#being naturally small but working his ass off to build muscle

[zazzander]

I don't care what anyone says Andrew is an omega

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, wet wet morning shower sex, nothing else, just sex.

Your alarm was always an unwelcome sound, it didn't matter that you'd programmed your phone to play The Weeknd's The Morning. It had been an attempt to make your unwillingness to get out of bed easier. You hadn't found it at all helpful and now you couldn't enjoy the song either.

Today wasn't different from any other, you hit snooze and roll over, hoping to find comfort in the warmth of Bucky’s side. But all you find is an empty bed and a cooling pillow. You pry open an eyelid to take a look around your bedroom, noticing the bathroom door ajar and swaying slightly. Assuming Bucky has decided to take a shower, you close your eye and settle back into your pillow in an attempt to snooze a little longer. It is still early, you always set your alarm earlier than needed so you have a chance to prepare for the ordeal of crawling out of the warmth of your bed.

For some reason, sleep seemed to have eluded you and the empty bed felt all too empty without Bucky beside you. So you decide to get up and get ready for work, maybe even convince your boyfriend to make you a pancake breakfast. The bathroom door is still ajar, so you decided to head in.

Just as you pull the door back, the shower starts up. A mischievous smile flickers across your face as you see Bucky’s shapely ass vanish into the already steaming shower. As silently as you can, you shed the oversized t-shirt and the old pair of boxers you like to wear in bed and slide in behind him.

He is expecting you.

You were hoping you would be able to surprise him by slipping your arms around his waist, but he is facing you, hair soaked and mouth smirking. Your lips part with surprise as you stand motionless at the magnificent sight before you. Your eyes focus on a droplet of water clinging desperately to a strand of his hair, watching avidly as it falls onto his cheek and slides down his unshaven jaw, finally landing on his bare chest.

Your gaze is naturally drawn downwards, but your vision barely has time to admire his chiseled abs before your head is being gently guided upwards by his large hand. His vibranium palm feels cold against your hip as he holds you a few inches away from his own skin clad form. 

He leans in. Close. Really close. Stopping just as the tip of his nose touches yours. He freezes right there. His gaze locked onto yours and his lips thinning as a sly grin spreads across his handsome features. It is too salacious to resist. You lift yourself up on your toes allowing your lips to meet his. You kiss. He captures your lower lip between his, sucking and nibbling gently. Slowly you open your mouth to allow his tongue to enter yours. He explores your mouth, starting off cautious, maybe even hesitant as he grazes your teeth, until he finds your tongue. The muscles meet with an explosion of ecstasy, every movement, every touch growing more urgent, pressured, hungry.

As your lips mingle, you allow your hands to reach up to his face and run your fingers through his wet hair. You massage his scalp, pressing your fingertips into his temples, making Bucky moan into your mouth. Without warning, he pulls his mouth away. Your eyes fly open, looking to see his intentions, but the building steam is obscuring your vision, but it doesn't take long for you to understand Bucky’s intent as his fingers tighten their grip on your waist and he has you pinned up against the tiled wall. The cold tiles on your back make you gasp, but the chill is short lived as the heat from Bucky’s body pressed against you warms you to your core. A small grunt escapes your lips at the feeling of Bucky’s growing erection pushing against your abdomen. His tip tickled your skin as Bucky leans in to attach his lips to your neck.

His actions are quickly becoming greedy, hands roaming freely across your waist, squeezing your ass, grinding his hips against yours. Your movements, however, are a little slower as you caress his shoulders and tug at the short strands of his hair. Your palms stroke his muscular pecs before you allow yourself the luxury of pushing your fingertips into his well defined abs. Just as you were ready to entertain his hips, Bucky steps back and a cold breeze makes your naked body shiver ever so slightly. He is blocking the shower head, obstructing the hot water and as you try to step towards him, his grip on your hips stops you and the frustrated whine that exudes from your lips only seems to entertain him.

Bucky doesn't use any words, which isn't unusual for him, you are well versed in his special language. His hands put pressure on your hips and you let him spin you around, steadying yourself by planting your palms up against the tiles. He wraps his flesh arm around your waist while his cold metal one cups your breast, groping, squeezing, tweaking your nipples until they feel harder than the vibranium in his fingers.

His breath is hot and heavy in your ear as his swollen member is pushed up against your ass, sliding up and down as he chases his own release. A wetness is dripping down your thigh, one that you were sure is not water from the shower. You want more, you need more. Taking a hand off the wall in front of you, you wrap your thumb and forefinger around his wrist and push it down towards your aching core. He redirects his hand down to your thigh, fingers crawling down the outside of your body, fondling the flesh on your thighs, inching agonizingly slowly inwards. Eventually he pushes his whole hand between your legs, pulling them apart slightly. A gasp escapes your lips as his long thick fingers delve between your slick folds, collecting the results of your arousal. He runs them back and forth over your clit in a slow rhythmic motion, pushing down now and again making you purr with pleasure.

The urgency inside you is rising, growing like a knot begging to be pulled undone. You want more, you want to feel him inside, deep between your legs, in the very core of your being. Bucky’s cock is tucked between your thighs, rubbing your pussy as he fingers your clit. Giving in to the urge to touch him, you reach around to cup his balls and roll them gently in your palm. He growls and bites down on the back of your shoulder, thrusting harder between your thighs. You whimper at the surprise of Bucky’s teeth pressing into your skin, he is sucking so hard that it will be bruised before you get to work.

With a grunt, you push back towards Bucky, stalling his movements. Turning in his arms, you pull him towards you, back up against the wall. He slips his hand behind your thigh, flexing your hip and bending your knee so that it curves around his hip. Then, with one swift, fluid, familiar motion, his whole length is inside you, fitting inside you perfectly. The sound that leaves your mouth is that of pure ecstasy.

