#a full ramp set too

[the-dance-of-italy]

I want to heal my child self and start the hot wheels collection she always wanted.

[ceramicbeetle]

it has come to me in a vision (Lila using phone AAC app to write her essays when she goes to college)

[luna-azzurra]

How To Write A Chase Scene

Before anyone takes off running, the reader needs to know why this matters. The chase can’t just be about two people running, it’s gotta have a reason. Is your hero sprinting for their life because the villain has a knife? Or maybe they’re chasing someone who just stole something valuable, and if they don’t catch them, it’s game over for everyone. Whatever the reason, make it clear early on. The higher the stakes, the more the reader will care about how this chase plays out. They’ll feel that surge of panic, knowing what’s on the line.

Sure, a chase scene is fast, people are running, dodging, maybe even falling. But not every second needs to be at full speed. If it’s too frantic from start to finish, the reader might get numb to the action. Instead, throw in some rhythm. Use quick, sharp sentences when things get intense, like someone stumbling or almost getting caught. But then slow it down for a second. Maybe they hit a dead end or pause to look around. Those brief moments of slow-down add suspense because they feel like the calm before the storm kicks up again.

Don’t let the setting just be a backdrop. The world around them should become a part of the chase. Maybe they’re tearing through a marketplace, dodging carts and knocking over tables, or sprinting down alleyways with trash cans crashing behind them. If they’re running through the woods, you’ve got low-hanging branches, roots, slippery mud, and the constant threat of tripping. Describing the environment makes the scene more vivid, but it also adds layers of tension. It’s not just two people running in a straight line, it’s two people trying to navigate through chaos.

Running isn’t easy, especially when you’re running for your life. This isn’t some smooth, graceful sprint where they look cool the whole time. Your character’s lungs should be burning, their legs aching, maybe their side starts to cramp. They’re gasping for air, barely holding it together. These details will remind the reader that this chase is taking a real toll. And the harder it gets for your character to keep going, the more the tension ramps up because the reader will wonder if they’ll actually make it.

Don’t make it too easy. The villain should almost catch your hero or the hero should almost grab the villain. But something happens last second to change the outcome. Maybe the villain’s fingers brush the hero’s coat as they sprint around a corner, but they manage to slip out of reach just in time. Or maybe your hero almost gets close enough to tackle the villain, but slips on some gravel, losing precious seconds.

And Don’t let the chase end in a way that feels too predictable. Whether your character gets away or is caught, it should be because of something clever. Maybe they spot a hiding place that’s almost impossible to notice, or they use their surroundings to mislead their pursuer. Or, the person chasing them pulls a fast one, Laying a trap, cutting off their escape route, or sending the hero down the wrong path. You want the end to feel earned, like it took quick thinking and ingenuity, not just dumb luck or fate.

[loveletterlore]

a sweater affair ♡ b.b. x reader

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: Bucky and reader are in a secret relationship, but can't stop wearing each others clothes...

warnings: details of injury and wound getting stitched up, keeping secrets, nothing too serious, some kisses

word count: 3.3k

author's note: fluffy Bucky is my favourite thing in the world, I just want him to cuddle me until I fall asleep. also, this is definitely not the most intellectual fic ever, it's just some toothrotting, daily life fluff so enjoy (---- indicates time skip, ////// indicates new day)

Your leg bounced up and down, anxiety manifesting in your body in familiar ways. You were awaiting the return of the mission crew, having heard that the mission had been extra brutal. As one of the doctors in the Avengers compound, it was your role to assess the agent's conditions, organising different levels of care for those who needed it.

Eyes focused on the horizon, you spotted the quinjet approaching as a buzz sounded over your walkie-talkie.

“We’re about 60 seconds out from base, got a couple here who need urgent med attention.”

“Ready and waiting,” you responded, trying to hide the wobble in your voice.

The quinjet came in to land, gusts of air messing your hair and causing you to squint your eyes. The door opened, agents limping out towards you. You directed the first set inside, nurses taking notes as they went. 

You turned towards the quinjet, your walk progressing into a jog due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your feet moved up the ramp, narrowly dodging the pilot as they left the craft. Once inside, you turned to the right, scanning the cockpit to no avail. A wave of nerves washed over you and your heart dropped as you turned on your heel.

Looking up, your eyes met his and relief washed over you, your stomach turning with nausea. He was okay, thank god. His eyes crinkled slightly, the height of expression for this man. As the rest of the team exited the quinjet, he paused slightly in front of you.

“Doc,” his voice was low, barely speaking above a whisper.

“Bucky,” you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as his familiar scent hit your nostrils. 

The temptation to reach out and take his hand in yours was strong. You ran your eyes over his body, trying to identify any injuries on his body. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky could sense the anxiety coursing through your veins. “Just a bit bruised. If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you give me a full check up later.”

You glanced up at his face, which he had leaned closer to you, “Give me an hour to check these guys out.”

A small nod was his response as he straightened, stretching his neck and leaving the quinjet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pushed open the door to your room, the familiar scent immediately wafting into your face. You knew he was there without even needing to see him, this had become routine over these past weeks. Steam snuck out of the bathroom through the cracks around the door and you could smell his body wash. Dropping your jacket on a chair, you began to tidy up around the room.

Pulling open the drawer, you placed the stray socks you had gathered from around the room and paused, reaching for one of Bucky’s sweaters. You lifted it to your face, inhaling the scent before pulling it on over your shirt. 

The bathroom door opened, revealing Bucky with a towel draped around his waist, still dripping from the shower. He rubbed at his hair with a smaller towel, a smirk growing on his face as he saw you, dressed in his clothes. Leaning against the doorframe, he observed the image for a few moments, considering how he had gotten to this point in his life.

Feeling eyes on you, you turned to face him, a gentle smile on your lips, “Hey, how ya holdin’ up?”

“All good, doll,” his voice was music to your ears, like your favourite song on repeat. “Although I could do with some help with this…”

Turning, he presented a large gash in his side, the wound raw and bloody.

“James, for goodness sake-” you rolled your eyes, brushing past him into the bathroom to grab your med kit. “Go sit down.”

He chuckled at your response, having known exactly what you would say. Grimacing at the movement, he sat down and leaned in a way that would allow you access to his injury. You kneeled on the floor next to him, pulling gloves on and lightly pressing at the wound, watching for any signs of pain - thanks to the serum, he seemed pretty unphased by the whole situation.

Bucky watched each movement you made as you fixed him up, studying your face as though he was trying to memorise your features. A blush crept through your skin, the sight making you even more beautiful to the man with you. His hand brushed your cheek, drawing your eyes up to meet his gaze.

“Hi,” he mumbled, eyes half closed. In all the time you had known Bucky, he had never been this at ease, this comfortable, this calm. The effect was particularly evident when it was just the two of you, alone and safe behind closed doors. You doubted anyone would believe you if you told them that James Buchanan Barnes, the tortured ex-assassin with a brutal backstory, had fallen asleep with his head in your lap, you stroking slow, gentle circles on his scalp. It was actually his favourite position, he had often told you, usually as he balanced the line between asleep and awake.

And here you were, patching him up in your room as his thumb stroked along your bottom lip.

“Hi,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb. “Nearly done.”

He let his head fall back, strangely enjoying the gentle touches of you stitching him up. As you wiped the wound, applying a small dressing, you pressed a kiss to his side and stood up. You threw the med kit onto the other side of the bed as Bucky’s hands lifted to rest on your hips, pulling you between his spread legs. His head dropped to rest on your chest as your arms circled him, a comfortable quiet settling over the room.

“Any other secret injuries?” you kept your voice low, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“Well, there is this one, maybe you can kiss it better?” he looked up at you with those blue eyes, glinting in the light.

You let out a sigh, playing up to the trick you knew he was about to pull, “Oh dear, where is it?”

“Right here,” he pointed to his forehead, pouting his bottom lip out.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering a moment, enjoying the closeness.

“Oh, and here,” his finger moved to his cheek.

Obliging, you shifted to nuzzle into his cheek, dotting a kiss on his cheekbone.

“And one last one,” he pointed to his lips, the bottom one still jutting out in a mock-pout.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you placed a finger under his chin, tilting it upwards. Leaning forward slowly, you pressed your lips against his, a sigh of relief leaving your body. His hand returned to your hip, squeezing comfortingly. Your hands rested on his shoulders, his build keeping you steady on your feet. 

After a moment you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“How was it?” you asked, your eyes half-closed. 

Bucky knew you were talking about the mission. He leaned back in the bed, pulling your hips with him so that you were laying across him. Reaching an arm behind you, he curled it to allow his fingers to play in your hair while the other hand rested on your thigh.

“‘S fine, nothing too special,” he murmured, eyes closed from the comfort of your presence. “You should have seen the other guys.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in the usual smell of him. The two of you lay there, pleasantly cozy in each other's company, even without words. Feeling yourself begin to drift, you snuck your hand up to cup his face, pulling his lips to yours for another gentle kiss.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beep… beep… beep…

Electric buzzing pulled you from the warm, serene clouds of sleep. Rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, your vision cleared and revealed the face centimeters from yours. A sleepy smile grew on your face at the sight, warmth flooding your body. Gently unravelling your limbs from his, you cringed as he shifted in his sleep, evidently missing your presence. 

Sneaking from the room, you closed the door quietly behind you, finally letting out a breath.

“Hey Doc!” Steve appeared from around the corner, clapping you on the shoulder. You jumped at the volume, your senses still awakening after your impromptu nap. 

“Cap, hi,” your voice was groggy. You cleared your throat before looking back up at him. “Did you get beeped as well?”

“Yeah, can I walk you there?” Steve’s eyes glanced down at your sweater, recognition flashing across his face.

Crap. Bucky’s sweater. 

You forced your eyes to stay on his face, refusing to give him any sign of the truth. “Sure, we should probably hurry up!”

You turned on your heels, starting towards the medical bay with Steve hot on your heels. Blood rushed to your head as you realized your current situation - if Steve had made the connection, there was no doubt others would too.

Barrelling into the med bay, you sprung into action, trying desperately to ignore the lingering glances you felt all over your skin.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Tony’s parties had always been extravagant, and this one was evidently no different. Balloons and lights turned the room fluorescent, a rainbow of colours reflecting on the dance floor in the middle of the room. For as much drama as these events caused, it was always nice for the whole team to get together and have some fun, Avengers and medical staff included.

The past few days, the only discussion in the medical bay had been centered around outfits, what was everyone going to wear? Hidden in the back of your wardrobe, you had purchased an outfit months ago, knowing that one of these parties would inevitably be organised before long.  

The surprise of the day had occurred when you exited the bathroom; hair done, sprayed with your favorite scent and accessories perfectly matched to your outfit. You were thoroughly feeling  yourself, the reality of this look living up to the concept you had created in your head. What you hadn’t expected, however, was to see Bucky, fixing his cufflinks in the vanity mirror before adjusting his tie - the colour of which matched your outfit, exactly.

You watched his reflection in the mirror, leaning back against the wall while admiring the man before you. He caught your eyes in the mirror, a smirk on his face as he witnessed the reaction to his master plan. 

“You like it?” he spoke clearly as he picked up the hairbrush from the vanity, running it through his locks and settling them into place. 

You sighed into your words, “A perfect match. Aren’t you worried someone will realise?”

“Nah, Tony’ll get everyone drunk enough they won’t even be able to see straight,” Bucky chuckled, using your scrunchie to tie back part of his hair as he brushed through a knot.

“Apart from Steve,” you raised your eyebrows, alluding to your previous interaction with the blonde super soldier.

“Steve’s fine, even if he thought something he’d never say it to anyone,” Bucky smiled at you, sliding the scrunchie back on his wrist as he turned, approaching you. His hands rested on your hips as he looked over your figure. “You look stunning, by the way.”

“Thanks Jamie,” you pressed your lips to his, reaching up to stroke his neatly trimmed beard. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“You know, we just look too good together. If people knew, they would just be so jealous they would implode,” Bucky joked, a familiar, cheeky grin returning to his face.

“Yeah, yeah,” rolling your eyes, you pressed a final kiss to his lips before turning for the door. “I’ll see you up there. Don’t stare at me too hard.”

You gave him a quick wink before opening the door, making sure to see the look on his face before leaving - it was a sight to remember.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve had approached you as you entered the party, clapping his hand on your shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Hey, Doc! You scrub up nicely,” he smiled down at you, dressed in his finest suit. 

“Looking good, Cap,” you pulled him into a quick hug. “How have you been? I feel like it’s been a minute since we caught up.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Steve spoke, your previous interaction hanging in the air between you. “I’m good, just all these missions at the moment.”

It felt like a test, as though he wanted to see if Bucky had mentioned anything about these missions, to see if you and Bucky truly were in eachothers pockets as he predicted.

“There’s been some brutal injuries coming in, I feel like I’ve set more bones in the past week than the entirety of last year,” a nervous laugh left your body, feeling forced. Steve laughed in return, his eyes still searching yours.

A murmur settled over the crowd as heads turned towards the door. Curious, you craned your neck in an attempt to see what everyone was looking at. Of course it was him.

Bucky strolled in, running a hand through his hair as he scanned the room, eyes settling on you and Steve. 

In that moment, there were three things you knew. You knew, without even looking, that Steve’s eyes were on you, trying to gauge your reaction to Bucky’s presence. You also knew that on Bucky’s raised arm, your scrunchie still sat, decorating his wrist. The final thing that you knew, your face was flushed pink as you realised the pair of you had messed up, again. 

Steve definitely knew something was happening.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The light from your laptop was starting to give you a headache, blue light and all that. Running a hand over your face, you squeezed your eyes closed before opening them again and looking at the ceiling. The night shift was your least favorite of the shift patterns to work; not necessarily because of the timings, more because you hated leaving Bucky to sleep alone. The nightmares always seemed more frequent during these weeks. 

A quick stretch of your limbs, punctuated by your bones popping and cracking, waking your body up from its lazy position, slumped over in your chair. There wasn’t too much to do on these night shifts, no-one was training at this time and missions had been slow recently. Your job was just to monitor the few agents on the ward and be there in case of emergency.

You stood, taking the opportunity to release the pressure in your back with a quick turn. Your shirt rode up, wafting Bucky’s familiar scent back into your face. You had left his room, not realising you were still wearing his red henley shirt. It was oversized on you, making it super comfortable and ideal for this shift. 

“Doctor, Captain Rogers is on his way to the med bay with a request,” FRIDAY spoke over the speaker, the sudden noise a shock to your system.

Rubbing your eyes, you responded, “Okay, do you know the request?”

“He didn’t say, my apologies,” FRIDAY returned.

You began to pace the room, trying to consider what Steve might be wanting from you. Steve was the type of person who made it his business to know every single person in the compound. It’s my role as the Captain, he would say, the ship doesn’t sail without the sailors. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come to the med bay, visiting the medical staff on his rounds. 

At the sound of the door you turned, eyes landing on the built frame of the man before you. Steve had never intimidated you, despite his intense physique and serious face, until recently, the prospect of him uncovering your secret setting you on edge. You plastered a smile on your face, trying to avoid him sensing something was off with you. 

“Hey, Cap. How’s it going?” you spoke calmly, strolling over to meet him.

“Hi, uh- Are you free to talk?” Steve reached up, scratching the back of his neck.

A wave of anxiety swept over you as he spoke and you were sure the blood drained from your face, “Yeah, of course.”

Steve moved to sit at one of the tables, you sliding in across from him.

“I’ve been noticing some things and I just need to ask… are you and Bucky…?” he trailed off, seeming mildly uncomfortable with asking the question.

You sighed, eyes dropping to the floor, “Yes, Steve. We didn’t want to tell anyone yet, it’s still fairly new and we don’t really know how it’s going to work.”

Steve blew out a breath, seeming instantly lighter, “Thank God.”

“Huh?”

Surprise bloomed in your chest at his response. You were sure that he would be upset, maybe even betrayed at the secret being kept from him. Anger wouldn’t have surprised you, you were well aware of Steve’s intent on helping Bucky heal from his past before getting into anything overwhelming or new. Relief hadn’t been anywhere on your list of expected reactions.

“I was worried about him, something seemed different. It’s strange; he was more secretive and withdrawn, but there was a part of him that seemed better, healed maybe. It wasn’t until I saw you wearing his shirt, and then at Tony’s party, that it started to click. He’s in love,” Steve smiled, looking across the table at you.

“Oh, I- it’s still new, we haven’t said anything like that,” you stuttered.

Steve smiled, knowingly, “Doc, he’s been my best friend for nearly a century. I can tell when he’s in love.”

Your face flushed scarlet, your stomach full of butterflies at the revelation. Your watch beeped, alerting you to the end of your shift.

“Steve, I have to go,” your eyes met his and he instantly understood the message. Giving you a quick salute and a smile, he stood and turned to leave the room.

You sprinted back to your room, counting down the steps as you neared him. You creaked the door open, inch by inch, peering in to see if Bucky was asleep. As you had expected, he was lying atop the covers, hands behind his head and eyes focused on the ceiling. He turned to look at you as you entered.

“Mornin’ doll, how was-”

You ran over, cutting off his speech as you kicked your leg over, straddling his hips. You cupped his face in your hands, leaning down to press your lips to his. You felt his surprised response as he short circuited, taking a second to kick into gear and kiss you back. His hands roamed up your legs, rising to rest on your waist as he lifted his head, returning the kiss with passion.

Your lips danced as tongues and teeth clashed, the kiss becoming heated quickly. You forced yourself away from him, lips swollen and pink from the passion.

