainbows, and you can’t find it in you to be like that. So, you’ve gotten the reputation as the hard-ass of the related arts programs. You don’t really care. Some of these kids need discipline, and as long as they’re doing what they’re supposed to (and not trying to eat the clay you have for pottery projects), you really aren’t that tough.

The other thing is… your principal isn’t all that fond of you. You can’t quite figure out why though. You’re always on time, you’re prepared, you stay professional. It is what it is, you suppose. So, you keep to yourself, and you don’t really mind it. You’ve always been a bit more introverted and quiet, yet not timid. The only times you really see any of the other teachers is if you walk past them in the hallways or during a faculty meeting.

During those faculty meetings, you tend to doodle. All of the things that Ava speaks of either don’t relate to you, or they pertain to trainings you’ve already taken care of. You look up at her and her slides every once in a while, just to give off the illusion that you’re paying attention, but after diligently listening to the first meeting, you realized you didn’t have to do that to keep your job.

So, instead… you draw. You draw still lives of the library, you doodle up little flowers and other scenes, and then you take to drawing portraits. You have about a dozen drawings of your own face before you decide that maybe you should attempt another subject. So, your eyes wander around the room. Your gaze immediately focuses in on the beautiful red hair that is sitting with the one group of teachers that Ava always seems to chat with during her free time, which is conveniently a lot.

Melissa, you think that’s her name, rolls her eyes at something ridiculous that comes out of your boss’s mouth, and then she turns to another teacher and fake yawns. You only get a glimpse of her eyes for a moment, but in that second, you’re captivated. They’re a stunning shade of green, and you could swear you could see the little specks of gold in them too. You spend the rest of this pointless faculty meeting trying to get a sketch of her eyes just right.

The next faculty meeting that you find yourself dragging yourself into, you pick a seat where you can see Melissa fully. And… damn. The second grade teacher has quite a figure, and her face is beautiful. You spend most of that meeting drawing the redhead as she props herself up with her elbow. You’re just perfecting the glasses that hang off Melissa’s nose when you hear your name.

“And since we are losing Miss Lee so suddenly, Y/N will be taking over all of the art classes until I can find a replacement,” Ava sighs.

Your eyes widen, and you can feel every other staff member’s eyes on you. “I- Ava, what?”

“You heard me,” your boss shrugs. “Miss Lee is moving away next week, so you’ll have the entire school.” She then continues on about another topic- one entirely unrelated to the absolute bomb that she just dropped on you.

You glance to your lower grades art teacher and give her a questioning look. She just frowns and shakes her head, a tear falling down her face silently.

You spend the rest of the meeting trying to wrap your head around the fact that you are now in charge of the entire art curriculum, and your doodling of the redheaded teacher’s emerald eyes is put on pause.

It feels like an eternity before that meeting is over, but as soon as it is, your coworker is apologizing profusely to you.

“Y/N,” Miss Lee sighs softly. “I’m so sorry. I- I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I just haven’t had the time while trying to prep everything and come up with a way for you to be able to teach everyone.”

“What’s going on?” you ask her quietly as the two of you make it out of the library and into the hall.

“I’m leaving,” is all she tells you. “I- It’s for the best… if I want to live.”

“Soph,” your jaw drops. 

“Just… trust me, okay?” your coworker wipes a tear away. “C’mon. I’ve already come up with a schedule for you. You’ll have two classes at a time, but they’ll all be doing relatively similar things, so… I had the rest of this year planned too, so… hopefully this won’t be too difficult for you.”

You allow yourself to drop your act of not quite caring for your coworkers and squeeze the woman’s elbow gently. You don’t miss the way she flinches- it would be hard to. You immediately know why she’s leaving with such urgency.

“Don’t worry about me,” you tell her softly. “Just… keep yourself safe, yeah?”

“I’m gonna do my best,” Sophie grimaces. “If we meet during our preps the rest of this week, I can help you prepare.”

You nod. “And- and if you need any help with anything, I know we aren’t close, but… I’m here for you.”

As you transition into teaching the entire school for art classes, Sophia helps you as much as possible. You begin to combine classes, and you’re quite thankful that every teacher is a fan of your coworker’s, because they don’t ask questions about her leaving, and they are more than supportive of this decision. Although, those that don’t usually make it to the second floor aren’t necessarily thrilled about the trek they have to take to come up to your room. They just give your coworker a sad smile as they know it will probably be one of the last times they see her before she heads out and on her own. You continue to offer your support to Sophia as the days stretch on.

But she never asks for help. Instead, she whole-heartedly throws herself into helping to prepare you the best she can- everything from lugging materials up to your room to ensuring that what you’re having the older students do at least somewhat lines up with what she was planning for her younger students to make life even the slightest bit easier on you. 

And after Friday, it’s like she never existed. She completely goes off the grid. You can only hope that she’s alright in her endeavors.

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve taken over the arts for your school. You feel like you’re up to your eyeballs in clay, paint, paper mache, and pretty much any other art supply that would be able to stick to your body. You’re exhausted, to say the least. The days where your preps used to consist of cleaning up your room and settling in with a nice book are gone, and they’ve been replaced with a preparation period of running around trying to set everything up while also grading the elders’ art essays, firing up the kiln, scrubbing down tables from glue that the kindergarten and first grade students managed to get everywhere… it’s ridiculous. While you used to leave right as the teachers’ bell rang, you’re stuck staying late, and you usually come in at least an hour early to ensure that everything is as organized as it can be before your hurricanes you call students run amuck in your space. And if you’re being honest, you’ve had enough. 

So, while you should probably be preparing for the next… what feels like ever, you take your preparation period to head down to the teachers lounge and actually relax for once. You already worked through your lunch- you deserve this. 

As it would turn out, your preparation time is when the group that your boss loves has lunch. How convenient for them to all have lunch at the same time…

You give them a small wave as you practically drag your exhausted body over to the refrigerator to grab the small lunch you packed yourself this morning. You take a seat that’s somewhat distanced from the group and begin to eat.

You don’t even realize how tired you are until your eyes begin to droop and your head begins to lull forward. You have to catch yourself with a small gasp before you smack you face on the table. Of course, that draws attention to you, and your face turns about as red as Melissa Schemmenti’s hair.

“Oi,” the woman lets out a small chuckle. “Work wearing you down lately?”

You just nod as you continue to feed yourself from the tiny bag of pretzels you packed.

“Of course she’s exhausted,” another voice pipes up- Barbara Howard’s. “Who wouldn’t be exhausted after taking over art classes for the entire school. Oh dear, have you heard from Sophia at all?”

You shake your head silently before just barely offering up, “And I doubt I will. She left pretty abruptly, and from what I could tell, her situation was pretty serious.”

“Well, we do thank you for helping our classes,” Barb tells you with a sad smile. “As much as we hated to see Miss Lee go, our students are still going to get a fine arts education because of you.”

“I’m doing my best,” you sigh quietly as you finish off the rest of your pretzels. You nod to yourself as you close your bag and take another deep breath. You go to stand from your place at the table, but you find yourself seeing a few black spots in your vision. You force yourself to sit down again.

“You alright there?” Melissa asks, clearly at least a little concerned.

You nod. “Just a little tired is all.”

The green eyes that you still haven’t gotten quite right in your sketches stare into your soul for a split second. “Is that all you had to eat today?”

You shrug. “Don’t have much around the house.”

“No wonder you’re on the verge of passing out,” she rolls her eyes. Before you know it, she has a plate in front of you and is spooning some of her meal out onto it for you.

“This is yours,” you say quietly, in protest.

She dares you to challenge her as she continues to ration out her food. “And I also don’t need you passing out today… my kids have art later.”

You look to her, as if to see if she’s testing you or something. She just looks to the food pointedly and then back to you.

With a sigh, you thank her and begin to eat. “You didn’t have to,” you tell her softly.

The redhead shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. I blame it on my being Italian.”

The rest of your lunch is spent trying to subtly stare at Melissa Schemmenti’s eyes in order to perfectly capture how to draw them in your sketchbook.

When you’re finished, you sigh softly and thank her again before heading for the door.

“You should start having lunch with us if you can,” Janine tells you. “If we’re going to be working with you now, we should probably get to know you, right?”

You bite your lip nervously, thinking. Doing that would give you the perfect opportunity to observe the second grade teacher. You would probably be able to capture not only her eyes then, but different looks of hers, aside from just a standard sort of portrait. You nod. “Y-yeah. If I can fit it into my schedule, I’ll try to start coming down.”

When the redhead brings her class up to your room, she has a mug of coffee in hand too. Silently, you wish that you had a cup of coffee for yourself. The proper meal that you had helped to bring your energy up a bit, but the coffee would certainly be a nice pick me up. Maybe you can convince her to bring you one for when she picks up her-

The mug is being offered to you with the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen out of the tough teacher. “Thought you might like the pick-me-up.”

You tilt your head to the side, touched by this small but sweet gesture. “Thank you.” You take the mug gratefully, allowing the warmth of the steaming liquid to warm your cool to the touch hands.

Green eyes are rolled with a hint of a smirk dancing on her lips. 

Your days go by much nicer when you’re able to join that little crew for meals. They’re actually a lot nicer than you expected them to be. Melissa continues to bring you food, claiming that you’re actually helping her by eating some of the portions because she only knows how to cook for twelve. And when you aren’t able to make it down to the staff lounge, preoccupied with prepping new units for your classes, the second grade teacher makes her way up to you and sits with you while you continue to flit around the room and try to get everything in order. She continues to bring you cups of coffee on days where her class has art, and when her friends have art too, they usually come up with a mug and a soft, “from Melissa.”

As time goes on, you begin to show your less professional side- the side that your friends see. The Abbott crew begins to welcome it warmly, seeing that you aren’t as stuffy as you play. And in doing that, your boss begins to take more of a liking to you as well. It makes working at this school much easier. The only thing that is becoming more and more difficult as you integrate yourself into this school is the growing infatuation you have with a certain redheaded second grade teacher. She shamelessly flirts with you now, and you find yourself reciprocating quite often.

Since growing closer to the quirky little group, you have doodles of almost all of them down to a science. But there’s still one person who you can���t get quite right. Melissa Schemmenti. And for the amount of time you spend watching her and smiling with her, she should’ve been the first person you drew at the school to perfect. But you just aren’t satisfied. Or maybe you don’t want to be satisfied, because then that means you don’t really have a reason to sketch her anymore.

You’re sitting at one of the tables in the library while Ava drones on about God knows what. Your sketchbook sits in your lap as you continue to try to get her look just right- the way her eyes sparkle and her glasses sit on the tip of her nose as she clearly doesn’t pay attention to what your boss is going on about.

There’s something about this drawing that has you thinking you might just get it right this time. And because you have that feeling, you start to focus so intensely on your art that you don’t notice the meeting going on around you ends. In fact, you’re only made aware of the ending of the meeting when you feel a familiar hand on your shoulder.