He stills himself inside you as you dig your nails into his shoulders in an attempt to balance on your toes on one leg in the wet shower stall. His arms tighten, and you suspect that you aren't the one holding yourself upright anymore. You grab the bar of the adjustable shower head with one arm and drape the other across Bucky’s shoulders before nodding at him to continue. His towering height works as a lever as his thrusting hips lift you with each push. He tries to be slow at first, cautious of his strength and the damage he could wreak with his unbridled passion. But your bucking hips tell him how desperately you want him, willing and eager to take all of him. He fills your walls, stroking, stretching your inside until your screams echo off the porcelain walls. You are close to coming undone, your climax within reach.

He looks down into your eyes and you lean up to claim his lips. The move opens up your hips and the base of his cock swipes your swollen clit at the perfect angle to give you the most delectable sensation. His bottom lip is nestled firmly between yours and you bite down on it as you're overwhelmed by your orgasm, moaning wantonly into his mouth as your walls flutter and squeeze his throbbing length. He cums inside you with a series of grunts in your ear, his hot load into you until you can feel it running down your thigh.

He lets you down gently, panting in your ear, he bends down so you can plant a stable foot on the slippery shower tray. Slowly, Bucky pulls out of you, soft now, but still feeling sensitive. Your legs feel like jelly even though they are now both on the ground. You can tell he feels the same, his chest firmly pressed against yours, mouths barely inches apart and foreheads touching.

Bucky is the first to get his breath back. He smirks down at you. “Good morning.”

[hauntedestheart]

A Business Opportunity (Male Body Swap)

The sequel to "A Business Proposition"

Samson Mann was big, he was strong, he was (people told him) good looking, but most importantly, he was broke.

A few months ago his position at the warehouse (aka the only job he'd ever had since he left high school) had been made "obsolete" by new advances in technology so now, at thirty, he was being forced to brave the job market for the first time. But with just a GED, no special skills, and a resume with one reference, his only real job options were in degrading manual labor positions where the starting pay was insultingly low.

While Samson wasn't the brightest bulb in the drawer, his naturally stocky build and boisterous personality made him perfect for working in a physically demanding social environment like the warehouse... but no, companies would rather hire a robot.

After venting about it to his friends at the gym (one of the few indulgences he allowed himself after he had to start cutting costs) one of them had offered up a solution: a friend of a friend of a friend had begun working for Bod+E, and, if interested, he could hook Samson up with an interview.

While Samson wasn't the type to keep up with the latest tech trends, everyone had heard of Bod+E. Founded by eccentric young tech genius Kim Shinwei, the app was currently in the beta-phase and the only way to get access was through a hookup... which Samson's friend was happy to provide.

Samson didn't think of himself as the app gig type but it was the first offer that had come his way that wasn't entirely degrading, so desperation won out over trepidation and he agreed. Now, after two weeks full of paperwork, background checks, and drug tests, Samson was waiting in an office for a personal meeting with a millionaire.

Who was very, very late.

Samson shuffled in his seat again, his large ass uncomfortable shoved into the expensive chair he'd been told to wait in. A large faux-leather chair (conveniently taller than Samson's) sat empty across the desk from him, flanked by a display case of trophies proclaiming Mr. Shinwei's many, many achievements. Samson got the sense he was supposed to be intimidated, which seemed like overkill because waiting in anticipation already had him sweating.

Forty-five minutes wasn't unreasonable, he reasoned to himself. Right? After all, Kim Shinwei's a very important guy.

The only other person in the room was a slight Asian fellow seated on a couch in the corner- based off of his business casual attire Samson had at first assumed was some kind of secretary, but other than a small nod to Samson when he'd walked in the room the young man hadn't acknowledged him at all. Instead he was leafing through a large textbook and scribbling down notes, looking very much like he did not want to be disturbed.

Samson was debating whether or not to risk asking the not-secretary what was going on when he heard the door swing open behind him.

"There you are!" A voice boomed. "I hope you weren't waiting too long, I got a bit distracted when I was getting ready. You know how it is."

Samson rose from his chair and turned to greet the visitor, but when he saw them he did a double take. Based off of his hazy recollection of the photos he'd seen of Kim Shinwei he had expected to meet a weedy looking Asian man much like the one in the corner, but instead the man in front of him was a tall, strapping white man who gave Samson a real run for his money when they shook hands. Samson took in the way the man's muscles pressed against his thin white button up, and when he sat down and he splayed his legs in a way that created a very noticeable bulge that Samson had to quickly avert his eyes from. He looked like a porn director's idea of a businessman.

"Mr. Shinwei?" Samson asked, failing to keep his handsome face from scrunching up in confusion. He was certain he was being rude, but fortunately the man before him didn't seem to mind.

"In the flesh!" Mr. Shinwei chuckled at some private joke and ran his hand through his fluffy locks of hair. "And please, call me Kim."

"Good to meet you Kim. You uh," Samson cocked his head to the side, searching for an angle that would turn the stud before him into the engineer he'd expected. "You don't look like your photos."

The hunk in front of him smiled mysteriously. "No, I don't suppose I would, would I? But I like to dress up for meetings."

The not-secretary sitting in the back of the room snorted, and Kim flipped him off over his shoulder without turning back. Samson was a bit taken aback by the juvenile display and shuffled in place awkwardly, unsure what he was supposed to do, until Mr. Shinwei looked back at him and stretched a hand out illustratively.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Kim offered, suddenly the picture of professionalism once more, and Samson plunked himself down into the chair gratefully. Kim leaned forwards in his seat and locked eyes with with Samson. "So, Samson Mann, right? Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us, we really do appreciate it. You came very-" Kim's eyes flicked up and down the length of Samson's body. "-highly recommended."