“Woah, good night?” Bucky was breathless, a rare sight for the self-proclaimed “ladies man”. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, I am totally, irreversibly, completely in love with you.”

Your heart pounded, the seconds stretching into minutes, into hours, into days. You watched as Bucky’s expression changed; surprise, confusion, understanding, happiness, excitement, laughter. Then, you watched his eyes as they began to water.

“Darlin’, I am fully, devotedly, inconceivably in love with you,” he pulled you back to his lips, confirming the statement with his mouth. 

Faces met, hands grabbed, hair pulled, hips rolled, teeth nibbled, breaths moaned. It was truly a night to remember.

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[caelivir]

between me and you, our little secret | suna rintarou

synopsis. rintarou can't keep hiding the fact that he is madly in love with you.

pairing. suna rintarou x fem!reader | wc. 1.3k | genres. secret & established relationship, fluff, down bad and jealous rinnie | warnings. suggestive in the beginning (i got carried away...)

notes. something came over me last night. the entire idea of this made me foam at the mouth. tbh this isn't supposed to be like a fic fic so that's why it's a mess 😭. title definitely did not come from a one direction lyric 👍.

either way hope you enjoy. and happy 300 (+19) followers. love yall.

you and rintarou both agree to be in a secret relationship. your reasoning being that you want to be able to have moments to yourselves without having to deal with the hassle of gossiping peers for now. (or in other words: not having to deal with an interrogation from the miyas).

it's full of sneaking around and hiding away from the prying eyes of your classmates. it's getting texts from him during lunch to meet him at the unused classroom on the third floor after school ends. you'd be waiting patiently, sitting atop one of desks there until he's finally able to slip his way in.

it's you being barely able to get a 'hi' in before rin's crashing his lips onto yours. his forcefulness causes your mouth to fall agape, and he doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue on yours. his hands stroke your thighs before they settle onto one of his favorite parts of your body—your waist. (the reality being he can't choose a singular one. he adores everything about you). your arms drape themselves over his shoulders as the kiss deepens. your mouths move together in perfect harmony, sending waves of heat down to your stomach and ramping up the speed of your heartbeat.

it's seductively messy and hot that you can't help the mewl that escapes your throat. rintarou bites your bottom lip in response before trailing sloppy, open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. it doesn't last long because he craves the feeling of your lips against his so rin guides his head back up to get another taste of you. he devours you entirely until your lungs are begging for a breath of air.

it's you having to remind rin that he's going to be late to practice if he doesn't leave now, and he'll whine and groan complaints to you until your insistence forces him to comply, but he doesn't leave immediately, not without stealing another kiss from you.

a secret romance with suna rintarou means being able to have restrain in public or group settings. that's a lie. neither of you are very good at it because your fingers constantly graze each other when you walk side by side when you're with the twins. and if you're feeling brave, you'll wrap your hand around his index and middle fingers for a brief, fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the both of you long for more.

at group dinners, in the chance that rintarou is able to find a way to sit next to you, he'll sneak his hand onto your thigh or hand, tracing anything and everything onto your skin, all while making fun of atsumu from across the table. polygons. misshaped lines. animals. the characters of his name. the characters of yours. hearts. i love you's.

or in class, suna always has his eye on you no matter what you're doing. there's a constant feeling that someone's staring at you, and every single time, it's him. you turn back and give him a beaming grin that makes his heart melt.

one night, when you and rin are cuddling in your bed, you sleepily tell him that you're ready to launch your relationship. you say that he doesn't need to feel pressured by you. you'll wait for him to be ready too, no matter how long it may take.

it's in that moment he's reminded how special, precious, and considerate you are. he decides right there that if you're ready, then he is too. the only problem is how exactly do you launch a relationship? where does he even begin?

he's stuck on it for weeks, and he swears that the longer it takes him, the more he gets tested. because where did that loser from class 3 come from? he's dropped by every single day to talk to you and for a very obvious reason. suna can see the damn hearts swimming in the guy's eyes.

the longer he watches these interactions, the more it pisses him off. what gave him the right to breathe near you? it takes everything in your boyfriend to not approach the guy and tell him to fuck off. you'd probably get upset if he did that so rintarou forces himself to let his jealousy simmer.

it only gets worse after a particularly grueling match. he was worn down. all rin wanted to have see you, have lunch with the team, and go home.

you always come to games to support him and the twins. it's a routine at this point. you'd meet up with them once they got changed and congratulate everyone on their win. atsumu would then beg you to eat with them, and you'd insist that it's fine. rintarou sees right through you. you're always going to agree because it gives you an excuse to be around each other without anyone questioning it.

however, what isn't part of the routine is seeing his opponent flirt with you. it's so obvious that you're not comfortable, and the bastard can't seem to take a hint. the final thread of rin's patience snaps. his jealousy boils over.

he drops his bag and is fuming when he approaches the scene before him. your eyes widen at the sight of your boyfriend because you have never seen him this angry before. he doesn't bother saying anything to the bastard before him. instead, suna wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in to capture your lips in a searing kiss that you reciprocate instantly.

atsumu's gasp is so painfully loud and dramatic that it probably could have been heard around the world, and rintarou continues kissing you regardless. the only reason he stops is because he still feels the presence of his opponent that had the audacity to even try hitting on you.

"you're still here?" suna scorns, raising an eyebrow as he looks the guy up and down.

"what the hell are you-"

"kissing my girlfriend. am i not allowed to kiss my girlfriend anymore?" rin challenges with a tilt of his head.

the guy snaps his gaze to you. "what? you never said you had-"

"i did." you clarify with a dead glare. "i said it multiple times, and you didn't care to listen, asshat."

the guy bites his tongue, red in the face with embarrassment or rage or maybe both, and hustles away. when he's gone, rintarou finally calms down. he looks at you, feeling guilt rise in his stomach.

"sorry." your boyfriend apologizes. "i didn't mean for us to go public like that. i just-"

you laugh. "don't worry about it, love. i was getting fed up too. besides," your lips pull into a teasing smirk. "it was kinda hot. you should get jealous more often."

suna frowns slightly. "i'd rather not."

"tsumu, ya owe me twenty." osamu says apathetically. this effectively snaps you and rin back to the audience you completely forgot you had. every single one of them is gaping at their middle blocker.

"like hell i do!" atsumu protests.

you blink at osamu, jaw falling open slightly. "you made a bet?"

"and?" osamu shoots back as if putting money on your friend's relationship isn't a bizarre thing to do. your boyfriend opts out of saying anything else, and you have to stifle a laugh.

"hey! don't think yer gettin' out of this! ya have some explaining to do!" the blonde twin points an accusing finger at the both of you.

"sure atsumu. sure." rin dismisses the setter as he's finally, finally, able to interlock his fingers with yours for all eyes to see. you squeeze rin's hand as a warm feeling spreads throughout your body. a smile blooms on your pretty face.

never again will suna rintarou ever hide you from the world. he loves you with his entire being, and he'll spend the rest of his life making sure everyone knows it.

[nemo-writes]

𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖿 141 𝗆𝖾𝗇 ── .✦

masterlist

── .✦ 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍

the couch is comfy, the lights are low, and you've just started this week's episode of the great british bake off. simon sits beside you, eyes half-focused on his phone, thumb scrolling. your feet rest on his lap, his free hand absently tracing circles on your ankle. he seems entirely uninterested, barely looking up at the screen as you comment on the contestants’ desserts.

for the first twenty minutes, he’s quiet, only glancing up occasionally, but then someone messes up their cake, and he lets out a low snort. he mutters, "did they not put it in long enough or what?"

it’s a small crack, but it’s enough to make you smile. "guess they didn't. timing is everything, right?" you tease, knowing full well he’s starting to pay attention.

in the next challenge, a contestant fumbles with a piping bag, and simon lets out an unimpressed tsk, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “how can they not know how to pipe a line straight?” he scoffs. "basic stuff."

you laugh. "i didn’t know you were such an expert."

he grumbles, still keeping his eye on the show, now feigning casual disinterest but failing miserably. as the episode progresses, he starts asking more questions, wanting to know the contestants’ names, who’s been there longest, and who has been star baker.

when the star baker is announced, he nods his head in approval, as if he saw it coming all along. he shifts his gaze to you, smirking at your amused expression.

“see? knew they had it in ‘em,” he murmurs, squeezing your ankle gently.

you raise an eyebrow, playing along. “so you’re an expert now?”

instead of answering, he leans over, his hand still wrapped around your ankle, to presses a kiss to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you can’t help but laugh as he nuzzles closer, his tone dropping to a playful murmur. “might have to make you something better than all that… if you’re lucky.”

his lips linger, making you laugh again, your fingers brushing his jaw. simon may be a fierce critic, but at this moment, he’s more than content to just savor this quiet time with you.

── .✦ 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗉

from the second the episode starts, johnny's practically buzzing beside you. he’s been all in on the great british bake off since day one, and tonight is no exception. every time his favorite contestant, a sweet scottish lady with a knack for old-school recipes, appears on screen, he perks up, practically bouncing on the edge of his seat.

when she starts her bake, he mutters words of encouragement under his breath. "c'mon, hen, show 'em what a real baker looks like." and when one of her rivals stumbles, he grins, clapping his hands together. “ach, my nan could beat the lot of them in her sleep! they’ve got nothin’ on her shortbread.”

as the judging rounds begin, his excitement ramps up. his favorite contestant gets a compliment, and he yells, clapping loud enough to startle you. “there ye go, lass!” he hollers, and suddenly, he’s grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you in glee. “did ye see that, luv? she’s bloody brilliant!”

by the time they’re announcing the star baker of the week, johnny is practically holding his breath, eyes glued to the screen. when they call her name, he jumps up with a whoop, fists pumping in the air. “yes! that’s it!”

before you know it, he’s pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off the couch in his excitement. he plants a big, wet kiss on your lips, grinning so wide it’s infectious. “didn’t I tell ye? she’s got it all—best baker in the lot, no question.”

you laugh as he sets you down, his enthusiasm contagious. johnny love for the show might be loud and over-the-top, but as he flops back onto the couch, arm still around your shoulders, you can’t help but smile at just how much he’s gotten you invested, too.

── .✦ 𝗀𝖺𝗓

at first, kyle watches the program with an easy, relaxed attitude, barely reacting when the contestants present their bakes. he stretches out, arms resting behind you and smoothing down and up your nape, all while nodding along when you explain the technical challenge, giving little more than a shrug in response.

but as the episode goes on, his interest starts to show. he sits up a bit, leaning in every time the camera shows off a new dessert. when a contestant presents a towering lemon drizzle cake, his eyes light up. “could you make that?” he asks, an excited glimmer sneaking into his voice. “i’ll buy the ingredients and clean everything up, promise.”

you snort, but he’s already pointing at the screen, his tone downright eager. “what about those cinnamon rolls? look at the icing on those.” he’s watching you now with a hopeful smile, like he’s a kid at a bakery window. “come on, love, just think of the smell. i’ll even be your sous chef—whatever you need.”

by the time they’re onto the show-stopper, kyle is all in, leaning forward as contestants knead and roll their creations. every new bake has him asking if it’s something you can try: sourdough, brioche, even the elaborate pastries. “we could have a whole buffet,” he says, only half-joking. “imagine—warm, fresh pastries every day. i’d never go back to store-bought again.”

when the episode finally ends, he’s scrolling through a recipe app on his phone, jotting down a list of things he’s ready to buy. “alright, love,” he says, grinning as he gives you a playful nudge, “you bring the talent, I’ll bring the supplies. deal?”

with his enthusiasm—and his promises to handle cleanup—there’s no way you can resist, especially when he’s looking at you like you’re the star baker of the night.

── .✦ 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾

you’ve just settled into a new episode of the great british bake off when john wanders into the room, curious but clearly trying not to look too invested. he stands right in front of the tv, thick arms folded across his chest, watching with a thoughtful frown as contestants start their signature bakes.

you chuckle, leaning forward to get his attention. “love, if you’re gonna watch, at least come sit down. i can’t see a thing.”

he raises a brow, glancing over his shoulder with a little smirk, but he doesn’t move. so, grinning, you reach over and give him a playful smack on the butt with one of the pillows, laughing as he finally grumbles and takes a seat next to you. he watches intently, nodding every so often and making small, approving sounds whenever someone does a particularly good job.

it’s not long before he’s making comments that surprise you with their accuracy. “you know, the rise on that dough’s spot-on. smart move not to rush the proofing,” he says, as if he were one of the judges himself. when a contestant uses too much sugar in a caramel glaze, he clicks his tongue in mild disapproval. “that’ll be sickly. just needs a touch less.”

you blink, impressed, and maybe just a little bit...turned on. “you know a lot about baking, captain.”

he shrugs, scratching his beard with a faint smile on his lips. “just some bits i've picked up,” he says, casual as ever, though you can tell he’s enjoying himself. then, after another thoughtful hum as he watches a contestant start their showstopper, he glances at you. “could give it a go myself, if you want. just say the word.”

you beam, practically bouncing as you loop your arms around his neck “yes! let’s do it!”

he chuckles at your enthusiasm, his hand squeezing your hip gently. “alright then,” he says, a bit amused, a bit serious, “but you’ll have to help out, and no slapping my cake when i’m concentrating.”

banner credit

[emo-batboy]

Battinson on SNL

Idk how popular Saturday Night Live is outside of the US so there will be some links for context. That said, as a New Jersey native, I think Battinson would totally watch the show. And since he's a celebrity...👀

SO

To promote WE’s newest charity fund, Alfred signs Bruce up to be a guest host on SNL (à la this post) The announcement is made, and everyone’s like “oh this is going to be a disaster. That man can’t even hold eye contact or speak a full sentence without crying.”

But oh, that’s why it’s so funny.

Now, hear me out. Bruce’s strengths are displayed best when he’s himself. That’s why he’s so popular in Gotham. That’s why the internet calls him Relatable TM and a Disaster (Affectionate) and “Poor Little Meow Meow.” It’s his ✨ essence ✨

But he tends to get overwhelmed or self-conscious onstage, right? Because he can’t be Himself himself if he has time to overthink something. So after a few meetings with Bruce, the writers of SNL figure out the perfect way to keep Bruce from getting anxious.

They decide to load this episode with as many skits where Bruce plays different caricature-like versions of himself as possible. The objective? Make him break character and laugh so he doesn’t overthink. And if he breaks character, he’ll still technically be in character because he’s playing himself, you know? Genius.

So that’s how they go about structuring the show. During the few days they have to write, they decide to take everything about Bruce’s public image and either ramp it up to 11 or turn it on its head.

He speaks quietly? Turn it into a running gag. He dresses in all black? Make him emo. He tips well? Add that in too. He’s “depressed” and “sad?” Literally, all he does on screen is laugh and break character. What’s not to love?

Of course, Bruce also gets to decide what skits are in each episode as well. (Refer to this if you have no idea how SNL works.) He loves the idea, though, and he has a surprisingly dark sense of humor which bleeds into some of the sketches. They add in a few skits without him, and they’ve got their lineup.

It’s the wildest episode of the season. Here are the highlights:

OPENING MONOLOGUE

It’s the big night, everyone’s excited to see Bruce Wayne hosting a live sketch comedy show with no idea how it will turn out.

To begin his monologue, Bruce walks on, opens his mouth to start talking, and immediately two cast members appear as stagehands to set up six microphones in front of him. He is already struggling to keep himself together.

Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m host- Cast Member: *adds one more tiny microphone to his chest* Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m hosting tonight.”

It’s working. The audience loves it.

Halfway through, Kate McKinnon comes out in a dark cloak with a chalice. “Your sustenance, my lord.” *sees camera* “Oh. Sorry. Carry on.” And she shambles off. Bruce has to take a second before continuing.

Bruce knows when (most of) the jokes come. It’s literally on the cue cards, but he still falls into a fit of giggles.

There are a few more gags, including Lex Luthor peeking out from behind the band set-up, all teasing the show to come.

Overall, an amazing way to set the tone for the episode. Expectations have been set. Then the skits begin!

(Oh but before I forget: During every single live skit with Bruce, the writers have scheduled for one of the cast members to run in dressed as a stagehand and put an extra mic on him. They do not tell him when it will happen.)

SKIT #1

Between the monologue and the first skit, he has to do a really fast quick change, but to everyone’s surprise, Bruce is a natural. (Huh, wonder why.)

The skit is called Gotham PTA Meeting. We open in a meeting room full of stereotypical PTA moms setting down baked goods and gossiping. And apparently, there is a new PTA member attending today 👀

Right as the meeting starts, he enters. Bruce walks in wearing the most emo get-up imaginable. He’s got a Nirvana shirt, a comical amount of eyeliner, black skinny jeans, chain accessories, metal rings, AND a clip-in extension to give him fringe.

Someone immediately runs in and puts another mic on him.

PTA Mom: “Oh, Bruce! You made it! Did you bring a snack?” Bruce: “I brought lemon bars.” PTA Mom: “Why are they black?” Bruce: “They match my soul…they’re also vegan.”

He talks like a moody teenager. HE CONSTANTLY has to brush the fringe off to the side to read the cue cards. And because there’s so much eyeliner and he’s sweating a bit from the lights, it starts running everywhere.

PTA Mom: “Bruce, you’re a little quiet. What are your thoughts on increasing the school lunch budget?” Bruce: *eyeliner dripping down his chin* “I think it’s a great idea.”

SKIT #2

For a pre-filmed skit, they bring back the Chad character with Pete Davidson.