“Wow,” is all she breathes softly as she looks at what you’re working on. “Is that… is that me?”

Instinctively, you try to slam your sketchbook shut. You can’t believe you got so into the zone that you didn’t realize the faculty meeting was over, and you really can’t believe you were just caught in the act of sketching your coworker.

“No,” Melissa says. “Open it back up. I want to see.”

You shake your head and try to stand.

“C’mon, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” the redhead tells you.

You just shake your head again as you head out of the library, refusing to make eye contact with her. You practically sprint up to your classroom and shut the door behind you. Your cheeks burn, and your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

Your coworker doesn’t try to approach you right after the meeting. Instead, she waits until her lunch period. You don’t come down, just as she predicted. So she brings you up the portion that she brought for you. As she expected, you don’t turn when she enters your room, instead focusing all of your attention on the papers in front of you and trying to grade essays.

“You ain’t coming down?” her gravelly voice asks you.

You just wave your hand as you continue to bite at the tip of your pen. “Gotta grade,” you tell her from the little corner of your room that has a bean bag.

Green eyes glance over at your desk, and right there is your sketchbook on your desk.

“I’ll just set your stuff over on your desk then,” she says slowly as she toys with the idea of peeking at it.

You just nod along, entirely forgetting that your book is sitting there and open to the page that you were working on during the meeting this morning.

You hear her heels clicking against the tile to your desk, but you don’t hear them walking away. Only then do you look up and see that she’s once again looking at your sketchbook. And then you watch her flip a page, and you’re mortified.

The previous page is quite literally just you trying to get her eyes right- something that you finally achieved last night.

“Hun, this is-“ she’s going to say incredible, but you all but tackle her to get your book back.

“Please stop looking at my things,” you say sharply as you grab the book from her clutch.

“Have you been drawing me during faculty meetings?” she asks you as she takes the book back into her hands. At this point, she’s holding it just out of your reach, and you know she’s already seen your work, so it’s futile to try to hide the sketchpad from her.

“I’ve been sketching a lot of things lately,” you sigh as she flips through.

Her eyes gaze over the still life of the library, of your classroom, of the portraits of your coworkers, but she looks at you with a furrowed brow.

“A lot of these are of me,” she notes quietly.

You worry your bottom lip through your teeth. “I’ve been trying to get your eyes right,” you manage. “They’re a bit more complicated than the others- brown eyes, green eyes, you know?”

The redhead continues to scan your sketchbook. There’s doodle after doodle.

“You’re real good,” she whispers as she allows her fingers to gently trace the pencil marks in your book. “Like… you shouldn’t be an art teacher, but an actual artist good.”

You blush. “I ain’t that good.”

“You are,” she promises you, and her green eyes look into your own. “But if you need help getting my eyes right, you can always just ask.” She looks up at you through those long lashes, and then her eyes flit down to your lips.

“M-maybe,” you whisper, your own eyes glancing down at hers, as you lick your lip subconsciously.

“I’m honored you would try this hard to get my eyes right,” the second grade teacher says softly as she moves just the slightest bit closer. 

You give her a nervous smile. “A beautiful thing deserves to be captured just right.”

“I’d say you captured my eyes nicely,” Melissa mumbles as she allows her hand to cup your cheek.

“Oh?” you raise a brow. “Can I try to capture something else of yours?”

“And what would that be?” You can practically feel Melissa’s breath on your lips.

As you give into your desire to kiss her, you mutter, “Your heart.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[hoshinasblade]

For real, the animator had ri have been a Hoshina loyalists. Cause no way he looks that bad. For a Narumi prompt it could be funny that he gets with someone that doesn't know him. Someone who doesn't believe he is the 1st division captain because they only see him as the "wet cat" version of himself. And we have Narumi losing his mind over the fact you don't believe him

(not sure where tumblr took my post again because i cant find it lol) the budget went to hoshina and his tight shirt and there was nothing left to animate narumi properly. anyway, this is such a cute and interesting prompt because because yes, he is losing his mind over you not believing he is the cool first division captain 😆

pairing: gen narumi x f!reader trigger warnings: narumi gen is a trigger warning himself, just super short because im not used to writing anything narumi-related yet. hopefully you don't get mad at me anon for not going exactly per the ask lol my brain is a mush right now, i'll try harder on my next fics

the rich man is here, shouted the kids from the hallway. you can hear their hurrying footsteps - excited little taps that in turn triggered your heartbeat to race as well. you shut your eyes, calming yourself down.

narumi gen is not exactly a rich man; the children in the orphanage just calls him that fondly. apparently he has been dropping by for years, way back when you weren't working as a teacher yet. the older orphans refer to him as nii-san.

narumi would bring toys snd snacks for the kids, and would spend time with them until the early evening before he has to say goodbye. last time, he played video games with everyone; he brought crayons and sketch boobs for his visit today, and within an hour, it was eerily quiet - the little girls and boys holding their pencils, drawing all sorts of things.

the youngest in your herd, a six-year old boy with a missing front tooth ran to you when he saw you by the door, showing you his drawing - a stick-man figure with a knife in its hand, and an animal beside it which you were not sure whether it's an oversized dog or a giraffe.

"it's a kaiju, and narumi nii-san is fighting it", the boy explained, and you patted him in the head. "he's a captain of his team, i'm gonna be like him when i grow up!"

you looked at narumi who is sitting on the floor, but he was already looking at you. you shifted your gaze. "this is so pretty, we should display it in the art wall", you suggested to the boy who grinned at you, clapping.

"you know that it's not a good thing to do, lying to kids, right?" the children had bid narumi goodbye just past 7pm, and although some of them cried, narumi was quick to promise he would be back next weekend. you were surprised, he used to only be here once a month.

"huh?" he responded to you with confusion. you walked him out the orphanage to the parking lot outside. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"look, i know you are trying to be nice. and i thank you for that. what you've done for these kids is more than anyone else have done for them. but telling them you're some guy who kills kaiju is wrong. and telling them they can be like you?" you scoffed.

narumi's mouth was wide open before he realized you have finished your speech. "but i am a guy who kills kaiju", he replied, his hand on his chest as if he is swearing on his life. "really, i'm not lying. i'm the captain of my team -"

"right, and you fight kaiju on the daily," you finished his sentence for him.

"yes, i am a real badass, i promise!" he exclaimed when he sensed you do not believe him in the slightest. it looks comical how he looks close to panicking over the fact that you are not buying whatever he's selling. he frowned at you, and you stared at him, the eye contact lasting for a few seconds.

maybe this guy is a con-artist and he makes his living manipulating people, you said to yourself. this would make a lot of sense considering you think he has the good looks to lure people in. narumi had flirted at you once or twice before - or you wish he was flirting and you were not just reading too much on his actions.

"you know if you meet my friends, they would tell you the truth," he suggested, his voice cheerful.

"why would i meet your friends?" you asked, equally confused.

"so they can tell you that i am the coolest captain of the anti-kaiju defense force. they would also tell you i am a good man and a dependable friend," narumi said, reciting maybe the contents of his curriculum vitae to you. is he in a job interview? you wanted to ask but didn't.

you sighed in defeat. "are your friends as exasperating as you are?" you asked in jest.

"come on, let me impress you", he told you with sincerity that is almost startling. you were not expecting him to sound so genuine, so adamant at proving himself to you.

the kids will have their dinner in a few minutes and you will be needed to help out. you gave narumi one last glance before strolling back to the orphanage. "i'm off on fridays", you said.

narumi's smile could have lighted the entire street.

[ariel-s-awesome]

I hate this.

idk if its just me but i like how hater is drawn by both the show and fans in the early season as being more. bone like. like wow there's actually a skeletal structure there in them jaws and frameworks. hmmm. ... hinges

[comphy-and-cozy]

The After Party II

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: A year after your illicit tryst with your current fling and your ex-fling, you meet again. Part two to The After Party.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, mild cumplay. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Author's Note: happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! I hope your bday gang bang 2.0 makes this year's celebration one to remember. thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and for all of your unwavering support. 😘🖤

nhl masterlist | moodboard

The party is unlike one you’ve ever been to. Like a themed sorority bid night, but with a much higher budget; the decor is elaborate, a sea of blacks and reds and glitter. Candles illuminate the room, making the atmosphere feel dark. Ornate. Indulgent.

Your boyfriend dons a black leather jacket and black jeans that accentuate his thick thighs. His jacket is completely unzipped, revealing more than a tantalizing sliver of his toned, golden muscles; they’re all but bare, the deep cut lines of his abdomen, an opportunity to show off his impressive body. The silver cross branded on his bare sternum is a stark contrast to the crown of thorns perched on his head. Judas.

Your dress contrasts his outfit entirely; lace and ivory wrapped around your body, the corset bodice hugging your figure. It’s demure, but the gold necklace—a 37 sitting prettily on your exposed chest—draws the eye down to your cleavage, a sexy twist to the otherwise sweet, shy, virtuous look. Thick, feathery wings glitter on your back, enhancing the angelic look, complete with a pretty, glittering rhinestone crown—symbolic of a halo. 

A light to his dark, day to his night, heaven to his hell. Andrei’s angel. 

His brand on you runs far deeper than his name etched onto your back at his games, and though your claim on him is invisible, he wears it proudly on his chest, seizing every opportunity to show you off as his girl. It’s been there since before he made you his girlfriend, officially, but it’s only grown since then in the last year that you’ve been together.

Tonight is no exception. Andrei’s hand lingers on your side, a silent message to anyone who would dare to question who you belong to. You’re not typically one for the whole possession thing, but you can’t deny him—not when he looks at you like that.

You mingle, sipping on your cocktail, enjoying the night of frivolity—one of the last before the final push of the season and preparation for playoffs begins. Nykki and Martin make their way to you two, and eventually, the two boys depart in favor of who knows what shenanigans. 

Across the room, talking to two pretty leather-clad demons, is the handsome brunette from your past. His handsome, warm smile is plastered across his face, no doubt letting some pretty words doused in honey drip from his mouth. You ignore the pang of—something—that bubbles in your chest at the sight, not even wanting to spend the time identifying what it is.

As if he can sense it, his eyes glance up and lock with yours for the briefest of moments. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he lifts his beer to his mouth, winking so quickly you’re not sure if you imagined it. The next moment, he’s back to his flirtatious antics, laughing jovially at the taller of the two girls flanking either side of him.

You return to your conversation with Nykki, though you feel his gaze flitting back to you, burning a hole in your side, tempting you to look his way. Glittering disco balls hang from the ceiling, illuminating the walls with the light from the candles’ flames, and you ignore the urge to glance over at him again.

“Your outfit is so cute,” Nykki’s saying, fingers caressing the feathers on your wings. “And I love your wings!”