"Thank you, that's great to hear," Samson straightened his back and cleared his throat, attempting to disguise his discomfort. He wasn't very used to professional environments (if this could be called professional) so he sent up a prayer that he wouldn't do anything to embarrass himself and jeopardize the opportunity. "My buddy seems to really love working for you and I needed a change of pace so I thought, why not?"

"Your buddy... that's Joel Green, right?" Kim asked, and Samson nodded. Kim hummed thoughtfully, glancing up at the ceiling like he was remembering something. "Great, I love Joel. One of our most requested- his ass is to die for, right? That thing can shake."

"Uh-" Samson coughed to cover his surprise, and he stared at Kim in bewilderment. "Is this a test? Are we gonna get in trouble with HR or something?"

Kim chuckled and shook his head. "Yes I suppose that is a very unusual way for a boss to speak about an employee- but then Bod+E is a very unusual company. You're familiar with what we do, correct?"

Samson nodded, squeezing his fist beneath the table, and then a beat of silence followed. A sharp look entered Kim's eyes as they flicked over Samson, and he raised his eyebrow expectantly.

"Then tell me about it," Kim leaned forwards and grinned wolfishly at Samson, his pretty face baring a mouth full of pearly white teeth. "If you're considering working for us you have to be comfortable with our service. I want you to tell me what we do here."

"Bod-E, short for Body Exchange, is a silicon-valley startup that-" Samson began, wracking his brain to try to remember what he'd read on the company website.

Kim snapped his fingers and cut Samson off. "No, I don't want the corporate party line bullshit. Tell me what you think it is we do here."

"You uh- you rent out people," Samson said, stumbling over the words a bit. Truthfully, he was still wrapping his head around the idea. When Joel had first told him what he did at his hot new job, Samson had laughed in his face until he realized his friend wasn't joking, and even sitting in front of the creator the reality of it still seemed fake. "You hire guys and then other men pay to take over their bodies and do stuff in them."

Kim leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face, and the tense atmosphere lifted slightly. Samson exhaled in relief at evidently having passed the test, and he let himself relax a bit as Kim began to speak.

"That's a good start but we're about a little bit more than that," Kim visibly puffed up with pride as he spoke about his work, and Samson tried his best to focus on his words and not the nipples that were poking through his shirt. "Bod-E is about creating experiences, it's about offering people the opportunity to become the man of their dreams and allowing those of us who weren't exactly blessed to work with someone who was to take advantage of their natural goods and get a bit of a break. If a poor man can rent a nicer house when he wants a vacation, why can't an average man rent a more attractive body for a getaway? It sounds too good to be true- but it isn't. And I've proven it."

"I just wanna check," Samson blurted out before he could stop himself. "This isn't a scam, right? You're not gonna steal my organs or something?"

Kim raised an eyebrow. "Why on Earth would I do that? They're far more valuable inside of you."

Samson tensed up when the businessman rose to his feet and slowly circled the desk, trailing his fingers along the polished wood behind him as he zeroed in on the interviewee.

"See, Samson, scams are about money, and I've made enough money to last myself a lifetime," Kim shrugged as if to say just a fact. "I have no motivation to go around scamming random men off the street. No, I do this because I believe in it! Because I care about my fellow man."

Kim was right beside Samson now and he hopped up to take a seat on the table, close enough that the two men's legs brushed together when Kim leaned back to lounge. He began to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt, tugging it open to expose his shapely pecs, and the fingers of one of his hands idly rubbed at them as he continued to speak.

"Not everyone is born with the same natural advantages Samson," he continued, casually, as if he wasn't stroking himself, and Samson was mesmerized by the motion. "The world is different when you're beautiful, in ways that the beautiful people don't even understand because they think it's normal. And I think everyone should have the opportunity to enjoy that, even if it's just for a night." He snapped his fingers and Samson flinched, looking up to meet a gaze that seared into his soul. "And you're going to get the opportunity to help with that, and make a fuckton of money on the side. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Uhhh," Samson muttered, a bit stupefied, and he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. "I guess? You kinda lost me a bit in the middle."

Kim chuckled and hopped to his feet, strolling back around to the far side of the table and reclaiming his chair. His shirt, Samson noticed, still hung open. "Let me put it another way then... Samson, are you happy with your body?"

Samson glanced down at himself, and he found no reason to be unhappy. First and foremost, he was healthy. But in terms of looks, he had nothing to complain about either.

While not overly obsessed with his appearance, he was very aware that other people thought he was handsome, and he'd never had any issues attracting a partner. A big guy since he was young, tall and with a stocky build, his years of laboring in a warehouse and the gym had granted him big arms and a small muscle gut- he wasn't cut like a pretty boy model, but he thought he looked good with a bit of fluff around the waist. He had a big, round ass too, and now that "thick" was back in fashion he was more popular than ever.

He flexed his arms subconsciously and nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"I suppose I should have expected that answer from you," Kim said with a laugh, and his eyes roamed Samson's body shamelessly with something close to hunger. "You're tall, strong, handsome- what would you have to be insecure about? But if you would indulge me for a moment, imagine that this wasn't you and you weren't happy with your body. Imagine you looked like..." Kim pointed at the young man still leafing through a textbook at the back of the room. "Like him over there, just to choose a completely random example. Small, skinny, weak, and you had always been that way and you were scared that you were always going to be that way. Never the hero, never the object of desire, always ashamed."

Samson detected a hint of bitterness in Kim's voice, but he wisely chose not to comment on it. Instead he tried to play along and just nodded.

