#Wild Blue Wonder Press

[penspagesandpulses]

Guest post: Feeling Qualified to Write from a Christian Perspective by Kellyn Roth

Hi there! I’m Kellyn Roth, a Christian historical women’s fiction & romance author. I’ve been independently published for many years, and I now run my own company, Wild Blue Wonder Press, to spotlight other amazing Christian authors. Recently, I was published in the Author Conservatory’s anthology, Voices of the Future: Stories of Courage & Compassion, and Courtney was kind enough to bring me…

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: post sex scenario-ish, nikto x fem implied! reader, drunken sex implied, idk what else. might marry this man

The worst part was after the sex. Your memories of last night were probably a blur. And for Nikto, well, he'd never let himself be so vulnerable as to forget a night spent with something as sweet as you. When you had first approached Nikto, he wondered if you realized how hideous and ravaged he was.​

Didn't have the time to pull his face mask up when you trotted over, begging for a night with him. He wondered if sober you, the one buried against his sternum, would remember the rough texture of his countless scars, of the mutilated bits of his body - if you would wake up with fear, screaming for him to get out.

Yet you never gave him the chance to cower - hide away his trauma branded flesh. Somehow your grip so strong, fingers curled into his own. A python-like death grip wrapped around his left leg with both of yours. Naked. His shirt.

Oh fuck.

Realization was really hitting when he felt your soft, elongated sigh against his jaw, lips rubbing the scarred texture of his skin. The fascinating texture you couldn't get your cold fingers off of last night, even when he let you flip positions, in hopes it would lessen this touchy, needy state of yours. Nikto only achieved the opposite. You grasped at his fingers for support, hips rolling as you whimpered, letting him muffle your explicit sounds with his finger tips pressing to your lips, mesmerized by how effortlessly soft your skin was.

He was staring at you like he loved you.

And maybe you were just really drunk, lost by the feeling of his cock bruising your pretty cunt just to break entrance; followed by far too many orgasms to clear through the spilled word dictionaries in your brain. Whatever it was, you drew to a reckless conclusion. You slurred a kiss into his palm, whispering how much you loved him. A soft prayer he would stay until you woke up because he was just “so fucking hot” and you “wanted to make out with him again.”

Didn’t even fight back when he just shushed you and hid your face in his chest, desperate to not let you feel the boiling heat that surfaced in his face.

Too much for an exhausted man like himself. Couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, relishing in your sweet scent with the hint of smoke from the incense you burned. Smoke used to terrify Nikto, remind him of harsher times. Would make his heart throb and his body tremble - and yet the scent from you made him want to trace the vertebrae of your spine until you swatted at him like a small, feral cat.

The rigid sensation his dry fingertips mapped made the loud thoughts in his head blur away - even if just momentarily. The several voices which once ran rampant and rebellious within his darkest mind caverns had finally slowed. A single thought running through his mind as he curled the soft locks of your hair between his finger tips, tightening the grip and watching it feather down.

"How soft."

Not realizing Nikto had spoken his thoughts aloud, he was genuinely surprised when you finally stirred awake, a curious gaze in your eyes and a groggy "mhm?" making it's way out of your sigh. Poor man, cuddling you like you had his family in a room downstairs, eyes wide with fright, and his heart beat picked up pace. It surprised you, confused you, yet you just did your best not to scare the wild man that bubbled in his mind.

Buried your face back into his chest, kissing against his soft muscle. Biting a soft, pink hickey that flushed easily and licking away your own drool. Eyes glancing up from behind your lashes as you felt his body settle just a bit. Maybe if you were a little less in love with the big muscles and puppy, blue eyes, you would've taken his secure tighten around your body as a sign that he was about to dedicate his entire life to you. But you didn't - just let your eyes flutter shut and let your head plop back between his muscled breasts.

tagging friends :)) @yandere-kokeshi @kettlemouse @babybimbo777

[cheesecakethots]

brain rotting at the idea of being trapped with yan! gojo & geto, and being convinced that gojo is the worst of the two.

he’s always so perverse and gross, licking at your face if you cry, tackling you into tight embraces on a whim, keeping you pressed to him late at night with loud snores.

when you run, gojo is the one to grab you and bring you back, tossing you over his shoulder and laughing as he does so.

you soon start comparing him to a dog, one that slobbers all over you and bites and jumps at you at any given opportunity. he’s not like a wild dog, though. geto is akin to his owner, the one keeping him on a leash.

geto is the one who tugs him away by his hair when he’s treating your neck like his own personal chew toy, when you’re trembling in his lap with his teeth moving to bite once more.

geto is the one who pinches gojo awake when his hold on you at night has become insufferable, when he’s started to drool against your cheek and snore into your hair.

geto is the one to remind him to play nice when you start trembling and crying, when it’s become all too much for you.

that is, if you’ve been good. it’s when you haven’t that you realise geto is the one you should be more fearful of. like any dog owner, he’s adept at giving out orders.

ordering gojo to chase you down, to bring you here, to touch you there.

he’ll be the one to remind the blue-eyed man that you are sometimes in need of a stern hand, and if gojo’s not up to the task, suguru most certainly is.

it’s almost as though he knows when you’re about to act up before you do.

try and slip out the front door and you’ll be met with a particularly horrifying curse on the other side, while geto sits nearby, dark eyes on the newspaper in his lap, a leg crossed onto his knee as he reads. his full attention is on you, however he’s alright with letting you think he’ll be careless enough to allow you to be gobbled up.

he’ll watch as gojo presses hungry kisses to your lips from a nearby windowsill, lit cigarette in hand and soft smile on his lips.

it’s late at night when he’ll press himself behind you, and slip a hand under your shirt, cold fingers crawling up your stomach, another hand gently wrapping around the base of your throat while he softly hushes you, lips ghosting over your ear. it won’t take much for gojo to wake up and whine about the two of you leaving him out.

soon, you’ll start wondering why you ever thought that satoru was the worse of the two. he may be akin to a predator, but that only means suguru is all the more terrifying for having tamed such a beast.

[whoreforsexymen]

Vander 🫗 | SMUT Headcanons

Pairings: Vander x Reader, Dom!Vander x Reader

Rating: NSFW!! 18+, MDNI ! You WILL be blocked.

Pronouns: She/Her + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Word Count: 898

Tags: DaddyDom!Vander, Spit play, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Crawling, Thigh Riding, Rough Sex, Dacryphilia, Size Difference, Etc.

Notes: Just some spicy Headcanons for our big, old, husky, bearded barman 🤍 as well as some for a darker version of our big teddy bear dad 🤍

- Vander is completely enchanted by your lips. Every chance he gets, especially when he cradles your face in his hands, he can’t resist the urge to brush his thumb over them, savoring their softness. It’s also no wonder how primal it makes him feel considering how your own natural instinct is to suck the skin of his thumb gently. Every. Single. Time.

- He can’t help but prod at them until you let him breach the surface. You’re always so hungry for a taste of him, no matter if it’s his cock or his fingers. Always so insatiable, and deeply unsatisfied until moments like these when you’re greedily swirling your tongue around his finger.

- He never wastes time in hooking his thumb into your mouth, toying with making you and your tongue slave to find it. The slickness of your saliva and the sounds that follow are nothing short of immaculate, a perfect blend of neediness and yearning that leave him desperately smitten.

- The way you whimper, and the way your thighs grind together to ease the tension and aching in your clit drives him to the brink—the sounds unraveling him, each one igniting the flames of his own aches.

- He wants nothing more than to switch his fingers out for his cock— but unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to hear you as well. His fingers are slim enough to let the noise pass over them, but his cock would be a different story.

- Vander is a gentle lover by nature, but— like any part of nature, he has his more unpredictable moments. His ‘natural disasters’ or sorts. Though—you wouldn’t necessarily call them ‘disasters’.

- Just as easily as it is for him to spend hours tenderly ramming his cock into you, during more ferocious, needy moments, he’ll waste no time in fucking you senseless. Despite it mainly happening every blue moon, he knew when you needed it like this, and he knew that you’d be willing to take it on the days he needed it like this.

- You both have happily accepted that he’s a man with a wild side to be nurtured every now and then. And you’re so good at nurturing it for him. When laying in bed, he’s started fucking you from behind, quickly losing his patience for tenderness. He’s sat upright against the headboard, and pulled you on top of him, all without ever disconnecting from you for even a moment.

- With your back pressed to his chest, he cups under your knees, almost folding you in half from the way he gripped and pulled them back- as he started slamming his hips at a merciless pace. The angle had you practically foaming at the mouth, considering—with his given strength—he uses minimal effort to bounce you up and down to meet the way he was snapping his hips up into you. The way your ass bounced on his legs is a sight that constantly makes his dick twitch when he thinks back to it.

- The screams you could never bother to try stifling almost kept him up at night sometimes. Too many times have the recollections made him overfill a pint or two behind the bar counter, earning questioning glances from bar patrons. He can’t always help the way his mind wanders when he has you to ravish every night.

- Vander often says things like:

“C’mon Angel— Look at me while you suck my cock dry. I wanna see those pretty little eyes of yours.”

“That’s it— Attagirl. Atta-fuckin’-girl.”

Dom!Vander HC’s

- Will make you kneel on the ground, mouth wide open, pussy dripping, and leave you like that. He’d tell you that you weren’t allowed to swallow your spit. He’d then pull up a chair and sit in front of you, despicably far, and just watch you. He’d wait until your shirt became transparent from how much drool had fallen on it. Then—only then, would he speak.

- “Crawl…” he commands.

- You obey. You crawl to him, almost desperately quick, until you stop at his boots. He’d be tempted to make you grind on them, but he prefers his thighs for that.

- You crawl onto him, straddling one of his massive thighs.

- Just a few minutes into him making you grind yourself down on it, his blue jeans are just as soaked as your shirt.

- “Attagirl.” He’d coo as he’d start guiding your hips for you with his hands. It’s your fault if you think he’s going to let you cum anytime soon, though.

- When he halts all movement once you’re practically falling off the edge of your orgasm, he’d tut at you when you keep trying to desperately find the friction again.

- “Don’t you fight me.” He’d snap as you greedily tried to chase your orgasm, thrashing your hips around against his grip.

- He’d pull your hair and make you look at him, his other hand holding your jaw with contempt.

- Denial was his virtue. He won’t let you cum until you’re crying and begging for mercy.

- “Cry for me, Angel.” He’d command, needing to see the tears in your eyes while you begged for release.

- When you’d get too embarrassed to do so, he’d grip your face tighter.

- “Let. Me. Hear. You.” So you do. You let it out.

- And then—only then, will he slip his thick fingers in you.

- “Excellent. Such a good girl. Now. Get yourself off on daddy’s fingers, yeah?” He’d purr.

[lovebugism]

“don’t you dare touch him” eddie x shy!reader

idk i need a situation where reader never really speaks up but she finally does when it comes to eddie because she loves him sm😭

thanks so much for your request! hope you like it!! — the one where eddie melts when his quiet gf sticks up for him in front of jason (shy!reader, fluff, 2.4k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The drive from Forest Hills to the arcade is spent with Lucas and Dustin bickering in the backseat and Eddie’s hand on your thigh.

“It’s been two years, and you still can’t beat my high score, Dusty Bun,” the former boy taunts. The nickname spills like venom from his smiling face. “Just give it up, okay? It’s not happening.”

Dustin grins back at him. It’s more so mischievous than it is taunting. His deep blue eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “You are so gonna be eating your words by the end of the night. When we leave, Princess Daphne is gonna be mine, alright? For good.”

Their arguing becomes background noise. With your cheek lolled against the hand you’ve got propped against the window, you’re pulled into the wispy lilac cloud your gaze is so heavily fixated upon. The sky billows lavender against a sea of pink and golden orange — a summer sunset so vivid you can taste it.

The only thing keeping you grounded is Eddie’s palm on your knee, wide and warm and all-consuming. His thumb rubs against your skin so softly you think it must be absentminded. It feels like static shock, anyway. He laughs quietly to himself, and his fingers tremble gently against you. This time they squeeze you with a newfound intention as he brings you back to him.

“What do you think, babe?” Eddie asks, pink mouth spread in a pearly white grin. His chocolate eyes glimmer with the golden hour sun as his gaze flits between yours and the road. “Think Dusty Bun has a chance here?”

You nod, scrunched nose and squinted eyes, silent in your support for the curly-headed boy who’s still yelling over Lucas in the back of the van.