With a smile, you thank her. “I was going for a bit of a sexy angel vibe, you know?”

“I’m sure Andrei appreciates that very much,” she replies with a knowing smirk and a gentle nudge of your elbow. You chance a look back to the corner of the room, but the handsome brunette you’ve been making eyes at is gone; you don’t dare to turn your head to look for him, not standing next to Nykki. 

Soon enough, she gets called away, and you’re left alone, uncomfortably vulnerable at a party where you still don’t quite feel like you belong, despite having attended several events as Andrei’s other half. Swirling the ice in your cocktail glass, you’re about to down the rest of your drink so that you can head back to the bar before you search for your boyfriend. As the rim of the glass touches your lips, you feel a looming presence approach your left side.

“Should’ve known you’d copy me,” says a voice that you know all too well. Out of instinct, your head turns and you’re blessed with the sight of Brady, up close and personal. His dark hair, peppered with gray, is messy, styled that way, a strand falling lazily in his face—he looks more like James Dean than an angel, with the suave and confident demeanor. 

“I think I look way more angelic than you,” you say, eyeing the loosely buttoned linen top and expanse of his chest. He looks so effortlessly cool, the high-waisted, wide-legged ivory slacks hanging loosely as he’s leaned against the wall with an air of nonchalant swagger.

He watches you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. The beer bottle rests loosely between two fingers and his thumb. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Your face grows hot at the callout and your eyes dart away, embarrassed. You’re sure he’s smirking now, feeling the burn from his gaze.

“You do look beautiful, though.”

Brady’s voice is lower as he says it, almost like he’s dropped the confident, playboy facade. You thank him shyly, and in the blink of an eye, the curtain’s back up, the smirk plastered back on his face.

“Where’s your man?” he asks casually. He might as well have been glancing at his nails, but you have the feeling his question is far from innocent.

“Think he’s out playing Spikeball on the patio,” you reply, head craning to try and spot him through the window. He’s exactly where you thought, grinning after slamming the ball into the net, fist bumping Marty in celebration. You smile.

“And he left you alone? Looking like that?”

You shoot Brady a glance, the bold flirtation alerting you to his potential motives. It is his birthday, after all, and you certainly gave him a birthday to remember last year. 

Your eyebrow raises. “What’s it to you?” 

“Well,” he says, slipping a hand into his pocket, “I know if you were my girl, I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

Heat floods your body, white hot and scorching straight through your bloodstream at his blunt words. You sip at your drink, desperate for something to alleviate the dryness in your throat. “That’s not very angelic of you to say, Saint Skjei.” 

“Aww, but baby, we both know you’re far from angelic. Don’t we?”

This time, in addition to the warmth on your cheeks, you also feel a deep throb between your legs. His words beckon a flashback of strong hands—4 of them—caressing your body, driving you to the height of pleasure; of the feeling of being so delightfully full. 

“Baby, come outside and—oh, shit, hey, Skjeisy,” Andrei’s deep voice echoes, veering from his path to you to give his teammate a clap on his back. “Birthday brother.”

Brady offers your boyfriend a wide grin and a clink of his bottle against Andrei’s glass. Your cheeks burn as they flank you, tall and looming and so large compared to you. The memory of last year’s celebration lingers, flooding your mind with a foggy heat that suddenly makes it a little bit hard to breathe.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, looking at you with a smile, like he can see the mist clouding your brain. “What’d I miss?”

“Just telling your beautiful girlfriend how fuckable she looks,” Brady says, unabashed. If you weren’t used to his antics by now, you’d be surprised at his boldness.

Andrei pauses for the briefest of moments, registering the implication behind his friend’s words before he’s turning to look at you, a mischievous expression on his face. “She does, doesn’t she?”

By now, your pulse is racing, practically sweating under the heated gaze of both men standing before you. You watch both of their eyes roving over your figure, undoubtedly envisioning filthy things; you wonder if either of them notice the way your pulse beats in your throat.

“Malyshka, tell him what I told you earlier tonight.” Andrei’s command is gentle, light-hearted, but there’s a longing behind them. 

Surging heat goes straight to your cheeks, burning at having to repeat Andrei’s words. You glance at him, and he nods encouragingly. So you swallow, murmuring, “Y-you said you were gonna fuck me how I deserved to be fucked tonight.”

Amusement flickers in Brady’s eyes, along with a blue flame that matches the one glowing inside you. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Like the only girl lucky enough to fuck me on my birthday,” Andrei finishes for you. A statement of pride; pride in the ownership you have over him, too. 

The fire in Brady’s irises grows, burning bright. You watch an entire cinema of filthy thoughts run through his mind; you’re sure all three of you are thinking the same thing—it’s Brady’s birthday, too. And you are a lucky, lucky girl.

Tension is thick in your little triangle, almost like you’re sizing each other up. Andrei’s eyes dance to yours, and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear, “You want him to come home with us, dorogoy?”

Your gaze locks with Brady’s, who couldn’t have heard your boyfriend’s question, but looks like he’s waiting for your answer all the same. Keeping your eyes on his melted chocolate ones, your only reply is a subtle nod, and you feel Andrei’s smile against your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, you step into Andrei’s apartment after the world’s most excruciating Uber ride with the heat of Brady’s leg pressed against yours, his hand drawing slow, teasing circles on the inside of your thigh. Andrei had sat in the passenger seat, making idle conversation with the driver, Brady chiming in regularly, as if he wasn’t driving you into a slow descent into insanity. It was almost enough to make you mad, had you not been spending all of your effort trying not to make a mess on the Uber’s leather seats. 

You watch the way Brady’s eyes flare with heat when he follows the two of you into the kitchen, eyeing the quartz countertop. His eyebrow arches with a glance at Andrei, a silent message sent in the quiet of his apartment. The brunette slinks up beside you, a warm hand caressing your waist, and all at once you remember.

“I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

He catches your eye, a wink at you as if he knows you’re remembering his words. “So pretty.”

“So are you,” you whisper shyly. His lips curl into a grin, making him look even more handsome. 

Brady stalks closer to you, all too similar to a predator stalking its prey; the only thing missing is David Attenborough’s dulcet tones, narrating his actions like a wildlife documentary. Despite the itch in the tips of your fingers to touch his skin, to drag your hands through his hair, you back away from him until you’re caught between the kitchen island and his large, looming body. Andrei seems content to watch the scene in front of him play out, standing behind you on the opposite side of the island. 

“Wanna kiss you,” Brady says, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes move to your lips. Your throat bobs in anticipation as you feel the edge of the countertop pressed into your lower back, trapped between Brady’s body and the island. “Can I?”

You nod, but you see Brady’s eyes flick behind you, silently seeking approval from your boyfriend. Andrei must have given it, for the next moment, Brady’s smiling, hand moving to thread through the curls you’d styled earlier that day. His lips brush against yours, feather light, teasing, waiting.

The pause is agonizing, time momentarily standing still as your heart thuds against your chest before Brady finally, finally presses forward to kiss you fully. It’s sweet, far sweeter than the mischievous glint in his eye or the seductive lines he’d traced on your leg in the Uber; for a moment, he really is the angel he’s dressed as instead of the carefully hidden sinner’s persona.

It doesn’t take long for Brady to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands move from your waist to knead at the globes of your ass. His lips curl upward as he swallows your moan, lifting you easily to set you on the countertop. Warm hands slide up the front of your bare thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up to reveal bare, sensitive skin.

The shift in position allows you to press your body into him, knees settling on either side of his hips as he steps between your legs. Your makeout gradually shifts from sweet and timid to passionate and scorching, whimpers slipping out of your throat as his hands slide the straps of your wings off your shoulders. 

Brady’s lips trail over your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine when his lips find the spot on your neck that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back, allowing him easier access to suck a mark into the tender skin. He places a hand behind your head, supporting your neck, guiding you slowly down onto your back.

The countertop is cool against your bare shoulders, your large, feathery wings no longer digging into your skin. You shiver, not from the temperature of the quartz, but the heat from Brady’s gaze as he tears his lips away from you, standing slowly. His hands blaze fire down your legs, trailing a fingertip lightly down your calf before grasping an ankle in each hand, making a slow show of spreading your legs. 

“Forgot you like to wear these little tiny things you call underwear,” he muses, running a thumb along the sodden lace covering your modesty. 

Andrei, no longer interested in sitting on the sidelines, lets his palm coast over your chest, over your breast, over the bunched up fabric from your skirt, feeling for himself what Brady describes. “You’re soaked already, malyshka.”

Already, just the touch of their hands on your body lights it on fire, and you sigh as Brady’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your calves. Your pulse quickens, nipples instantly hardening when Andrei pushes the top of your corset top down your torso, freeing your breasts. His hand offers a small reprieve from the cool air when it massages one of your breasts, humming approvingly at the way your spine arches into his touch.

“He’s good with his hands, isn’t he?” Brady coos.

You nod, and Andrei smirks at you. Lord knows how many times he’d brought you to a euphoric release with just his hands alone, skilled and strong and wicked in their promise. As if to prove the point, he pinches your peaked nipple between two fingers, earning a yelp from your mouth. But then his hand trails farther, two large fingers digging into the damp lace and tugging it to the side; you gasp quietly at the cool air that hits your most intimate area, the sound melding into more of a moan when you see the heat in Brady’s eyes as he gazes at your folds.

The dynamic is clear: Andrei, revealing you to his friend, presenting you on a platter—or, in this case, his kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time,” Brady comments, his voice low and husky. “Not really.”

Your core clenches at his words, anticipation buzzing through you. Brady smiles, licking his lips. Above you, Andrei nods once, and the brunette needs no more encouragement to sink lower until he’s eye-level with your cunt. He draws a finger through your center, collecting some of the dripping nectar with a click of his tongue.

“This for him,” he asks, jerking his head toward Andrei, who has resumed the gentle knead and massage of your breasts, “or me?”

Another pinch of your nipple has you whimpering. “Wh-who says it can’t be both?”

A low chuckle sounds from Brady’s throat, a smug smile curling up on his handsome face. “Knew you liked being shared, pretty girl, just didn’t know how much.”

He delves into your core like a man starved, long laves of his tongue ending with a flick against your sensitive clit. By instinct, your back arches and your hips raise to meet his mouth, seeking out more of the pleasure that blooms through your body as he presses his face against you. “So sweet, baby.”

Brady is good with his mouth, and he knows it. Expertly, he alters between flat licks of his tongue and sucking gently on your clit, with a precision only someone with experience can manage. It doesn’t take him long to remember what makes you tick, how you gush around his tongue when he slides it inside of you and fucks you with it. 

Just as the energy starts to build deep within you, you’re crying out when he abruptly tears himself away from you. “Brady—”

“Hmm?” he asks, sharing an amused look with Andrei. “What’s wrong?”