"So if someone told you that you could have the opportunity to feel like this," he gestured towards Samson's powerful body. "to feel like the man you want to be... would you be willing to pay for it?"

"I think I would," Samson found himself agreeing, and he pressed his hands to his belly almost protectively.

"Then you understand why I'm so passionate about the service we provide." Kim smiled, a mischievious glint in his eye. "And here's a follow-up question: On your first day in this hot new body, what would you do?"

"Um..." Samson's brain was overheating and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Honestly? Fuck people."

"See?" Kim cackled with delight. "You're a natural, you've already wrapped your head around our business model." He opened up a folder and slid a sheet of paper across the table towards Samson with some paragraphs and diagrams on it, which the poor man couldn't make heads or tails of. "It's no secret that many of our clients have specific intentions with bodies contracted through our services, but as you can see here, it's all very understandable."

"Sorry but I gotta ask," Samson rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and he was barely able to look at Mr. Shinwei as he spoke the question on his mind. "Isn't this... isn't this prostitution?"

A pause.

"Technically speaking," Kim's words were practiced, as if he'd given this speech several times before. "The government has no name for what's happening here, and can legally do nothing about it. We've followed all appropriate government regulations and are working closely with lawmakers on potential future regulation of the market."

Then Kim smirked. "But that's just the bullshit I have to deal with. All you need to know is that you'd work on commission, so it would be in your best interest to, well, remain as appealing as possible. No one will be allowed to use your body for anything you don't consent to," Kim paused and tapped at the page he'd laid down on the table. "But our data does show that gigs are weighted heavily towards employees who do allow clients to perform sex acts in their bodies, so, make of that what you will. Do you understand what I'm getting at here?"

Kim linked eyes with Samson, and the bigger man nodded. Deep down he'd known what he was getting into, but hearing it said aloud was still very unsettling.

"And it's safe, right?" Samson asked, and Kim smiled at him.

"We watch out for our people," he said simply. "Our security measures are airtight- I designed them myself, and we haven't had an incident yet."

Samson opened his mouth to ask something else, but Kim cut him off before he could speak.

"You seem nervous," the businessman said bluntly. "So let me just assure you that you have nothing to worry about- you're definitely..." Kim licked his lips. "Qualified, for the job. I can see you doing very, very well here, but only if you're willing to take a leap of faith on this opportunity."

"I can see from your resume that you were laid off from your last job because your company replaced you with a machine. Well congratulations, you've stumbled in to the one line of work where guys like you can never be replaced."

Although Kim was trying to put Samson at ease, something about the way the businessman spoke sent a shiver down the big man's back. Still, Kim's words made sense, and at the end of the day Samson needed the money so he girded his loins and plastered a smile on his face.

"But..." the big man faltered. "The pay's good?"

"Ah yes, money," Kim's nose wrinkled up for a moment, then he sighed dramatically. "It always comes back to that, doesn't it? Well, if that's what you're looking for, you're in the right place. Depending on how much of your time you're willing to offer to the company you can expect to take in somewhere between six to eight thousand dollars a month. Perhaps more if you establish regulars who request you privately."

Samson whistled- that was a lot of money! Definitely more than he'd ever made at any of his other jobs. A lot of questions still swirled around his mind but when the numbers were laid out like that, he knew that there was only one answer.

"I cannot believe I'm gonna say this but... I'll do it!"

"Well then!" Kim clapped his hands and stood up, extending one hand forwards, and Samson rose to meet him with a handshake. "All that's left is the trial run."

"Trial run?" A look of bewilderment crossed Samson's face, and then he grasped the implication of Mr. Shinwei's words. "You mean..."

"A test swap," Kim smiled sweetly, but Samson could see that he was practically trembling with excitement. "With me, of course. I vet all of our new hires personally. After all, I wouldn't market a product without testing it first!"

Samson grimaced slightly at being referred to as a "product," but he nodded his head. This was what he'd signed up for after all, might as well get used to it now.

"Allow me to just confer with my associate here for a moment," Kim turned towards the Asian man sitting in the back of the room– Samson had almost forgotten he was there. "Peter, would you mind?"

The man called Peter looked up from his book and rolled his eyes, then picked up the phone next to him and tapped on its screen. Suddenly, both men froze in place and their faces went blank, eyes staring blindly into space. Samson glanced at the two nervously, wondering if he should go for help, when suddenly they snapped back to attention.

Samson watched as the man in front of him stumbled, and he reached out to steady him.

"Mr. Shinwei? Are you okay?" Samson asked, a little nervously, but the man in front of him just sighed and jabbed his thumb back towards the man seated with the books.

"I'm over here actually!" The not-secretary waved, rising from his seat and walking over to join them . "And please, I told you, call me Kim."

It took Samson a moment to put it together.

"You mean, that whole time we were talking, you were–" Unable to articulate himself, Samson rapidly pointed between the two of them.

"Swapped?" Kim chuckled, his voice much reedier in his real body. The real Kim Shinwei was shorter than both Peter and Samson, but as he stood beside them he had a presence that towered over both of them. He slapped the shoulder of the body he'd just been inhabiting, and the man inside rolled his eyes. "Yes, Peter is my... let's just say assistant, and I like to use his body for negotiations since his dashing visage has a certain presence that I lack."

"You mean I exercise and shower," Peter remarked with an eye roll, and Kim just laughed.

"That's one way to put it," Kim mused, a razor sharp smile on his face. "And yet, which one of us is rich?"

Peter grumbled incoherently then plucked something from the back of his neck and dropped it into Kim's palm. Kim held it up in the air for Samson to see: a small white bead of plastic.