It’s 2 am, and Chad is working at a 24hr drug store in Gotham. He’s reading Twilight (the book is upside down) when the lights begin to flicker.

He turns around and tries the light switch, turns back around, and JUMPSCARE it’s Bruce dressed as Edward from Twilight.

Yes, he IS sparkly.

Bruce is awkwardly holding a bunch of items, all concerning. He plops down a few knives, several raw meats, Sudafed. Chad: “Oh hey.” Bruce: O_O “I’d like to check out please.” Chad: “Lit.”

Chad’s “No Fucks Given” energy and Bruce’s “Please Do Not Perceive Me” energy clash like titans. The whole skit centers around it.

Bruce: *sweating bullets* “Oh. You’re reading Twilight?” Chad: “Just the title.” Bruce: *throws the book through the window at lightning speed* “It’s not very good. You should probably read something else.” Chad: *shrugs* “Okay.”

Chad: “ID?” Bruce: “ID? For what?” Chad: “Sudafed.” Bruce: “Oh. I don’t really need that, actually.” Chad: “Already scanned it.” Bruce: “Haha. Of course.” *awkwardly produces a scroll from his pocket that says Bruce Wayne DOB: 1901* Chad: “Okay.”

Bruce checks out, Chad picks up a porno mag or something, and we see Bruce turn into a bat and fly off through the window behind him.

SKIT #3

The next skit they have is Celebrity Family Feud: Billionaires Edition. Again, Bruce plays himself, but he’s more of a background character. Instead, the skit makes fun of billionaires as a whole.

Bruce’s team consists of Kylie Jenner, Lex Luthor, and Oliver Queen. So just imagine three Lucille Bluths standing beside one another. 

Bruce’s bit? He just keeps handing cash to Steve Harvey every time he breathes in his direction.

Host: "We got the richest man in the world: Bruce Wayne!" Bruce: *hands him a roll of cash* Host: "Oh, what’s this for?" Bruce: "It’s your tip. I always tip." Host: "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you don’t usually tip the show host. I’m also a millionaire myself." Lex Luthor: *snatches it* "Well, if you’re not going to use it, I will…for charity, of course." Host: "Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Just a ton of fun quips, the usual.

At some point, Harvey says, “That’s batty.” Bruce: *ducks* “Where?!” Host: “Oh, I don’t mean Batman. He’s not here.” Bruce: “You don’t know that.”

This time, the mic bit is a bit different.

Host: “We asked 100 billionaires: How much does a loaf of bread cost? Top three answers are on the board.” Bruce: *hits buzzer* Host: Bruce, your answer is? Cast Member: *runs in with a megaphone and holds it in front of Bruce* Bruce: “TEN DOLLARS?”

Board dings! That was the #1 answer

Brucie Wayne for the win

SKIT #4

Next is a skit that dares to ask Gotham, “Why would anyone live here?”

The skit begins with someone opening a press conference for Wayne Enterprises. “And now presenting: Bruce Wayne!” Bruce walks in…

But it’s not him. Instead, it’s one of the cast members dressed in a black suit with horribly gelled brown hair.

Everyone in the audience is wondering where the actual Bruce is before another cast member runs onstage crying, “Help! Help! I’ve just been robbed! Somebody call Batman!”

A mini version of the bat-signal lights up…

We hear some generic hero music play…

And there he is: Bruce Wayne dressed in a horribly cheap Batman costume

(They got the cowl ALL wrong btw)

Bruce puts his hands on his hips in a weird superhero pose. Bruce: “I’m Batm-” Cast Member: *runs out to attach another mic to his costume* Bruce: “….I’m Batman!”

Cue all of the gags and digs against Batman. The fake Bruce faints then starts crying under a table. Someone calls Batman a furry. Bruce is barely keeping it together the whole time. Lord help him, but he asked for it. He approved the skit.

Bruce: “Looks like a job for my bat taser!” Cast Member: “Isn’t that just a taser with a bat on it?” Bruce: *whispers* “You shut your mouth.”

He saves the day, the police take the thief into custody, then Batman myStErioUsly disappears. Bruce: “Look over there!” *runs off* Cast Member: “Oh my gooood, how did he do that?”

CLOSING SEGMENT

Finally, they have the Weekend Update where Bruce comes on as himself for the final time.

Since they got his permission, the writers switch out some of Bruce’s jokes last minute. (Think Bill Hader’s Stefon which notoriously caused him to break character because the writers would mess with his cue cards.)

News Anchor: “Here to promote his newest humanitarian project: Bruce Wayne!” “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you today.” Bruce: “Thank you. This is probably the longest I’ve been out of the house.” News Anchor: “Since the Riddler catastrophe?” Bruce: “Since ever.”

News Anchor: “So Mr. Wayne! Before you make your announcement, any life updates?” Bruce: “Yes, actually. Just a few days ago, I adopted five- *starts losing it* five more children.” News Anchor: “Wow, really? So you have eight kids now.” Bruce: “Uh huh. *tears streaming down his face* One more orphan and I get the tenth one free.”

News Anchor: “So where can people find you online?” Bruce: “Well, I don’t have social media because I’m afraid of people, but sometimes I’m on Twitter.” News Anchor: “What about a phone call?” Bruce: “Oh no, phone calls- *giggle* phone calls give me fainting spells.”

It’s a great way of finishing the show, with the most genuine version of Bruce. Then, he gets to what’s really important!

News Anchor: “So if they can’t reach you on social media or on the phone, what else can our viewers do, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce: “They can donate to the Wayne Foundation’s newest charity called The Arts Initiative. It funds programs for the arts in underdeveloped school districts nationwide. I’ve already donated $30 million, and I’ve pledged to match every dollar donated within the next week.”

And that’s what he’s here for :) They share a link for where and how to donate. The anchors praise him for his charity, which he deflects because he can definitely afford this, and the 90-minute broadcast is over.

The camera pans away with the whole cast waving goodbye, and Bruce is seen keeling over with laughter.

Along with some of the other skits, these four specifically go viral. WE raises a fuck ton of money, and everyone loves Bruce.

THE END

LOVE YOU ALL!! Let me know what you think :D

[whereforarthur]

Poker Night Never Felt So Right

Pairing: ArthurTv x Reader x George Clarke x Chrismd

Summary: A game of strip poker with your friends, goes a little further than anyone expected...

Category: Mature (SMUT)

Word Count: 5k

*****

Let’s play strip poker

And they removed all their doubts

And their insecurities,

And finally made out,

They lay all naked with not a single secret left,

They were happy and kissed their fate for they meet. -Tiara

"Alright, lads and lady," Chris announced, glancing at the group and y/n, slapping a fresh deck of cards onto the worn-out kitchen table, "Poker night is in full swing."

The aroma of George's burnt lasagna filled the flat, a constant reminder of his culinary disasters that had become a tradition in their weekly gatherings. Arthur's eyes lit up as he pulled out his favorite chair, the one with the slightly wonky leg that made everyone else wobble but somehow suited him perfectly.

Y/n, the sole female in this sea of testosterone, rolled her eyes at their juvenile antics but couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. She'd known these three since starting YouTube, and their friendship had endured through the chaos of their YouTube fame.

Chris shuffled the cards with a dexterity that suggested he'd had a bit too much practice, while George attempted to mimic his skill, earning a chuckle from Arthur. Y/n took a sip of her beer, the cool liquid cutting through the tension of the room.

"I've got an idea," George said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Since it's just us tonight, how about we spice things up a bit?"

Chris paused mid-shuffle, raising an eyebrow. "Spice it up how?"

George leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Strip poker. You know, like they do in the movies."

The room went quiet for a beat before Arthur let out a hearty laugh, slapping his hand on the table. "You're joking, right?"

Y/n took another sip of her beer, eyeing George over the rim. "As if I'd agree to that."

Chris grinned, playing along. "Aw, come on, it'll be fun! Plus, you've got nothing to worry about, you're a pro at poker."

Y/n set her beer down, her expression unreadable. "Fine, but only if we all agree to keep it friendly. No funny business, got it?"

Chris and Arthur exchanged a look, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air. "Friendly, got it," Arthur said with a nod.

The game began, the shuffling of the cards and the clinking of beer bottles punctuating the occasional bursts of laughter. Y/n focused on her hand, trying to ignore the electric current of excitement that buzzed through her. The guys were her closest friends, but the thought of playing strip poker with them sent a thrill down her spine that she couldn't quite shake.

Arthur's luck, however, didn't seem to be in his favor tonight. His hand trembled slightly as he placed his bet, and when the cards were revealed, his face fell. "Bugger," he muttered, glancing at the table as he realized he'd lost the first round.

With a dramatic sigh, he stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Alright, alright," he said, playing it cool as he pulled his shirt over his head. The room was a mix of cheers and good-natured laughter as he tossed it aside, revealing his bare chest. He sat back down, his cheeks flushing slightly as he tried to cover his modesty with his arms. "Remember, this is all in good fun," he said, his voice a bit shakier than he'd intended.

Y/n couldn't help but blush as she took in Arthur's abs. They were surprisingly defined, a testament to his gym routine, and boxing history. She quickly averted her gaze to her cards, hoping the flush on her cheeks would be attributed to the heat of the kitchen rather than her newfound appreciation for Arthur's physique.

The game continued, the tension ramping up with each new hand. Despite her initial confidence, y/n felt her heart racing as she tried to read the guys' faces for tells. Chris remained stoic, his poker face unwavering, while George's was as transparent as always, his eyes widening with every good card. Arthur, on the other hand, had become a closed book since his shirt came off, his focus solely on the game.

Y/n's luck took a nosedive, and she found herself holding a pathetic hand of cards. She bit her lip, contemplating her next move. The pot grew larger, and the stakes grew higher. She could feel the heat from the oven and the anticipation from her friends. With a deep breath, she called George's bet, hoping for a miracle. The cards flipped over, and George's smug grin told her everything she needed to know. She'd lost this round.

The room grew silent as she slowly stood up, her heart racing. She unzipped her hoodie, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath, she wore a simple black tank top that clung to her curves. She caught Arthur's eyes lingering on her for a moment too long, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. She took a seat, trying to regain her composure.

"Looks like the tides are turning," Chris said with a smirk, his eyes never leaving her.

The boys' laughter filled the room as they joked about her losing streak. Y/n felt her cheeks heat up, but she shrugged it off, playing along with their banter. "Just a bad hand, that's all," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

The next few rounds were a blur of cards and clinking bottle caps. Y/n managed to win a few hands, but her losses outweighed her victories. Her stack of clothes grew smaller, and she found herself down to her bra and jeans. She gulped, trying to ignore the way Arthur's gaze lingered on her when he thought she wasn't looking.

Chris's hand won again, and George's smug look was wiped clean as he had to remove his trousers, revealing his colorful boxers with cartoon characters on them. The room erupted in laughter, and George shot a playful glare at y/n. "You're enjoying this too much," he teased, but his cheeks were flushed, and she could see the excitement in his eyes.

The other boys were staring too, but not just at George. They couldn't help but sneak glances at y/n, their gazes lingering on her in a way that made her acutely aware of her dwindling clothing. She felt their eyes on her, and the air grew thicker, charged with a tension that was no longer just about the game. It was about the thrill of the reveal, the anticipation of what would come next.

Chris dealt the next hand, his eyes flicking up to meet y/n's. She couldn't read his expression, but she knew he was enjoying the game more than he let on. They all were. The stakes had changed, and the atmosphere in the room had shifted from friendly competition to something else entirely.

Y/n studied her cards, her heart racing. A full house stared back at her, and she couldn't help the smug smile that spread across her face. This was it, her chance to get back in the game. She raised the bet, watching as the boys' expressions grew serious. They had to know she had something good.

The bets went around the table, and the moment of truth arrived. Y/n laid her cards down with a flourish, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was silent as the boys revealed their hands. George had a pair of twos, and Arthur had a straight. But it was Chris who had the nerve to call her bluff. He laid down his cards with a wink, revealing a royal flush. The air whooshed out of her lungs, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

"Looks like it's your turn, love," Chris said, his voice thick with victory.

Y/n felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine as she reached behind her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra. She took a deep breath and let it fall away, feeling the cool air of the flat kiss her skin. She kept her eyes on the table, focusing on the cards as the fabric hit the floor. The room was so quiet she could almost hear her own heartbeat echoing off the walls.

The silence was palpable, thick and heavy, as if the very air in the room had turned to jelly. The boys didn't dare to look up, their eyes glued to their own cards or the beer bottles in their hands. They were her friends, her colleagues, but in this moment, they were also men, and she was very aware of it. The game had taken a turn she hadn't anticipated, and she felt vulnerable in a way she hadn't felt in a very long time.

Finally, she looked up, her gaze meeting Chris's. He held her stare for a beat too long, and she saw something in his eyes that made her pulse quicken. It wasn't just the thrill of the game anymore; it was something deeper, something she hadn't expected to find in a casual poker night.

"Good game," Arthur murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the room. His eyes flicked over her exposed skin before darting back to his cards, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her stomach.

Y/n cleared her throat, trying to ignore the sudden self-consciousness that had crept over her. "Alright, let's keep playing," she said, her voice a little too high.

George, ever the opportunist, leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming. "Someone's getting a bit flustered, aren't they?"

The room grew tense as George's comment hung in the air, unspoken feelings now laid bare. Y/n felt a blush creep up her neck, her hands clinching into fists at her sides. "It's just a game, George," she said through gritted teeth, trying to keep her cool.

"Fine, fine," he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Let's keep it friendly, yeah?"

The game resumed, but the dynamics had shifted. The banter was less playful, the glances more intense. Y/n could feel the energy in the room pulsing with every card drawn, every piece of clothing removed. Her hands were trembling slightly as she dealt the next hand, her eyes avoiding the hungry stares of the boys. She focused on the game, trying to ignore the heat of their gazes on her bare skin.

*****

George's luck had run out, and he was just left in his boxers. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he realized loosing this hand, meant losing them. He met y/n's eyes, and she could see the nervous excitement in his gaze. She felt a strange sense of power, a thrill that was as intoxicating as it was alarming. She called his bet, her heart racing.

And of course that’s what happened George lost the hand, and lost his boxers. They were ridiculous, covered in cartoon characters that clashed with the seriousness of the moment. But as he stood up, the room's focus shifted from the ridiculousness of the situation to the very real and very attractive man in front of them. Y/n couldn't help but feel a flicker of attraction she'd never noticed before, not like this.

Chris cleared his throat, his eyes lingering on George's newly exposed skin before flicking back to his own cards. The air in the flat was charged, and the smell of George's aftershave filled the room, a scent that was at once familiar and entirely new in this context. Arthur's poker face remained unchanged, but his knuckles were white as he gripped his beer bottle, his eyes darting from George to y/n.

The next few rounds were a battle of wills, each player trying to maintain their composure as the clothes piled up on the floor. Y/n's jeans were the next to go, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as she stepped out of them, leaving her in just her panties. The guys' eyes darted up to meet hers, and she could see the struggle in their expressions as they tried to keep the game friendly.

But the game had taken on a life of its own, and the line between friendship and desire was blurring. The stakes were no longer just about winning; they were about power, attraction, and the thrill of the unknown. The tension grew with every card dealt, every article of clothing removed. It was no longer just a game of poker; it had become a dance of seduction, a silent negotiation of boundaries.

Chris's eyes never left y/n's, his gaze dark and intense. The air between them crackled with an energy that was impossible to ignore. As the rounds went on, the smiles and laughter grew forced, the room thick with the scent of pheromones and anticipation. Y/n felt a strange thrill at the thought of pushing the boundaries, of seeing how far they'd all go.

The next hand was dealt, and the tension grew palpable. Y/n studied her cards, feeling the heat of the guys' gazes on her bare legs. She knew that she had a good hand, but the game had become less about winning and more about the thrill of the risk. She raised the bet, watching as the other two exchanged glances. The silence stretched out, the only sound the crackling of the cards and the occasional clink of bottle caps.

Chris called her bluff, laying down his hand with a smug smile. George fully nude now. Both Chris and Arthur in their underwear, the fabric clinging to their growing arousal. Y/n felt a strange mix of nervousness and excitement, her heart racing as she took in the sight of her friends in such a vulnerable state. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the heat from the oven now a stark contrast to the coolness of her bare skin.

The next round began, and the stakes were higher than ever. Y/n's hand trembled as she placed her bet, watching as Chris and Arthur followed suit. She had nothing to lose now but her pride and the last shred of their friendship's innocence. The cards were flipped over, and she felt a jolt of victory as she revealed a full house. Arthur's face fell, and she knew she had him beat.

"Alright, Arthur," she said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "Looks like it's your turn."

Arthur swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He reached down to remove his underwear, and Y/n couldn't help but watch, her eyes widening slightly as he revealed himself. He was more than she'd ever allowed herself to imagine, and she felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks. The room was a cacophony of shuffling papers and shallow breaths, the only sound louder than her pounding heart.

Chris took a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned back in his chair, his own arousal evident, and she realized with a start that he was enjoying this game more than he'd ever let on. "Looks like we're all in this together now," he said, his voice low and gruff.

*****

The game had become about more than just poker; it was a silent dare, a push and pull of power and desire that none of them could ignore.

Chris collected the cards, shuffling them with a deliberate slowness that had y/n's stomach flipping. "Alright, lads," he said, his voice a low rumble, "whoever wins the next hand gets to ask y/n to do something for them."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she took a sip of her beer, trying to play it cool. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice betraying the slight tremble in her chest.