“Need—need your mouth.” You can’t help the whine that accompanies your words, the desperation that crawls under your skin.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” 

You lick your lips, guiltily glancing back to catch Andrei, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk painted on his face. 

“He has a nice mouth,” you say, as if to justify your unrestrained desire for the man who isn’t your boyfriend. 

Andrei hums. “So do you, kisa. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Lay your head back for me.”

You do as told, and Andrei tugs you toward him a few inches so your head is leaning off of the countertop. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

Andrei leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, and you sigh into him, the familiarity of his mouth helping to alleviate some of your nerves; the pulse between your legs is all but forgotten under his attention. As he pulls away, he purses his lips, dropping a long, thick wad of saliva into your open mouth. You feel the slow drip of it against your tongue, slipping down your throat as you swallow obediently. 

“Khoroshaya deovochka,” he murmurs as he stands to his full height. Good girl.

The praise makes your nipples tighten as you shiver. You can feel Brady’s hot breath on your inner thigh, can feel the heat from his gaze as he takes in the sight of your open, wet, waiting core. His lips against your skin makes you jolt slightly, a sigh breathed out against Andrei’s tip pressed against your lips.

“God, I missed eating this pretty pussy,” Brady says, his tongue flitting against your entrance, teasing you. You can feel the way your pussy throbs under his attention, like she knows she’s mere moments away from relief.

Andrei chuckles lowly, his eyes no doubt stuck on the brunette working his way between your thighs. Your own throat bobs in anticipation, waiting for Andrei to push his tip past your lips and into your open mouth.

Then, as if following a countdown that only they could hear, Brady’s fingers broach your eager entrance, simultaneous with the gentle push of Andrei’s length to meet your tongue. Swiftly, steadily, they fill you up with a practiced precision that makes your toes curl, the sensation so complete and fulfilling—pun intended. 

Your Russian is patient, feeling the gasp as Brady works another finger into you before his hand slips into your hair, holding your neck steady while he presses his hips forward. He tests his own restraint, inching in and out while your mouth and throat accommodate and adjust to his size, your tongue flatting against the top of him.

Brady’s mouth joins his fingers, sure to catch the slick pooling around your entrance; he probes and teases with the tip of his tongue, taking his time to re-learn what makes your spine arch and the breath catch in your throat. He groans, exhaling lowly against your center, eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you.

“So fucking sweet. Svech, do me a favor and fuck her face a little harder so I can feel her gush on my tongue.”

“Aye aye,” Andrei says with a smirk, a mock salute before his other hand is placed on the other side of your neck, stabilizing your face before he gently picks up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes water at the intrusion, at the different angle of his cock in your throat, breathing steadily through your nose.

Soon enough, your boyfriend has a consistent rhythm, and any whine you want to let out is blocked by his length lodged in your airway. He hums, smugness dripping from his voice, “Love watching the outline of my cock in your throat, kisa. You take me so well.”

The praise alone makes heat surge to your core, right into Brady’s eager mouth, and he moans, choking out, “That’s it, baby.”

His pace picks up, directly correlating to the flutter in your belly, to Brady’s tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips roll against his face, seeking out that delicious friction that will have you hurtling into euphoria. His head is too far to reach with your arms, so you occupy your hands by taking to your breasts, massaging and tweaking at your nipples while Andrei continues his rough thrusts. Streaks of saliva marr your face, frothy and wet, leaving filthy evidence on his usually pristine kitchen floor.

For a fleeting second, you wonder what this must look like; you, spread wide and waiting on your boyfriend’s counter, getting stuffed at both ends by two handsome, talented men, both eager to drive you to your peak. It’s the image of your body between them that has your release barreling through you, a choked groan sounding out despite the intrusion in your throat. Brady groans, mingled curses and praises slipping out while he works you through the waves of your climax.

Andrei doesn’t let up, not until Brady’s pulling away from the apex of your thighs, the scar on his chin coated with your orgasm. He helps you up, admiring the swell of your lips and the tear tracks on your face before he smiles and presses a wet, musky kiss against your lips. “So pretty. Even prettier when your face is a mess like this.”

“You wanna take her cunt this time? My treat.” Andrei asks with a grin wide enough to reveal his missing tooth.

“I’d be honored,” Brady says with a mock nod of his head, his eyes flicking to yours with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, malyshka,” Andrei murmurs, lifting you easily in his arms to take you into the bedroom. He deposits you on the bed, positioning you to leave room for Brady to follow and kneel before you. Your eyes draw to the bulge in his pants, the thin fabric doing little to hide his modesty as Andrei helps you to remove what’s left of your costume.

“You want it?” he asks in a teasing tone. 

“You got to taste me,” you say, blinking up at him. “It’s only fair I get to return the favor.”

Andrei sniggers at your quick remark. “So eager, my pretty little slut.”

The name sends heat coursing through your body, radiating particularly between your legs. Brady moves to remove his expensive trousers, and soon, you’re presented with a mouth-watering view of his very impressive, very erect length. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips, eager to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

Of course, Brady can’t resist teasing you, gripping himself loosely as he taps his tip against your cheek. Your mouth opens, impatient, but he doesn’t give you what you want; not yet. Instead, he drags the head across your lips, slow, teasing, agonizing. 

“What a good girl,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, but then he winks at you. “So obedient.”

Brady’s instruction is simple, just a soft, “tongue out,” before he’s running his tip over it, pressing himself firmly against your tongue. You sigh out at the taste of him, precum already dripping onto your waiting taste buds, earnestly wrapping your lips around his tip as you take him into your mouth.

Beside you, Andrei draws the slightest attention back to himself by divesting himself of his clothes, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. You feel a warm, large hand running along the curve of your ass, giving the flesh a squeeze before his fingers probe lightly at your entrance, testing the slickness he finds there. 

As you work at Brady’s length, jaw opening wider to fit more of him into your mouth, Andrei’s hand slides up just a few inches higher, and all at once the agreement from earlier sinks in.

If Brady was going to fuck your pussy, then that means…

Almost like he’s reading your mind, Andrei chuckles behind you when you gasp with realization. Not long after, the pad of his finger presses gently against the tight bud, teasing and prodding. For a brief moment, you tear yourself away from Brady to crane your head, just in time to see Andrei spitting onto his fingers, coating them with his saliva before bringing his hand back down to your backside. He smirks at you, then winks at Brady as his first finger teases you, your mouth falling open at the feeling—not enough.

But Brady clears his throat, not pleased with the lack of attention, and his hand gently turns your head back to face him. “Back to work, sweet girl.”

Ever eager to serve, you do as you’re told, only this time, you moan around Brady’s length as Andrei presses the tip of his finger past the puckered ring. Slowly, he eases it in, carefully testing the depth with slow, gentle pulses as your body relaxes to the foreign sensation. Your tongue lolls against Brady, whimpering as you do your best to stay focused on him.

Whether it’s to help you or just to show some dominance, you aren’t sure, but soon Brady’s hand is threading through your hair, gripping it into a ponytail at the base of your skull. Slowly, he pushes your head forward, watching the way his length slides between your lips. The beautiful brown of his eyes lock with yours, monitoring your reaction as he gradually increases the pace. His hold is firm, the tug on your hair just hard enough to have you shivering.

Soon enough, he’s fucking your throat, and Andrei’s eased two fingers into you, priming you for what’s to come. Spit, drool, and tears track your face, a frothy mixture pooling at your lips when Brady finally pulls out. He smiles, admiring his handiwork. “Love that throat of yours.”

Andrei hums behind you, his thumb brushing against your clit and nearly making you jump. “Baby, you’re dripping. You like when Brady fucks that pretty mouth?”

You nod, licking your lips with a smile. Brady winks at you. “Love fucking all of your holes, darlin’.”

A fresh wave of heat gushes between your legs, accompanied by a slap to your ass and a Russian curse. His fingers flex inside of you gently working you open. “Get to it, then,” you challenge him.

“Aw, baby, I’m flattered,” he says with another smug smile. “But I think I want to watch that pretty boyfriend of yours fuck your pretty little ass first.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you turn to look at Andrei as he’s retrieving his bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. The liquid is cold on your skin, warmed quickly by his hand, finger pressing into you. He eases you open, adding another finger, and then another, until he deems you ready for his more than considerable length. 

“Ready, malyshka?”

You cast a glance at Brady, who smirks at you with darkened eyes, like the sight of you on your hands and knees and three fingers in your ass is nearly sending him over the edge. “Fuck me, Drei.”

When Andrei presses into you, you wince at the stretch as you adjust to the sensation. He sucks in a breath, murmuring a low curse in Russian. Gripping your sides, his hands squeeze tightly as he waits patiently for your approval to keep going.

Brady hums as he greedily drinks in the sight of you. He murmurs low, filthy promises to you, watching intently as Andrei patiently pushes deeper; your mouth falls open as your body adjusts to the stretch, his more-than-adequate width nearly enough to make your eyes cross. 

“Doin’ so good for me,” is Andrei’s gentle purr, groaning as he starts low, shallow thrusts. Your fingers grip into the bedsheets, gasping out. By the time he’s thrusting at a steady pace, tears are already pricking at your eyes from how blissfully sinful it feels, his tip directly nudging into the spot that makes you see stars. 

Andrei fucks you thoroughly, until you’re a mumbling, shaking mess. Your body arches as his large hand traces its way down your spine, coming to rest at the base of your neck; he presses you down into the mattress, just slightly, just enough to make your breathing a bit more labored. He leans forward, too, and you cry out when the action shifts his cock even deeper inside of you. Lips dot gentle kisses against your shoulder blades, accompanied by slow, shallow thrusts as your body trembles beneath him.

“Come,” is all he says; a command and a plea all at once. He doesn’t have to say anything else, only keep his movements steady until you cry out loudly as your release radiates through every bone in your body.

Your Russian is patient, coaxing out the final waves of your orgasm as your thighs tremble from the force of it. Brain foggy, you register the feeling of fingers carding through your hair, soothing you as your vision begins to come back to you. Soon enough, you float back into reality and Andrei smiles, warm enough to feel your heart start to melt at the sight.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms solidly around you and falling onto his back, bringing you with him. Brady’s figure steps between your legs, large and looming, his eyes glued to where Andrei’s cock is still stuffed deep inside your hole. All at once, the warmth in your heart quickly turns back into desire, and your core flutters.

“You gonna fuck me, too?” Your voice is laced with challenge, a teasing lilt in your tone. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Brady quips, a dark eyebrow raised in amusement. “Want me to fuck this tight little cunt?”

“S’your birthday gift,” you say, and Andrei chest shakes with a chuckle beneath your back. Brady smiles, his eyes dragging to the place in question, spread open and waiting for him.