“What about me?” he presses. And because he knows better than to give his quiet girl anything other than a yes or no answer, he follows quickly, “You think today’s the day I finally beat your Space Invaders high score?”

A beat passes. The momentary silence is filled with arguing boys, old tires on older asphalt, and Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” spilling softly from the radio. A quiet smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You purse the mischievous expression to the side as you turn away from him again.

Your non-answer makes him laugh. It sounds exactly like the colors of the sunset.

His beat-up van jerks when he puts it into park. The door on the side squeaks as the kids file out of it. Eddie’s does too, but you can’t hear it over him telling you to “sit tight.” 

You wait patiently in the passenger seat like you always do, smiling to yourself as the boy rushes around the hood to open the door for you. The hinges screech in protest. His wild curls billow in the wind as he smiles. “C’mon, sunshine. Our palace awaits.”

The group of you stand beneath the spinning neon sign he parked next to — glowing orange and white beneath a setting sun. Someone calls from across the parking lot, “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Your heads snap in the direction of the painfully familiar voice. 

Jason and the rest of his abnormally tall goons stand outside the new gym that just opened on the strip. The dark, vacant building wedged between The Palace and Family Video was no longer as scary as it used to be now that it was occupied. You were just hoping it’d be something more exciting. Forcing arcade nerds and gym bros into one spot feels like a crime.

“And they brought little miss wallflower, too,” Jason lilts with his pretty smile and straight teeth. His blonde hair is a darker shade of brown, damp with half-dried sweat. His lean form is unnaturally built underneath his white tank top and basketball shorts. 

It isn’t any wonder why he turned out to be such a raging douchebag. 

Someone so perfect needed at least one flaw.

“The gang’s all here, huh?” one of his other friends — Andy, you think — concurs from behind him, always in the boy’s shadow.

“Like what you see, fellas?” Eddie calls out from across the slab of pavement separating the group of you. He’ll never turn down an opportunity to take the piss out of the so-called jocks, all muscle and no brain. 

“What do we do when those assholes give us hell?” he’d often ask when you’ve had a particularly shitty day with them. “We give ‘em hell right back.”

Jason’s thin lips curl into a more mischievous smirk. His blue eyes are lighter in the golden sunlight, and they twinkle beneath the neon signs as he looks you up and down. “Yeah, actually,” he hums with his unabashed ogling. “I do.”

Mike’s lanky legs sidestep to stand ahead of you. He does it so swiftly, so instinctually, you don’t think he even really meant to do it. Despite the raven-haired boy halfway covering you, you cross your arms over your torso in a further attempt to keep yourself hidden. 

You feel so suddenly exposed in your frilly floral sundress — especially considering the only thing you wear to school is baggy jeans and baggier sweaters. You feel like you might as well be naked standing in front of them just now.

The younger boys stand on high alert as Eddie walks the short distance to Jason. The brief journey is made quicker when the blonde boy strides to meet him halfway. It’s a high school sort of standoff — neither particularly wanting to get physical because the real-life repercussions aren’t worth it. They just want to see who can piss each other off the most.

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” Eddie concedes with a grin, flashing you a brief glance over his shoulder. He turns away quickly at the sight of your wide, pleading eyes. He scrunches his nose in feigned sympathy. “I bet you’re real jealous, huh? Especially now that you’ve got nothing but your right hand keeping you company ever since Chrissy dumped your ass.”

“Watch it,” Jason warns through gritted teeth.

“I think I saw her riding around last week with Harrington, actually.”

The blonde boy’s sneakers scuff against the concrete as he takes a daring step closer. His piercing stare never wavers. “Don’t talk about Chrissy.”

“Don’t talk about my girl, and I won’t talk about yours,” Eddie retorts in lilt. And then, because he can’t help but twist the knife, he tilts his head to his shoulder and continues. “Well, I guess she’s not really yours anymore, is she?”

“I said don’t talk about Chrissy!” Jason repeats, louder than before, when he lets his anger get the best of him. One hand shoots up to shove at Eddie’s chest, using only enough force to make the boy stumble slightly back. 

While Dustin, Lucas, and Mike gear up for a fight, Eddie only laughs in response — big, boisterous, and boyish.

You don’t even realize you’re stepping in front of the group until you’re already doing it. The words seem to fly from your mouth without you even thinking about them. “Don’t touch him!” you shout. 

And even though it wasn’t particularly loud, it quiets in the mindless bickering all at once. Everyone turns to gape at you — Jason, Andy, Dustin, Eddie. Everyone is equally surprised by your outburst. Because you don’t speak. Ever. At least, not if you can help it. 

And it’s not because you don’t have anything to say, because you do. It’s just that your brain works too much, and your mouth can’t keep up with it sometimes. It’s easier just to be silent.

That’s what you’ve been known for ever since you were little. You went through all of it — the bullying, the sad eyes, the talks with teachers, the ‘is everything alright at home’s. Everything was fine, for the most part. Your childhood was equally as middling as everyone else’s. You just had a harder time being human than most people.

Jason smiles again, amused by your warning. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You swallow through a tightening throat. Your sweaty hands clench into balls at your sides. The words come out quieter than before, but no less meaningful. “I said… Don’t touch him.”

“Oh, so she does speak. Here I thought no one ever taught you how to,” the blonde boy laughs. You feel disgusting when his attention settles solely upon you. The lingering sick feeling is eclipsed by your gratitude that Eddie’s no longer in his line of fire. “I’m gonna be honest… I thought you were cuter when you were quiet.”

You don’t know what he means by that. You can’t tell if he’s being genuine, or if he thinks you care enough about what he thinks to slink back into your shell.

“Leave Eddie alone,” you retort drily.

He snorts. “Yeah? Or what?”

There’s a thousand words you want to say. You open your mouth to spit all of them at the boy across from you, but nothing comes out.

“Yeah,” Jason laughs at your silence. “That’s what I thought.”

You stand your ground when he walks towards you. His strides are slow and menacing, like he’s expecting you to back away. You might’ve if you were anywhere else — if Eddie wasn’t a couple feet away and the rest of your friends weren’t crowding behind you. You’re made somehow braver by their presence.

“This is a really cute dress, though, sweetheart,” the blonde boy compliments with a thin smirk. “You should dress like this more often. You know what? You’d really fit in at the strip club downtown— what’s it called?”

“Pink Paradise,” Andy answers without missing a beat.

Jason smacks his lips against his teeth. “That’s the one.”

“Is that the one your mom works at?” you wonder with your arms crossed over your chest. Your head tilts to your shoulder as you squint at him. “Is she still giving those two-for-one discounts?” 

Jason’s confidence stutters at your biting reply — even more so by the choked-back laughter accompanying it. Your boys don’t bother to hide their humored giggles, though the basketball team covers theirs by coughing into their fists.

“Ooh. I didn’t know you had such a much on you,” the blonde lilts as his blue eyes narrow. “I’m like… fifty percent more attracted to you now.”

“Leave Eddie alone,” you deadpan once more. “And go be a douchebag somewhere else.”

One of his friends breaks free from the pack. He’s tall, thin, and toned. He’s got the same haircut as Lucas: compact curls, squared off on the sides. You know him — Patrick McKinney. He’s the only one of Jason’s friends that was actually nice to you. Or, at the very least, he wasn’t a total asshole.

“Let’s go, man,” the boy ushers, nudging at Jason’s bicep. “Let’s go shoot some hoops or something. This isn’t worth it.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Oh, please— the only shooting Jason Carver does is into a kleenex. It’s why you were benched all last season.”

“I twisted my ankle!” the blonde boy defends, sounding weak and pathetic beneath the chorus of laughter as Patrick drags him away.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you mutter, perhaps too quiet for him to hear, as Lucas pulls at your forearm to guide you in the other direction. His touch is still gentle — it would be uncharacteristic of him to be rough with you. It would also be a terrible idea with Eddie just a few paces behind the both of you.

The walk to The Palace is a silent one. There’s too much to say, and everyone’s just a little too amazed to say it. Eddie, however, never had a hard time killing a quiet. He rushes on long legs to match your quick strides, reaching you rather easily. 

“Hey, hey, hey— you okay, babe?” the worried boy wonders. He takes a gentle hold of your wrists when you reach the awning beneath the arcade. His chocolate gaze flits attentively over your form, nowhere near as leering as Jason had been. 

He can tell by your heaving chest and glassy eyes that you’re a little overwhelmed. When he takes your face in his hands, he finds that your cheeks are burning, too.

You nod into his warm palms in silent reply, back in the comfort of your shell all over again.

“What’d you do that for, huh?” Eddie singsongs with a quiet laugh. His thumb dances over your cheekbones as he grins at you. “You know I don’t like you getting involved with those assholes.”

“They don’t get to talk to you like that… Or put their hands on you,” you mutter. Despite your soft tone, Eddie can see the fury flashing in your eyes, getting angry about it all over again.

His smile widens — proud and hopelessly in love with you. “No. They don’t. Especially not with my girl around, huh?”

“Nope,” you murmur, popping the p. A sheepish grin pulls at your mouth, equally as proud and in love.

Eddie leans down to kiss you, guiding your mouth to his with the hands cupping your jaw. It’s innocuously chaste, being that you’re still standing in a public parking lot. You could never quite stomach the attention of PDA, anyway. His pink lips lock with yours in a fleeting peck, and his arms wrap around you a second later.

He smothers you into his chest, and you revel in every second of it. He smells like cigarette smoke and the cologne he tried to cover it up with. He smells like a home you could live in forever. 

You smile into the thrifted Blondie tee you got him — which he happily accepted because he loves you (even though he hates Blondie). He presses a kiss into your hair and smushes his nose into the crown of it as he laughs.

“‘Is that the one your mom works at?’” Eddie repeats with a soft chuckle, chest swelling with pride once more. “God, babe. That’s good.”

“Shut up…” you murmur.

“I’m serious! I didn’t know you were such a good smack-talker! I think you might be a genius, actually.”

“Don’t,” you grouse with a lighthearted scowl. You pull away from him only slightly — enough for him to put your face back in his hands again. You feel safest there, even if you are pouting up at him.

“You’re so cute,” the boy muses with a beam. His eyes glimmer like a sea of chocolate syrup, melting with all the love he has for you. “You’re like a cinnamon roll. A cinnamon roll that could bite people.”

“That’s exactly what I am,” you monotone and try your best not to smile.

Eddie couldn’t hide his grin if he tried. “And that’s exactly why I love you.”

[bitterrfruit]

Wild Cherries

John Price x f!Reader tags/cw: modern western AU, cowboys, mean!John Price, chasing, spanking, light sadomasochism, age gap (ish), brat taming, dubcon if you squint, smut wc: 4.9k 18+ mdni

Jonathan Price owns the ranch that neighbours your family's. You've got a bad habit of hopping the fence between them, snooping and stealing, leaving little traces of your misbehaviour behind. What happens when you poke the bear?

✼ Read the full chapter on Ao3 ✼

Jonathan was almost as tall, near as wide as the doorframe he stood in. He glanced above you, expecting someone taller, before he craned his head downward to look at you, and you felt your heart flip behind your sternum.

“Well,” he huffed, voice hoarse from a day’s worth of yelling. His stare narrowed as he soaked you in, crow’s-feet creased; piercing eyes raked from your head to your feet, painfully slowly, and back up again. “Ain’t you a nice surprise.” 

His cocksure voice was rumbling and deep, it sunk under your skin and made you turn pink. You had only ever heard him shouting, heard his roars in the distance when he chastised either you or his ranchmen. Now he uttered his words so low that you could hear the gravel in his throat, it made you want to press your ear to his padded chest and feel the vibrations of his sonorous voice directly from its origin. 

You took the same time to inspect him - realising you hadn’t ever seen him up this close, close enough to smell him. He smelt of hard work and cigar smoke, salt and musk, the warmth of his mammoth body reached out and touched you as if the evening air was suddenly cold. His smoky blue t-shirt had stains of sweat between his broad pectorals and down from his neck, the cotton coated in dust - he had only just turned in from a long day of wrangling, hadn’t yet had the chance to shower or to change. 

He lifted a bronzed and furry arm to lean his elbow against the jamb of the door, so thick with well-earned muscle they threatened to tear the sleeves of his shirt with the slightest flex. You wondered if he picked up his cows with his bare arms, carried them around like they weighed no more than bales of hay. 