Chris leaned in, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Whatever we want, within reason. Just a little extra... entertainment."

Y/n felt a thrill of anticipation mixed with nerves. "As long as it's not too embarrassing," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Chris grinned, his eyes flicking over her body. "Oh, I think we're past the point of embarrassment."

The room was thick with tension as the final hand was dealt. Y/n picked up her cards, trying to focus on the game, but her mind was racing with the possibilities of what could happen next. She had a decent hand, but she knew that Chris was playing to win.

The bets were placed, and the air was electric as the cards were revealed. Y/n felt a surge of victory as she saw she had a full house again, beating Arthur's two pairs.

Y/n felt a mix of excitement and nerves, her eyes flicking to Chris, who was watching her with an intense gaze. She knew he'd won the round, but the real prize was in the daring request he was about to make.

Chris leaned in closer, his eyes dark with desire. "Alright, love," he said, his voice a low rumble, "it's time for your forfeit."

Y/n's heart raced as she took in the sight of Arthur and George, both fully exposed and equally as nervous. She had no idea what Chris had in mind, but she knew it would be something she'd never forget. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for his words.

Chris leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "I want you to kiss me," he said, his voice low and commanding.

The room froze, the only sound the erratic beating of her heart. She felt the color drain from her cheeks as she met his gaze, his eyes dark and hungry. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, with a slow nod, she leaned in, her heart racing.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if both of them were testing the waters. But as their lips met, something ignited between them, a spark that grew into a flame. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as the kiss deepened. Arthur and George watched, their own tension palpable, their eyes flickering between y/n and Chris, their friendship and their desires colliding in a way none of them had anticipated.

Chris's hands slid up her arms, pulling her closer, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. Y/n's body responded, arching into him as the kiss grew more urgent. The room was a blur of heat and need, the air thick with the scent of arousal and the faint scent of George's burnt lasagna.

When they finally broke apart, they were both panting, their eyes locked. The room was silent, the only sound the crackling of the oven and the thudding of their hearts. Arthur and George watched, their expressions a mix of shock and arousal. Y/n's cheeks were flushed, and she couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Fuck me," George murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "That was..."

"Hot," Arthur finished for him, his eyes glued to the sight of Chris and y/n tangled in a passionate kiss. The atmosphere in the room had shifted so dramatically, it was as if someone had flipped a switch, turning the innocent game of poker into an intense, erotic battleground.

Chris's hand slid down y/n's back, cupping her ass as he deepened the kiss. She gasped into his mouth, the heat of his touch sending a bolt of pleasure through her. The air was thick with the scent of their desire, and she could feel the warmth of Arthur and George's gazes on her exposed skin. The game had evolved into something she'd never expected, but the thrill of it was undeniable.

Breaking away from Chris, she turned to face Arthur, her eyes flicking to his evident arousal. "Looks like you're up," she said, her voice husky with desire. Arthur's cheeks reddened, but he met her gaze, his eyes smoldering.

"What's the forfeit?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n leaned in, her breasts brushing against his bare chest. "You get to kiss me too," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.

Arthur's eyes widened, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But then, with a nod, he leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was just as fiery as Chris's. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as their tongues danced together. The room spun around her, the lines between friendship and desire blurring into a haze of passion.

George, not to be left out, approached her from behind, his naked body pressing against her back. She could feel his erection against her, and she shivered with anticipation. "I guess it's only fair," he murmured, his hands sliding around her waist.

The kiss with Arthur grew more urgent, his hands exploring her body as George's lips found the sensitive skin of her neck. She moaned, the sensations overwhelming her. The three of them were entangled in a dance of lust, their friendship forever changed by this night.

As Arthur pulled away, George took his place, his lips brushing against hers. His kiss was gentle at first, but soon grew in intensity, his hands caressing her breasts. She felt a hand slide down her stomach, and she gasped as it reached the apex of her thighs. It was Chris, his fingers teasing her through her damp panties.

The room was a whirlwind of sensations, and y/n was lost in the moment. She couldn't tell where one kiss ended and another began, only knew that she was the center of their attention, the object of their desire. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"Take them off," George murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Y/n's hands trembled as she slid her panties down her legs, stepping out of them. The cold floor sent a shiver through her body, and she felt more exposed than she ever had in her life. But the way the boys were looking at her, with a mix of awe and hunger, made her feel anything but vulnerable.

Chris's hand found her again, his fingers delving into her slick folds. She moaned into George's mouth, the pleasure building within her. Arthur watched, his eyes dark with need. The air was charged with a current of desire that had them all in its grip.

The poker game was forgotten, the kitchen a mess of cards and discarded clothing. The only thing that mattered was the heat between them, the unspoken promises in their eyes. The night had taken a wild turn, and as the three of them moved closer, y/n knew there was no going back. This was a new chapter in their friendship, one filled with passion and the thrill of the unknown.

And she was ready to play her hand.

*****

Chris's fingers worked their magic, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She moaned into George's mouth, her hips bucking against Chris's hand. The sensation was too much, and she felt her orgasm building. Arthur's hand joined the fray, his calloused fingers teasing her nipples, sending jolts of electricity straight to her core.

They were all in this together now, their friendship forever changed by this night of strip poker turned passionate frenzy. Y/n had never felt so desired, so wanted. The kisses grew deeper, more intense, as the three of them explored each other's bodies with an urgency that could no longer be contained.

George's hands roamed her body, his touch setting her skin on fire, while Arthur's kisses grew more demanding. She felt a hand slide down her back, reaching around to cup her ass, and she knew it was Arthur. The thrill of having both of them touch her at once was almost too much to bear.

Chris's touch grew more insistent, and she felt herself climbing towards the edge. She broke away from George's kiss, panting, her eyes meeting Arthur's. "Fuck me," she breathed, the words barely a whisper.

They didn't need any further encouragement. Arthur and George shared a look, and she could see the understanding in their eyes. They knew what she wanted, what they all needed. This was no longer a game; it was a declaration of desire that could no longer be ignored.

With a growl, Arthur picked her up, setting her on the edge of the kitchen table. She spread her legs, her heart racing as she watched him stroke his length. She felt a thrill of desire that made her knees wobble. George stepped aside, his own arousal evident, making room for Arthur to claim her.

Chris stepped back, watching with a hunger that made her insides quiver. "Take her," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Make her scream."

Arthur positioned himself between her thighs, his cock hard and ready. He leaned in, kissing her again, and she felt the tip of him at her entrance. With a gentle push, he slid inside, filling her completely. She gasped, her nails digging into the table as he began to move.

The sensation was exquisite, and she felt the room spin as the pleasure built. George's hands were on her breasts again, his mouth finding her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. The three of them moved together, a symphony of passion that she never wanted to end.

Chris stepped closer, his hand wrapping around his own erection as he watched the scene unfold. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So fucking beautiful."

Their eyes met, and she knew he was next. The thought of all three of them together was too much, and she felt her orgasm crest, her body tightening around Arthur. He groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent, and she knew he was close too.

With a final, deep kiss, Arthur pulled out, his hand guiding George to take his place. She moaned as George filled her, his grip on her hips tight. Arthur stepped back, watching with dark eyes as George began to move, his own hand stroking his shaft.

The room was a blur of sensation, the only sounds their panting breaths and the slap of skin against skin. Y/n felt like she was floating, lost in a sea of pleasure that she never wanted to escape from. This was a night that would change everything, a night that would be etched into their memories forever.

And as George's rhythm grew more frantic, as she felt him getting closer, she knew that she was ready for whatever came next. The world outside their flat had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the heat between them, the passion that had been unleashed by a simple game of poker.

The climax hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her body and leaving her trembling. She cried out, her nails digging into George's shoulders as she came, her body shaking with the force of it. And as George followed suit, filling her with his release, she couldn't help but feel a sense of power and belonging she'd never experienced before.

Chris stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers as he stroked himself. "Your turn," she managed to gasp, her voice hoarse with need. He grinned, a wicked glint in his eye, and she felt a thrill of excitement as George pulled out, making way for Chris to take his place.

Their kiss was explosive, a culmination of all the tension that had been building through the night. She felt Chris's cock nudge against her, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. He entered her with a groan, his movements more deliberate, more intense than the others. The sensation was almost too much, and she arched her back, her breasts pressing against his chest.

Their bodies moved in sync, the table rocking beneath them with every thrust. Arthur and George watched, their own desires reflected in their eyes as they stroked themselves, their gazes never leaving the erotic sight of their friend taking charge. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated passion, a moment that would forever change the dynamics of their friendship.

Chris's hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of her exposed skin, sending shivers down her spine. She could feel his need, his desire, and it only served to fuel her own. The room was a cacophony of gasps and moans, the air thick with the scent of sex.

And then, with a final, deep kiss, Chris reached his peak, his body tensing as he came inside her. They held each other for a moment, their breathing ragged, their hearts pounding in unison. It was a silent acknowledgment of the shift in their relationship, a moment of pure, unbridled connection.

As they pulled apart, the room was bathed in the soft glow of the kitchen lights, their bodies slick with sweat and desire. The poker night had turned into something none of them could have anticipated, a night that would be remembered for far more than just the game.

They stood there, panting, their eyes locked. The silence was deafening, filled only with the sound of their heavy breaths and the distant hum of London outside. They'd crossed a line, stepped into a new chapter of their friendship.

Y/n looked around the room, her eyes taking in the sight of her friends, naked and aroused, their friendship forever altered by this night of passion. But as she saw the hunger in their eyes, she knew it was a change she didn't regret. In fact, she was eager to see where this newfound intimacy would lead them.

The game had ended, but the night was far from over. They had each other, and as they moved closer, the whispers of desire grew louder, the kisses deeper. They were no longer just friends playing a game; they were lovers, ready to explore the depths of their desires

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23 @xxkatxgracexx @amz824

[iridescentflamingo]

TMNT Head cannons

Bayverse Turtles. Just ideas that kind of poured out tonight. (Aged up turtles, you can pick but I want them 30-ish. ~NSFW)

🧡🐢🎇🧡

The easiest turtle to win over is Mikey. He practically throws himself at you. When you give him positive attention back, he just ramps up his flirting. He has pet names for you for days. Eventually, he'll settle on one or two good ones and use them instead of your name almost always. You are going to have to confirm that you have feelings for him before he takes it to the next level. Due to the fact that he is so very straight forward and right out the gates with his cat calling, you have to confirm that you are not just being nice and playing along. He's a flirt, not a creep. (Maturity has found him, it just took him a few more years than his brothers)

Once you do, your fate is sealed. Mikey is definitely a very handsy, flirty, hiding no feelings and having practically no shame kinda dude. He doesn't care if anyone sees, hears, smells etc. his flirting and most of his physical romancing. Telling you how hard you make him a bit louder than he should, toughie tough. Making out on the couch in front of everyone, he doesn't care. Getting caught with his hand down your pants in the kitchen, oh well.

What he does keep secret and quiet is when he vents. Always expected to be the fun and sunshine brother, you become his confidant when he's got heavy feels things to unload. To make sure that it doesn't bog you down, he tries his hardest to end with something more positive and turn it back into good-vibes.

The other thing he'll keep more on the down-low is when the two of you are trying new fetishes or engaging in kinky play for the first time. He doesn't want to be interrupted or for you to get embarrassed and then never want to try again, so that stuff stays in his room, when he knows it's private and he won't be bothered. After y'all get comfortable with it, maybe then he's less cautious.

💙🐢🌊💙

Leo is tough to know. He's dead set on his duties to the point that it's most of his personality, until you get to know him better, and that only happens if he lets you. It'll be slow. He will start by sharing random tidbits of himself that don't have to do with ninjutsu, weapons, or his leadership responsibilities. In the beginning they're bland, basic facts; which pizza toppings he prefers, his favorite type of TV show, his preferred genre of book. They're things you could gleam from just being around him for more than a few days. He's stupid cautious.

His next step would be to ask if you want to do some training with him. He sticks to simple things, testing your abilities and skills. It's really more to learn about you, but it's a start. He takes it easy on you, mostly dodging until you get frustrated, and then maybe he humbles you with a sneaky move like knocking you off your feet. He doesn't ask you if you want to practice again, he waits for you to ask.

Over time, the training becomes more physical and he shares actual details about himself, but you have to be giving info in return. Knowing what his favorite movie is probably would never be information that The Foot uses against him, but you never know. You have got to meet him, tit for tat, and offer your own truths. If he catches you lying, you're not just back to zero, you're in the negative.

Eventually, if you've managed to gain his trust and build a strong connection with him, Leo will open up properly. He will joke, play, swat, and treat you like one of his brothers, with a more gentle approach because you're not a 200lb+ muscled turtle.

If romance blooms, expect another slow trudge full of trust building and honesty before you get any proper boyfriend-esque attention. Once past the awkward "we shouldn't, it's too dangerous, how would this work?, I'm not human, will you really be happy here?" Swamp of despair, it should be smooth sailing. Be honest and he's all yours.

All that time spent building that relationship will return ten-fold from Leo with whatever type of affection you ask for. He wants to please, he wants you happy, and he will make it so if possible.

❤️🐢🥊❤️

Raph is going to keep his feelings secret for as long as he can. He hides his insecurities by trying to be the biggest, heaviest hitter, and a tank for his brothers. And those are just his viewed shortcomings compared to his three brothers. When looking at you, he compares himself against all men. He has little hope. In the mirror he sees a big, green face with sharp features and a scowling, RBF. He may act like hot shit in front of his brothers, but it's a front. Besides his appearance and size, his temper can flare, and he's come a long way since he was a teen, but it can still explode from him, which is terrifying to see, especially up close. He's very aware and is afraid that if you see him in that state, it will only reinforce the fact that he's a monster.

You will see glimpses of how sweet he can be from time to time, but they won't come often. When you're around, his guard is up doing double time; keeping up appearances and keeping his feelings in check. Over time his facade will falter occasionally. He'll be laughing at your jokes, ribbing you when you get frustrated over video games, checking to see if you've eaten, and maybe even leaning against you as he nods off on the couch. When you smile at his playfulness and kindness, he'll smile back until he catches himself and suddenly remembers that he has something to do. It will probably be going to their home gym.

If you can manage to get him to accept that you honestly and truly think he is not a monster, and that you want to be around him, and miss him when you're not with him, you're going to get someone who can be a huge teddy bear cuddler, but also someone who likes to get physical and more rough in the bedroom. This is going to take a lot of repeating yourself and him asking, not always subtly, if you really mean it. If you're sure you wouldn't be happier with some other guy. If your eyes work. If he's really not too big. If if if... You will learn that kisses can usually stop him from spiraling.

Sometimes Raph wants to cuddle and be soft and tender. Despite his size he is careful. He handles you like you're a porcelain figurine in the beginning. With the practiced ability to knit, his large hands can be surprisingly dexterous and delicate. He is not a bull in a china shop unless he chooses to. Quiet times together have him completely wrapped around you, holding you carefully close and seeking your body warmth. You are careful not to laugh the first time he slips and churrs when he begins to doze off in your arms. He won't do it again if you embarrass him.

Over time, he allows himself to be a bit more rough with you. At first it is just careful roughhousing, perhaps some near choreographed play tackles or even picking you up and pretending to slam you on the bed, setting you down carefully with sound effects instead of actual violence (Raph may have loved watching WWE growing up). After a bout of rougher hands-on play, he notices that you're turned on. This changes things immediately. Taking advantage of the situation, the play shifts from silly to sexual in an instant.

You both end up having the most amazing sex you've ever had thus far. The next day you talk about it as you ice bruises and he apologizes as you hobble around when you first get up from bed. As a couple, you set limits and it becomes a more regular thing. You enjoy this rougher type of sex and he enjoys being able to be less careful. Being rough is in his nature and you loving it and getting off to it just helps strengthen your bond.

💜🐢⚛️💜

(Saved the best for last~)

Donnie is guarded, but secretly hopeful about the possibility of a relationship. This busy, brainy, tech wizard of a brother is a master of design and invention, but he still has his own hang ups. Instead of fighting off insecurities, he fights anxiety, boredom, and possibly depression. Instead of working out or training, he buries himself in his work. Keeping busy keeps his mind from wandering into darker thoughts. It also leads him to pass out and sleep dreamless sleep. He knows that it isn't healthy, but the other thoughts aren't good for him either.

When he notices that you've taken an interest in what he is working on, he eagerly shares to the point of info-dumping. If he catches himself, he apologizes out of reflex. You have to dismiss it or he will assume that, like his brothers, you do not have time to hear him ramble. Asking him questions, especially if you do not understand what he is talking about, will spur him on to explain. He's patient and wants to share his knowledge. If you pretend to know, he can tell, and won't say anything, but will take note that you're just trying to be nice in order to placate him and get him to stop.

Always watching and analyzing everything, he'll take notice who you talk to when you arrive, who you spend the most time with, how you react to his other brothers antics and conversations, who you decide to sit next to, how much physical contact you give and to who... He sees it all and makes mental notes. He will also overthink things. Were you just laughing at Mikey's jokes, or was that flirting? Were you smiling at Leo because he was kind, or was that something more? Was that shove you attempted to give Raph just for fun, or were you trying to spur him to touch you? If you don't give him equal or more attention, he will notice and make pessimistic predictions.