"Now, crash course, this is the neurolinker that's going to facilitate the swap," he explained, rotating item in the air to show it from every angle. To Samson it just looked like a jellybean, but Kim proudly declared that it was jam packed full of intense tech. "It's going to bind seamlessly to the back of your neck– you might feel a little tickle, but that's it. Do you mind?"

He pointed towards the back of Samson's neck, and Samson nodded. Kim passed the bead back to Peter, who crossed behind Samson and placed a hand on his neck.

Samson tensed up. "Warn me before you-"

"It's already on," Peter said, and sure enough, when Samson reached back he felt a small bump at the base of his neck that he assumed was the neurolinker. He blinked in surprise– he hadn't even felt it attach.

"Everything feel okay?" Kim asked, and Samson nodded, still rubbing his fingers over the device in fascination. Kim grinned when he noticed Samson's interest. "Like I said, seamless! Comfort was a major factor I considered while designing it."

He held his hand out to the side, and Peter slipped a phone into it.

"They're activated wirelessly via the app– and don't worry about it activating by accident, the commercial models our customers receive are activated a three factor identification system tied to biometrics." Kim tapped at his screen as he spoke. "But I have an admin copy with special privileges so the process will be a bit more streamlined for us today. All I have to do is just–"

Everything went white for a moment, and when Samson blinked again, he was staring at himself.

"Tap right there on the screen!" Kim said, finishing the sentence he'd begun in his own body. "And the transfer happens instantaneously."

"Woah," Samson muttered, clearing his throat a few times before he realized the reason his voice sounded different was because it wasn't his voice.

Even knowing what was going to happen hadn't prepared him for what it would actually be like to be in another man's body. He was short now. More than that, he was skinny. Not even just skinny, a twig. He patted himself down, feeling only the frail bones of an under-exercised engineer, and he shivered. Who knew having no meat on his bones would make him so... chilly?

If being in another body was strange, seeing his own body from the outside was even stranger. He knew he was a big guy, but from his new smaller body he looked like a giant, and Mr. Shinwei was clearly having the time of his life with it.

There was an expression of glee on his face as Kim inspected his body from the inside, and the man had zero shame about groping Samson's body right in front of its owner. Samson watched as Kim glanced over his shoulder at his backside and then began shaking his hips around and Samson saw his ass jiggle around- he hadn't even known that his butt did that.

"Oh this is nice, this is very nice!" Kim exclaimed, then he turned his attention back front and tore his shirt open (literally tore the buttons off, which made Samson wince since that was his only dress shirt) to expose his sexy, hairy body to the room. He licked his lips at the sight of the powerful pecs that sat above Samson's belly, letting out a chuckle as he tweaked one of his nipples.

"Would you mind if I-?" Kim glanced at Samson and then gestured down towards his pants. Still speechless, Samson nodded yes, and Kim tugged his waistband forwards and looked inside. He smiled. "Oh, this is definitely workable."

Samson's mouth gaped, and all he could think to do was mutter a stunned "thank you."

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to show a little self-restraint," Peter said, clearly less impressed by what was happening, and Kim flipped him off.

"And it wouldn't kill you to lighten up a little!" He chastised his assistant, strolling across the room to stand before a full length mirror in the corner of the office. "Look at where I am and what I'm doing. Look at this body!" The flexed his borrowed biceps like a bodybuilder, grinning ear to ear at the sight of his new muscles, and he smacked at his belly. "Why wouldn't I enjoy it?"

He snapped his fingers and pointed towards the door, then turned his full attention to the mirror and began removing his pants. A still speechless Samson managed to catch a glimpse of his own bare ass before an arm wrapped around his shoulder and tugged him away- he grunted in protest, but unfortunately his new body was too weak to put up a fight.

"I'll take you to HR to fill out some paperwork," Peter muttered as he ushered Samson towards the door. "He's gonna be at this for a while."

The last thing Samson heard before the door shut behind them was the sound of skin on skin, and his own voice groaning.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Me and Mr. Jones

Featuring actor, Eddie Jones

Back in 2003, I was working as a grip on a low budget film called Fighting Tommy Riley. It was 5 day shoot, but I was lucky enough to meet one of my favorite character actors, Eddie Jones. Best known to audiences as Superman’s adoptive father Pa Kent on Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, when Eddie was on set, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. When he was off-stage, his broad, bright smile would light up the room. He was a sexy man for his age of 69 with his broad face, imposing presence and solid build. When he was off-set, his broad, bright smile would light up the room.

Everyone who knew Eddie as a friend, or had the good fortune to share the stage with him, was touched by his gentle and generous nature. He was very nice and enjoyed the attention I paid to him. Actually talked to me. What had seemed like just a cute, older guy on set turned out to be a seriously hot daddy for which I was developing a major hard-on. I enjoyed passing the time by watching him work, fantasizing about him being naked.

How much of that fur, if any, spread across the rest of him? Did being big of stature mean he had a small dick or was he one of "nature's surprises" like I'd met once or twice? I really wanted a chance to find answers to these questions, but knew it wasn't likely to happen. He's married, but we all know that does not mean a thing.

That evening, after a very good meal in the dining car, I began the walk back to my trailer. I saw him at the other end of a narrow corridor. Slowing as we approached each other, we exchanged pleasantries.

"Hey Eddie." I said as we came up to each other.

"Hi there! Did you enjoy dinner?" He asked.

"Oh, yes. It was great."

"Good."

It was clear he was on his way somewhere, so I stepped back against one wall to let him by. It turned into to a moment I'd never forget. Not only did he fail to avoid brushing against me as he squeezed past, but he made a point of slowing down and actually pushing his ass into me as he slid by. There was a relaxed feeling to his butt muscles against my crotch. I immediately went hard. I don't think I'd ever gone fully erect that fast. Ever. I didn't even know a guy could.