His cheeks were ruddy with sunburn and vigour, his firm jaw coated by a dark and barely kempt beard, specked with silvers. His expression was stern, though a glimmer of interest in his steel-blue eyes belied his severity. Heavy lids hung low by virtue of looking down at you, his lips in an analytical curl under the thick moustache that grew under his nose. 

You blinked up at him, and opened your lips to speak - but a gruff snicker from him sucked the air from your lungs before you could utter a word to greet him. 

“Brought me a gift?” He asked richly, glare stuck on you and not the sack of ruby-red jam you hung from your fingers. 

Finding yourself, you gave him a pursed smile. “Lawrence made me come and say hi.” 

“Made you, did he?” He snorted, oozing a knowing arrogance. 

“Yep,” you said, lifting the bag to present it to him. “Eve cooked up some jam.” 

You saw his temples bulge as his jaw clenched tightly, expression sinking into what looked to you like twisted disappointment. 

“Nice o’ you,” he grunted disinterestedly, paying no mind to your olive branch. After a troubled sigh, he asked; “Where’ve you been, lil’ miss Honeybee?” 

The use of your nickname made gooseflesh shiver down your spine. He could only have heard that from your siblings or their ranchmen - how often had they spoken to him? Discussed you while you weren’t there to hear it? Last you thought, they never interacted at all. Now, he seemed to mock you with it. 

But he uttered it so casually, with such a coating of sugar, that it rinsed you like praise. 

“Just working,” you replied flatly, shuffling on your feet, vaguely embarrassed to admit you had abandoned the job already. “In the city.” 

“Mh,” he hummed, giving you a placid nod. “Back for good?”

You bit back the smirk that coaxed your lips. “Maybe.” 

“I’ll have to build a taller fence, then, won’t I?” 

Unable to discern if there was any humour in the forcefulness of his tone, your tongue curled behind your teeth as you tried to find a response that wouldn’t incriminate you. 

And you failed. “I’m a good climber.” 

He didn’t quite smile, you saw his chest rise and fall with a hounded breath. 

“I bet you are.” 

an: hey y'all, as some may recognise, this is the extendo version of my old drabble 'cowboy price'. Not yet the part 3 that many of you were asking for (i'm sorry), but there will be many more parts to come, and I hope they will sate our collective hunger for horny western Price!!

Above is only a snippet, the rest is on my Ao3. love youuuu <3

[zablife]

hello, i have a request for benny where he introduces his girl to the vandals for the first time.

one of them is already a good friend of her, but he didn’t know the person she was seeing was benny (and maybe benny gets a bit possessive)

Ty for the request, lovely! It's my first for The Bikeriders so I couldn't wait to dive in. I used your idea plus the GIF above as inspo to create drama, plus a little heat with our fave man. I hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts!

Rumors

18+ MDNI

Warnings: language, possessiveness, semi public sex

A/N: If you haven't seen the film, it might help to know: 1-Johnny doesn't like to share Benny and 2-Cal's first language is French.

"Heard a little somethin' about your girl you might want to know," Johnny rasped, allowing his words to dissipate into the air on a lungful of smoke.

Benny signaled his interest by leaning forward slightly in his chair, brow furrowed as he thought of anything about you that would warrant a private conversation with the leader of the Vandals. All he could think of at that moment was how eager he'd been to show you off to the guys, an obvious note of pride swelling in his chest each time he uttered your name.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he finally asked, "Yeah, what's that?" Though he had tried to hide his concern behind a facade of cool detachment, the slight twitch of his hand when he raised his cigarette to his lips gave him away.

If it had been a game of poker, Johnny could have recognized the bluff from a mile away. He bit back a sly grin, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he chose his next words for maximum damage.

"Let's just say she ain't no stranger here," he hinted, eyeing Benny carefully to gauge the effect it had on the impulsive young man. Watching Benny's fists clench at his sides, he swiftly added, "Especially not to Cal."

As if on cue, Benny's blue eyes flashed with an ominous darkness. "What are you talkin' about?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

Hissing in Benny's ear like a venomous serpent, Johnny advised, "Don't let her make a fool out of ya. That's all I'm sayin."

Benny's shoulders began to stiffen tightly beneath his leather jacket and Johnny clapped him on the back before abandoning him to his rapidly spiraling jealousy.

You could practically feel the floor shake with the stomp of his boots before you heard the low rumble of his voice calling your name. The tenderness he'd affected an hour ago was gone, replaced by a gruffness which commanded you, "C'mon, baby."

You stared at him wild eyed, wondering what had gotten into him. "N-now? We just got here," you stuttered.

He nodded, taking you firmly by the hand and you decided not argue while his rings pressed into your flesh.

As his friends hooted and whistled, you exited the bar out into the warm summer night. The relative quiet of the street amplified Benny's voice as he asked, "When were you gonna tell me?"

Stumbling off the front step together, he brought you face to face with him, sapphire eyes gleaming with fire. However, you immediately sensed a note of hurt in his accusation.

"Tell you what?" you begged, still uncertain what had him so worked up.

"About you and Cal," he prodded, watching a flash of recognition pass over your face in damning confirmation.

"Don't try to deny it," he warned, dropping your arm to pace the darkened alley beside the bar. Running his hands through his hair in distress, he'd clearly begun thinking the worst when you remained silent.

You struggled to recall who else knew about your acquaintance with Cal, then suddenly you understood, a long sigh pushing from your lungs as you recalled what Kathy had told you about Johnny's dislike of girlfriends hanging around. He said nagging wives took the guys away from the club when the crack ups and late nights began to threaten their relationships. You closed your eyes and shook your head, realizing he’d probably been the one to upset Benny.

"Say somethin'...please," Benny begged, waiting for you to open your eyes to him.

You twisted your fingers in front of you as you finally confessed, "Yeah, I know Cal." Watching Benny hang his head at your admission, you clarified, "Well...I knew the scrawny kid who took English lessons with me a few years ago. I barely recognize him now with that wild hair and that earring." You huffed out a quiet laugh at the thought of it, stopping Benny's nervous movements as he listened to the angelic sound.

He splayed a palm against the cool brick, glancing over his shoulder at you hopefully.

You nodded at him confirming,"That's all it ever was, baby." His chest heaved a sigh of relief as you came to stand at his side. Ducking under his strong arm, you ran a hand down the side of his scruffy cheek and brought his gaze back to you. "I'm yours, Benny. Nobody else's, you understand?"

A low growl rumbled from his lips as he pressed you against the wall, lips seeking yours for the physical reassurance he so badly needed.

His mouth moved against yours insistently, desperate for more and your hands flew to his hair, tugging in wanton desire. As your breasts pushed against his chest, he couldn't help deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue and before either of you could contain it, passion overtook you.

Benny turned you to face the wall and raised your skirt over your ass, tugging your underwear aside eager to claim you. Your breath hitched as you heard the jingle of his belt and you quickly braced yourself against the wall for what was to come. Without a care for who might disturb you, he took you right there, hips pistoning into you with reckless abandon.

"Tell me one more time, sweetheart," he urged breathlessly, sucking a dark bruise into your neck that would become irrefutable proof.

"I'm-I'm yours...I belong...belong to you, Ben--," you panted through little shocks of pleasure, unable to continue as you came hard around him.

"S right," he agreed, biting down on your shoulder to stifle his own groans of pleasure. Giving into your vice like grip, he tumbled over the edge with you, heartbeat hammering against your back in exhaustion.

You reached for him in the darkness, clutching the back of his head to keep him close. He stayed inside you for a long, tender moment afterward, placing scattered kisses behind your ear. You might have stayed that way longer if not for your ticklishness and exposed location. So with a hiss, he begrudgingly withdrew from you and gently lowered your skirt.

In the afterglow, Benny smiled at you with a cockeyed grin, tucking himself inside his jeans. The dewy flush of your cheeks making his heart skip a beat, he leaned in for one last kiss as you heard the door to the bar open and release the sounds of boisterous laughter.

Several bikers emerged, Johnny leading the way to the row of choppers parked at the curb. As he strutted toward his bike, a haphazard glance was thrown your way before doing a double take.

You weren't sure if you should scream at him or thank him for the rumor he'd attempted to spread about you and Cal, seeing how it had actually brought you closer to Benny.

When your boyfriend wrapped an arm around your waist, placing a kiss to the top of your head, you decided it wasn't worth arguing about. With a smirk and a little wave, you forced Johnny to acknowledge you, making it clear you weren't leaving Benny's side anytime soon.

[ninibeingdelulu]

Fireworks

synopsis: while you’re watching the fireworks, he’s watching you

The bright colors exploded across the night sky, lighting up the dark in wild bursts of red, blue and purple.

Each firework seemed more amazing than the last as they bloomed and faded away like delicate floating flowers.

You gazed upwards in wonder, tiny gasps of awe escaping your lips with every new blast of light. But Megumi wasn't watching the fireworks at all.

His whole world in that moment was the look of pure joy and amazement glowing across your face.

Illuminated by the flickering colors, your eyes sparkled with childlike delight. You were beaming as if witnessing real magic for the very first time.

Megumi felt his breath catch, captivated by the radiant beauty of your unrestrained happiness. In that moment, your smile outshone any man-made spectacle.

The air was still and quiet but for the muffled bangs as each firework burst overhead. Megumi was frozen, mesmerized by your look of rapturous enchantment.

That was until you turned that sunny smile his way with a raised eyebrow, clearly puzzled by his intense stare.

He blinked hard, the spell temporarily broken.

But Megumi didn't deflect or make a sarcastic remark like usual. No, the burning tenderness he tried so hard to conceal shone openly in his eyes.

Without a word, Megumi simply leaned forward and closed the distance between you two. His slightly chapped yet soft lips met yours in a sweet, soulful kiss.

It was deep yet unhurried, a loving caress that expressed everything unspoken between you.

You melted against him, fireworks exploding unnoticed overhead. In that perfect cocoon, nothing else existed except the heated press of your joined mouths and the whisper of fingers tracing adoring lines across heated skin.

When you finally parted, Megumi's harsh exterior had dissolved completely. His face was peaceful and unguarded in a way very few ever witnessed.

As if he'd momentarily drowned in the cleansing waters of your affection, and resurfaced anew.

You smiled at him radiantly. Because in that instant of pure intimacy and connection, you realized just how deeply and wholeheartedly you loved this beautifully complex boy before you.

[naffeclipse]

Petal

Botanist!Reader x Naga!Eclipse

Commission Info

This little fic was such a delight to write and I'm so happy @bluemoon1331 commissioned me for some good ol' Blackwater Lure (naga) Eclipse. Toss in a botanist reader to pair with this handsome snake and you have quite the pairing and a little smooching in the jungle!

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

You swat a buzzing insect swirling around your ear before huffing. The humidity is thick like rain but not a drop falls from the blue-white sky in the middle of a bright, brilliant day. The green canopy overhead provides mottled shade. Despite this, a thin sheen of sweat glistens on your forehead. Swiping underneath the stiff brim of your boonie hat, you draw in another sweltering lungful before pressing down on the camera button to finish capturing a picture of a brilliant cluster of heliconia flowers. The picture is basic, but you only need one for reference in your study.

Common and brightly colored, the bracts of the flower form a beak-like shape which are often called lobster claws. You prefer the name heliconia. It’s far more fitting for the stunning, tropical blossom. 

The deep green stem stands tall and sprouts the flowers high, allowing you to stay standing on your feet as you sweep your camera aside and reach for your notebook. The pages are rimmed with your observations and small, simple sketches of each flora you have studied throughout your stay here in the jungle. Michael and Vanessa seem to appreciate your craft though don’t pursue the same interests. Their place here on the fridges of the wild, feral jungle is a fleeing mystery, but you hope they’re enjoying the beautiful, lush ecosystem as much as you are.

You lift your head at the sound of a steady hum whizzing through the air. A tiny creature floats, its wings blurring with the speed of its flight, and dips low to sip at the nectar of the heliconia. A smile spreads softly over your lips. 

Hummingbirds are drawn to the sweet taste of this flowering plant. The small fowl’s feathers shine with an iridescent blue and green. Another flit by. This one pauses just long enough for you to spy its ruby throat. You lower your book for just a moment. Sometimes you get lost in your botany—unable to see the flowers for the petals—but now and then a creature who loves the plants as you do gives a gentle reminder to admire the brilliant red and deep green colors for a moment. 