If you give him the most attention out of his brothers and are genuinely interested in his projects and research, he will take note and begin to test you a little. While handing him a screwdriver, he notes how you react when his fingers linger on yours a little longer than they should have. As he explains the wiring on a smaller machine, he stealthily monitors your pulse rate when he moves close enough for your arms to press against one another. After some motor oil droplets splash on your cheek, he watches your face for any signs as he gently wipes the dark spots away with his thumb. Every action is inconspicuous and easily dismissed, but a treasure trove of valuable information before he makes any kind of decision as to what to do.

If he is completely positive that you harbor a crush on him, he meticulously plans his own confession. A true romantic, he wants this to be perfect. The two of you will be alone, most likely in his lab space where he is most comfortable. His brothers will either be out or busy. You won't have any idea that this is a special evening and will be under the guise that you're coming over to help him out with a project, as you often did. He'll let the evening start out with that project, but will end up shifting your attention to something else he's made. The secret project will be something impressive that has you in awe, asking how long he's been working on it. That's when he makes his move.

His answers have been rehearsed in his mind over and over, but his nerves still cause him to shake and some of his answers carry a hint of nervousness, but his face is confident and sure. He reports his data to you and details how he's noticed your affection. Still monitoring you, he is careful and has a backup plan readied in case he has to abort his admission. If everything goes as planned, you end up with his hand on your cheek and a gentle first kiss upon your lips.

Donatello is almost clingy with his affection. You receive messages when you are not around him and when you are at the lair, he is close to you or at least nearby. He seeks physical contact often but in more discrete ways when around others. At the dinner table, he'll move his leg so that his calf is leaning against yours. During movie night, he is hip to hip with you on the couch, encouraging you to lean against him once the flick starts. It's not completely hidden, but its modest.

Away from prying eyes, it is a completely different story. Hands end up under and in clothing as kisses turn from soft and sweet to hungry and demanding in seconds. All you have to do is say the right words. Donnie proves time and time again that he is a quick learner and has your body figured out within a couple of weeks. You find it difficult, at first, for him to properly let go and let you take the wheel, but in time the trust is built and he allows you to give without also receiving. He turns out to be a versatile switch after deviating from his original, more dominant, tenancies.

His favorite thing to do is make you climax. His second favorite thing is to climax together. His third is using toys...

~Ɛ>------------------------------------<3~

@thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @sophiacloud28 @thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @tmntngl @avery73 @tmntngl

(lmk if I missed anyone's tags)

[starlightsuffered]

Wanna Bet

Warnings - SMUT, teasing, masturbation, lingerie, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, hand job, degrading, a bit of a sub dom dynamic (both roles for each), daddy kink, dry humping, over stimulation, unprotected sex, finger sucking, name calling.

"I was thinking the other day," Timothée began. We were cuddling lazily on the couch. I noted the cocky tone of his voice and I rolled my eyes. I was in for some teasing.

"You have never turned me down for sex," I could hear the pride and grin in his voice.

"Yeah, well, neither have you big boy," I said.

"It's different with you," he goaded. "I don't think you could resist me if you tried."

I pulled out of his arms and turned to my grinning boyfriend.

"Oh yeah," I asked.

"I'm pretty confident in my statement," he said, putting his hands behind his head.

"Wanna make a bet," I challenged.

"Sounds interesting."

"Alright, we'll see who caves from no sex first, but we can tempt each other."

Timothée leaned forward, interested in my plan.

"Okay, so let's set up the rules," he said, licking his lips.

"No touching erogenous zones as a temptation, that's cheating," I listed

"Alright. How about also we start slow and gradually ramp it up, more exciting that way," he continued.

"Sounds good," I agreed. Just the idea of this game was turning me on. "We also shouldn't get anything else involved. So like no flirting with someone to make each other jealous. It's just things we do."

"No problem," Timothée agreed. "I'll have you breaking within hours."

"We start tomorrow," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"Well, if we start tomorrow...." He trailed off.

"Take your pants off," I sighed.

***

The next morning I smirked as I went for a jog. Timothée always fucked me after a run. He loved seeing the sweat running down my body, he loved the way I gulped down water when I came back. I listened to my sex playlist to get me in the mood to be sexy for Timmy today. I got increasingly more wet as I thought of what he might do to tempt me.

I got home, waiting for Timmy to come downstairs. I gritted my teeth when I saw he was wearing my favorite pair of sweatpants, and his hair was styled perfectly. I wanted to fucking pull those curls but I controlled myself.

"Hi baby," I greeted. He smiled at me in answer. I went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.

"I just went for a run," I explained as I gulped down the cold water. I let some drops run down my chin onto my chest. When I put the bottle down, my partners eyes were on me. His eyes were dark and full of lust. I knew he wanted to take me right there on the counter.

Timothée sat down at the kitchen island. I noticed his fingers were completely decked out. He was wearing rings on nearly every finger. He was showing them off too, tapping on the island, spreading his hand out, clenching his fist and unclenching.

I walked purposefully to the freezer. I rifled through it to find what I was looking for. I grinned when I found what I needed.

I peeled the plastic covering off the popsicle. I stood on the other side of the island and sucked on the flavored ice. Slowly rolling my tongue over and around it, right in front of him.

"Mmmm so good," I moaned. I watched his eyes twitch as I continued to lap at the frozen treat. I could tell I was getting to him.

"Would you mind practicing this script with me," he asked, tossing the paper onto the table. I stilled, he knew how much watching him work turned me on.

"Certainly," I growled. It was hard as he said his lines with passion, I was shifting in my seat. I responded with equal earnestly, trying desperately to get him to give in. I was rubbing my thighs together as he said one of the most iconic lines of the movie.

"What's wrong baby," he taunted when I didn't say the next line right away. "Something, bothering you?" He asked.

"N-no," I stuttered and cursed myself.

"I just remembered I have to go shopping," I said, pushing the script to his chest. I was glad he looked surprised.

"You're leaving?" He asked.

"Yup," I responded.

As I drove I tried to think of all the ways I could tempt him. I knew a few things, but I wanted to up the anti. I needed to win this.

I got new lingerie at the store. I also picked up some essentials, but I made sure to get some sexy bras and other things to help my mission.

When I came into the house with my bags I hoped Timmy had not been plotting. I was disappointed.

"Hi angel," he said. "Sorry, my friend asked me to watch their kid while they ran to the store."

I was breathless. Timothée with children was so sexy. He knew all my weaknesses. I bit my lip as I put the bags down.

"I can take her, so you can rest," I offered desperately. He shook his head, insisting he was the one who had pledged to watch the child. I NEEDED to take the small girl from him or I'd pounce on him as soon as their parent came back.

I watched in agony as he laughed with the small girl. He read her a story. He even played dolls with her. She commented positively on his bejeweled hands and Timothée smirked at me as she did.

In thirty minutes, the parent came back, thanking Timmy for volunteering to watch the child. I sat on the couch just watching him.

"I think that counts as using someone else to tempt me," I snapped as he shut the door.

"Nah," he said. He sat down on the couch and stretched. I couldn't help but appreciate his body as he bent this way and that to crack his back.

"That tired me out, care to take a nap with me?" He asked. I knew it was dangerous, but I was insanely riled up. I needed to touch him in some way. I nodded. We went to bed together. Timothée could fall asleep so fast. I desperately tried to find sleep while his hard on pressed against my thigh and his breath ghosted my neck.

I got out of bed early, unable to take the contact anymore. I took a shower, but Timothée was awake when I came back in. I bit my lip.

"Hello, Mon Amor," he said sweetly. He came to me. He kissed me deeply and I realized I'd never made a rule about kissing specifically. I kissed him back, hungrily. I felt his hardness against me. I desperately wanted to love on him, but I also wanted to win.

"Have I ever told you, you are the light of my life?" He asked and I was shaking with need. He truly said the nicest things. I dropped my towel instantly.

"Oops," I said, and bent down slowly to get it. When I came back up I was happy to see his pupils blown out with lust as he watched my every move.

"Can I borrow your eyeliner," he blurted.

"Why?" I asked cautiously.

"Wanna try it on," he smirked.

"I don't know," I hedged

"Why, does me wearing eyeliner bother you in some way? Does it have an effect on you?" He asked moving closer. I mentally cursed myself, I couldn't even remember when I'd told him I liked him with eyeliner.

"Not at all," I said quickly and went to go get it. I knew I was going to have to work harder now. While I was getting my eyeliner, I also sneakily grabbed my vibrator as well from my desk drawer.

"Here you are," I pressed the eyeliner into his hand forcefully. I was still naked and his eyes roamed my body once before exiting to the bathroom.

A/N- so this is where I interrupt you. I have split this into two parts. One where Timmy wins and one where you win. Please read the one you want, or both :)

Timothée wins

Before I could continue my plan to get on my lingerie, Timothée called for me from the bathroom.

"Can you wait a minute?" I asked desperately.

"Nope!"

I mumbled something about impatient actors as I made my way to the bathroom. My mouth dropped open when I saw what he'd done.

"Thought I'd try this on again," he smirked.

He was wearing his Oscar's outfit, complete with eyeliner. He must have remember we'd had some of the best sex of our lives when he'd shown me what he was going to wear. I was nearly drooling, my arousal pooling in my panties.

"Fuck it," I said and grabbed him by his jacket to me. I kissed him hard, and he was smirking into the kiss, knowing he'd won.

"Timmy, please," I begged.

"Please what?" He pretended to be none the wiser to what he was doing to me.

"Fuck me," I pleaded. He was on me in seconds, slipping off the robe I'd put back on. I was pushed up against the bathroom wall.

I sighed contentedly into the kiss as my fingers wound into his hair. I pulled at his curls like I had wanted to all day. I was trying desperately to grind myself against him, trying to get some sort of friction.

"Soooo desperate," Timothée drawled darkly. "So needy for my cock."

"Yes, so needy," I whimpered in agreement. He shook his head and tutted, but reached down to insert two fingers into me.

"Timothée," I screamed. He was laughing now, so cocky, so damn proud of himself. I couldn't bring myself to care as he began to move his fingers in and out of me.

"So wet, and I've hardly done anything. You must really like me," he taunted. I nodded eagerly as he curled his fingers.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided. "I'd like words please, tell me how I make you feel."

"So good, so good daddy," I knew the name would rile him up. He growled low in his throat, fingers picking up their pace. He pressed his thumb to my clit and I moaned, legs shaky.

"More, tell me more," he egged me on. "Who do you belong to? Whose slut are you?"

"I'm your slut, I'm your whore, I don't want anything but you, I need your cock!"

"No," Timothée replied, as he continued to massage my clit and move his long fingers in and out of me. "Say my name."

"Timothée," I gasped as his other hand came up to play with my nipple. "I belong to Timothée."

"That's right baby," he cooed. "Couldn't resist me could you? Couldn't stop getting wet for me, all for me eh?"

"Yes, all for you, only for you," I panted. He bent down to take my nipple in his mouth. I was moaning, desperately trying to grind against his hand. His fingers hit a sweet spot inside me and I cried out as I tumbled into oblivion.

He removed his hands from me before I could react, and then he was on his knees. I gasped as his tongue came in contact with my heat. My legs were shaky but he braced his hands on my thighs.

"Tim?" I questioned, but he didn't answer. He continued to slurp and lap at me expertly.

"You're so good at that," I moaned, head leaning back against the wall.

"You're going to make me come again!"

A few more swipes of his tongue and he caused my orgasm to crash into me. My legs shook furiously as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through me. My walls clenched on nothing as he removed his tongue.

He was still smirking cockily as he wiped his mouth and stood up.

"Please," I begged.

"Please what Mon Amor?" he teased. "I can't read minds. How can I know what you want if you don't tell me."

"You know what I want," I clung to him in desperation. "Fuck me. Fucking impale me with your cock. I want you in me, so deep, please. I need you."

My words had made his jaw clench. He smashed his mouth against mine. He was grabbing handfuls of my ass. He shrugged off his sparkling, lacy jacket. Next came his pants and my mouth was watering at his hardness.

"On your knees," he demanded.

"But daddy, I want you inside-"

"Knees first," he commanded, knowing I'd do whatever he wanted. I dropped to my knees and took his long, thick length into my mouth. His hands were pulling at my hair as I worked on him.

"That's it baby girl, just like that, fuck."

I was gagging, saliva running down my chin. I moaned so that vibrations ran up his cock. I wanted him to feel good. I wanted to worship his cock like he deserved.

"That's enough," Timothée groaned, and I popped off him.

"Come here baby girl," he coaxed, and I was more than willing. I stood on quivering legs. He massaged my nipples as he rolled his hips into me. Finally, finally, he was sheathed inside me.

I cried out as he began to move. Only he could go so deep. Only he could fill me so full. As he moved he sucked on my neck and I pulled on his hair in bliss.

"Look at you," he chuckled. "So dreamy," he ran a finger over my cheekbone as I whimpered.

"I was right wasn't I, you can't live without my cock."

"You were right Timmy, can't breath without your cock. I want you in me all the time. I want your cum so bad. Will you cum for me?"

"I may," he said, and I whined. He moved his hand down to my clit.

"I think I want you to come first though," he said.

"Too much," I moaned, as overstimulation took over.

"S'not too much, you can take it baby. You're so good for me. You want to please daddy don't you?"

"Yes!" I gasped, in seconds I was experiencing my third orgasm of the day. My walls were clamping down on Timothée's cock and he moaned before spilling into me. I was rewarded by hearing him pant and moan as he fucked me through his own orgasm.

Finally, we both stilled, breathing hard and looking at one another. Timothée moved forward to kiss me gently.

"I love that you can't resist me," he murmured against my lips.

You win.

As soon as Timmy had left the room, I got out the bag from the store. Quickly, I put on the lingerie. I grabbed my vibrator and laid on the bed.

"Ohhhh," I moaned as I pressed the tip of the vibrator to my clit. Relief washed over me as I finally got some sort of pleasure.

"Timothée," I groaned out. My boy sped back into the room, eyeliner only half done. His mouth fell open at the sight of me.

"That's right Timmy, just like that, oh, oh," I was putting on a show, but it did feel good. He had licked his lips at least a dozen times. His eyes were wide as I continued to moan and squirm, my breathing fast.

"Arg," he growled running a hand through his hair. "Fuck it!"

He pounced on the bed, snatching the vibrator from my hand, turning it off, and tossing it somewhere.

"You don't need that," he snapped.

"Oh," I taunted. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm a million times better," he said.

"Prove it," I goaded.

He completely removed my lacy thong that I'd pushed to the side for my activity. He was kissing and sucking up my thighs making my breath hitch. Then he was diving in. He was feasting on me. His tongue was like magic as it swirled in me, tasting, and lapping, and sucking.

"Good boy," I praised as I put my fingers in his hair. I pushed his head down, grinding against his mouth. I moaned his name when the cord inside me snapped. I was seeing stars as my orgasm washed over me. I swear I could even feel the pleasure in my teeth.

Timothée lifted his head, my juices covering his mouth. He was staring at me so hungrily I nearly shivered.

"Come here you." I said. I pulled him to me and then flipped us so I was on top. He laid under me, eyes following my every move. I began to circulate my hips grinding down on him. He was so hard beneath me.

"You like that?" I asked and he nodded with a moan.

"So hard, you been hard all day baby?"

"Yes," he gasped with need.

"Look at you, so desperate," I chuckled. "I bet I could make you cum in your pants from just this."

His eyes were squeezed shut with pleasure, but I saw him nod ever so slightly. I grabbed his chin with my hand, making him look at me as I dry humped him.

"Suck," I ordered as I placed my fingers near his mouth. He gladly took them into his mouth, sucking on them as I ground against him.

I moved off of him, pulling my digits from his lips. He whined at the lack of contact.

"Hold still," I ordered and grabbed the eyeliner he'd left on the bedside table. I held his jaw tightly as I finished his task for him. He obediently, didn't move.

"There you go," I said, and began pulling down his sweatpants. He sighed with relief when I pulled down his boxers. He was so hard I nearly gasped as he sprung free. I began to moved my hand up and down his length as he squirmed and moaned.

"Needy huh?" I said with mock compassion.

"Yes," he panted.

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" I asked.

"Want you to fuck me. Want to be inside you. Need to feel your pussy," he begged and I chuckled.

"So what you're saying is, you can't resist me?" I challenged.

"N-never," he stuttered as he bucked up into my grasp. He was rewarded by me straddling him and sinking slowly down onto his cock.

"Oh fuck," he nearly shouted.

"I love how big you are," I complimented as I began to move. I bounced on his cock and he was a mess of moans and half formed words.

He lifted his hands to my lacy bra, feeling the peaked nipples underneath. He somehow managed to get it off so his hands could knead and massage my breasts.

"You're so worked up baby," I laughed as I rode him.

"You're so wet, so tight," he praised.

"See I knew you wouldn't make it. You're such a whore for me."

"Yes, use me," he begged. "Fuck me anytime you want, anywhere. Make me yours over and over again."

I groaned at his words and leaned down so he could take my breasts in his mouth. I continued to ride him though my thighs were burning. I lifted up off him to the tip and slammed back down. He cried out.

"I'm gonna cum, baby you're gonna make me cum," he whimpered.

"Then cum," I said. "Show me how good I make you feel."

He fucked up into me and with three more thrusts he was gone. He was whining as he emptied himself into me, moaning and mewling from his pleasure. He looked so desperate I came after him, my walls clenched him delicately.

He stilled as he came down with heavy breaths. I smirked down at him.

"You didn't even last a day."

[gayvorestories]

Mike wiped his forehead as he set the last load from the daily delivery truck onto his dolly and waved at the driver, letting him know he was clear to back out. As the man backed down the bakery alley, he waved back to Mike, who was pushing an entire load of flour up a short ramp by the door alone. As he pushed the door open, he heard a familiar voice behind him and sighed deeply in frustration.