After he slid past me he looked over his shoulder and smiled. This wasn't one of his professional "have a nice day" smiles. No. There was a distinct twinkle in his eye. He continued down the corridor leaving me standing there staring after him.

"I'll be checking on you around 8:30." Eddie said without looking back.

"Fine." I replied with a dazed grin. I continued down the corridor, trying to smooth out the bulge he'd left in my pants.

At 8:30 sharp, I lightly tap on his trailer door. The door opened to those sexy blue eyes looking at me as he flashed that warm smile again. Eddie made a quick check to see if there was anyone to see me enter before letting me in. While stepping in he closed, locked the door in a single motion and we fell into an embrace, sharing a long passionate kiss. We began frantically pulling off our clothes. I didn't know if he was eager or just didn't have much time to "fuck around" before going home to the wife, but he wasn't waiting for any conversation. And I certainly didn't mind.

As his shirt came off I saw that, though not quite as hairy as some of the "chubs" I liked to see, but there was plenty of body hair to enjoy. His forearms were thick leading to those masculine hands I'd admired earlier. I continued down his stomach until it ended in a mostly black bush above his rising cock. I quickly dropped to my knees and took his dick in my hands.

His cut rod had a thickness that filled my mouth nicely as I slid my lips over it and took it down to its base. He exhaled slowly as he stood there, his hands on my shoulders. I could smell old fashioned cologne along with his natural musk. My tongue worked his fully erect shaft as I moved slowly up and down. I pulled up again to enjoy a good look at his knob before licking around the tip.

I pushed Eddie toward a nearby couch and he sat down. He leaned back and spread his legs wide allowing me better access. I worked my tongue around his dickhead as my other hand was feeling the hair on his balls. They were much larger and heavier than I'd expected. I thought about what his load might taste like. I took his dick in my hands, stroking up and down as I worked my tongue down under his nuts. I gnawed gently here and there, slowing the pace of my stroking on his dick. He moaned a bit, then a bit more. After a delicious minute or two he suddenly exhaled, "No!"  

I was nearly knocked over as he jumped up. He was getting too close, too soon so I paused and waited for his cue. Whatever he wanted next, I was going to do my best to please him; not that I didn't have ideas of my own.

Earlier in the day I'd fantasized about what it'd be like to fuck him. Those fantasies were about to be realized as Eddie turned around knelt on the couch with his butt now at my eye level. I set in quickly on eating his ass. I covered his hole with my tongue and licked long, broad strokes up and down his crack. Starting low against the back of his balls and on up to where his crack ended at his tailbone. I continued slowly moving up then down again. He moaned deep and low. I could tell he was enjoying it as he squirmed a bit, pushing his ass back into my face.

I slid my tongue into his warm canal and continued to work my way in until I couldn't get my tongue in any further. Eddie continued moaning as I worked my tongue in and around. I felt him start to relax even more as he leaned forward laying his forehead on his folded arms, tipping his ass up a bit.

Eddie was breathing heavily when I finally stood up. He looked back without saying anything, but his sexy blue-eyed gaze told me he was ready for me to stick my cock in. I worked up some spit in my mouth, transferred it to my fingers and spread it around my fully erect cock. I set the tip against his hole and paused: this was the moment I wanted to last forever.

As the head of my dick slipped in he gasped. He was pretty tight and I didn't want to hurt him. So I kept the pressure constant while letting him take me in at his own pace, leaning back into me. Putting his hands against the back of the couch, Eddie rose up and pushed ass back and down on my dick. It was time to go in all the way.

"Yes…" Eddie moaned as he reached back to pull me against him, making sure I was all of the way in.

It looked so hot to see my cock was now firmly buried in. I pulled out and pushed back in. He turned back to face me again and I leaned forward to kiss him. We held a kiss as I worked his ass. He turned back to the wall and moaned as I continued, now moving a bit quicker. Every so often he would squeeze my dick with his ass muscles. I continued to pick up the pace. My fucking worked up to a solid rhythm, my balls occasionally slapping against him. He began moaning low. It was very quiet, but with an encouraging note. As I continued to fuck him his moaning grew louder. His ass felt so good that I knew I couldn't hold back much longer.  

I was about to pop as Eddie pushed back hard into me. That was my cue to go for it. It was only another three or four strokes before I slammed up against him and held myself there, my dick in him as deep as it could get.  

"Oh fuck!" I gasped as my cock began to throb, pumping my load into his ass. He was moaning and rocking, his warm hole enveloping my throbbing cock.  

"Yes! Yessss…" Eddie said, ending in a whisper.

As my cock's throbbing lessened and I started to go soft I reached around and under to jack him off, but to my surprise, he had already cum. So I slowly pulled out and stepped back. Eddie stayed kneeling laying his head back down on his arms. I stared at his hole, now visibly open wider than when I'd first gone down on it. I could see traces of my cum as I watched the hole pulsing along with his breathing.

[brainr0t-landfill]

📋Compartment Syndrome

gn! reader x Captain Price

"...I had to kill it to keep it, framed it afterwards, above my bed so I could see it each morning."

-???

(tw: unhealthy relationship, phisical violence, mentions of drugs, minor mention of reader 'being the other woman')

You served John divorce paper today.

He's sat at the kitchen table blunt nails drumming against mahagoney as he look at you, then the documents, less surprised or heartbroken more expectant.

And it baffles you how a man so big can look so small, how a man that fills up doorways and commands the air around him like second nature can slump his shoulders, hide his tears with coughs.