Another hummingbird with a wonderfully rare purple sheen and gray body buzzes over to a nest. You jot down a gentle note of what the flower attracts as well as its pollinators. The ink needs a moment to try and stick to the thick paper. Your book is about to overflow, with a few pages left spared but not for too long. There are still giant lily pads you wish to observe upon the water and passion flowers high up in the canopy that you must find a way to climb up to. 

You lower your notebook and pause for a moment. It’s strange. You’ve been here for the better half of the morning and haven’t had any interruptions. This is the most research you’ve done in a good while. 

Taking the blessing for what it is, you bow your head and scribble more, noting the bright color and how it thrives upon the jungle soil. There is nothing richer on earth but this Amazonian floor. The most abundant resources of natural, green goods are right before you and you get to observe each flora up close.

You lift your head again. The heliconia is abundant and red, a few tipped in yellow and a rare, stray stem has a tinge of blue to their edges. Beautiful. You step closer, wondering what genetics carried this special trait into this patch of bright reds. Was it cross-pollinated or did a seed get laid here from another stretch of open, flowering land?

The silence settles over you after a moment. Sweeping over the heliconia, you realize the hummingbirds scattered, silent, and swift, leaving you in a heavy quiet. Even distant birds calling and chirping have calmed. The unnatural hush of an otherwise thriving jungle touches you with a warning. 

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your poor notebook drops from your hands, pages, and pen falling. Pointing your feet away from the patch of heliconia, you fail to take a single step before a soft hiss cuts through the air. You cry out as a strike of a lithe, long arms seizes you from behind and a powerful tail sweeps around your legs. A sharp gasp rips from your throat. In a moment of your world spinning, you’re pulled forcibly into a constricting embrace. 

It takes mere seconds. A tail of green scales, dotted with black, quickly twists you into its coils before a soft hum echoes. You fight the urge to squirm as the thick, corded muscle climbs up your legs, locking them together before winding around your waist. Orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, serpentine form cages you within his grasp. Your arms are, unfortunately, caught in the naga’s constriction. You tug on them experimentally but only receive an answering squeeze in return, your ribs tested for a mere moment. A breath slips away from you.

“Happy day, petal.”

You lift your eyes from your trapped body to face the one enforcing your precarious position. Eclipse. The naga hovers over you, balancing on his tail while keeping you in place. The length of his body is utterly incredible. Ropes of thick, powerful muscle spread across the jungle floor and neatly spiral around you, all while leaving enough to support his humanoid torso. 

You try to shift, to find a little more breathing room, but the naga decides to recline you back instead, setting you into an unsettling position where he can creep up his coils to admire you up close. His fangs flash in a ravenous grin. His venom glistens on the razor-sharp tips before he swipes them away with his dark, slender tongue.

“H-hi, Eclipse,” you answer in a rattle. Yet, a smile manages to work its way onto your lips. “Did you have to startle me?”

“I thought you would know it’s me saying hello. Who else would catch you like this?” he rumbles low and deep and the sound vibrates through your own body. You clench your teeth just to keep them from chattering.

He tilts his head as if he finds you adorable—or appetizing. The frills decorating him are as bright as any jungle flower, orange-yellow, and almost hypnotic in the gradient hues. Slitted pupils observe you in the way you might have just been studying the heliconia, interest keen and desirous.

A nervous sound leaves you, somewhere between amusement and fear. “You can say hello without catching me next time,” you offer. “It would be less… frightening.”

His coils shift around you slowly as if tempted by the thought of squeezing until your lungs can’t expand anymore. You glance briefly down to see what his tail may do next.

“Are you frightened right now, petal?” A clawed hand hooks your chin. Eclipse lifts your face to hold your gaze. You swallow back a few mouthfuls of apprehension. A pulse in your arm presses back against the thick serpentine body. You hope he can’t feel it.

You know he does.

“No,” you answer, then truthfully, “not anymore.”

He hums thoughtfully. The sound echoes with a hissing undertone and gradually softens. His eyes survey you with slitted pupils, one a midnight blue, the other deep emerald, even darker than his scales.

“I agree. I’ve held many prey in my coils but you don’t struggle like them. They bite and claw and cry out,” he answers, drawing it out with a slithering sound that spills heat into your core. “But you; you resist little. You’re as soft as fruit in my palms. You’re deliciously small.”

He lifts out his other hand and slowly tilts your hat up and up until it falls away, stumbling down his coils to lie flat by your notebook and pen. The very breath within you catches as he turns his hand and runs the back of his crooked finger down your cheek, admiring you closely. You lean away on instinct but the snare of his scales gives you little room to escape. Softly, he reaches up and strokes your head. His claws comb down your hair. His tongue flicks out so close to your nose, you wonder if he intends to lick you.

“Although there is one aspect you carry with the rest of my prey,” he simpers. He leans close enough that his fangs glisten in the mottled sunlight. “You look good enough to eat.”

The tempo of your heart rate becomes a beating drum within you. 

“What do you eat?” you ask breathlessly, as if you could stall his hunger.

“Oh, whatever trots my way,” he slips a claw over the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver, much to his delight. His coils cinch around you tighter in what you suspect is a desire to feel every shuddering muscle within you. Your cheeks burn.

“Like?” you prod, trying to regain control of your racing pulse but failing miserably. 

He flashes a sinister smile and a drop of venom slips into his saliva before he licks it away.

“Monkeys are fine for a meal. Jaguars are a delicacy that I’ll indulge in when I have the chance. If I’m in the mood to work up my appetite, I’ll hunt black caiman. Otherwise, I’ll dine on a giant otter.” He watches you closer as you comprehend the strength of his ability to target other predators. Truly, nothing can stop him if he so desires. 

You’ve learned much about Eclipse in the short time you’ve encountered him—or rather, he’s stalked and caught you. He is the apex predator of this ecosystem. He glides between the trees and turns into mottled shadows under the dense canopy and possesses a head as brilliant as any blossom. You do not know the animal kingdom as well as your flora, but you know he is the king within this jungle.

And he favors you, somehow. Though he has played with you like a cat with a mouse, he has never delivered a venomous bite with his wicked fangs or squeezed you until you couldn’t breathe anymore. You don’t know what to name this obsession he holds for you but it’s enough to spare your life. It’s enough to convince you that he cares for you. 

A nice theory you’ve come to consider is that you are in the safest place in the jungle right now, protected by the apex predator’s serpentine body. It’s enough to make your heart soften whenever he wraps you tight in his tail. After the initial shock has worn away, of course.

“I imagine they, ahem, taste fine,” you say, though your tongue is a bit dry.

“Such meals hold a very excellent taste, but I prefer a new flavor as of late,” a low rumble moves through him. 

You swallow roughly. His eyes catch the motion, dropping down to your throat where it bobs before his grin seems to sharpen. His fangs lie on full display.

He tilts your head back slightly, allowing sunlight to brighten your face. “Now I want to know more about what you’ve been up to, petal. What are you studying today?”

“Heliconia,” you answer. He captures you in his intense gaze. You nearly wish you could look away just to concentrate on forming words on your tongue. “The, ah, scientific name is heliconia latispatha, but it’s sometimes called lobsterclaw.”

“Say that again,” he commands.

You almost spit out ‘lobsterclaw’ but catch your mistake before you can simmer in embarrassment. In a steady voice, you repeat, “Heliconia latispatha.”

His eyes close briefly, sealing away the jewel-dark colors of his gaze. For a moment, you study him, fascinated by how he tilts his head as if turning an ear towards you.

“Beautiful,” he hisses softly. His eyes open, slitted pupils thinning in the brightness of the day before he nods. “Tell me more.”

You sputter once before continuing into details about their relationship with hummingbirds. Eclipse lets you spill into a monologue. His attention never lapses as you so often find in those who ask about your botany studies only to realize you are giving them an accurate answer, not a simple and inadequate one-note description. You can almost forget that you can’t move your limbs while falling into a ramble of your studies.

While you speak, his coils keep you cool. His smooth, sleek scales effortlessly ease your sweating while slowly shifting around you, occasionally squeezing as if grasping your hand to remind you that he is here, listening. His tongue flickers out once while he traces your jawline and even your lips when you tell of hoping to locate giant lily pads.

“I will take you to see them,” he says after you pause. Your eyes widen. He grins as his claws slip along your temple, trailing your hairline. 

“Really?” you breathe. You’ve been searching for them for so long—even Michael and Vanessa reported that they have stumbled upon many yet in their travels around the jungle.

“Of course.” Eclipse’s simper deepens while he lets his hand fall to cup your cheek. “Anything is yours. You must only say the word, my favorite flower.”

Your lips part but no sound falls out of your mouth. Eclipse’s eyes drink you in as you wriggle in the slightest, unable to contain your eagerness despite how tightly you are held. His tail moves in answer. Scales shift you towards him as Eclipse leans over you, closing the distance.

“Eclipse.” Your mouth finally moves. His name fills it. He stirs, his thin eyelids fluttering briefly as ripples of muscle fall down his tail.

“Say that again,” he commands.

Your throat bobs before you shift your shoulders. His hands fall to the neckline of your shirt, tugging on it slightly to expose your collarbone.

“Eclipse.” Your cheeks heat with a red as bright as the heliconia. 

“Petal,” he hisses gently, “You’re so sweet and precious. Like nectar. I want to taste you.”

Oh.

You want to say something, that you are not nectar but a very simple, boring human, but you aren’t sure if that’s the right thing to say in the face of a predator who lies inches away from your mouth. He draws his hand under your shirt and palms your shoulder, covering your shoulder blade. He tilts your head up. A soft gasp escapes you when he squeezes you softly, and then as if stealing your air, he captures your mouth. He pushes gently, tasting your lips and grazing them with his slick fangs. Quiet sounds escape you, your hands clenching and your knees rubbing together, unable to take his face in your hands and hold him in return. It’s almost maddening. Almost.

A low hiss breaks the kiss as he draws back. His gaze, despite his serpentine aspects, is soft and glowy. You spin slowly after the contact like you were on your feet one moment and lifted off them the next.

“Perhaps we might find a lily as pink as your cheeks,” he murmurs, much to your embarrassment. His smile is devilish but his tongue slowly traces your cheekbone, and you close your eyes.

You hope so, silently, for such a flower.

[innerfare]

Blue Balls - Sabo: Part 1  

Summary: Sabo ends up with a case of blue balls; text below the cut

Pairing: Sabo x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: dirty talk, Sabo masturbating, needy Sabo

Word Count: 1,153

———

Sabo didn’t know what to do with himself. 

The first few weeks you were gone, he’d jerked off morning, noon, and night to the thought of you, but as the memory of your touch grew more distant and the hole in his chest became gaping, he couldn’t stand to touch his cock without you there to run your fingers through his blonde hair and tell him how pretty his scars were, the words leaving your heart-shaped lips, swollen from making out, mere seconds before you wrapped them around his length. 

Not being able to stand it didn’t stop him from doing it, though. 

Feeling like his heart might give out from the pressure built up in his chest, he reached a hand under the covers and grabbed his length. At what point had your skill surpassed his? When had he become utterly useless with his own cock? He fumbled with it like he’d never jerked the thing before, his balls so heavy he worried they would fall off if he stood up. How precisely was he supposed to replace the feeling of your mouth with his stupid hand? 

You were so nice when you sucked him off, so sweet. You blinked up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, smiled softly when you pulled away to catch your breath. His favorite was when your hair spilled down your chest and you wore something with straps or loose sleeves that fell off your shoulder so his eyes could travel the length of your collarbone. 

He could remember all that, so why couldn’t he make himself cum? 

He’d hit a wall three weeks ago, and he was absolutely losing it. He’d always been one to work and train overtime, but he’d become obsessive as of late. Everyone from Dragon to Koala had noticed, and had even tried getting him to relax, until Ivankov made a comment about Sabo’s raging hormones and everyone had dropped the matter. 

He should have fought Ivankov for saying that- he certainly wanted to- but he didn’t even have it in him. He also didn’t want to get any closer to the devil fruit user than he absolutely had to for fear the queen would assess the true depths of his emotional and sexual despair, and Sabo couldn’t stand the humiliation. 

But Ivankov was right. 

His hormones were raging. 

Sabo growled like a wild beast. He kicked his covers off, the sheets clinging to his sweaty skin. He dropped his cramping hand at his side and stared up at the ceiling in the dark. His chest heaved, and his cock throbbed painfully, a drumbeat between his legs that only grew louder with each moment to pass. He wondered if a man could die from blue balls. 

If that was possible, he told himself, it would have happened by now. 