"Well, well, they really did get the right guy to move the heavy stuff."

"Not today, Alan."

"Oh, right, I forgot someone gets cranky when people compliment him."

"Not people, you." Mike rolled the dolly to the closet where they kept the dry ingredients and started unloading them, his thick arms bulging as he set the hefty flour bags onto the shelf.

He turned around and saw Alan standing in the doorway, looking him up and down like a cut of meat.

"You can't be back here Alan, what the fuck, get out!" he shouted.

"Oooh, feisty. You gonna slap me, daddy? Choke me a little, spit in my mouth?"

Mike grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the supply room as Alan laughed.

"What are you gonna do big boy, call the cops on me? I'm sure they'd looooove to hear what I have to say."

Mike stopped dead, still holding Alan by the collar.

"Yes officer, that's him! I saw him do it! He said he'd eat me too if I told, boo hoo!" Alan said in a mocking tone.

Mike released his collar and looked down at him, fuming but knowing he was powerless to do anything else.

"Now that's a good boy," Alan said as he straightened his shirt, "how about you follow me in here and keep being good?" He tugged Mike's shirt in the direction of the supply room, but he didn't budge.

"Alan please, I-"

"I own you," Alan said in a much more aggressive tone, "I caught you red handed eating that stupid slut from grindr and I got it on video." He stuck his finger in the middle of Mike's chest and smiled, "so how about you and be go back in that closet, you be a good boy, and give me what I came here for?"

Mike looked down, feeling defeated. "Everyone else is gonna be here in half an hour, can't we-"

"Then you better stop bitchin' and get on your knees." Alan grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the supply closet, this time with Mike right behind him. The door closed behind them and Alan started to undo his pants. "What a good boy. Come on, on your knees," he said in the most degrading tone he could muster.

Mike stopped in the middle of the room and started at him. "Is this just how it is now?"

"You're mine now, handsome. This is what you do."

Mike looked at the floor for a moment. Fuck it, he thought to himself. He closed the gap between them in two steps and shoved Alan against the shelf. Hard.

Alan fell to the ground, the breath knocked out of him and his pants around his ankles. "Wh... what... the fuck?" he wheezed. He pulled up his pants as he stood, backing away from Mike and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Mike grabbed his hand firmly, squeezing the tendons in his wrist until he yelped in pain and dropped the phone. They both looked down at hit as Mike put his full weight on it with the heel of his boot, the screen letting out a crunching sound as it splintered and popped apart.

As Mike loosened his grip, Alan met his eyes and his blood ran cold. "M-Mikey, c'mon man. I won't bug you anymore, I swear."

"No, you will."

"No, no man I swear I won't ever come near you again, just lemme go."

"I don't believe you."

"Mikey please-"

"Don't call me Mikey. You lost that right a long time ago."

"Baby-"

"Shut up!" Mike yelled as he gripped Alan by the shoulders, "I can't fucking stand you anymore. I should've done this a long time ago!"

"No, no!" Alan said as Mike opened his mouth wide. Stuffing Alan's head into his throat, he gripped him like a vice as he squirmed, slowly engulfing his shoulders as his head slid deeper into his gullet.

Alan's screams were muffled by the Mike's throat, but no one was around to hear them even if they hadn't been. Mike swallowed him down quickly, his thin, small frame easily slide into Mike's tall, broad body. As his waist passed Mike's mouth, he felt warm breath on his cock before it slid across his tongue, and down Mike's hungry throat with the rest of him.

On the outside, Mike was surprised how easy he was going down. He had been a small guy, but he was slipping into his stomach far easier than any other guy he'd ever eaten. As Alan's thighs started to go down, he leaned up and let gravity slide him the rest of the way in. His mostly-flat belly was bowed out and squirming, growing larger as the rest of Alan tumbled into his stomach. Giving one last gulp, he felt his body expand as his meal finished settling in.

He picked the phone up off the floor and started out the door towards his car. His white work shirt was riding up his belly significantly, but he kept an extra large in his trunk in case of an unexpected meal. Despite being muffled, Mike's yelling could be heard from inside of him, so he hurried, his belly swaying as he jogged across the back alley.

Alan kicked violently as he slipped his shirt over his head and pulled out the large button-up that looked like his usual wear.

"Please! Please don't do this!" Alan pleaded, "you can't do this to me!"

Mike flexed his abs as he put on the shirt, squeezing Alan painfully as he cried out. Once the final button was done, he tossed the apron onto himself and slipped back in. Checking himself in the mirror, he was definitely rounder, but as long as he stayed out of the way, no one would notice.

"Mikey, please, let me out!"

Ah, right. That, he thought to himself. Time to start the electric mixer I guess.

The surface of his stomach shifted and squirmed as he looked over that days pickup orders, deciding which ones to pick out first. His stomach groaned and gurgled as he scooped out ingredients into the mixer, Alan's panicked form making bulges and movements under his clothes as he worked. Just as his coworkers were coming in, he flipped the switch and the loud mixer drowned out any sounds Alan was making.

As they entered, he kept his back to them, giving a friendly wave over his shoulder but otherwise pretending to work at the counter on the far wall. When they walked into the front to begin opening up, he quickly slipped into the walk-in and grabbed all the ingredients he needed to start working on the filling for the pastries, avoiding everyone's gaze while his stomach worked overtime trying to shut up his meal.

Pouring the various fruits and liquids into the pot to start making a fruit filling, he winced in pain as Alan started kicking against him frantically. Turning the heat down, he looked around the room and started for the employee bathroom when he nearly walked directly into his coworker Marshall.

"Oh, hey Mike, you get started on those orders?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got the first one going, just gotta step to the bathroom real quick, waiting on the water to boil."

"Cool, cool." Marshall walked away and Mike let out a sigh of relief that he'd completely missed the movement in his midsection.

Locking the door behind him, Mike hung up his apron and leaned on the wall, unbuttoning his shirt and rubbing his fuzzy, bloated belly.

"God, you're almost more annoying like this," he said to Alan, who squirmed in response. "What's wrong, not having fun in there?" he taunted, "is my belly gross and uncomfortable?"

Alan's muffled voice was barely audible, "please, let me out, I won't say nothin' to anyone, please!"

Mike grinned and rubbed his belly, "I don't know, after months of this bullshit it's nice to have the upper hand for a little while. Besides," he said letting out a little moan, "it feels good."

Alan let out a sob and kicked as Mike rubbed the firm surface of his belly.

"Mmm, just like that. I can't wait to feel you sliding around in my guts tomorrow."

"You're a fucking monster!"

"I thought that's what you loved about me," Mike cooed as he rubbed his belly firmly, "that and my biceps. I bet I'm gonna get some good gains out of you, been a while since I've eaten a man."

Alan made no noise in response other than a muffled yell as he punched and kicked in vain.

"Mmm, keep doing that. Feels so good, almost makes me wish my stomach wasn't gonna pulverize you." Mike's stomach let out a low grumble and he chuckled, "almost."

He buttoned his shirt and threw his apron back on, washing his hands quickly and heading back out the door and to the kitchen where his pot was starting to boil. He went back to his job, the squirming in his stomach slowing down considerably as he worked. The time passed quickly as he rolled, shaped, baked, filled, and packaged the pastries for the afternoon pickup. Leaning back on the table, he wiped his forehead on the back of his wrist as Marshall walked by.

"Damn bud, big lunch?" he said as he walked by.

Mike's eyes widened and he scrambled for a reply. "Oh, yeah, I'm on a bulk right now," he chuckled nervously.

"Hey man, clearly whatever you do works," Marshall laughed back. He gave Mike's belly a pat as he walked past, "just keep off the customer orders and we're all good."

Mike laughed and started filling up the mixer again, feeling his heart slow down to a normal rate again. The pat disturbed Alan enough he started to shift around again and Mike gave his belly a gentle rub while he was alone. "Shh, just relax," he whispered, "no more fighting."

As if answering for Alan, his stomach let out a low grumble.

"There you go," he whispered as he gave his belly a pat.

He switched the mixer on and went back to work, the kicking and thrashing replaced by shifting, squeezing aches as his stomach worked on Alan's body. As he popped open a set of boxes to fill up, his evening coworker showed up and put on his apron.

"Woah, dude," Tyler said looking at his belly.

"Oh, uh. I'm uh... bulking," Mike said nervously.

"Oh. Okay," Tyler said, "one hell of a bulk, what'd you eat?"

"Just a big lunch. Buffet spot."

"Cool man. We got any more orders left?"

"Just this one, gotta fill the boxes and put the stickers on 'em."

"Neat, Marshall is good up front so I'll help."

"You don't-" Mike tried to say as Tyler read the sheet and went back for the pastries.

He returned quickly and set the tray down on an empty spot on the table. Mike handed him one of the first boxes he had ready and he started to fill it, taking his time to make sure the warm pastries were arranged neatly.

Every minute they had to stand close to each other Mike got more nervous, trying his best to focus on assembling the boxes. As he handed Tyler the next one his stomach let out a low groan and he caught Tyler's eyes wandering towards his belly.

As he popped open another box, his stomach let out smaller groans and wet digestive sounds. Tyler could clearly hear them, but was feigning ignorance and ignoring it. The timer on the mixer buzzed and it slowed to a halt, the background noise slowly fading out. When the room was completely quiet, the low grumbles of his stomach echoed on the walls.

Tyler kept glancing at his belly and Mike kept looking away nervously as he put the final box together and started to fill them himself. Unlike Tyler's precise placement, Mike simply filled the box and moved to the next one, desperate to get away from the table.

"Hey man, no need to rush, last order of the day right? We just gotta clean up and wait for closing time."

"Yeah, yeah, just eager to sit down is all."

Tyler nodded and kept working, the two of them finishing quickly. "Alright, you sit back, I got cleanup."

"I can-"

"I got it, I got it," Tyler insisted, "you did all the other orders without me, I'll at least clean up."

Mike was in no mood to argue over it and sat down on a chair in the back of the kitchen. "Thanks, man." As Tyler swept up and wiped the counters down, Mike leaned back, his stomach starting to really pick up in intensity, groaning and gurgling loud enough Tyler could hear it across the room.

Just as Tyler was finishing up, Marshall walked in, wiping his hands and shutting off the lights up front. "Alright boys, closing time. I got the front locked up. Mike, try not to throw your back out on this bulk, we need a baker and your ancient mixer scares the shit out of me."

All three of them laughed as Marshall grabbed his keys and slipped out the back.

Mike stood up and started towards the employee office to grab his own keys as Tyler came in behind him.

"So... what'd you actually eat?"

Mike froze. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I think you do."

Mike turned and looked at Tyler. He was short and scrawny, Mike could probably lift him with one hand. He took a step towards Tyler, cornering him and nearly pressing his belly against him. "I think I'm not sure what you're tryin' to say."

Tyler's face turned red as Mike's belly was directly in front of him. "I-I, uh."

God I hate double-entrees, Mike thought to himself as he steeled himself to force Tyler down too. "You what?"

"I... think you look good... like this," Tyler said, a mixture of fear and arousal in his voice as the reality of the situation started to hit him.

"Like what?"

Tyler swallowed. "Please don't eat me, I've known a while, I think it's hot," he said quickly and nervously.

Mike was caught off guard by how forward he was and furrowed his brow. "I uh. Oh."

"Yeah, uh. Can I... touch?"

Mike blinked a few times. "Sure, go ahead."

Tyler's eyes widened as he touched Mike's belly. "Fuck, it's so firm."

Mike took off his apron and started unbuttoning his shirt before Tyler took over. He backed away from the corner and leaned back on the table in the middle of the room as Tyler slowly unbuttoned his shirt and gently touched his belly. Opening it slowly, Tyler looked Mike in the eyes as he gently rubbed the sides of his belly. "When?"

"This morning, just before we opened."

"Holy shit, is he still moving?"

"No, he stopped a little while ago."

"Fuck... that's so hot."

Mike snorted, "you like that?"

"Fuck yeah. Do... do you like it like that, or is it just eating?"

"Oh, I like it like that too," Mike said with a wink.

Tyler bent down and kissed the top of Mike's belly and looked up at him. He kissed down the surface slowly, lowering onto his knees as he reached the underside of Mike's belly. As he undid Mike's pants, he ran his tongue around his bellybutton, sticking it deep in and nibbling the surface of his firm, round belly.

"Fuck, keep going," Mike moaned softly.

Tyler slid his pants down and was greeted by Mike's hard, thick cock in his face. He slid his lips over the tip slowly, getting it nice and wet as he bobbed further and further down. The head of his cock pressed hard against Tyler's throat as he reached the bottom, his firm, fuzzy underbelly pressed against Tyler's face.

He bobbed up and down on Mike's cock as Mike gently tugged his hair. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good," Mike moaned.

Tyler let out a soft moan as Mike started to thrust hard into his mouth, grabbing the back of his head and using him like a fleshlight.

"I'm... oh fuck I'm gonna cum," Mike moaned as he started to shoot. He gripped Tyler's hair tightly and let out a low, husky moan as Tyler eagerly swallowed the load he pumped down his throat. He licked Mike's cock clean and sat back on his knees, panting and fixing his hair.

"Are you... still.. gonna eat me?" Tyler panted.

"Did you want me to?" Mike said with a grin.

"No, no but I wanna watch."

"I think I can arrange that."

Tyler smiled, "I'd like that."

"Do that with your mouth again, and I'll give you anything you like," Mike said as he buttoned his shirt.

Tyler stood and ran his hand along Mike's bloated stomach, "oh, I'll do that any time you want." He leaned in for a kiss and Mike followed through, kissing him gently on the lips.

"How about my place, this weekend?"

"Need me to bring a friend?" Tyler asked with a sly grin.

"Oh I have a dinner guest in mind," Mike chuckled, "just bring yourself."

The headed towards the door together, and before splitting off to their respective cars Mike paused, "oh, and bring some lube, too."

Tyler smiled and nodded, "see you then."

[msbigredmachine]

Black Sweatpants (Roman Reigns)

Why did the Tribal Chief arrive late to the Pat McAfee Show? Based on Roman's appearance on March 22 2024. Pat was forced to cut a promo on the fly because Roman took too long to come out 😂

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Smut

-------------

You knew he would get out there late, and you accepted full responsibility. But given the way you were getting dicked down right now, it was totally worth it.

Your blood-red lace thong dangled from your right ankle as Roman jackhammered into you, his thick shaft stuffed inside your tender walls. Biting down on your bottom lip, you wrapped your arms tight around the big man, long-awaited pleasure coursing down your spine all the way to your pastel-colored toes as he pounded you out in the corner of the spacious locker room.

"Oh, ohhh fuck," you couldn't help but cry out at one particularly deep thrust.

"Keep it down before someone comes in here," he growled. Hunched over you, the wicked gleam in his eyes watching you struggle to suppress your moans, told you he was relishing every second of your agony.

"I'm trying, you ain't helping," you whined back.

"Not hard enough," he countered, nudging your legs wider and making you watch his dick disappear inside your wetness. He slapped your hand away when you placed it on his abs to push him back because he was getting too deep. "Naw, you wanted this dick all day, you better take it now..."

When you ordered the new all-black hoodie and joggers set from Nike for Roman, you knew he would look good in it. However, when he returned for his scheduled private flight to Iowa for Pat McAfee's show wearing it, you didn't expect him to look that good. And you certainly did not expect his dick print to be on display like that. You had endured three tortuous weeks of no sex because he'd been away spending time with his two kids he shared with his ex-wife. So you were excited to have him back, and judging from that not-so-little bulge between his legs, he was excited to see you too. You could all but see it, that long, thick brown cock that time and again wreaked the unholiest of havoc in you, protruding against the cotton material and calling for your attention. But the man had the gall to play hard to get, deliberately spurning your advances, acting all platonic and professional, like the rest of his team didn't already know you were lovers. Never one to back down, you ramped up your actions, rubbing his inner thigh throughout the flight and on the ride to Field House, brushing your body against him every chance you got, teasing him right back, trying to get him to crack. As soon as he ordered everyone out of his locker room just minutes after arriving, you knew you succeeded.

Roman planted wet kisses along the side of your neck, the soft prickles of his thick beard unleashing another flood between your legs. His hulking body stretched over yours, his sweatpants rolled down to just underneath the curve of his ass cheeks for the purpose of this quickie. He was so hard inside you, demanding your pleasure as he impaled you with no mercy, his tempo hot and frenetic from the very start. His big hand slipped from your breast downwards to twirl his fingertips around your clit, your throaty whines music to his ears as your sweet moisture pooled around his fingers. The squelching noise pierced the air that was already thickened by your heavy breaths and his hips smacking into yours.

"Mmm, wet as fuck, just the way I like it," Roman grunted, leaning down to suckle on your left nipple, his saliva smearing the puckered skin when he released it with a wet pop, "I can tell you was goin' crazy without this dick, right, baby?"

"Yes, and yet your punk ass still ignored me all day, too fuckin' busy making your damn TikTok videos," you griped.

"Quit your whining, Daddy always gives you what you want in the end. Unh, how you feel so good all the time? I love it," he moaned, his brown irises rolling back briefly before they landed on yours again in an intense stare. Through the lustful haze of passion, you felt your heart thumping rapidly inside your chest as you looked into his eyes. It didn't matter if you were having sex or not; it always sped up in his mere presence.