İt was a few years in the making and even then you feel bad, this is the man you love, loved; you used to stay up at night waiting for his footsteps on the front lawn. You have to remind yourself that was over five years ago, back when he actually bothered with you and the home, the love he had vowed to build with you, left high and dry like an abonded building spiderwebs in the corners and illegible graffiti on the walls, suffocating dust clouds merging with ominous shadows.

You used to hotbox in buildings like that, you and what few friends you had back in the days he wouldn't even look your way.

"And-"

He lifts the first paper pretends to take a look at the one below that and pushes them away from him, a muscle feathers in his jaw.

"-your reasoning for this? I'd like to think you wouldn't ruin us over something petty luv."

He knows and you know that he knows, you've argued about it often, you wanted him to be home more, you wanted him to be safe, you wanted him to at least bother interacting with you beyond sex, dinner and whenever he couldn't find the remote.

It wasn't even about his job at this point the day you had married that bright eyed, headstrong young man you knew you'd always be the other woman to his job you just desperately want his shadow out of your home at this point.

You clear your voice ,eyes on your weathered house slippers.

"Look I don't want to offend you, I don't even wanna cut you off completely! I just think-"

"Straight to the point, sweetheart."

He emphasis the word sweetheart, today of all days, knowing how it makes you feel.

"Neglect."

You answer, his eyes widden ,nose flaring.

"Neglect? Oh please we've been over this honey, I don't neglect you I'm not home kissing your feet all the damn time because I have a fucking job to do! I'm the one who keeps a roof over your head and defends this country while you sit at home and twiddle your thumbs! God you're fuckin infuriating, this is why you can't find a damn job, you braindead homebody-"

"I started working at the new school, the one that opened last year, you didn't get my messages?"

He falters, runs a hand over his overgrown beard.

"You did? That's- luv that's amazing! How's the pay? Are your colleagues-"

"Let's- let's just stay on subject, please."

You tell him doing your best to keep your voice even and cold.

He deflates, leaning back in his chair as he sighs. He looks awfull, unshaven, hair greasy, shirt dotted with blood and one of his arms in a sling you'd said that it was important that you couldn't wait for him to change or shower, less you chikcen out like the first five times it used to feel impossible to leave him once, he was bigger than life with each little bastardized segment leading up to him in some capacity.

"Luv, listen I know you're frazzled I've been gone for a month and I was barely home for a week before that, I understand ya wanna pick at me and get ya anger out but I've had a long ass month, okay? I just want a shower, your cooking then I want to cuddle up to the love of my life, yeah? Give an old man a break and for fucks sake get rid of these."

He gets up with a groan and pushes the papers towards you it always suprises you, how quickly he can dismiss arguments you've spent hours thinking through, how small he can make you feel.

"Price, look-"

"What the fock did ya just call me?"

"-I know it's painful to think about but this relationship obviously isn't serving either of us anymore, you're too busy for it and I don't think I ca-"

He has you against the wall before you can even react, shoulders and chest crushing you against the smooth, pearly white surface as his humid breath warms your cheek, your arm twisted across your back in the grip of his good hand; pain like coke sparking cruel stars in your visom.

"Shut. The fuck. Up."

He growls in your ear mashing his nose against your cheekbone.

"There is no reason for us to be together, just listen to me for a second-"

You hiss in pain as he twists your arm further, your ring finger -adorned by his mother's heavy, heirloom ring- brushing against your shoulder blade.

"I love you and you love me, that's plenty reason to stay together. Isn't it?"

It's marvellous how much conviction he can put into that excuse when you're pretty sure it's his hundredth time saying it, slightly different context, same words. You almost miss the times you'd jump through hoops for a smile from him when he was indifferent to you because he had no reason to treat you any way else.

"Isn't it?"

You nod, cheek rubbing against the wall as your eyes water.

He relaxes his grip on your arm, presses firm, moist kisses against your face.

"That's my baby, I know you're upset, I know and I'll make it up to you, I promised 'n I always keep my promises don't I?"

Your face is sour with all the promises he broke, all the times he let you down, left you alone as you nod.

"Use your words luv."

You take a deep breath, trying to find your words through the pain of your twisted muscles, your straining elbow, your back straight and stiff as a cutting board that your arm is pinned on.

"Yes, John."

He clicks his tounge, sharp sigh brushing against the side of your face.

"I just got injured ya ought to be a little bit sweeter."

"Yes,-"

You take as deep a breath as his crushing body allows.

"Yes, honey."

He smiles, letting go of you and stepping back allowing you- granting you space to breath, to turn around and rub at your burning arm something too close to guilt for comfort in his eyes. You stay like that for a few moments, feeling his eyes across your skin; slow and heavy like his hands like something you have to work to keep on you.

"One last thing?"

You look up, his eyes are wet. He hands you the divorce papers. Your lawyer will be so disappointed.

"Rip them and think about what you're doing next time, how your actions affect me."

You take them, the pristine paper shaking in your hands as your rip them, barely seeing through your tears you walk over to the bin.

He looms over you, broad shadow blanketing, eclipsing yours, swallowing it. He wraps his good arm around your waist when you're done, presses his barrel chest against you stil-stiff back and flutters kisses from the base of your neck up to your jawline.

"Y'know I love you."

[daisiescomelate]

On the rocks

Prompt: pro hero Dynamight finally gets back to his apartment after a long day of work to find the head of the League of Villains drunk and sleeping all over his couch— again.

Content: Katsuki Bakugou/Izuku Midoriya, prohero!Dynamight, villain!Deku, drunk talk, drunk flirting, 4.8k words.