“It has to work eventually,” he muttered to himself. 

He dragged his hand off the mattress and grabbed the length of his cock again. He brushed his thumb over the biggest vein, just like you always did with a coo, and found the head. He pressed down on it and spread the pre cum around, using it as lubricant. But then he recalled how you kissed and licked his balls, treating them like the most precious things in the world, and suddenly, everything he did was lacking. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

He grabbed your pillow and shoved it into his face, the scent of your citrus perfume long having faded. He whined, the pillow catching the sound, and gave his cock a heavy tug. He felt it twitch, but he caught the pleasure in his hand only for a second before it escaped him. 

“Do you have some sort of smothering kink I don’t know about?” A voice asked. 

Sabo threw the pillow off and sat up in bed with a gasp. He saw a figure illuminated in the doorway, a figure with your perfect shape. His gaze fell on your sweet face, and he was caught between the urge to fling himself at you and actually smother himself to escape the humiliation of being caught with his dick in his hands. 

“Y/n?” He watched with wide eyes as you closed the door, leaving only a bit of light to shine in through the bottom, and a bit more through the window. He rubbed his eyes. “What… is this real? What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be back for another two weeks!” The embarrassment almost too much to bear, he dragged the sheets over his lap. 

“I finished my mission early and thought I would surprise you.” You giggled. “I guess I did.” You relished the sight of your boyfriend naked in bed, muscles coiled beneath his tan skin, his blonde hair stuck to his forehead, his impressive cock standing at attention. “I can come back later if you want me-” 

“No!” He lurched forward, only to grit his teeth. “Fuck.” 

“Sabo, are you alright?” You hurried to the side of the bed, thinking he’d hurt himself. You sat down on the edge, placing a hand on his bare shoulder; you noticed his skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and frowned. 

Sabo shuddered. “Fuck,” he hissed again. “Fuck.” 

“Sabo-” 

“I’m fucking dying.” With that, he fell back against the pillows. “It doesn’t matter what I do. It’s all wrong. You’re the only one who can do it right, and you’ve been gone forever. And it fucking hurts, y/n.” His voice cracked toward the end. 

You felt bad for him, but you also couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You hadn’t had much communication with your boyfriend in the time you had been away, and you’d worried that he didn’t miss you as much as you missed him, that he didn’t lay awake at night stroking himself but to no avail. 

“And the pillow?” 

“It used to smell like you,” he admitted, the darkness making him feel safe enough to be a little more pathetic than he would normally. “It doesn’t anymore.” 

“Awe, you poor thing.” 

Just then, the smell of your perfume wafted over to him. “Fuck.” He launched himself at you, pulling you into his arms and dragging you into bed with him. He wrapped his legs around you, too, clinging to you like a big baby. “Fuck.” The sound of your giggle as he buried his face in your hair and inhaled almost made him cum, and the weight of his problem came down on his chest once more like a ton of bricks. “Y/n, I need-” 

“I know what you need, big boy,” you interrupted. 

His cock twitched at the sound of the nickname. 

You cupped his face in your hands and pressed those perfect, soft lips to his. You gave him a series of lingering, close-mouthed kisses before brushing his blonde hair from his sticky forehead. “Lay back. I’ll take care of you.” 

Sabo didn’t need to be told twice, crashing back into his pillows with a shallow sigh. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[ashbub]

so pretty ✦છ

arcane: vi x gn!reader

contents: cursing, mentions of violence [800 words, unedited]

IN WHICH: vi thinks you are pretty.

❝ babygirl, you are so pretty, pretty, pretty❞

God, you are so pretty.

It was the first thing Vi thought when she saw you for the first time. 

You were getting ready to fight- sitting on a little wooden stool while chatting with someone at the very edge of the ring. Spectators packed into the cramped space, jostling for a better view. The heavy swirls of smoke hung in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of sweat and metallic echoes of shouts and coin tosses. People were screaming their bets, their loud ass voices merging into a deafening roar as the fighters before the two of you squared off in the center of the pit.

She thought it with the way you entered into the arena with a slight squint at the roar of the audience at your entrance, your curled-up hands neatly bandaged up over your knuckles. You were standing by a circle of worn-out ropes strung between rusted metal posts, barely glancing at the strain of countless brutal clashes and sloppy curses tossed at the middle of the ring. The floor was a patchwork of scuffed concrete and bloodstains, some fresh, others darkened with time.

Vi watched you- how a few dim industrial lights flickered, casting uneven shadows that danced across the scent of spilling booze lingering across your skin. Even with how the light was uneven and dim in some corners while other spots gleamed with the harshness of exposed bulbs- You still looked almost out of place. Too pretty.

Especially against the low hum of machinery, the clanking of pipes, and the occasional whir of gears in the distance formed a constant, unnerving backdrop to the screams unfolding below. It made her wonder how a little thing like you ended up in the pits of The Under City. Or who you pissed off to end up in a gig like this.

You looked like a little deer in headlights.

It almost felt unfair to fight you. The more merciful option would be to let you down easily, save you the embarrassment.

She thought it when the scent of sweat lingered in the stuffy air and the sudden clattering of gambling chips being tossed lazily across the surfaces of the wooden tables surrounding your fight.

She thought it when your pretty knuckles suddenly hit the side of her face during the fight you two shared, repeatedly bashing the side of her bruised cheek into the familiar scent of the ground and nearly knocking the fucking wind out of her- the stale taste of blood messily trickling down her scarred bottom lip.

Your punch had sent a sharp ass crack that echoed in her flushed ears, the impact sending her head snapping to the side. Her pale cheek stung, the heavy heat of the blow blossoming into a bruise she’d probably feel for fucking days.

But even through the burning ringing in her ears, all she could think about was how she wanted to remember the sting. To remember you.

She thought it when she grabbed a fistful of that pretty hair of yours between her curled fingertips, the end of her knee tightly pressing into your tightened chest as her bandaged chest heavily heaved with the slight blood that smeared across her pale knuckles.

She thought it while her dark hair clung to her face in damp strands, framing sharp features streaked with blood and dirt. The faint glow of the dim industrial lights flickered across her pale skin, highlighting the angry flush of exertion on her cheeks and the slight quiver in her clenched jaw. Blood, vivid and fresh, dripped lazily from a cut above her eyebrow, smearing down one side of her face and mixing with the grime.

Her chest rose and fell heavily with each ragged breath, the stained bandages around her knuckles straining as she gripped the fabric of your tattered shirt. Her soft blue eyes flickered by the shadows and the fight, a wild edge glinting in their depths.

But then, just for a second, she felt that sharpness wavering.

She thought it when you feverishly clawed at her tense arms, your own jagged breaths coming in heavy, desperate gasps from your pursed mouth. Fresh blood streaked the bottom of your chin, and your busted-up lips parted as you fought against her steady hold. Your stained fingers curled against her, weakly scraping at her damp skin and the weight of her digging into you. 

Every inhale looked like it burned your lungs, but god were you putting up a fight- the fresh bruises already blooming across your skin.

Vi’s gaze softly dropped to your face, her pale blue eyes flickering over your expression with a fleeting hesitation. The sharp curve of your cheekbone, the way your bottom lip trembled yet still formed a curled-up snarl, the faint glint in the swirls of your eyes even as you gasped beneath her weight—it made her pause.

Her grip loosened slightly, her bandaged fingers pausing for just a moment as she held you down. Her breathing slowed. Her blood-smeared lips parted slightly as she caught herself staring. Her knuckles flexed against the fabric of your wrinkled-up shirt, the warm, sticky feeling of blood mixing with the sweat that trickled down her toned arms.

She felt the heat radiating from your body beneath her, the rapid warmth of your heartbeat pressing against her knee. For a brief moment, the world around her dulled—the roars of the crowd, the clanging of metal, the sickly-sweet scent of blood and booze.

It was just you. Breathing heavily underneath her, battered but unbroken, staring up at her.

God, you are just so pretty.

a/n: does this make sense? i just thought it was cute <3 small drabble before bed

[crushpunky]

rafe returns to kook!reader

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

!!! obx4 spoilers below !!!

Y/n scrolled her phone aimlessly, gnawing her thumbnail as she perused headlines for any sort of hint at where Rafe could possibly be. It had been nearly a month of wondering if he was even alive, the only thing giving her hope were the random, cryptic text messages she had received from him every few days… except that they stopped a week ago. Their relationship was never easy, the two of them so close it almost felt like the line between friends and something more was blurred, but no matter what, they always talked to each other. She had tried talking to Rose or Wheezie to see if they had any idea of what could be going on with him or Sarah, the both of them apparently gone on some sort of wild goose chase, but they simply brushed any of y/n’s questions or concerns off.

With a sigh, y/n turned her phone off and tossed it to the side of her bed. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing heart and thoughts when she was suddenly pulled out of her spiral by a knock at the door. She hadn’t been expecting anyone, her parents were both out at a dinner, and it was nearly midnight…

“Y/n?” A shout from the front door caused her heart to flip. Y/n clamored out of her bed, nearly falling down the stairs at the familiar voice. Once she reached the door, her shaky hands fumbled with the lock before flinging the door open. There, on her porch, his hair a bit longer than she had remembered, but his eyes still the same stormy blue, was Rafe. Y/n let out a sob before throwing herself at him, nearly knocking him off the porch as she hugged him tightly. Her fingers curled into his shirt, burying her face into his chest as she cried, all the anxiety and fear she had been holding evaporating the moment she saw him.

“I’m so sorry.” Rafe said, pressing his face into the top of y/n’s head, his voice cracking. Y/n pulled away, her hands grabbing the sides of his face as tears continued to stream down her face. His skin was tanner and a bruise lingered on one of his cheekbones, but he was still the same boy she had fallen in love with so long ago. Standing in front of her. Alive.

“I– I thought you were dead,” y/n sobbed, her hands soothing down his shoulders but her gaze never leaving his. Rafe shook his head, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he rested his palms on y/n’s cheeks.

“There was so much going on and—” Rafe rambled.

“Why didn’t you call? Or– or text?” Y/n said, her breathing ragged with the conflicting emotions running through her. He was here, and he was alive, but why hadn’t he called? Why had he forgotten about her?

“I tried, y/n, I tried but it was too risky.” Rafe said, his thumb running along the highs of y/n’s cheekbones.

“Bullshit ‘it was too risky’!” Y/n gripped onto Rafe’s shoulders. “I was worried sick, Rafe, I didn’t know where you were or what was going on or—-”

Y/n was cut off when Rafe wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly into his chest. Y/n eyes widened for a moment before she relaxed, snaking her arms around her. She could feel him trembling under her touch, melting into her for a second until he pulled back once more.

“Y/n, I– I fucked up,” Rafe panted. “I… I’ve treated you like shit, always hurting you and getting high and hooking up with girls and taking my anger out on you and taking you for granted… Being away from you for so long made me realize that none of that other shit matters, a’ight? What matters is you and I’m sorry I was too fucking young and naive and stupid to notice that.”

Rafe’s words hung thickly in the air, y/n’s mind swirling. She had watched him grow from a boy to a young man, but now, in front of her, filled with such genuine, raw emotion was the man she always knew he was capable of being.

“Please… please say something.” Rafe swallowed harshly, his hands resting gently on y/n’s shoulders.

“I… what happened? What changed?” Y/n whispered. What had finally clicked? Changed? Allowed him to see what she and everyone else in his life had been trying to get him to see his entire life?

“I, uh… I talked to Sarah.” Rafe said, chewing on his lip. Y/n quirked her brow. Y/n had known the Camerons for as long as she could remember and was well aware of Sarah and Rafe’s troubled relationship. After Ward’s death, she was more than certain the two of them would never speak to each other again.

“Sarah?” Y/n said. “You talked to Sarah?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said lowly.

“She was with you?” Y/n stammered. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine…” Rafe trailed off, his jaw clenching slightly as he avoided y/n’s eyes for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked, furrowing her brows.

“She’s, um… she’s pregnant.” Rafe whispered. Y/n hands dropped from where they rested on Rafe’s arms, her mouth falling agape. Sarah, the same girl she and Rafe had grown up with, was pregnant? As in, was going to be a mother?

“Oh my god…” Y/n said, attempting to blink back some of the shock. “I need to see her– I need to talk to her. We need to–”

“Y/n…” Rade sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“What? Why not? I thought…” Y/n shook her head, her eyes scanning over Rafe’s jittery disposition.