You fell in love with him not long after you became his personal assistant a year and a half ago. You worked hard to please him, on the job and off it, and he showed you his gratitude in a plethora of ways, carnal and otherwise. You were a walking cliché, but you couldn't care less, not when it bagged you a man like that. The sex appeal oozed from his pores. He was confident and self-assured and had worked his ass off to get to where he was today. He got along with all of his team, was a decent and fair employer, and was generous to a fault, showering his staff with presents on birthdays and Christmases. The diamond pendant he gifted you for Valentine's Day currently hid between your cleavage he was kneading with his big hands. He was everything you could ask for in a boss and a boyfriend, which was honestly an impressive feat.

You placed one hand behind his neck and tugged him down to flick your tongue inside his warm mouth. His thrusts remained indulgent as you kissed hungrily, branding you, marking you, wiping out everything from your mind except the euphoric feeling that engulfed you every time he kissed and fucked you dumb. He pushed your dress further up your waist and gathered your supple ass cheek in his competent hand, lifting you right up against him. He was all up in your stomach and your walls suckled his cock greedily, holding him in a vice-like grip. The gruff yet sensual sounds pouring from him teased your core, making you need more of it, more of him.

"Awww, shit, yes," Your eyes fluttered shut when he began to wind his hips, circling clockwise and then in reverse, the head of his cock churning your sweet spot, his triumphant growl accompanying every thrust. In and out, in and out, the erotic loop punctuated by the low, husky groans of your Tribal Chief, causing your head to rock back from blinding bliss. "Ooooh baby, baby right there, ahh," you whimpered.

"Uh huh, I'm deep in that shit. Got this pussy feelin' good, huh?" Roman said, his haughty taunts disappearing in another moan as your pussy rippled around his dick over and over. He kept up his grinding strokes which seemed to intensify the throatier and more desperate your moans grew, as though the mere sound of them fueled his ruthlessness. His paw curled around your throat, his display of dominance leaving you a sopping, dripping mess as he made you take every inch of him. You were dizzy, on the verge of falling apart, and your body burned for release, yet all you could do was hold on while this man continued to destroy you, rendering you helpless and pathetic and under his heady spell.

"I'm gonna come, Daddy," you gasped. Your fingernails clawed at his forearm holding your neck, moaning his name as he fucked you harder, making sure there was no way you would last long with the kind of pounding he was giving you right now.

"Mmm-hmm, come on my dick, give it to me," he ordered, barely hanging on himself. He groaned as your pussy walls held his cock hostage, making him swell inside you as his climax beckoned. "Fuck, babe, ahhh, fuck..."

Burying your face in his broad chest, you barely kept your scream muffled as your orgasm tore through you, your body arching, legs trembling around his waist as you came hard. Time and space and coherence blurred into one sensual puddle. His heavy weight almost smothered you as he chased his own orgasm, his eyes glazing over in a telltale sign that he was right there with you. His hips jerked as his dick began to throb and twitch inside you, and you gasped at the feel of his seed spilling inside your walls, his big body shivering from the force of his release, his deep voice exhaling guttural moans as he succumbed to you. It felt so good, feeling him fall with you, toppling over the precipice of pleasure together.

After he finally caught his breath, Roman shifted back a bit to observe you, taking in your face, flushed with satisfaction, your lips plumped and ravaged by his own. You looked damn beautiful, and he showed you by brushing your mouths together in the gentlest, sweetest kisses.

"Happy now?" he smirked.

You grinned from ear to ear. "Very happy, Daddy. I've missed you. Love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," he replied with one last soft kiss, both of you moaning as his drained dick slipped out of your warm confines. You dragged yourself to a seated position when he climbed off you and hurriedly tugged his pants back up. Adjusting your dress, you checked your watch and sighed. "Great, you're two minutes behind schedule. You're not even mic'd up yet," you said, fishing out Roman's bottle of Jean-Paul Gaultier cologne from his backpack and giving the room a few quick spritzes to stifle the cloying scent of your latest sexscapade.

"Well, Pat's gonna have to wait," he answered flippantly as he raked his hair back into its trademark bun. He watched you reach for your underwear that had tangled around your foot and beat you to the punch, snatching up the tiny scrap of lingerie and tucking it into his back pocket.

"Roman!" you exclaimed.

"What? It's mine now," he declared, grabbing his gold championship belt and standing to his full height. You bit your lip as you drank him in, your gaze stopping between his sturdy thighs. You just had sex but you found yourself getting aroused again.

"Your dick print is still showing," you pointed out, licking your lips reflexively.

"Course it is, I got that thang on me," he bragged, smoothing his big hand over his groin, his body tingling from the memory of your delicious warmth. Noticing the heat in your eyes, he smiled that suggestive half-smile of his and tapped your backside. "Down, baby girl, Daddy's gotta go to work. You can have me all you want after TV tonight."

As you followed him out of the locker room and stepped into the cold sunshine, you caught the slightly pronounced limp in your man's walk, his glowing, kiss-swollen features, the extra width in his smile, and beamed with pride.

Yeah, I did that shit.

THE END

--------------

Another short one. Thoughts?

I have a few more Roman ones I'm working on and hope to get out soon.

Thank you all so much for reading!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

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[kas-eddie-munson]

cw: ableism, depression

~~~

Eddie always tried not to dream too big.  He grew up poor, with shitty parents, so he learned pretty early on to prepare for disappointment if he ever asked for or wanted something, even non material wants, like love.

It didn’t always work, though.  His teachers always said he had his head in the clouds.  He dreamed of becoming a rockstar, getting married with kids afterwards.  Moving into a big house with a dog and a yard.

And he knew, really, it was silly.  But he thought maybe he could get bits and pieces of that if not the whole thing.  Maybe he would never have his dream job, but he could do something similar.  Play his guitar at bars on the weekend, teach kids music lessons, or work at a record shop.

Maybe he would never find someone who could put up with all his dramatics and energy full time, but he’d have a girlfriend, eventually, for a while.

And here he was.  Couldn’t even sell weed anymore, couldn’t get out of bed without help sometimes, could barely get out of the house without help, certainly couldn’t drive.  The new trailer didn’t even have steps, it had ONE step.  And that was enough to stop him from moving up and down with a wheelchair.

ONE step.

The bathroom door was too narrow to fit through with it.  He had to hold his piss sometimes when he didn’t have the energy to get all the way there without his chair.

He knew he was a financial burden on Wayne.  The government paid off most of his medical bills, and for their new home, but that wasn’t gonna cut it forever.  Especially if Wayne kept insisting on him continuing physical therapy.

He wondered what they told him.  If Wayne really thought he could ever walk again, more than across a room or from the door to the car.

Eddie did, at first.  Again, dreaming too big.

The doctors were honest with him, even if his heart wasn’t.  He’d be in pain probably the rest of his life.  Things would get better, but he’d probably always need his chair, at least sometimes.

Things were awkward, with his friends.  They didn’t get it.  He didn’t expect them to, and it’s not like they ever talked about feelings and shit anyway.  They didn’t think he killed Chrissy, he was pretty sure, and they weren’t super weird about how he got jumpy sometimes, but they’d get so awkward.  He’d move past them in his chair, and they’d cast their eyes to the floor, trying not to look at it.  Stopped inviting him places when half the time they’d show up and there’d be no ramp, or the ramp would be too steep, or too narrow to actually get up it.  Or they’d have to talk to five different employees to find the one who knew how to work the automatic door in the back of the building by the dumpster.

Not to mention how he often needed help just getting out of the car.  And how he ALWAYS needed a ride.

So they stopped talking to him, more or less.  The Party did still, kind of.  Dustin was always going on about Eddie’s exercises, and telling him how he can still do anything if he sets his mind to it, that that’s what they always said at science camp.

He means well, but Eddie doesn’t know how to tell him he’s already trying so, so hard.  That this is him at a hundred and ten percent.  That not every problem is something you can fix.

So, Eddie spends a lot of time alone, in his room, exhausted, too tired to even write music or work on campaigns - stuff you can do lying down - half the time.

Except on Thursdays.  Thursdays, Steve drove him to his physical therapy appointments.  It honestly felt kind of pathetic how much he looked forward to sitting in a car mostly in silence for thirty minutes a week.  He tried putting on music sometimes, but Steve always turned it off, and Eddie?  He’s too tired to fight over stuff like that anymore.

And Steve didn’t want to talk, it seemed.  People didn’t usually ignore him when he spoke these days, but Steve almost always did.  And Eddie didn’t care, really.  Again, lowering his expectations.

That was until this Thursday, anyway.  Sitting in silence, Eddie noticed a plastic bag by his feet in Steve’s normally pristine car, and Steve snatched it out of his hands when he tried to pick it up.

“Sorry, I uh, forgot to clean that up,” he said, and stuffed it in the center console.

Parked at the physical therapy place, Steve got out of the car to get Eddie’s chair out, and one of the older women who went here sucked him into a conversation Eddie was half listening to through the closed doors.  He glanced in the rear view mirror, and noted that Steve was facing away from the car.

Eddie looked at the center console, considering.  He popped it open and inspected the bag.  Inside was a stapled sheet of printer paper and a brochure.  Eddie frowned, and stuffed everything back in the bin as the woman left and Steve popped the trunk.

The brochure was information about hearing loss.

Steve helped him out of the car, and held the door for him into the building as usual.  Eddie noted how, despite being unusually quiet, Steve still treated him pretty normally, compared to some of their other friends.

Eddie didn’t get much done during his appointment.

~~~

Edit: Now has a part two; part three; part four; part five; part six (final!)

[awkward-writes-shit]

hiiii, i would love to see the tf2 men with a lover that acts like junkrat

have a great day/night :)

chat I’m so sorry this one took me so long 😭😭

Hello there I’m so sorry but I don’t know Junkrats personality enough to write them exactly, so I just went for a chaotic S/O. If that’s not okay then I totally get it and can try to rewrite this.

Mercenaries with a Chaotic S/O

In this order: Scout, Pyro, Medic, Heavy, Spy, Sniper, Soldier, Engineer, Demoman

Scout

You being chaotic is probably what attracted him to you.

And by attracted I mean made him follow you around for months like a puppy.

Like, he’s a little crazy, you’re crazy, match made in heaven.

Will try to impress you by doing really crazy stuff like attempting to rocket jump off a building, but it’ll just end up with you needing to help him to the infirmary.

One time you were crawling around in the vents, saw him, and decided to jump down onto him as a surprise…

You’re now sworn to secrecy about how high hitched his scream is

Pyro

You thought Scout was attached to your hip? Well, meet your new hip.

LOVES how chaotic you are. Often gets into mischief with you, with ends up with both of you being scolded by Engi for how careless you two were being.

In one ear out the other though for both of you :3

Kind of person where if they see you doing something they know you’re not supposed to, they stand look out for you

Loves how much energy you have.

Favourite thing to do with you is set stuff on fire (Of course)

One time you found a shopping cart, built a ramp, and rode down in the shopping cart, only to miss the ramp and go straight through a wall in the base

Just guess where you ended up.

But they still had so much fun with you and are always willing to do that with you.

Medic

You’re going to kill that man someday with how worried you make him

Like what the hell are you doing on the roof?! What do you mean you built a zip line out of some yarn and a clothing hanger?! Absolutely not.

He needs some ibuprofen from the amount of headaches you give him, but is always there to stitch you up.

Just please stop coming in with your head bleeding when the respawn is getting the routine maintenance, he gets so scared

Also is the kind of person who treats you like a toddler climbing a bookshelf

Constantly pulling you off of anything you’re trying to climb to get to

Fridge? Yoink. Wall? Yoink. Vents? Yoink. And the list goes on

Does test on you to see what makes you so chaotic. (He still doesn’t know)

Heavy

Big brother mode go brrrrrr

Constantly holding onto the back of your shirt to prevent you from doing something stupid

So no, you will not be fighting Soldiers raccoon army any time soon :(

Or doing anything he deems dangerous.

Yes he knows your a full grown adult but he’s still so worried about you.

Spy

I’m sorry I just can’t see him as someone who can be with someone super chaotic

Kind of person who can’t handle the constant panic of you crashing through the window randomly and just being fine

(He’s too old. Old old man)

Sniper

You two are yin and yang

Like that one image of the super tired person with the slightly evil and hyper personality on a monkey leash

Does NOT enjoy seeing you crash down from out of nowhere and just be fine. Like, what? How?

He just has a bad back and the old man disease. Different from Spy because he’s just old.

The only reason he hasn’t let you get yourself killed is because he finds joy in watching you skidadle across the battlefield as he Snipes. You look like a Kiwi (the bird) to him

(I love all the redraws as him as a Kiwi)

Soldier

Yet another person who’s able to keep up with your chaotic behaviour, mostly due to the fact that he’s can only insane.

Yall do chaotic things together, which usually ends in the infirmary getting scolded.

He won’t listen unless he gets a lollipop, then you two find something else just as stupid to do.

Yes he can be bribed with candy or shiny objects I will die on this hill.

More than willing to try rocket jumping with you on his back. (Half the time it does not go well because you both get distracted

You two get concussions together and I mean that in the most weirdly romantic way possible 🥰🥰

Engineer

Fatherly vibes 100% I will fight you on this

Constantly scared for your life and safety

Like no… Please don’t jump off that building to try to get to the thing you got stuck in a tree… Please just get a ladder…

Probably builds something to try to keep you safe

You’re not allowed in his workshop because one time you got a little too silly with the handsaw

Yet another person who you’ll probably end up killing out of pure fear

Demoman

More than willing to do stuff with you when drunk, but the moment he’s sober (not at all often) he’s so scared that you’re gonna die

Like “WHOA 🤩” to “WHOA 😨”

Y’all bomb stuff together ❤️

But like many others, the infirmary is your new home.

You two also get yourselves thrown out windows way too often

Don’t ask how, it just happens (Brain trauma)

Sorry that some are shorter than others. Brain went plop. :(

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

“Thanks for keeping quiet, this one was ready to pop!”

Wrecker x F!Reader One Shot

Summary:

You're making a delivery and find the Marauder oddly empty besides Wrecker who seems to be busy with his own plans.

WC: 2,943 - Read on Ao3

*this is just my general "mature rating" specifics:

Content Warning: Shameless Smut, No Plot, Promiscuous Behavior, Alcohol Consumption, Oral (m & f receiving), Face Riding, Overstimulation, Squirting, Analingus, Condoms, Muffling, PiV, Prone Bone, Slight Exhibitionism.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You hoisted the box of spare parts higher on your hip as you trekked over to the Marauder to deliver it. You're sure your boss got everything that was ordered but that didn't stop you from being nervous. The soldiers of this particular vessel were rather intimidating and though you’ve never seen them raise their voices at a civilian you weren't to keen on karking up their services. They all seemed a little high strung, but, that's how war goes. 

The ramp was open as you approached the ship in the far corner of the hanger. You called out a greeting, to which there was no answer. 

They better be here, I don't want to have to hang around just to get a signature…

You called out again before curiously approaching the open ramp way to peek inside. 

You were startled to find the big guy, Wrecker if you remembered right, sitting at the little table in the cramped cabin. It looked even smaller, encapsulating his large frame. He was leaned over the surface, an intense look of concentrating on his marred features as he soldered wires into a complicated device. 

It was no surprise he didn't hear you, his bad ear the one closest to the door and the focus he was displaying for his work. You had never seen him so quiet or engrossed before, it was somewhat fascinating. 

You placed the container you carried down as softly as you could, not wanting to disturb him, and settled against the wall by the entrance to observe. 

His eyes flicked over to you at the light tap of the container hitting the floor, but he said nothing as he continued connecting wires to a circuit board inside the hollow casing. Moments passed in silence until finally he let out a pleased sigh, put his tools down, and closed the casing with a snap. 

“Thanks for keeping quiet, this one was ready to pop!”

Your stomach clenched, not realizing just how dangerous his task had been. 

“Those the parts Tech ordered?”

He wiped his hands on a work towel and gestured towards the box on the floor. 

“Uh… yeah, I just need a-”

“Great!”

He loped over in a stride and scooped the box up like it was nothing, setting it on the table and popping it open. Systematically, he took out the pieces and started to sort them into drawers and cubbies around the space. 

“You sure know your valves and gaskets,”

It was breathed quietly but he chuckled,

“Tech expects everything to be in a certain place, thing is, he never puts anything away! If no one keeps the cabin clean there's no room for me, so I tend to be the one keeping things tidy,”

“That's surprising…”

“Why's that?”

“Uh…” 

You bit your tongue, realizing you may have judged the hulk of a man a little unfairly.

“Would just expect Tech to be a little neater, is all,”

He laughed at that, loud and full enough to make you jump,

“Tech is the messiest of all of us! Absent minded genius, someone called him once… Followed by Hunter, the two are kind of hopeless,”

He chuckled again as he finished sorting the ordered parts. 

“I just need a signature and I'll be on my way,”

“Sure,”

But instead of signing the holopad you offered, he pulled a flask out from where it was hidden beneath the table, taking a long swig. 

“Ah! Reward for a days hard work…”

He raised a brow and offered you the flask, jiggling it invitingly. 

“I shouldn't, I'm still technically working,”

“Yeah, me too, but I've the place to me-self and a lovely lady for company… take a breather with me!”

You smirked at the compliment, eyes lingering on the jaunty smile as he offered the flask again. You took it with a swipe, suddenly a little too eager to imbibe. 

“You know what, yeah, I deserve a break,”

Tossing back the flask, you drank deep of the burning liquid. His eyebrows were raised in a mildly impressed expression when you handed back the half empty container.

“This calls for a snack!”