“Lucky me,” is his hummed response, moving his hand forward to rub a slow circle over your clit with his thumb. You whine, and Andrei pinches your sides in a silent command, holding you steady. He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his weight solid and strong beneath you—holding your body up without any effort, it seems. One of the many, many benefits of having a boyfriend who is a Big Boy.

Brady snaps your attention back to him when he steps closer to the apex of your thighs, fisting his erection as he lines himself up. His eyes, brown and molten, are transfixed on the way the tip of his cock slips into your eager and waiting entrance; he lets out a grunt at the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him.

You, on the other hand, are completely speechless—you’ve forgotten how to speak entirely, only nonsensical babbling slipping from your mouth. The feeling has you unable to focus on any one thing, consumed by how fucking good it feels to have both of them buried deep.

The two men work in sync, wordless, the same silent telepathy that they used earlier. In. Out. In. Out. Pleasure blossoms between your legs, tingly and warm as it spreads through your core, up your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and toes; you aren’t sure where you end and they begin.

“Kisa,” Andrei’s deep voice rumbles beneath you, murmuring lowly in your ear. “Feel good?”

You open your mouth to reply—yes, God, yes—but all that comes out is a jumbled moan, lilted higher when Brady presses in just that little bit deeper. He laughs, thumbs gripping your thighs tightly as he holds you open. “You kidding, Svech? Your girl loves being stuffed full of dick. These slutty little holes are drooling all over us.”

Brady’s words earn a low flutter—whether in your belly or in another area, you aren’t quite sure—but based on the growl that slips from Andrei, you’re inclined to believe the latter. His hand slinks up your side to massage at your breast, the other branding fingertip-shaped marks into your hip. “That true, dorogoy?”

Because your brain is in the process of being fucked into mush, it’s all you can do to nod, a weak, “Yes” tumbling out of your mouth. His breath is hot against your shoulder, murmurs of Russian curses low in your ear. “How lucky am I, huh? My gorgeous girl, treating me and my friend so good on our birthday.”

The deep purr of praise is like a catalyst to the heat in your veins, setting it ablaze through every cell in your body. Your back arches off of Andrei’s warm torso, and this time you’re sure that you clench tightly around both of them.

“Drei,” you sigh, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“C-come… make me… c-come—”

Brady smiles while his thumb resumes the same steady, circular motion on your clit, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or turned on at your desperate plea. For Andrei, though, it’s no laughing matter; suddenly, his thrusts become even steadier, more sure. He’s determined, hips setting a metronome that contrasts Brady’s pace, speeding up ever so slightly.

When your climax hits, it’s like time stands still: your breath, frozen in your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, a snapshot taken just as the fire ignites at the place where Andrei and Brady meet inside of you. Your body tenses, spine rigid as your legs begin to shake in Brady’s strong hands, doing little to absorb the ripple effect of your orgasm. 

“Shiiiiit,” the brunette groans, amid the mish mash of Russian and English pouring from Andrei’s mouth as his hips slow to a halt, content to feel the way your body writhes and reacts to him. 

“Think we need to do this more often,” Andrei says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice; you can see it reflected in Brady’s eyes, predatory, devouring the sight of you below him. He doesn’t need to voice his agreement out loud; it’s clear in the way he can barely resist pulling out of you to help you onto shaky feet, then to your knees on the floor.

With a blink, your gaze floats up between Andrei and Brady, standing over you, each fisting their lengths, glistening with you. Your hands dance their way up your body, brushing your hair out of the way before returning to cup your breasts. “Happy birthday, boys.”

Brady’s eyes darken and Andrei allows a low growl at the sight of you, your breasts pressed together like the sexiest canvas they’ll ever see. Both of them work their hand over their dicks, varying in speed but sharing the same intensity—the same kind of unrestrained desperation, stretching themselves for the final sprint to the finish line.

Andrei’s deep groan comes first, ropes of his release splattering across your decolletage, dripping down into the cleavage you offer. A sharp curse from Brady’s mouth precedes his own peak, cum landing on your chin before sliding down and dripping onto your chest. Your boyfriend’s eyes glitter, watching the drips meld together into a mixture of one.

Without a word, Andrei steps toward you, crouching slightly to run his hands across your chest, gathering some of the cum onto his fingers. His eyes lock with yours and, in silent reply to his silent question, your mouth opens obediently, allowing him to press his first and middle past your lips, pressing onto your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Brady says, voice a combination of a chuckle and a groan. You suck on his digits, swallowing the salty mixture of them with a flourish.

“Angel,” Andrei muses, making sure you lap every last bit of cum off of his fingers. “She’s an angel.”

———

Bonus mini scene inspired by this video:

That weekend, you’re scrolling on social media when the Canes pregame video pops up. It autoplays, and your eye immediately catches the salt and pepper hair, your heart fluttering a little bit at the sight. Then Andrei’s on the screen, and you’re smiling at seeing him feeling so confident and in his element—he’s where he belongs. 

But then you hear Brady say, “What a night!” followed by a loud laugh from Andrei, and your heart stops. They wouldn’t…

It takes another few replays to hear that Brady also says, “It’s a pleasure.”

When Andrei gets home later that night, high from a shutout win and clinching an official playoff spot, his wide smile fades slightly at the sight of you on the bed with your arms folded over your chest. 

“Wh–?”

“Tell me what you whispered to Brady before the game,” you say, a glint in your eye. 

Your boyfriend pauses, reflecting, then smirks when the memory comes back to him. His eyes flick to yours and his eyebrow raises. “You really wanna know?”

A pointed look is your only reply. 

“I told him you still can’t walk today.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season* Glittery* A Night in Paris*

[mariamakeslemons]

Kinktober 2024: Day 31 Free For All

Warning: Reader is gender neutral, aftersex and mild after care, short and abrupt ending

You all lay on the California king bed that you and John had managed to get with budgeting, a light film of sweat covering all of you along with spit, cum, and a little blood. You look to one side to see John cockwarming using Johnny’s ass and your other side has Simon whispering softly to Kyle. Scattered across the bed, toys and condoms lay used around the five of you. You take a breath and struggle up, already trying to make your brain shift back to normal in hopes of being able to clean up.

“Ah, nae yer nae,” Johnny slurs, pulling himself off John’s cock to wrap his arms around your waist and pout up at you, “Nae leavin’ us ye’.”

“Clean,” is all you can say to explain. John scoffs, sliding closer to you while Johnny’s hand trails down to shove his fingers into your entrance, which is still oozing cum.

“How ‘bout y’ try that again with more words,” John scolds, his hand moving up to your mouth. You part your lips and he starts to thrust his fingers in and out, practically petting your tongue. Two pairs of hands come from behind you, the larger settling on your hips and squeeze while the other pair start to play with your chest.

“Think they need some aftercare too,” Kyle teases, sounding more like himself instead of the fucked out version that you had ridden at Simon’s command just minutes before. You blink slowly as you suckle on John’s fingers, sliding right back into that soft and fuzzy state that John can always get you in. John hums, drawing out his fingers and smirking when you whine sadly and lean after his fingers.

“Think so,” Simon rumbles, reaching over Kyle to drag you toward them. You turn your head and press kisses to Kyle’s face, melting happily as he returns the affection while Simon massages your hip. You feel a hair chest sidle up behind you, Johnny’s head settling on your shoulder to nuzzle against your cheek.

“Bonnie thin’,” he coos playfully, snickering when you turn and nip at his nose in retaliation of being called a thing. John swats his ass before leaning over him to kiss your cheek.

“Don’ listen t’ him, Love,” John assures you, “He’s a muppet.”

“A mutt,” you mumble, giggling when Johnny showers you in light nips and kisses in his own retaliation.

“She’s not wrong, bruv,” Kyle agrees. Johnny pouts before rolling on top of you to get to Kyle. You yelp while Simon clicks his tongue and John growls.

“Get off ‘em, Pup,” John orders, swatting at Johnny’s ass, making him yelp. Johnny does, purposefully rolling off you and onto Kyle. John groans, pulling you toward him as Simon, Johnny, and Kyle end up as a tangle of limbs on the other side of the bed.

“Fuckin’ muppets,” John grumbles, cuddling you close and pressing his nose to your hair. You hum, letting your eyes flutter closed as you enjoy the feeling of John’s burly arms around you.

“Oi! Gi’ ‘em back!” Johnny whines, disentangling himself from Simon and Kyle to make grabby hands at you.

“Should’ve behaved,” John sniffs, pulling you closer. You nuzzle him closer, letting their arguing wash over you. Maybe you’ll wait to clean up, this is very comfortable.

[ranticore]

I've often seen people ask you for drawing advice(which yes absolutely!) but what kind of writing advice could you give someone who wants to start? (or just narratives as a whole)

Ok my biggest advice and the thing I always spend most time on when editing is that u should tell the audience way less than you think you should tell them. Provide information sure but don't draw connections and don't hold a reader's hand. Like for example one minute ago I was reading over a paragraph with the final two sentences (paraphrased): "The word 'faery' didn't quite make it out of his mouth [in reference to himself]. He'd never thought of himself in those terms" and my editing comment was to nix that last sentence entirely because it's just saying out loud what the previous sentence is telling us, like holding ur hand and pointing at it saying "hey this is what that last sentence meant btw". it's easy to end up with a lot of that but you need to go back and cut all of those out. think about a reader drawing their own judgements, how much more engaging it is

Other random stuff I've picked up over the years

Kerb your worldbuilders disease ur writing a story not an encyclopaedia

Read your paragraph aloud to identify repetitive or weirdly structured sentences

There should be a clear causal chain running the length of the narrative - x happened because of y, which happened because of z, and so on. No matter how many links in the chain you should know it start to finish

Written media gives you an unlimited time budget, a reader can take as long as they like with it. You don't have to make it quick and snappy. You get to show & explore things that visual media can't, so take advantage of it. Also ditch every piece of writing advice which is like "trim all the fat and also imagine camera angles and scene cuts like it's a movie" because it's not a movie and you aren't constrained into a short runtime.

First draft is rough it's supposed to be rough just write it

It's impossible to write dialogue that nobody would ever say.. easy to scoff and think "nobody talks like this" but they do

I can't in good conscience advise everybody do this but the slush draft (draft 0 as it were) of stbh was narrated entirely in first person by the pov character in each chapter, with the framing device that they were explaining their actions to a judgemental third party. This was just done for fun before any other world building or even plot it was just to get the characters right first & to sort out how they would attempt to justify their actions, when they'd try to make themselves sound better (or worse), and just their voice in general. It ended up being absolutely invaluable

[the-boy-meets-evil]

all i want for christmas - xmh (the8)

(where you want minghao for secret santa so you can prove he's not really that hard to buy something for.)

pairing: minghao (the8) x gn!reader genre: friends to lovers | fluff rating: sfw (but i still don't want minors interacting) word count: ~1.8k warnings: none, really. this is just fluff and a secret santa exchange. no pronouns used for reader.