“She, uh— her friends— shit.” Rafe groaned, closing his eyes as took in a deep breath. Y/n waited, soothing her hands down his arms gently.

“JJ, he, uh… he didn’t make it.” Rafe finally said, opening his eyes once more.

“H-he didn’t make it, what do you mean?” Y/n stammered. Sure, she wasn’t close to JJ, but still. He was important to Sarah, he was so young…

“He… he was killed.” Rafe said lowly, nodding to himself. Y/n took in a harsh breath, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. Y/n looked back up, Rafe’s face filled with so much turmoil, so much loss, so much… hurt.

“Rafe, I’m… I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I had no idea.” Y/n whispered.

“Don’t— don’t feel bad for me. Lord knows I don’t fucking deserve it.” Rafe said with a small chuckle.

“Rafe, you’ve… done things, but… you’ve also been through so much; your dad, your mom, your sister…” Y/n said, Rafe’s eyes meeting her own, wide and watery.

“You… you’re trying to be a different person— you are a different person. You need to give yourself some grace.” Y/n finished, her hands moving to rest on the sides of Rafe’s face. Tears streamed slowly down his cheeks, the evidence of years and years of hiding all the pain he felt.

“Thank you, y/n. For everything.” Rafe whispered. Y/n smiled gently, raising up on her toes to press a kiss to Rafe’s cheek.

“Thank you, Rafe.” Y/n said.

“For what?” Rafe asked, a small smile spreading across his lips.

“For being my best friend.” Y/n said.

[donatellawritings]

smoothing your clammy palms over the curve-hugging fabric of your fitted grey slacks, your quickly redirect your wild strand of hair to the curve behind the shell of your ear, forcing a satisfied smile in the mirror as you frustratedly roll your eyes at the sliver of skin that continued to peek through, courtesy of your one-size too small button up blouse. forcefully tugging down on the hem of your wrinkle-free top, you let out a small huff as you carefully scrape your slightly smudged lipstick off of the outer border of your swollen and meticulously lined lips with the sharp tip of your nail.

taking one last glance over yourself in the crystal clear bathroom mirror, your took a short breath as you reached into your thrifted coach bag, your manila folder grasped firmly in your press-on nail-clad hand as you exited the marble interior of the bathroom.

your slightly worn black kitten heels clicked rhythmically against the tiled flooring of the office lobby as you sauntered over to the receptionist, a nerve and anxiety laced smile now playing on your full lips as she brings her eyes to meet yours, “good afternoon, is there anything that i could assist you with?” she questions politely, donning a robotic, yet somewhat warm grin.

“hi, um, i’m here for an interview with mr. cameron,” you stammer, adjusting your bayonetta glasses to sit comfortably on the bridge of your nose as you nervously tap your nails against the marble countertop, “it was scheduled for two o’clock,” you add, your tapping coming to a slow silence as you quickly grew hyper-aware of yourself at the sight of the receptionist taking a quick, yet elongated glance at your pushed-up breasts that threatened to burst through minuscule buttons of your blouse.

you needed to make a good impression. securing an assistant position at the likeness of cameron developments would do wonders for your resume, as well as significantly increase your finances — especially considering your status as a wet-behind-the-ears and pathetically green young woman who was scarily fresh of out college.

“okay, you will be meeting with mr. cameron on the top floor of the building, you can use the elevator and it’ll be the first door that you see,” the receptionist instructs, maintaining her courteous smile and light cadence as she motions towards the steel elevator doors that stand closed, a few feet away from her freshly polished desk.

with a nod of understanding, you step away from the desk, “thank you!” you spoke softly, pushing your nail into the button, causing it to glow a muted red as the elevator doors soon opened, inviting you to step inside of the warmly lit and mirror-encased interior.

jamming your fingernail into the highest floor, you couldn’t help but watch yourself from every angle, drumming your fingernails against your folder, pulling on the belt loops of your tight slacks, adjusting the waist band to sit a bit higher on your short frame. with each ding indicating the increasing height of the elevator, you grew more and more anxious, letting out a withheld breath once you reached the top floor of the building, “relajate,” you cooed to yourself as you stepped out of the elevator.

approaching the tall door, you took a quick peek through the windows that allowed full vision into the pristine office, watching as a man, who appeared to be no older than mid to late 20s spoke on the phone, his free hand gesturing wildly as he paced around the office. hiding behind the frosty glass of the door, you softly brought your knuckles to knock against the door, taking a step away from the door as you took a breath, silently praying that your cheap lipstick stayed within the lines of your lipliner.

swallowing down the lump of nerves that formed in the back of your throat, you subconsciously dug your nails into the hard folder as the door soundlessly swung open, revealing the staggering height of the man who towered, at least one foot above you, his bright blue eyes stoic as he squared his shoulders, his tailored blazer hugging his frame just right.

“s’a pleasure to finally meet with you, please come in,” he huffs out, standing to the side with his ring and watch clad hands crossed over his front as you offer him a kind smile.

“thank you,” you mutter, your dolly eyes widening at the obsessively neat and pristinely kept environment of the office.

each bookcase was lined meticulously with books and encyclopedias varying in different editions, priceless pieces of art hanging from the sparkling tiled wall panels, and three ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked kildare island, showcasing a picturesque view of the river that glinted against the shining sun.

the sound of the door softly clicking to a close broke you from your entranced gaze as you turned your head to see the slightly older man motioning towards his mahogany wood desk with a knowing smirk on his structured face, “it’s a breathtaking view, isn’t it?” he comments, earning a breathy chuckle from you as you take a seat in the leather chair, directly across from his much larger seat.

“it’s beautiful,” you comment lowly, stealing a quick glance at how his muscles flexed against his button-up shirt as he removed his blazer, slightly rolling up the cuffs of his shirt to rest on his defined forearms, “um, here is my resume, cover letter, as well as letters of recommendations from my professors,” you lightly clear your throat, extending your delicate hand to present the man with your neatly organized folder.

accepting the folder from your grasp, the older man skims his ring-clad finger over the contents of your resume, before letting out a sharp exhale as he visibly relaxes into his seat. you couldn’t help but let your overwhelming nerves get the best of you as you licked over your suddenly dry lips, scratching the tip of your nail against the stitching of your slacks.

rubbing the pad of his index finger over his lips, the eldest cameron lazily flips through the rest of your documents, before returning his eyes to you, catching the way you were biting the skin on the inside of your cheek as your knee lightly bounced.

“before we go any further, i just want to make that y’understand how demanding the position is,” he begins, his voice sultry and thick, as he watched your throat bob with an anxious swallow, “from monday to friday, and sometimes including weekends — i need you to be entirely devoted to every intricacy that goes on in my day to day, whether it be accompanying me to a meeting or answering the phone, i require your full and undivided commitment,” he continues, his legs spread deliciously as he straightens his posture, keeping his hands enclosed over his crotch.

parting your lips to speak, you’re quickly cut off by the man seated before you, “is this a commitment that you’re ready to make? you’re young and i understand if this is … too much to handle,” he feigns concern, internally pleased with himself as your skittish demeanor is quickly replaced with a slightly offended raise of your thinly threaded eyebrows.

“i can assure you, mr. cameron — i’m more than capable of handling this position … efficiently,” you sealed with a smile.

mr. cameron? rafe could get used to hearing you follow his each and every command while maintaining a respectable cadence — it got him off, and you didn’t even realize it.

drumming the tips of his fingers against the hardwood desk, feigning contemplation, rafe tongues the inside of his cheek, “my receptionist will set you up with a new cellphone — that’ll be for you to use, solely for contacting me, and i will have a driver picking you up and returning you home, every day,” rafe stands from his leather swivel chair, keeping his eyes trained on your nervous gaze as he watches you shift in your seat.

a younger girl like you needed to be trained, conditioned to suit a man like rafe cameron — and he’d be happy to do that for you.

“i will personally see that you have any and all necessities needed to keep you up to my standards — and they will be delivered to your home, however …” rafe stops at your side, crouching down to meet your eyeline, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips as he examines the way your fingernails have torn into the threads of your cheap slacks, “we are going to work on those little … quirks of yours, gotta make sure that you are walking with y’chin up high, hm?” he tuts, lightly nudging your busy fingers with his firm knuckle, before lifting your chin.

wordlessly, you nod, splaying your fingers flat against your thigh as your new boss expands his smirk into a stretched-out grin, “perfect — y’start tomorrow,” he breathes out, raising himself to stand tall as he shakes out his long a toned arms, before craning his neck with a crack.

[sadhours]

kinktober day 3 • cock worship

aka: obsession

billy hargrove x fem!reader

kinktober masterlist

cw: 18+, minors dni, smut, daddy kink, dirty talk, dom!billy, cock worship (duh), oral (m receiving), face fucking, facial, cum eating

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

His lips pout as he gazes down at you. His eyes don’t match. They look entertained and cruel. He grabs his crotch over his tight denim. Shakes it in his hand.

“This what got you acting like that?” Billy wonders aloud, voice dripping in condescension.

From your knees, you nod and dumbly reply, “Uh-huh.”

Billy chuckles, tone matching that look in his eyes. You know he’s about to give you everything you want. He presses his palm against his clothed cock, you can see its swelling from under the denim. Always does when you drop to your knees like this.

“Tell me what you want,” he replies, voice low and a bit husky. He plays cool but you know he wants it just as bad.

“Your cock,” you answer easily.

He meets the reply with a laugh, all cruelty and callousness. He shakes his head and tells you, “No shit, dumbass. Tell me what you want to do with it and maybe I’ll play nice and let you.”

“Wanna worship it,” you whine, blinking up at him like a puppy dog.

“That’s your second strike,” he says, sternly. “Be a good girl and tell me how.”

You lick your lips, eyes trained on the erection before you— strained under denim and ringed fingers gripping it. You don’t even know where to start. Imagination running wild, jumping ahead and thinking about his gorgeous, heavy cock slapping against your face. But if you say that, he might give you a third strike. So you sniffle, collect your thoughts and again lick your lips.

“Wanna press my face against it, right now— wanna feel how hard it is and, and,” you swallow and inhale sharply, “Wanna lick it, over your pants and beg for you to pull it out.”

Billy smiles, apparently pleased with your response and he nods slowly, “And if I pull it out? Then what?”

“I’ll stick my tongue out for it,” you reply and whine, feeling all tingly just at the thought.

“Ya gonna be a good girl? You’re not gonna get to desperate and beg me to fuck your pussy, right?” he asks, voice tilted up and again, all condescending. “Gonna focus on me, yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, pouting in hopes he’ll believe you.

He seems satisfied, smile still on his lips as his fingers move to the buttons of his jeans. Undoes all of them and shoves the jeans down his thighs. Then he stops, looks at you expectantly and he’s got you trained well.

You move forward and nuzzle your face against the bulge in his white underwear. You smell him through the fabric, the stench of sweat from his day makes your stomach tighten with arousal. He puts his hand on your head, pets you with endearment and lets you continue. You lick the shaft of his cock over his underwear, eyes wide and blinking up at him. He groans lowly, letting you know he’s enjoying it.

With your lips finding his tip, you suckle on him over the cotton and his fingers grip on the roots of your hair. An excited gasp pushes past your lips and you continue mouthing him over his underwear.

“Well?” he heaves, tugging on your hair, “Ya gonna beg or what?”

Wide eyes find his darkened blue ones, eyebrows furrowed as you lick against the imprint of him and mumble against it, “Daddy, can you please pull out your cock? Pretty please. I wanna taste it so bad.”

“Think you deserve it?” he pouts, a tilt to his head, blonde curls bouncing as he does it. He’s so pretty it makes your heart rate triple.

Offering a whine against his strained cock, you insist, “Yes, I’ve been a good girl. I’m always a good girl for you.”

Billy laughs, a soft one full of endearment— maybe pride. He pats your head but makes no movement to pull himself from the constraints of his underwear. So you whine, like a petulant brat who isn’t getting her way because that’s exactly what you are. His eyebrows raise as he straightens his head, “I don’t know. I think you’re being impatient. And we both know how many times I’ve taught you that lesson. Show me what you’ve learned.”

You swallow hard, hooking your fingers in the waist of his jeans that are shoved halfway down his thighs. You use the leverage to nuzzle against his rigid cock, nose dragging along the shaft of it and then you’re mouthing at the tip again. Sloppier this time, saliva coating his white briefs and making them a little see-through. You can see the pinkness of his tip now and it only makes you that much more impatient. However, he’s got you trained well. So you just blink dumbly up at him as you drool over his covered cock.