He turned from you, heading to the nook that must've served as a galley for the small vessel to retrieve some form of crackers and cheese. 

You followed slightly, aiming for the table, but the strong alcohol was hitting you harder than you expected and you stumbled. A firm hand caught your arm before you could go down. 

“Whoops! More than you can handle, meshla?”

“Nuh… no, I'm good, but could probably use those crackers,”

He helped you lean against the table he had set the tray of snacks on. He didn’t back off though, his bulky form poised over you as he reached for a cracker, holding it out for you to take a bite.

You hesitated only a moment before obediently taking the snack, chewing slow and contemplative as you eyed the man leaning over you. Your acquaintance had been brief, the rag tag team only having landed at your port in recent weeks… you hadn't gotten to know them much in that short time. That being said, the look in the mismatched eyes above you had grown somewhat familiar. You swallowed, reaching behind you for the flask you knew was there to wash down the dry cracker with another long swig. 

Wrecker was still leaning into you, the muscle under his blacks tense and warm where it pressed against your clothes. Subconsciously, drunkenly, you reached out and ran a hand over his pecs. They were at your eye level and twitched at your touch. The man let out a content sigh from the feeling of you caressing him, flexing teasingly under your finger tips. 

“Are you trying to seduce me, Wrecker?”

“Is it working?”

“Where are the others?”

“Won't be back for hours, I said I'd be refitting these explosives all day, they tend to give me space for that,”

“Uh huh… did you know I'd be making deliveries today?”

“... Yeah, is… is this too forward? I'm not the best at reading these things, I can back off if-”

“No! It's…”

You kept feeling him through his clothes,

“It's nice,”

He reached down, taking your hand from his chest to kiss your knuckles.

“You want to?”

You felt a little dazed but there was no doubt about it,

“Uh huh,”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead then pausing… lips close to yours. You could smell the alcohol on his breath before pressing your mouth to his.

Wrecker groaned into the kiss, deepening it with his weight against you. He dipped, lifting you to sit on the counter making you more even with his towering build. 

Nipping his thick bottom lip between your teeth, you tugged at the tight black top covering him. He obliged, undoing the fastenings to let it hang open. A small whimper of need escaped you as you took in the taught, tanned chest patterned all over with light colored scars. 

His mouth found yours again, large hands wandering to squeeze your breasts through your coveralls. He tugged at the zipper, a nonverbal plea to let him see you too and you nodded against his lips. A sharp tug and the zipper was pulled down to your middle, fingers pushing the fabric from your shoulders. Hopping kisses traveled down to your neck leaving a wet trail that cooled your skin in their wake. He was almost kneeling as his nose nuzzled your cleavage, hands going around your back to undo the strap keeping you modest. 

Another groan against your flesh as the bra came undone tugged away to leave you exposed. It sent a spike of white hot heat to your core, doubling as he cupped your breast pulling the peak between his lips to suck on tenderly. 

“Kriff, Wrecker!”

His eyes were on you with that, suddenly hungry. You were lifted and you wrapped your legs around him as he carried you back to the bunk cubbies of the ship. He dropped to his knees as he placed you on the stiff bottom cot, looking you over as he kneeled in front of you. You pulled him to you again, cupping his wide jaw as you kissed him, slipping your tongue over his as you leaned back. He braced himself over you, tugging at your clothes one handed and frustrated. 

With a soft growl he flipped on his back, holding you on his chest as he pulled your coveralls down to your hips where they got caught again. 

“Take these off.”

You nodded, sliding off of him to undo the rest of the fasteners keeping your bottoms affixed. You kicked them off and reached for the laces of your boots next. He caught your hand,

“Leave the boots,”

You smirked, standing straight again as he pulled you back to the side of the bed hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down your thighs. 

You kicked those off too, looking back to find him eyeing your exposed sex, mouth slightly parted in his rapture. 

Wordlessly he tugged you into the bunk, pulling you onto him as he laid flat. Hands wrapped under your ribs he kissed down your neck, your chest, lifting you to trail kisses down your stomach. His strong arms positioned you over him, your knees on his shoulders as he pulled your glistening petals against his lips. 

You sighed contentedly as his tongue dipped into the tender opening, nose buried in your folds as he took his time tasting your pussy. The wide flat muscle flicked up and over the rest of you, circling your clit to make you moan in desperation. This teasing wouldn't do, the sensation as he licked you bubbling through your skin to surge through your brain. Wreckers hands gripped your thighs, your hips guiding you to move against him. Eager to cum you ground your cunt against his lips, riding his tongue like he wanted. You could feel how his cheeks and chin were wet with you as your thighs slid back and forth, fucking his tongue.  

Looking down you found him watching, eyes locked to your face as it twisted in pleasure. He sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth making you gasp and twitch. You were close and he knew it, reaching behind you to slick his fingers with the fluid dripping from you, thrusting one into your clenching sex as he flicked his tongue rapidly against your clit. He added another finger as you tensed from his attentions, thrusting them into you in time with his frantic licking. 

Your boot heels dug into him as you came, jerking against his face as he refused to let up, fingering you through the orgasm. His other hand joined the first between your legs, rubbing your clit in a rough back and forth motion, overstimulating you.

 “Hey!”

A high pitched whine escaped you as your muscles jerked and clamped down on his fingers, fluid gushing from your twitching folds to splash against his cocky grin. 

You slumped back to sit on his chest, breathless. 

“You want to stop here?”

He was squeezing your thighs, his eager tone making it obvious what he wanted you to say. You reached back, finding the firm bulge of his length and giving it a squeeze. 

“That wouldn't be fair now, would it?”

He groaned, thrusting his hips against your hand.

“Not fair at all,”

His pant came out gruff, his need for release becoming more obvious. 

“Guess we should…”

You slipped your hand under his waist band, wrapping your fingers around his notable girth. 

“... Keep going,”

Wrecker groaned as you pumped his length, hips moving to thrust himself into your hand. Turning, you straddled his chest as you pulled his pants down to his thighs, letting his hardened cock free to bounce in front of you.

His piece matched his stature, lengthy and thick with a wide flare to his swollen head. Precum beaded at the slit and you focused on it, leaning in to lap it off of him. 

“Kriff,”

His breath caressed your ass and his thighs tensed at the feeling of your tongue, making a mischievous smile spread across your face. 

You leaned in, and kissed the top of his cock, eliciting another languid moan from the desperate man. Parting your lips, you let him thrust shallowly into your mouth running your tongue around his head. He throbbed, and twitched from the attention. Desperate not to cum too early he tried moving your pussy back to his mouth settling for your ass when you planted your weight, wanting to keep your over sensitive clit away from him a while longer. 

You gasped around his cock at the sensation of his tongue against your puckered entrance. He focused his attention on licking you, making you gasp as you sucked his cock between your lips. It became a battle of wills, who would beg to move on first. 

It was Wrecker who broke, arching under you with a moan. 

“I need to be inside you meshla…”

His words made you ache and you nodded, swinging a leg over him to try righting yourself but you were being flipped again. He rolled you over, his weight crushing you into the firm bunk. His length pressed into your stomach as he reached for something over you. You saw him pull a gold foil square from between the wall and mattress. 

Raising a brow at him, he smiled almost apologetically as he tore the corner of the package with his teeth. You plucked the ring of rubber before he could grab it. He watched you as you found his shaft, holding it with one hand while the other positioned the condom on his head, rolling it down to meet your other hand. It barely reached his base. 

Wrecker dropped his hips and you spread your thighs for him, letting him position his cock at your entrance. You held your breath as he applied pressure, stretching your entrance slowly as he penetrated your core. Shuddering, you moaned his name low as he filled you, his length rubbing against the sensitive nerves that gripped around him. You both sighed as he bottomed out, reaching the limits of your depth. 

Strong arms wrapped around your back as he began to move, gentle, rhythmic thrusts that had you panting. Your face was pressed into his chest, his skin becoming slick with the excursion. Feeling less resistance from your flesh, he picked up the pace, ramming himself into you faster, harder. Your voice began to rise, the strong sensation of his cock moving in you beginning to rip wild moans from your throat. You scooped your hips with him, angling him to where it felt best. 

A voice sounded through the hanger and you both froze, panting against each other, the door to the Marauder was still open. It sounded like some dock workers had wandered near the ship looking for something. 

Wreckers hand gently pressed over your mouth, he met your eyes, questioning. 

You nodded. 

He started moving again, that same fast pace that had the cot creaking beneath you. With his hand muffling you you let yourself go; Moaning in reckless abandon as he ravaged you. His strength was unbelievable. You couldn't help but run your hands over him, his scarred chest, his chiseled abs, the creases defining his hips. Your grip landed on his ass, squeezing as it flexed with his movements. 

Your muscles clenched and you arched against him, cumming with a small scream against his palm. The flesh of your thighs quivered as became weak as his thrusting continued. Your legs felt like rubber, knees barely able to squeeze his hips. 

Noticing your fatigue he gripped your thigh, folding your leg under him and guiding you to turn onto your stomach never letting himself slip out of you. 

Pressed flat to the bed his hips bounced against your ass making it jiggle with every slam. You bit the mattress to keep from crying out, the voices still in hearing range out on the dock. 

Wreckers weight pressed into you his own groans uttered into the pillow above you. His rutting became erratic, a stutter as pleasure overcame him and a violent twitch from inside you sent you both into ecstasy. His hips rocked slowly as he brought you through the final climax, filling the condom with his own lustful seed. 

He stayed poised over you a moment, catching his breath before shifting down. He withdrew from you, moving his mouth to the skin of your shoulders and kissing you from one side to the other. Then his arms went around you, holding you to him as he lay you both on your side, spooning in the bunk. 

You stayed like that a moment, his fingers tracing the skin of your stomach with the occasional peck to your cheek. His voice was soft despite its usual gruffness,

“Did you like it?”

You smiled softly,

“Yeah, I liked it, Wrecker,”

You could feel him smile into your hair. 

“You guys, don't happen to have a shower on this deathtrap do you?”

“Uh…”

He sat up awkwardly,

“The sonic is kind of on the fritz… sorry,”

You stretched, yawning a little, your stomach gurgling slightly. That cracker was not enough to combat the booze you had consumed.  Deciding to turn in your datapad tomorrow, you offered, 

“No matter… how about you come use mine, I can cook us some dinner,”

He pulled you against him, his voice all excitement and a little too loud. 

“I’d like that a lot!” 

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@feral-ferrule @rinksu-no-joo

[nellielsss]

⋆꙳•❅‧₊⋆☃︎‧ Cԋɾιʂƚɱαʂ αƚ ƚԋҽ Fυʂԋιɠυɾσʂ!

Summary: It's Christmas-time at the Fushiguro household! Although not all the members of the house have the best impression of the holiday, everything is still merry and bright--no thanks to your grump of a husband and even more grump of a son... Ft: Toji Fushiguro & Megumi Fushiguro (reader is Mamaguro) Note: I am so incredibly sorry for going missing for months!! College A. Kicked my ass majorly, and B. made me extremely depressed, but we're back! ... for now. CW: light religious imagery, nothing too major! Pure fluff (I'm way too tired to do smutmas...)

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ Toji never truly gave two shits about Christmas. The Zen'in Clan was anything but merry and bright, and until you and Megumi came into his life, he saw no reason to celebrate the holiday--that, and it was technically a christian holiday, and god knows Toji wasn't no saint who deserved presents.

Those were the two reasons he gave when it came to not celebrating Christmas, but there was a deeper, more painful reason that he wasn't fond of sharing...

Christmas reminded him of everything he didn't have.

He didn't have a loving family, he didn't have a warm home to decorate for Christmas, and he never had enough money to even buy gifts to begin with. He never had more than $100 in his checking account until he got a wife and a kid, even with all the money he earned from being a highly paid assassin. He also hasn't seen his family since he was 18 and was free of their legal guardianship, so suffice to say: he didn't give two shits about Christmas.

And that was where you came in!

Christmas was probably one of the best holidays in the whole entire world for you. It was fun and bright, always full of love and laughter and general excitement for you. Even if not every Christmas was great, you still did the best you could year round.

When Toji saw you decorating the giant tree that you'd (miraculously) set up all by yourself in the living room, he nearly spit out his drink. What the hell was an 8-foot pine tree doing in his living room? But when he saw the joy and excitement on your face, and Megumi's little hands playing with the ornaments you were going to put up, he bit his tongue.

Eh, sure, why not? Let the wife have her fun. Happy wife, happy life. What he didn't expect was for the antics to ramp up with every passing year.

Each year, the decorations would become bigger and better. There were more ornaments on the trees, more candles lit, more nutcrackers, more garland--more everything. It was like Hallmark came and threw up in your home and left. He knew he was in too deep when you swapped out the bedsheets for Christmas sheets.

He couldn't lie; he was also starting to go all out himself, at least on the presents. He found himself hitting up his handler, Shiu, for more jobs so that he could get Megumi and his little wife the stuff that they deserved. He'd never been showered in anything but hatred and disgust his entire life, and he'd be damned if his son went through the same shit he did.

Which is what led to Christmas morning, when said wife and said son were opening what they got.

"Look what Santa got you!" you chirped, handing a box to little 5-year old Megumi, who was trying to keep his best nonchalant grimace on his face (don't mind him--he's just going through an angsty teen phase).

"You don't have to say it was Santa, mom, I know it was you and dad," he answered while opening it.

That made you deadpan and go "ehh?" while looking at Toji. "Did that little punk from your homeroom say something to you again? Is he putting these ideas in your head?"

"Nah," he answered, opening up the stack of books that he was currently into. "It's hard not to confuse reindeers for dad's heavy footsteps, but I know reindeers wouldn't survive the Tokyo traffic."

"Hey, watch it, punk," Toji grumbled, reaching out to rub his knuckles into Megumi's head, making him whine and fuss.

Despite your son knowing that Santa Claus is, in fact, his mom and his dad, the little scene made you smile and laugh. You even reached out to take a photo of the little interaction between the two of them and save it for later. "Just hurry up and unwrap your presents, Toji. Let's see if daddy ended up with coal, hmm?" You teased, handing him a box with a smile on your pretty face.

"Yeah, I wonder what Santa got me," Toji said jokingly. His big hands effortlessly ripped off the pretty wrapping paper you so carefully wrapped, and he was met with the name "Rolex" staring back at him. His smile dropped for a second in shock, and he touched the wooden box as if it didn't truly exist. "Babe, you didn't have to-"

"Now I know you've got simple tastes, and I know you're a simple guy, but try it on! I'm sure you'll love it. Besides, I got a raise at work," you encouraged with a wink.

Toji opened the wooden box to see a beautiful silver Rolex watch with a green dial--perfectly matching his green eyes.

He was speechless for a second, earning a proud smile from your part. "I outdid myself, didn't I?" you giggled proudly.

"This is... I've never had somethin' like this before," he said, taking the watch out of the box. "Thank you so much, babe--this means so much to me."

"It's no problem- oof!" He cut you off by wrapping his big arms around your waist and pulling you in, all but squeezing you to death. He then put a kiss on your face and let go of you slightly. "It's n-no problem, really... although... those hugs of yours will give me problems."

Toji simply chuckled and handed you a box as well. "Now it's my turn to spoil my pretty wife," he retorted with a confident grin on his face.

His ogre of a dad calling his princess of a mom his 'pretty wife' earned a sideways grimace from Megumi while he flipped through his books, but he didn't say anything.

"I wonder what Santa got me," you wondered, mimicking his earlier words. You eagerly unwrapped the bow, took off the wrapping paper, and the words "Louis Vuitton" stuck out to you. "Toji, this is..."

"Yup," he said with a cheeky grin, puffing his chest out proudly. "Saw you eyein' this bag like it was your last meal, figured that meant you wanted it."

You slid the top off the box and gasped in excitement and childlike wonder. 6 years into your marriage, and you were still the same girly and excitable woman he first met. "Oh my god, a rainbow Louis!" You held it up with both hands and eyed it like it was, in fact, your last meal.

It was a black multicolor Louis Vuitton Alma bag, complete with a Hello Kitty keychain (that he took the liberty of picking out for you). "Oh, Toji!" You threw your arms around his neck and all but tackled him off the couch, and you pressed kisses all over his stubbled face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love it so much!"

Toji grinned from ear-to-ear and simply patted you on the back while chuckling deeply. "Hey, only the best for my girl."

While you pressed kisses all over his face and hugged him tightly, Megumi looked over and grimaced once again. "Get a room, you two. And get off my mom, you ogre."

"Aw, shut yer trap, ya little grinch," Toji reached out and pulled his son into the hug, both arms wrapped around his beloveds. "I'll be damned if someone interrupts my time with either of you."

Despite Megumi's growing complaints and whines about wanting to be let go, you couldn't stop yourself from smiling and hugging Megumi as well. "Is my little Gumi mad about getting some hugs?" You asked the little boy, making him sigh dramatically and give up. He begrudgingly hugged the both of you, and he couldn't lie--getting a hug like this wasn't so bad. Not that the little sea urchin would ever admit that, of course. He had a reputation to uphold.

Looking up from his hug and loosening his grip on the both of you, he looked around at everything in the room, at the life he built for himself. He had a cozy home, presents under the tree, a beautiful wife and an amazing son. Toji truly was a simple man at heart, because this was all he needed.

"This is all a man needs to be happy," he muttered to himself with a slight smile decorating his face.

Christmas might've been rough for Toji growing up, but those days were behind him. Now, he had his loving family, and that was all a man needed to be happy.

© nellielsss on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 12/26/2024