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 14 - secret santa 💕 i'm also counting this as a drabble.

“Are you sure you want to trade for him?” Mingyu asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“For the last time, yes,” you huff out. 

Are you actually sure? No. But, this plan has to work. Every year you and your whole friend group draw names for Secret Santa. This year, you were really hoping to get Minghao. For a lot of reasons you’re not trying to share with Mingyu. Thankfully, he’s terrible at keeping secrets from you and had instantly whined about getting the hardest friend. He’s relieved you want to trade, even if he’s also a little suspicious. Not suspicious enough to hold onto the most difficult person to buy for, though. 

“Your funeral,” he says with a shrug. “Who’d you have again?” 

“Seulgi,” you remind him.

“Oh that’s so easy. She leaves notes about what she wants everywhere,” he says, satisfaction plain on his face. 

“So does Minghao, if you know where to look,” you add, keeping it a little vague.

“If you so say,” he says.

Mingyu’s not suspicious enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. Literally. Minghao is famous in your friend group for being difficult to buy presents for. Famous for not even pretending to like a present. You wonder how many presents he’s taken back in exchange for something that he wants more. Which does make the whole thing a little more daunting, especially because you’re not supposed to spend over a certain amount. That’s the whole premise of doing a Secret Santa with your friends. It’s so that you don’t have to go broke buying presents because you have a lot of friends. Of course, you’re all older now than when you started as broke university students. Still, it’s nice to hold onto the tradition. 

Now that you’ve switched, you’re nervous. Everything in your plan got you to the point of switching (and kind of how to pull off the perfect gift within your budget). You haven’t considered what he’ll say or what you’re going to say to him. Or if you’re even going to admit what you went through to make sure you had him in the exchange. You know you should just rip the band-aid off. Easier said than done, though.

The reality is that you want to be the one to give Minghao a present for a lot of reasons. You want to be able to get him something he’ll actually like. To show him that you listen to him and you know him. To show him that he’s not actually that bad to buy for, because you can tell it gets to him sometimes. That he thinks he’s just difficult, which he definitely is, but there’s more to him than that. There’s also the biggest reason you wanted to pull his name. That you have a giant crush on him. One you’re shocked he hasn’t picked up on and just as shocked other friends haven’t seemed to pick up on, either. Well, except for Seulgi. Then again, she never misses a beat. It’s useful that she knows, too, since you’re planning to ask her for help in securing the perfect gift. 

(Seulgi comes through, like the actual best friend in the world, with a killer discount on a beautiful designer scarf. Minghao hasn’t eyed that exact one, but you think you know him well enough to know that it’s still something he’ll like. It fits seamlessly into his style and it’s the kind of thing you can easily see him buying for himself. True to her word and the plan, Seulgi set aside several pieces that were returned because the brand had really weird rules about reselling things that left the store. They take returns because of the goodwill with customers, but never resell the items even close to full price.) 

When it comes time to actually exchange gifts, you’re a little nervous again. Didn’t think it through that you do this as a group, so everyone will see what everyone else got. Including the care put into your present for Minghao and the obvious, at least to you, significance. As if sensing your nerves, Seulgi shoots you a warm smile, then directs you to take a couple breaths. 

“I get to open my present first, right?” Soonyoung calls out. He’s already looking through the presents on the table. 

“You go first every year,” Seungcheol points out. 

“Right, so it’s tradition,” Soonyoung agrees. 

“Or maybe someone else could go…” Seungcheol starts. 

“Got it!” Soonyoung calls. 

“Just let him have it,” Seulgi laughs out.

As it turns out, she had him and got him a silly tiger plush and also a ticket to go to a drive through safari experience where they had tigers. Unsurprisingly, it’s a strong start and Soonyoung is thrilled. Seulgi opens her present next and it carries on just as well. It seems that everyone likes their presents, at least so far. Though, someone makes a joke that Minghao hasn’t gotten his yet. You’re still deep in thought and worry when you finally realize that your friends are trying to get your attention. It seems like it’s your turn to go next. Still somewhat lost in thought, you find your present. It’s easier because there aren’t many left and one of them is the one you bought. 

The second you open your present, it’s all you can think about. It’s a beautifully decorated scrapbook, so carefully put together that it almost makes you want to tear up. You start flipping through the pages and it’s like walking through all your favorite memories with your closest friends. The road trips and the sporting events. Concerts and beach days. Bonfires and drunken parties. A complete catalog of your best memories, without you even having to tell whoever made it. Each page is uniquely decorated without it being overdone. As you’re flipping through each page, you notice that there’s one person in more pictures than anyone else. Minghao. Is it that obvious to whoever made this that you have feelings for him? 

“I hope you like it,” Minghao says and he actually sounds nervous.

You look up at him, surprised. “You did this?” 

“Yeah, I realized after I wrapped it that I forgot to include a card,” he admits. 

“This is honestly the best gift I’ve ever gotten, thank you,” you say sincerely.

Seungcheol breaks the moment with a laugh. “Looks like you’re up next, Hao.”

“Right, yeah,” Minghao says. He clears his throat as he stands up. 

It’s a little hard for you to figure out where to look. You’re so enamored with the present you got from Minghao that you want to keep looking through it and appreciating the little details he put in. You find yourself aimlessly running your fingers over the pages. But, you also want to know what he thinks of your present. The real reaction as he opens it. Which does win out as he sits back down with his present on his lap. He’s careful as he unwraps it, almost like he’s preparing for whatever is inside. Over the years, he’s definitely been a little better about reacting to presents. Maybe he’s worried this will be another present like that. You know watching his reaction was absolutely the right choice when his eyes go wide and his mouth opens a little in shock. His fingers run over the fabric carefully before he reaches for the card. The smile when he reads the card is so genuine that your heart melts into a puddle. Maybe it’s more than a crush.

“I don’t know how you did this and stayed under budget, but thank you,” Minghao says with more emotion than you’re expecting. 

“Hey, yeah, that’s a foul! You can’t go over our budget just to get him something he wants,” Mingyu argues. 

“It wasn’t over budget, I sold the scarf. I have the receipt still,” Seulgi says.

“That’s even worse!” Mingyu argues with a pout.

“You’re just mad that someone finally got Minghao the perfect present,” Seungcheol teases. 

“I hate it here,” Mingyu says.

The conversation turns back to the remaining presents. Nobody really seems to have another comment on the moment that passed between you and Minghao over the presents. Neither of you has ever gotten the other for Secret Santa like this and it’s gone much differently than you expected. Instead of feeling nervous, you’re feeling a little hopeful. At least if your present is anything to go off. Minghao’s never put this much effort into a present. Not that you can remember, at least. Maybe, you’re not trying to get ahead of yourself, but maybe he feels a little something more for you as well. 

You’re a pretty disengaged from the conversation, especially once everyone finishes opening their presents and things turn to what movie to watch. Instead, you head into the kitchen to get someone to drink, missing the way Minghao’s eyes follow your movement. A little surprised when he appears in the kitchen with you.

“Thank you again,” he says quietly. It still makes you jump a bit. 

“Oh!” you gasp. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad you liked it. I know it’s kind of simple.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Minghao disagrees. “How did you manage?” 

“I told Seulgi that I had you and roughly what I wanted, so she set aside some returns. Only ones that came back immediately and clearly hadn’t been worn,” you rush out. 

Minghao’s touch on your arm is gentle, instantly calming. “I’m so thankful you got me.” 

“Me too,” you agree. “Well, I didn’t, actually. I traded with Mingyu.” 

“You did?” Minghao asks, seeming surprised but also pleased.

“Yeah, I wanted to get you something,” you say.

“I did, too,” he answers softly. “But, I was lucky enough to just draw your name.”

“Your present was amazing. I meant it, it’s one of the best I’ve ever gotten,” you whisper.

“It’s what you deserve. I know I didn’t spend much,” Minghao starts. 

“No, it’s everything. I can’t imagine how much time you must’ve put into this. I’m not sure anyone’s ever done anything so thoughtful for me,” you assure him, eyes soft on his. 

“You deserve only thoughtful things,” he tells you. 

“You, too,” is all you can say.

“Do you think, well, would it be weird if we got dinner sometime?” he asks and you can’t hide the shock. 

“Let’s go, you two!” Seungcheol calls.

“Like a date?” you ask, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“Forget it, it’s weird,” he backtracks. When he starts to leave, you grab his arm.

“Yeah, I’d love to, but only if it’s actually a date,” you tell him. If you thought the smile over his present was big, this is infinitely bigger. 

“How about right now?” he presses.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” you agree. 

“Then, let’s go,” he says, hand held out for you.

And you take it. It’s one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made. You didn’t even have to tell him that you’d been thinking of asking him the same thing. The holidays truly can be so magical.

i hope you liked it! please let me know your thoughts or give it a reblog if you enjoyed it 💕

[joannasteez]

the aftermath

pairing: tattooist!cm punk x reader warning: mentions of needles, and biting, and explicit descriptions and dialogue pertaining to sex. tattooist!punk (this warning is more for me cuz he makes me delusional sometimes) authors note: nothing really. just enjoy! if so, don't be afraid to let me know! inspired by @kill-the-artiste master class in ✨tension✨… please go read. RUN NOT WALK! word count: 3500 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling @2-muchsauce

in for a penny of pain, in for a beauty by the pound

@ WARNING: all work is of quality but more importantly is done with respect to the bodies health and limits

the way your apartment window faces, you never get the sun till a ways after high noon. so no. this isn't your apartment. exhaustion playing in your legs. a good, sated, tired ache. like if you bend or extend too much too quick they'll cave in and collapse without warning. they'll remind you of how horrible it is, to make assumptions about a perceived strength. especially when it's so obvious that you aren't ready to leave the cool touch of his sheets. his. oh shit. because the bedroom in your apartment doesn't get much sun with the way it faces and it for damn sure isn't cream colored and littered with wood framed portraits. memory like a teasing trickle in of rain. little droplets collecting—his teeth grazing, the patient mischief of a wolf, sinking in to pull skin—till they ripple and pool together. a throb of something journeying to live between your thighs, swirling till it breaches skin again in an effect to make you shiver, to make you shift against the sheets because he,—"you can't stay still for shit can you?"—that's what he'd said. making rough impressions in your thick soft skin. holding and groaning and amused. buried amidst the pillow of your inner thighs, eager tongue dipping to lick against the desperate pulse of your clit. whimpers and moans and near shrill begging, and—oh God—your stomach swirls. embarrassment this deep exhale as your head falls in your hands. 