It’s definitely an obsession. You find yourself thinking about his cock all hours of the day, been known to lock yourself in the washroom at work to rub your clit furiously at the memory, just to get home and beg to worship it. Much like you’ve been doing tonight. It’s not your fault though, it’s really the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Perfectly girthy and long. Feels heavy on your tongue and in your hand. The gloriously pronounced vein that runs along it feels wonderful on your tongue. His clean shaven, heavy balls, the cherry on top— or bottom.

You can’t forget to give them attention, dropping an inch or four to mouth against them. Breathing jaggedly as your fingers dance along the outline of his shaft. It’s a deep need churning in your gut, always making you feel this incredibly powerful desperation. Like you’d do absolutely anything to see, touch and worship this cock— anything to please the man attached to it.

He groans lowly, using his grip on your hair to press you even closer to his crotch, “Fuck yeah, atta girl. Show Daddy how good you can be.”

Coating his briefs in your drool, you work your mouth all over his balls and cock. Eyes trained on him intently, full of desperation and pleading. Then you just can’t take it anymore.

“Please daddy, please,” you whine, gyrating against the air. A movement you can’t control, fueled by utter necessity.

Billy smirks, wolffish like he gets off on how badly you need this, need him. He licks his lips, “Please what? What do you want?”

“I need you to pull out your cock, please,” you beg, voice absolutely wrecked already and you’ve just begun.

“Need it, huh?” he grins, tugs on your hair again and looks like he’s thinking it over.

You nod against his cock, lips still rubbing against the shaft. He pushes your head off, shucks his underwear down his thighs and his cock springs out, bounces slightly and has your eyes following it the hold time. He grabs onto your jaw, narrows his eyes down at you and demands, “Open.”

Jaw dropping, you stick your tongue out in preparation of what he’s gonna do. You know him well. Billy’s mouth closes and his jaw moving as he gathers all his salvia before he spits it down into your mouth. You preen, closing your mouth and swirling his salvia with yours. Moaning in satisfaction with it.

“C’mon baby,” Billy taps your cheek with his fingers, “worship me.”

You don’t have to be told twice, surging forward to lick a broad stroke from his sack up to his tip. Back down and back up. Suckling on the shaft and then the base. Licking repeatedly against the ridge where his head meets his shaft, you circle your fingers around the base and give him a squeeze. Billy exhales, lips parting and then his tongue slides against his bottom lip. Not only is his cock gorgeous but so is his fucking face. You can’t stop the whine that rumbles out of your throat as you lick against his tip. Circle your tongue around it and then poking his slit with the tip of your tongue, drool pooling out over him.

Next, you stick your tongue out and slap his cock against it. Making sure you keep that eye contact with him, you jerk him slowly in your hand. The tips of your fingers barely meet wrapped around his thick cock. Your other hand reaches up and cups his balls in your palm, rolling them around just as your lips wrap around the head of his cock. Billy’s hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail, grip tight and guiding the pace for you. Sinking deeper into your mouth, you make sure to open your throat for him.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles out, “you’re so good at this. You know exactly what Daddy likes, huh?”

You attempt to nod with the mouthful of cock, gagging only a little from the motion. Blinking rapidly, you recover quickly and start bobbing your head. Drool dripping from the corners of your mouth, coating his cock and your hand in salvia. This is absolute heaven, your head feels all fuzzy and you just know you’re soaking through your panties— can feel the slickness on your thighs.

Billy let’s go of your hair to unbutton his shirt and shrug it off. Soon enough, his hands are back in your hair but latched onto the roots.

“So messy,” he observes, his voice sounding a little dazed but not nearly as dazed as you feel. “You like making a mess while you suck daddy’s cock, yeah? Just the perfect little mouth for me to fuck.”

A part of you wants to attempt to answer but you feel drunk, maybe high on the feeling of his cock heavy on your tongue and poking at the back of your throat. So you just blink up at him, try to agree with your eyes. And Billy gets it, because he holds your head still by the grip of your hair and thrusts his hips. Controls everything. Uses your mouth. Fucks into you like he’s supposed to, like you want him to.

Your hands move to grab onto his thighs, eyes closing as you focus on keeping your throat open— not letting yourself gag too much from his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he pants, inching towards a whine. You can tell he’s close, but he keeps fucking your mouth for a beat and thankfully pulls out. You don’t want this to end so soon. He grabs hold of his cock, fingers gripping his base and he rubs the shaft all over your face. You stick your tongue out for good measure and bask in the euphoria you feel, that gorgeous cock warm and wet against your face.

He continues, “Fuck, such a pretty girl for daddy. You look so good with my cock on your face like that.”

You hum, looking up at him and replying in the most seductive voice you can manage, “Thank you, daddy. I love it. I love your cock.”

It’s not as seductive as you’d like, voice wrecked from the abuse your throat just took. Billy likes it anyway, bites his lip and rubs the tip of his cock against your lips, “I know you do, baby. That’s why you’re my good girl. All mine, yeah?”

A nod of your head as you kiss against his head and then wrap your lips around it again, hollowing your cheeks as you suck hard. You can taste the saltiness of his precum and it makes your head swim. Billy starts stroking his cock, fast and quick and you’re a little sad because that means he wants to cum but you also want nothing more to taste it.

He groans, loud and low and long, face contorting as his climax inches up on him. God, he looks pretty like that.

“Wanna swallow it or want it on your face?” he asks, rushed and desperate.

You pull off of him a bit to answer, “However you want it, Daddy. I can taste it either way.”

And then he’s busting, all over your face with a broken moan. Your eyes close and your tongue sticks out on instinct. A drop of it lands on your tongue and your lips curl up in a hint of smile. Then he’s swiping his finger along the rest of it on your face and brings it to your tongue. You take all of it, wrapping your lips around his finger and sucking as you open your eyes and gaze up at him.

He exhales shakily, “Atta girl.”

[lovebugism]

I had this idea about eddie dating reader who is obsessed with pop boy bands! tysmm

i'm so obsessed with this idea bless you anon — the town freak tries to impress the local cool girl and, in true eddie munson fashion, it doesn't go as quite expected (friends to lovers, fluff, shameless it reference, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie stands across the counter at Family Video and lays a collection of cassettes on top of it. 

Steve blinks once at the tapes, then twice up at him. “…What is this?” he wonders, visibly dumbfounded.

“Do you interrogate every customer that comes in here?” the wild-haired boy quips, digging into the pockets of his leather jacket for some wadded-up bills. “Just scan it.”

“New Kids on the Block? New Edition?” Steve announces as he bags each plastic case. His chiseled features twist in confusion. “Who are you, and what did you do with Eddie Munson?”

“It’s not for me, dingus.”

“First of all, don’t call me that. And second of all, who the hell is it for then?”

“Someone. No one,” Eddie mumbles, shrugging and shifting his weight on his feet, doing a terrible job of hiding his sudden sheepishness. “Don’t worry about it.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “A girl?”

“…Maybe.”

“A pretty girl?”

Eddie scoffs an unamusing laugh. “Sure. If that’s the only way your pea brain knows how to describe someone as… uncanny, and demonic, and fascinating as she is.”

Steve’s brows pinch in a subtle horror. He’s not sure what most of those words mean, but they don’t really sound like compliments. He just shrugs and decides not to press it any further. “…Okay.”

“She’s just into this stuff, okay?” Eddie confesses, gesticulating wildly with his ringed hands. “And I wanna like the things that she likes— Is that so bad?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s very, very bad,” Steve answers without thinking twice. He passes him the plastic bag full of tapes with a sympathetic glint in his eye. “’Cause that means you’re in love.”

————— 

Eddie stands outside the arcade in wait for you. He knows you always come to The Palace on Fridays — right before the school day ends, so you have a couple hours of peace before the snotty middle schoolers run you out with their post-P.E. stench.

He wears a set of headphones over his untamed curls and a walkman clipped to his jeans. It plays a pop song he’s only ever heard on the car radio. Steve’s radio, specifically. He’s heard you hum it a time or two, and it’s the only time he’s ever been able to stand it — as if he needed another reason to prove Steve right. 

He was head over heels, disgustingly, wretchedly, completely, utterly, and totally in love with you.

Propped against the driver’s side door of his van, he exhales smoke from his lungs and sees you walking down the sidewalk. 

Your pink tights swish at the knees while your plaid skirt, in a grass green color, flutters around your thighs. Your sweater’s bright blue, and the only thing halfway matching the rest of your outfit is the bright emerald dinosaur pictured on the front of it.

You beam at the sight of him. “Teddy? What are you doing here?”

“I’d guess the same thing you’re doing here, sweetheart,” he quips, playing cool as he snuffs out his cigarette with the heel of his worn sneaker.

“Normally, you’re busy on Fridays… I’m starting to feel like you’re stalking me.”

Eddie’s deep brown eyes narrow, twinkling with dark chocolate. “And how would you know that I’m busy on Fridays?” he teases, tilting his wild head to his shoulder.

You shrug, faltering for a blink of a moment. “Corroded Coffin always performs on Fridays. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, maybe just you and the… four other drunks that happento come to the Hideout on Fridays,” he jokes with a boyish laugh.

“Touché,” you concede, smiling wider. “Whatcha listening to?”

You reach out for him, taking the headphones from his ears like you always do. You place them over your own head and expect to hear something loud and heavy — that’s what you usually catch him listening to, anyway. A wide smile blooms on your lips when a familiar song fills your ears.

“New Kids on the Block?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, voice distant with disbelief.

Eddie had been expecting this. He’d spent ten minutes praying this exact moment would happen, but he stumbles over himself about it anyway. “Yeah. Uh, Family Video— They’re selling tapes and stuff now— To keep from going out of business, I guess,” he stammers, laughing awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck. “So, I don’t know. I guess, I thought I’d—”

“Buy it for yourself?” you finish for him, with a knowing grin on your petaled mouth. “And then try to impress me by waiting outside the arcade I go to every Friday? Even though you’re usually busy practicing?”

You see right through him with little effort. Mostly because you’re one and the same — hopelessly in love and tripping over yourselves with it.

Eddie nods, then laughs. “Yeah, actually. That’s— That’s the half of it, yeah.”

Your smile quietens when you slip the headphones back over his head, fingers brushing his curls and palms grazing his flushed cheeks. “Maybe we can go together sometime?” you offer and step back from him again. “I can show you where they kept the real music. You know, make sure they got the right stuff to listen to.”

His chest swells. He almost forgets to breathe. 

He never, in a million years, would’ve expected his first unofficial date with you to be at Family Video, of all places — but he’s grateful for it nonetheless. He figures he could go just about anywhere and be happy as long as he could look over and see you standing right beside him.

Eddie nods until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Sure. Yeah. That sounds— That sounds good.”

“I’ll call you when I’m free,” you tease and walk on by him. 

You’re always free. He knows that. You’re always everywhere and nowhere all at once. Even now, standing right in front of him, you’ll disappear like you’d never been there at all. You just like to keep him guessing, really, and he knows that, too. It’s why he melts for you so easy.

“Okay,” he nods, rapid and utterly dumb.

“I’ll see you soon. Maybe.”

He watches you meander towards the entrance of the arcade. Words start to bubble in his throat. They spill out before his brain can decide whether or not to actually say them. “Please don’t go girl,” he blurts while the lyrics of the same song croon in his ears.

You spin around and blink wordlessly at him. You don’t look confused, but you don’t look impressed either. Eddie can’t gauge the emotion on your face, and he falters.

“That’s the... That’s the name of… of one of their songs,” he stammers.

He blinks, and you’re beaming again. A golden laugh spills from your lips, like honey and summer and sunshine. “I know, Teddy,” you grin — voice as warm and as fond as your glittering gaze. 

He grieves when you turn away again, walking into the arcade without looking back at him once.

Eddie doesn’t breathe again until you’re gone, forgets how to until you’re done clouding his vision.

You’ll be the death of him yet.

[jeysbvck]

you made a mark on me (a golden tattoo)

welp, here it is! cody has been my favourite wrestler since 2007/2008, and i NEVER thought i'd write a fic about him, but here we are! after mondays segment, i couldn't get this out of my mind and i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! please reblog & comment, they are really helpful & motivating to fic writers!

taglist; @nightmare-viper @harmshake @wrestlezaynia @alyyaanna @xtripleiiix @afterdarkprincess @courtninacole @crxssjae @wrestlingprincess80 🫶🏻 (if u wanna be taken off the list or added, lemme know!!)

warnings; teasing in public, f receiving, m receiving, slight praise kink, p in v penetration, slight exhibitionism, jealous!cody (if i've missed anything please let me know!)

word count; 2.7k

summary; once again, teasing Cody works wonders.

Even from the other side of the room, you could feel those blue eyes on you, staring so hard you were sure you'd find a burn mark on your cheek when you looked in a mirror. You leaned your elbow on the bar, twirling a piece of hair around your finger as you half listened to Damian; giggling and playfully slapping his arm or chest at the right times. You could barely pay attention to Damian. All you could think about was Cody and how he was reacting to the very obvious flirting happening. You could picture his face clearly in your mind; the way his usually soft gaze would be hardened watching the scene play out, the way he'd be clenching his jaw or biting the inside of his cheek; waiting for the moment he could drag you away without causing suspicion.

The moment came sooner than anticipated when Dom dragged Damian away to rejoin the rest of The Judgement Day in the booth they'd occupied all night. You looked around the room, searching for Cody, but when you couldn't find him, you opted to join Sami and Jey, who were waving at you wildly. Before you could, someone came up behind you, and their hand gripped your bicep tightly.

"I know what you're doing," Cody said, his voice low in your ear.

You craned your neck so you could smile up at Cody. "What? I was just having a very lovely conversation with Damian." You said innocently.

Cody spun you around and glared down at you, his eyes looking brighter under the dim lights. "It won't work." He told you, and you tilted your head, pouting slightly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You replied, batting your eyelashes, making Cody roll his neck. "You wanna dance?" You quickly asked before he could say anything else.

He glanced at the mass of people dancing and pulled a face. "We really shouldn't..."

"Come on, I was dancing with Jey earlier. It doesn't -"

"You were dancing with Jey?" He asked, his nostrils flaring as he narrowed his eyes. "Fine, let's dance." He conceded, unable to hide his jealousy as he pulled you to the dancefloor as you giggled.

You took advantage of the number of people on the dancefloor and pressed your body up against Cody while snaking your arms around his neck. His hands rested on your waist, and he raised his eyebrow, to which you shrugged, a smile dancing on your lips. "Sorry." You mouthed, and he shook his head, unable to hide the smile. "You're terrible." He replied, making you grin.

"Oh, you know you love it." You said, massaging the back of his neck with your fingertips, just like you did when you were curled up in bed together. Being this close to him was driving you wild, and if you couldn't touch him the way you truly wanted to, you'd revel in driving him just as wild.

You pushed your pussy into Cody's bulge as you danced, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Don't tease me," He warned, his voice almost a growl. "I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself."

You lifted yourself onto your toes and whispered in Codys' ear, your breasts pushing against his chest. "Who's asking you to control yourself? You could just let go."

Your breath on his neck and your scent in his nostrils was intoxicating. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes as he inhaled through his nose; a futile attempt to control the effect you were having on him. His hands made the journey from your hips to your ass and you glanced around the room, thankful that nobody was paying any attention to the two of you. Considering neither of you was ready for people to know about the two of you, you were playing a very dangerous game. Teasing each other and flirting around other people, stealing kisses and secret moments in crowded rooms, sneaking into each other's hotel rooms or onto Cody's bus; it was all so thrilling, and it was a miracle nobody had caught onto the two of you.

"Baby, you gotta stop." He groaned, squeezing your ass. "You're killing me."

Your eyebrow arched upwards, followed by a smirk. "You want me to stop?" You questioned, slipping your hand in between your bodies, sliding your hand down his shirt until you stopped at his belt buckle. "Just say the word, and I'll do whatever you want."

Cody dropped his head onto your shoulder, a low, almost animalistic sound emitting from his throat. He rutted against you, nipping at your neck as he did, the action making your pussy throb as you caught a moan in your throat. Before you could move your hand lower, Cody promptly grabbed your wrist.

"How about we continue this somewhere more private?" Cody said into your ear. He'd posed it as a question, but it wasn't intended as one— which was apparent when he didn't wait for your answer and practically dragged you out of the main party room and through the hotel lobby.

With his hand on the small of your back, he pushed you through the doors, the cold night air pinching your naked arms. Cody guided you around the corner, and before you knew it, you were up against the wall, his lips attaching to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You reciprocated the kiss, tongues wrapping around each other; both moaning in harmony as he fondled your breasts over your dress. You unbuckled the belt and popped the button open, and when he bit down on your lip, you grinned. You tried to slip your hand into his boxers, ready to feel his cock in your hand, but Cody pulled away, breathless.

"Not here." He said, lacing his fingers around yours. You walked hand in hand across the parking lot, towards where trees lined the edge of the lot. The closer you got, the more you noticed the large outline of Codys' bus, hidden in the shadows of the trees, tucked away from the moonlight. 

"You brought your bus here?" You laughed. "You couldn't use the car?"

Cody unlocked the door and ushered you up the steps. "It's a good thing I didn't, isn't it? I knew you'd try something." He teased, slapping your ass lightly. You turned to face him.

"I knew it'd work." You said, reciprocating the soft smile he sent your way as the lock clicked. He took a few steps towards you, his eyes boring into your soul. They were mesmerising, like two oceans you were certain to drown in, and you wouldn't mind a single bit if you did.

"Of course, it worked," Cody said softly. "It'll always work."

You couldn't wait any longer. You pulled Cody towards you by his tie, your lips smashing together forcefully, his fingers tangled in your hair as he tugged slightly, deepening the kiss. He was like a drug you were addicted to, one that you'd never want to give up.

Cody spun you around and slowly unzipped your dress, peppering your naked back with kisses. The black, velvet number fell to the floor, and you turned to face him, standing in just your heels and black panties. He took a step back and carefully studied you like he was looking at his favourite work of art. He grinned and licked his lips as he arched his eyebrow.

"Get on the bed." He ordered. You stepped backwards until your legs hit the edge of the small bed, and you lowered yourself down, the mattress dipping under your weight. Cody pulled at his tie until it loosened and unbuttoned his shirt, smirking at you as he did.

He stood in front of you, his trousers still open from the make-out session outside, and you maintained eye contact as you pushed them and his boxers down his thighs, freeing his cock from its restraints. Cody's tongue poked out of between his teeth as he smirked, his eyes dark as he flicked his thumb across your bottom lip before he lined his cock up against your mouth.

You stuck your tongue out just enough for it to brush the tip, the simple action making Cody buck his hips. You opened your mouth wider, taking as much of Cody's cock as you could. His hand bundled your hair into a ponytail and as you closed your mouth around him, a groan left his lips as he pulled on your hair, throwing his head back. You dragged your tongue up the underside of his cock, the sensation making it twitch in your mouth. You flicked the tip before curling your tongue around it,and you grasped the base of him, taking a moment to look up at him while you pleasured him.

Cody's eyes were glazed over, profanities spilling from him while he guided your head and fucked your mouth. You loved the noises he made, loved the look on his face whenever you were together. He was usually so calm and collected, so to be the one who made him lose control, to fall apart because of you, it made you feel incredibly powerful and confident; something you didn't have much experience with until you met Cody.

He found himself in a rhythm— one that you wanted to disrupt and so you rolled his balls in your hands, massaging them gently as you took the rest of his cock, choking slightly as the tip hit the back of your throat. The noise Cody made was sinful, and you weren't sure you could be any more turned on until you looked up at him through teary eyes. The sweat was beading around his hairline, his teeth almost biting through his lip as he grunted and thrust into your face.

You wrapped your tongue around his cock and he forcefully pushed your head into him before he couldn't take anymore. He tugged you off by your hair, a Pop! echoing out around the bus. You watched him lean towards you and you crawled up the bed slightly, until Cody was leering over you, his eyes full of lust. He wiped your wet cheeks with his thumbs and kissed you; so much passion in the soft and tender embrace. The longer the kiss went on, the more fierce it became, and your back hit the soft sheets, bringing Cody down with you. His mouth followed a path, planting little butterfly kisses down your jawline, your neck, down to your cleavage  — where he latched onto your breast, sucking and biting as your hands ran down his shoulders, fingertips scratching his back. His mouth then continued its journey down your sternum to your stomach while his hand caressed your breast and rolled your nipple with his fingers. 

Cody hooked his thumbs under your underwear line and ripped them clean from your body. He threw them over his shoulder and held your hips down with one arm, his other hand snaking back up to your throat. He flattened his tongue against your slit and slowly dragged it up your cunt, beginning his feast.

Your hands grabbed the back of his head, and you attempted to buck your hips, but his arm wouldn't let you. "Ohhhh, Cody," you whimpered through little gasps, "feels so fucking good!"

You felt him smile against your thigh as he kissed along the insides before burying his face back into you. "You're such a good girl." He said. "You're my good girl." He said, before flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips bucked again, and his grip on your throat tightened as did the grip on your hips. Cody was great at everything he did, he had that Midas touch, but he was incredible at making you feel amazing.

You squeaked as he pushed his tongue into your entrance, releasing your throat so he could caress your clit with his thumb as he fucked you with his tongue. You writhed underneath him as much as he'd allow, pushing his head deeper into your cunt, gripping your thighs against his head, unintelligible sounds leaving your throat as your toes curled.

"Co-Cody, please! I'm gonna cum!" You gasped. He chuckled, picking up the pace and your moans got louder. You were certain that everyone in the hotel would be able to hear you, and that the bus would no longer be hidden from everyone— but you didn't care one bit.

You came undone in seconds, and Cody released your hips from his grasp so you could ride his face, his name spilling out of your mouth. His kept working as you rode the wave of your orgasm and when he came up for air, you giggled breathlessly.

Cody climbed up your body like a lion hunting its prey. He needed to be inside you, to feel your walls clench tight around him as he fucked you hard. He rubbed his cock against your slit, sliding it between your lips, without penetrating. You wrapped your legs around him, attempting to pull him closer to you, trying to force him to give you what you craved. He laughed, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth and rubbed your entrance with the tip of his cock.

"Cody, please -" You whined, your heels digging into his ass cheeks.

"Use your words, baby."

"Cody- I want your-" His tip teased your cunt again and you groaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. "Cody, please fu-fuck m- ohhh ffuck!"

He slammed into you, guttural groans passing through his lips at the euphoric sensation. He would never tire of any of this— of being inside you, making you scream his name and lose control at the slightest touch. He loved feeling your body underneath him or on top of him. Even the smallest of gestures; the slightest touch of your pinky fingers secretly interlocking around people and his favourite— when you placed your palm on his cheek before a match, a little good luck ritual you'd implemented long ago. He would never get enough of the sparks that coursed through his veins when you touched.

His pace quickened when your walls clenched around him. Your moans echoed around the room, in harmony once again, and as another orgasm reached its peak, your arms reached around Cody's neck and pulled toward you, pressing your lips together. The kiss was messy and toothy, and he interlaced your fingers together, sending his free hand between your bodies, his finger circling your clit. You quickly became unglued and your head thrashed against the bed, screaming Cody's name, just the way he liked; as Cody reached his own orgasm, his mouth found your neck, biting down hard before he lapped at the skin with his tongue.

He dropped his body onto you, and you wrapped your arms around his back, enjoying the weight of him on top of you. He nuzzled his head into your neck, pulling the sheets over the both of you, and you closed your eyes, feeling content. With his chest on yours, your heartbeats combined, like your two hearts were one. There were so many reasons for you to go public with your relationship, to let people in on your secret. You wanted to scream from the rooftops about how lucky you were to be the one Cody Rhodes wanted to be with. But you also wanted to stay in your bubble, in your own world where it was just the two of you, nobody else mattered, or even existed.

Cody lifted his head off your chest and leaned onto his elbow, tilting his head as he grinned at you. "You okay?" He asked and you turned to face him, reaching your hand up and placing your palm on his cheek, smiling at the beautiful man with the hearts in his eyes that were for you, and only you.

"I'm starving." You whispered, grinning at him. He rolled onto his back, reaching for a phone that was on the bedside cabinet. He settled back onto the bed, and you found your usual space on his chest. "What do you fancy?"

"Apart from you?" You asked, tracing circles around his chest. Cody laughed loudly, and you grinned wider. "Chinese."

"Whatever you want, you shall receive." Cody replied, making you blush. "Yeah?" You asked, and he nodded, planting his lips on your forehead softly.

"Of course. Always."