and for a second, the world plummets into something disgusting. a disturbing shade of gray. laughter breaking beyond the crack open of the bedroom door. because he could be laughing at you right? mulling over and recounting the events of the night with a buddy and having a go at making you miserable enough to delight in some fucked sort of amusement at the helpless way you moaned and teared for him. but thats not what it is. it's quiet chatter and early morning comedy. little hums of his early day coarse voice and a bold, earthy warmth. coffee. your mouth watering and the emptiness in your belly going about a great terrible violence as it growls and shudders. a hickory note of something twisting the air, the back of your throat dry, and seemingly—well...not seemingly, because that sort of implies some lack in surety. you'd made good, disgusting, honest, work of voicing just how much fun you were having. that much you remember, and fortunately, you remember everything. alcohol forgone for the sake of lucidity. because you know what he is. a buddy of yours just as clean and straightedged. 

in a fuller state of honesty, it'd be accurate to say it was all like form of reverence. an eagerness to please. anything if it meant him peeling your jeans off quickly. and yes, he'd done it. but it was more patient than you'd wanted. like he was reciprocating that reverence. studying and planning. 

his dresser draws are wooden, much like the rest of his decor. a polished mahogany that brings more warmth to the room. 

rolled up t-shirts sorted in no particular fashion, the fit of it snug as it falls over. 

at the corner foot of the dresser lays last nights underwear. a predetermined pick. simple, and black and lacy. nearly tattered to bits because his patience had eventually reached a max capacity before he dove headfirst into being a damn brute. 

underwear is a hot commodity when you ball on a budget. he owes you. 

you sift for something reasonable. a checkered pair of boxer briefs that fit more like boy-shorts, but it works. slipping your jeans over them. and his bathroom isn't so much huge but it is lived in. comfortable. the tiles, a sage green with minor cracks made more from age than from some man made disruption.

and thank God almighty. he's not the three-in-one type. a wash cloth and a toothbrush laying lonely along the bathroom counter, separate from the other things. you hum. going about a quick wash up. 

and whats that saying? it's only awkward if you make it awkward. because hell, there was nothing tricky or particularly delicate about fucking your tattooist right? you could do a small stint away. go cold turkey from your favorite past time. a silent walk of semi-shame and a few months till your next appointment would do the trick. enough time to forget such a destructive allure living with his words and the way he said—"you been waitin for this for a while huh? so pretty, lettin me touch you"—things. his every expression an accusation. exposing the unspoken things living behind just barely placid eyes. desires, fantasies and half baked plots for his attention.

the pain of a needle is no worser than this. cant be. cant be worser than the creak of the floors, announcing your entrance to the kitchen. his little chuckling smile forming less loose and more attentive as he drinks you in. an unabashed performance of observation that makes the skin crawl. a shiver really. green eyes cool, heavy, and exacting, like metal. like the prick of his needles. wandering with ease—your jean dressed legs, a clinging t-shirt that rides up some as you walk and the slow but sure appearance of indentations about your neck that indicate his penchant for tasting, biting —while stuck between a casual, early morning call and your performance of feigning indifference. 

he hums. a response to whoever is holding him over the phone. tongue slipping over his bottom lip before he's turning back to the stove.

coffee sits in a mug littered with dog breeds. the steam of it curling up thick. a plate half dressed next to it. just finished buttered toast and still hot eggs. his arm reaching over to drop bacon on it. teeth baring as he laughs into his call. flits of his eyes that motion for you to eat. stationing to lean against the long stretch of marble that makes up the kitchen island. a focused attention. assessing your quiet take to indulging in whatever this is. because he didn't need to make you breakfast, didn't need to brew you coffee and leave you comfortably tucked in the sheets. but then again, he'd more than generously put you to sleep. wore your nerves and bones down. rendered you to a bout of tears even. yeah. he owes you breakfast. your fork digging into the eggs. and a new pair of damn underwear. 

"yeah, i need you opening up shop for me today...", he gives. a sweet, feminine voice sighing deeply over the other end. loud and long enough to reach you. something in your stomach swirling odd and quite disgusting. sharp and twisted up. "...i'll be a little late, got caught up in something this morning...", the folding over of the words along his tongue giving your skin a chill. a ride of a shiver up your back. his eyes slipping over your face. a pale green leaving their edged, assessing, impressions. "...i owe you one...alright...", his thumb tapping the screen to end the call. 

the bacon is salty on the tongue. satisfies the nothingness on your palette. your fork poking dumbly. like you'll find brilliant words amidst the plate. a sick little smirk on his mouth. loving your inability to look at him without wavering. 

why in the absolute hell did you fuck this man? the fit of his boxer briefs odd under your jeans. poorly shaped to hips and thighs, the material not made to take that kind of stretch. 

"you owe me new underwear...", that declaration of it too feathered. not strong enough. not sure. his lips spreading more. joy taking his face up wholly. feeling it as he casts his eyes over you. "...i'll send a receipt or something...".

"noted. how do you like to take it?"

excuse me? your throat drying up. fingers clutching the fork tight. your belly flipping stupidly quick. too damn excitable. 

"what?"

the mug of coffee he'd poured for you in his hand. the sugar jar close by. spoon ready to be used for it's stirring purpose. an elation pouring from his cheeks that makes you want to curl in. "coffee". a slow, near patronizing reiteration. "how do you like to take your coffee". 

"oh...", breath a little caught in your throat. the unsettled frenzy under skin an oddity. because this very regular, slightly older, very good looking, self assured man, shouldn't have such an affect. "..um...a little sugar, a lot of cream". 

and he does it to perfection. listens and performs. giving short flits of his eyes to yours. stirring and assessing. an appraisal. your neck heating from the sensation of being examined. satisfaction brightening him up at such rough handy work made the night before. smug fucking asshole. that curling scrape of the spoon against coffee filled porcelain winding up your curiosities to a nagging degree. sensitivities under the skin too plain and forthright to ignore. too well suited actually. like they've taken up a comfortable residence after just one night of being made pliant. had others felt this way once upon a time? sat where you sit now? being made by themselves to snuff out the disgusting giddiness of some post-night spectacle. a green, rotten, world of a feeling in the pit of your stomach now. 

"do you—...", finding the phrasing, forming properly on the tongue, "...you usually get caught up in... things...like this?" 

a scoff but it's fully amused. his lips spreading, a chuckle slipping into words. "is that a 'do i regularly fuck my clients question', cause if so then no". the mug sliding along the marble island. coffee prepped pluming thick still. "you're the first. congrats". 

this fucking guy. "oh?"  that bite of irony in him, troubling the skin playfully, as if to lure you out from behind that disconcerting wall you've so diligently built, in an attempt to evade him. his eyes and that little smirk he feels the need to keep along his mouth. "i didn't realize you were some sort of prize". 

his head tilts, gaze slipping up and over and about. appraisal again. the look you give at the arrival of an object of affection, desire after some time. a satisfaction born from the restoration of a familiar, comfortable thing. your jaw shifting soft as you chew. lips pursing over the mug to sip tenderly. a drip of coffee falling off and away from your mouth. his pace quick as he plucks a napkin to hand you.

"i mean...", his body leaning in against the island. elbows pressing to the marble to bring him closer. his hair a little messy and untamed. "...i don't think so, but you were lettin a lot loose last night. little noises and such. i figured you were just so happy and satisfied...", grabbing his own mug to sip from. delighting in the silence, in the astonishment his teasing is leaving you to settle in. "...felt like you'd won something". 

your cheeks are warm. hot even. stomach suddenly full off of his domestic efforts of a hot breakfast. your fingers gingerly pushing the plate away towards him, but the pull and roll of your eyes speak of something a little more heated than some gingered, cautioned disposition. his cockiness doing awful work. irking your nerves and reeling you in just the same. and maybe it's your turn to appraise. to examine and assess. his early morning, kitchen attire very obviously calculated enough to bring about some dead-brained, teenaged, short circuiting. chest shirtless and his legs covered in mesh shorts. arms tatted and muscled. grays and dark brown hair like a fine patch work on his face. admirable things of course, but you've already, obviously, given yourself away in revealing how much of it you find appealing. he doesn't need more. 

an attempt to bruise should work. if not successful, at least give it a go right?

"you were alright", you shrug. chest hammering, near implosion. his eyes casting down, daring for an evasion. "i give it an A minus. there's always room for improvement". 

"ouch", he laughs. a wide, bright, light expression. dumping your finished plate into the sink. "if i knew i was getting tested on performance, i'd have strove for higher marks...". sipping from his mug again. a head shake to express disagreement. "...but some of the judgement here is a bit range-less...doesn't really grasp the full effect of my—"

"dick?"

you stiffen just after the leave of it. a thought never meant to be expelled but here you are, fighting the urge to curl in and hold your head. heart beating terribly hard. embarrassment rife. 

"...capabilities...but now i see where your heads at. i think this is grounds for some rescoring. you're impaired". 

"by what exactly?" 

he hums. that head tilt again. "you were a little eager last night, which, given how long you been wantin and schemin, is very understandable, but those good, true bits of judgement are from how well you can savor it right? you gotta stop and smell those roses". 

you scoff. "scheming is a reach". 

his eyes roll. pushing off the edge of the island. "an observation". shuffling back slightly to make a bodies worth of space. his hand motioning. "come here". 

"for what—"

"please", like he's sweetening the give of a request. an appeal. like he knows just the chord to strum to produce the work of some easier follow through. 

eyes softer but exacting. a clever lure in. like last night. like when he fit and slotted his mouth against yours and breathed deeply. fingers gentler and patient, pushing in to soothe the quake of your thighs. your body undone beneath him. performing a beautiful release with the song of all those little noises he couldn't help but to bring up now for his amusement. palms slipping between your legs then for more. to spread and curl. a dangerously steady feed in, swirling along the tender beginning of your pussy. toying and prodding, suckling your neck, and then a knuckle deep stroke that sorely excites already sensitive nerves. your legs pressing in to trap him to a stillness. his mouth at your ear. hot breaths, your skin shivering. a kiss to the shell of it before his delicate "please". that manner of request unfolding your legs easy. the simplicity of it forcing you to moan for him as he'd sought to take more from you.

your thighs press together hard, memory bursting till its coursing along every bit of skin. but you don't make to indulge him. testing the waters of this defiance. because he's obviously looking to stretch some authoritative muscle. "open, spread, be still", those the tender taste of his commands filling your mouth as he kissed you last night, and in your daze you complied swiftly. as eager as he'd said you did. the whole of him used to control. used to finely straddling lines of danger and succeeding well. what with his needles and their sharp, biting impressions. so no, you don't move, letting the thickness of the air settle deeper. playing at a naive rebellion done only by fragile little prey thought invincible. because this is it, isn't it? the thing that gets him going. sets his bones hot and fingers achy. 

it's a finger over licks of a fire, a push of the limit after already being burnt to a beautiful consumption. your brows pulling. hands palming your knees tight. "you bite". 

he smirks. bares teeth. steps calm to cover the distance. the patience of a wolf. "only upon request". 

his island chair is one that swivels. a short creak breaking as you turn to face him. laughing breathy, wry, shifting in place, searching for comfortability under the weight of his presence. his hard body slotting between your thighs. coffee on his tongue as he nears, mouth ghosting shy. his nose slipping at yours. a hard swallow in your throat as you feel him press in to wedge you against the chair and the island. "i never asked", a little docility to your voice. adverting your eyes, closing them, to refuse his own, another small performance. something refractory. his chest warm as you press forward into him. a hot hand running up along your back till its situating to cradle your nape. 

"you didn't oppose". 

his teeth sinking in to pull at your bottom lip. sharp enough for an abrupt wince. attempting to pry yourself from his grip, that palm at the base of your neck strong. corrective. short breaths huffing into his mouth as he kisses your lip. a light play at a remedy. the affection of it sweet and dotting enough that you rush in for more, much to his sudden displeasure. his throat humming, the confirmation of some long standing observation. the column of your neck warm from the run of his free thumb. that slip of a touch shivering you whole. hands gripping into the waist band of his shorts. knuckles aching. a terrible make at reprieve.

"being skittish is just a natural little condition of yours huh?" 

"no". your voice airy. feathered for him. 

"so just with me then?...", skimming his mouth at your cheek. a simple kiss to the apple of it. "...cause i can't really give you what you need when you're all excitable and eager like this...". another lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth. "...need some patience".

a near unbreathable daze forms about your head. eyes dim. the scent of him filling your nose till its blooming in your lungs. fingers curling and sweeping and releasing along his skin. at old tattoos and taut muscle. a pulse at the heart of your thighs that teeters your nerves on the verge of inconsolable. his fingers squeezing perfect at your neck. a purr of a moan in your mouth. "what else do i need?" 

his mouth slots for a full kiss, done up with breath and purpose. your palms holding firm at his waist for stability as he pulls you in. "a little direction". his tongue peaking to slip. a lazy lick at yours. your breath hitching at the wet curl of it. lips parting to receive. smirking as you whimper against him. "don't need you gettin distracted, then all of your attention gets eaten up by trivial little shit. you start making the real poor decisions then". 

"like pepsi logo tattoos...", you muse. "...and fucking your tattooist raw...", a languid, tongue filled kiss. air harsh through the nose to make up for the overtake of his mouth. the slipping noise of it lewd to the ears. makes your skin hot. hotter. urges erupting sure. a fragile hiss playing off your mouth, his teeth finding refuge over your lip again. a grunted moan hitting the air. his hands tucked under your knees, rushing to pull your thighs in, body at the edge of the island chair. you feed your tongue in again. eagerness unabated. "...you're not the first man with too many gray hairs trying to be my handler...", a snicker thats more like a scoff. a teasing tug at the waist band of his shorts again. making to release him but never getting to it. his mouth at your chin and your jaw, nipping and licking into your neck. "...i make your dick harder just a little more than all the others so now you want to manage me? make sure no one else is gettin in on this huh?..."

he digs into your leg. a harsh pinch that makes you jerk into him. "i'd only be offended if you didn't like me so much, didn't wanna fuck me so badly", his nose knocking into yours again. a bruising kiss by the firm pull of his lips. "something tells me you like a little correction...", a hand keeps your thigh cinched to him and the other releases your other leg to journey near the zipper of your jeans. "...being commended". 

his middle and ring fingers venture between. a faint circling where your jeans cover over the throb of your clit. the pace and patience of his touching and his mouth quaking your bones. irritated with an eagerness he seems to want to handle so insistently. 

his phone rings. 

you whine in protest. the slip away of him abrupt and emptying as he fishes for the phone. 

"relax", he muses. kissing the corner of your mouth. 

but he answers anyways. settles into the call so much till his brows pull. a focus that leads into that faithful disappointment of having to prioritize. green eyes casting over. taking stock of your face. his thumb soothing your lip, just where he'd bitten. 

the emptiness grows, occupying this shitty liminal space. and it only gets worse. the neediness he'd corralled snuffed out quick. something about "forgotten early appointments" and "taking you where you need to go". 

there are many valuable little notes to give to the self. an unwieldy feeling under the skin as you make to get your belongings. going about a terrible attempt of acting like he wasn't just about to give you a three-peat of last nights little fun. so close to feeling all of him just meticulously fed into you. 

the biggest note of all though. toughing your shoes on. annoyance playing unabashed. don't fuck your tattooist. 

[jamorbital]

Mailbag III ✉️

Wow, there were a bunch this time. Thanks everyone!

@theloramir:

Me! 😷

If that doesn't count… Hmm. Cynthia from Pokémon? Or maybe Tifa?

@scout90-again:

I've been interested in it for as long as I can remember. Even when I was really little, I liked to tie up dolls with string and put pieces of tape on their mouths. A bit more on that in an earlier ask here.

(MORE UNDER THE CUT)

@noteverysaurisadinosaur:

Uhhh... I'm gonna say... Golden Toad. I like Dodos too, but I'm guessing that's the "everything but country and rap" of this question.

@directivexero:

Aw thanks!

Lately I've been slowly making my way through The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles! I play it in bed each night to settle in before I go to sleep. It's like a good book. The fickleness of the jurors always makes me laugh.

Another recent one I liked: Thank Goodness You're Here! It's basically a little interactive animated movie. Matt Berry is in it. I once saw it described as "Untitled Twat Game"

Deadly Premonition is the worst game I've ever played by conventional standards, but I'd still recommend it because it's bad in really fun ways. Bring some friends and a case of beer.

I like games that provoke a strong reaction. I'd rather play something like DP than a "good" big-budget game that's smooth and pleasing but not all that memorable.

Also on the topic of weird games: This is the secret best channel on YouTube. The more you watch, the better it gets. I mean idk, maybe other people don't see it and I'm just deranged. Still though. I've cried laughing at some of these.

@patientbard:

Summer! Lots of happy memories from childhood. I like to swim.

@nixalegos:

I don't often try to go for a specific texture, but when I do it can be tricky. In real life I love soft jersey knit fabric. Despite my best efforts, I haven't been able to nail it in 2D in a way that really scratches that kinky itch.

In general, my drawings rarely come out the way I pictured them in my head. (I think that's how it is for most artists?) If it's looking really off then I might redraw a character or body part from scratch, but for the most part I just go with the flow.

@accretion-disk-anxiety:

To eat, crab; to not eat, turtle.

@damianblack:

I'm not really into furries, but I like furries as people. They seem like fun and I admire how welcoming and liberated their community is.

For a while I've had "draw an anthro character" on my bucket list. I think it'd be a fun challenge and drawing a gag for an anthro snout could be hot tbh.

@onidrills:

What was that thing from Jurassic Park with the big neck thing and the venom? Dilophosaurus?

Aw man...

@goodboynijian:

Thank you!

For proudest: Maybe animation loops?

They're not as elaborate as some other stuff I've done, but seeing an animation come together just feels so satisfying.

For hottest: I gravitate toward a certain weirder type of piece where I draw myself (or "myself") with super-exaggerated proportions and/or humiliating captions:

It feels exciting to just go totally off the wall. I get turned on not just by drawing these, but also posting them. I guess it's kind of a public humiliation/exhibitionism thing. (Actually, that's exactly what it is.)

I used to put them up on Twitter, but it got a little too weird and embarrassing. Now I keep them behind the safety of the paywall.

@t-oppenheimer:

Smash if that counts! I used to attend locals weekly and was decently competitive at my peak. I stopped going in 2020 due to covid and never got back into it after that. I still play with friends here and there though. I'm a Wolf main. 🐺

I've also done a little SF6, but I'm still in The Cursed Zone on that one.

@microfoamgaglover:

Yes

(old pic!)

Thanks again to everyone who sent in questions! I'm feeling better now than I was this morning. If I didn't respond to you, it just means I couldn't think of anything interesting to say. I appreciate it all the same.

[ediewentmissing]

some of my eddie munson headcanons

1. loves liquorice.

i know a lot of you guys probably HATE liquorice, but something about him screams ‘i am a liquorice lover and proud of it!!’. and he doesn’t like the strawberry kind.

2. races to press the button in the elevator

“MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” “EDDIE, IT’S MY TURN!”

3. was rlly short before he hit puberty

eddie has obviously been subjected to a hell of a lot of bullying over the years, and just to add to that pile of angst, we have the idea of short eddie. gareth went through the same thing, except he didn’t grow as much. “how’s the weather down there, munson?” “fuck off, tommy.”

4. he’s either really hot or really cold

he’s wearing 3 layers half the time, and as little clothing as he can the other half. freezes during winter and sweats his ass off during the summer.

5. gets sensitive teeth

this is because he’s made himself eat a basket worth of lemons just to brag about it later on multiple occasions

6. enjoys watching b movies

those shitty low budget films? oh, yeah. eddie loves them. for one reason; he cackles the whole time over how crap they are. a great pick-me-up.

7. chews on things when he spaces out

the inside of his cheek, his lip, a pencil, and you can’t forget that one time he chewed on a pen for so long that all the ink spilled into his mouth and he was gagging in the middle of class

8. had a major crush on princess daphne from dragon’s lair

definitely fought over her with his friends. he was incredibly jealous of dirk the daring.

9. doesn’t like trying new foods

he’s attached to foods from when he was a kid (macaroni and cheese, cereal, mini pizzas, grilled cheese, and dishes from his mum) and refuses to branch out - unless you ask him to

10. swears he only listens to metal, but doesn’t

he wants to keep his ‘scary ‘music’ reputation, but it’s hard to do that when robin finds eddie’s abba and wham! tapes tucked away in his room

“i thought you were a, and i quote, ‘strictly metal-only’ guy, but i guess you were just a big pop fan this whole time” “quit it, robin”

he also doesn’t mind the country music wayne forced onto him when he was younger

11. twirls the phone cord around his finger

when he’s talking to you over the phone, you swear you can picture him clear as day; big sly grin plastered on his face, and his ringed finger wiring around the phone cord connected to the wall

12. graffitis

but only in the school bathroom cubicles and the hideout bathroom cubicles. occasionally you’ll go to one of his gigs, and then you’ll go to the toilet and there’ll be little drawings on the wall. a guitar, eddie the head, and the occasional shameless penis

13. used to ride bikes everywhere

USED to because he fell over while riding it when he was 9 and scraped his knee and declared he would never ride a bicycle again (thought that declaration broke in 1986)

14. loves roller coasters

specifically ones that take pictures of you - he loves to act all calm and collected while everyone else is screaming their heads off

“eddie, this is a terrible photo” “no, it’s a terrible photo of YOU. you look like you’ve shit yourself, and i look cool as ice”

15. thought babies hatched out of eggs

safe to say that when he learnt how babies are REALLY made, he was flabbergasted and very, very grossed out