Note: prompt from @/book0bsessedd on tiktok.

div. animatedglittergraphics-n-more - masterlist

Twelve hours of patrol, two assholes that thought themself smarter than the police and one cat getting somewhere where it definitely shouldn't be– later, Katsuki finally arrived at his apartment after a long day of work.

It was close to three in the morning, and there was no amount of caffeine that could keep him up any longer. He was considering skipping his usual shower. It would be blissful if he could scrap out the dirt out of his body, but did he have the strength to stand under the water for a hellful amount of fifteen more minutes? He felt bruised, his palms were itchy, and his leg's muscles kept twitching under his skin begging for some rest.

He took his keys from his pocket and put it on the keyhole, turning it carefully. He tried being as quiet as possible as to not trigger the granny that lived beside him and get yet another complaint from the landlord. That old hag had the hearing of a fucking dog at age of a hundread and something, and was in the top five of Katsuki's pains in the ass.

The door clicked as it unlocked, and he pushed it open slowly, might not the creaking of the door bother the queen of Tower Two.

Once inside, he slipped the strap of his bag with his hero costume out of his shoulder and dropped it on the floor with a thud. The dim blue lights of the bright advertisement screens from the buildings of central Tokyo were enough for Katsuki's tired eyes to see inside the apartment so as to not bump with anything in the dark. Taking into account the threat of the headache that haunted his temples, he decided not to turn on any of the lamps on his way to the bathroom down the hall.

After quickly attending to nature and washing up his hands and face, and the sweat that sticked to the back of his neck, he lazily walked to the living room area ahead. Making dinner this tired was off the table, but he definitely was in need of something to drink. He scratched his hair, fighting the weight of his eyelids as he moved in direction to the kitchen area when something on the edge of his vision called his attention.

Katsuki's instincts kicked in. He froze mid step, turning his head to the right, looking for the source of the movement. Most of the apartment was still immersed in shadows. His body tensed, setting ready for a fight, but he stood still and listened. The movement had come from the living room. Katsuki’s position right behind the edge of the hall was a safe enough blind spot away from the light, if the intruder was not alerted by Katsuki’s sounds while coming in he might have a chance to catch them off guard.

A noise followed, a soft bump against the floor. Katsuki frowned at the idea of a poor bastard showing up to rob a hero’s house, unaware of that hero’s foul mood to top. A ruffle and a louder bump, and this robber already felt like too much of a new baby. 

An idea rushed through Katsuki’s tired brain. He pictured a white ball of fluff and cursed internally. There was a neighbor's cat that had the habit of hopping around the building's balconies. Was that thing still willing to mess with him? No matter how hard he tried to spook the thing away, it kept showing up at his apartment as if it owned the place. Katsuki’s eye twitched at the idea of spending the next few days trying to get rid of coats of white fur off his furniture. Again.

It better be someone that’s after the television.

Katsuki made sure to stay in the shadows. He approached in silence, with eyes wide open, actively trying to discern the shapes across the room. He made his way towards the TV area with the couches, the small table and his CD collection.

One.

Step.

At a.

Time.

He was an arm away from the sofa, raising a hand into the air, ready to blow away whoever had decided to intrude in his apartment –cat included. Then he was close enough to stretch his neck up and look over the back of the couch, but before he was able to…

"Mmm." Someone moaned.

And Katsuki knew exactly who it was.

"Son of a bitch." He cursed, secretive be damned.

He lowered his hand. His quiet steps became loud, angry stumps on the wooden floor. He marched around the couch to see the man in a black suit spreading along the cushions with his head resting on the arm of the sofa and one hand falling off the edge holding onto a bottle of whisky.

"Wake the fuck up." He commanded with a stern voice.

The drunkard mumbled some incoherent bullcrap and ignored him.

Katsuki greeted his teeth. He grabbed the sleeping man by the collar with his fist, and pulled him up an inch away from his face. He did so with enough strength and violence as to wake the man out of his stupor and make him open his eyes wide with surprise. Katsuki then spat his next words with murderous intent,

"I SAID. WAKE. UP."

He used the hold he had on the man to pull him off his furniture and into the floor. 

The man cried a short scream of pain as his head hit against a low table. The vase and the books that were piled on top of it fell into the floor.

The intruder lifted his hand to hold the top of his head, patting around to look for blood where he received the blow.

"Kacchan, so mean...", the man whined.

"Get the hell out of my house." Katsuki had both hands pressed into fits to his side with knuckles going white and a vein pulsing on his neck. He used all his strength to prevent himself from screaming again.

Probably the old hag was already up. Fuck.

The man sat on his knees on the floor with difficulty, his back facing Katsuki. His shoulders moved under the black silk vest as if they were sour after the landing. The smell of liquor distilled from him and filled the apartment after being swung in the air like that. It stinged at Katsuki's nose and only made his anger grow further. Slim figure on black and white, the man did move and stretched with the smooth motions Katsuki could relate to a cat’s. The way he took his time, slow and uncaring, spoke of his arrogance.

The man looked to the side, his profile just an inch away from the light.

"We haven't seen each other in so long Kacchan, I missed you." The man's smooth voice claimed.

"You pulled out this shit two weeks ago. Get out."

Katsuki looked back at the couch and saw the man’s jacket at the foot of it. He picked it up and threw it over his face. It fell over the man’s head. He immediately pulled it off and let it fall over his lap. His silhouette pulled up a hand to his face, and traced down over his neck and chest. When he seemed to have completed the look for external injuries at Katsuki's manhandling, he turned his whole body to face him.

The colored lights from the streets illuminated the freckled face and the hollowed green eyes that look so out of place on the innocent looking features. This same face replicated on news broadcasts weekly and stared the front page of newspapers even more often, never followed by flattering words.

Deku. Number One on Japan's list of most wanted criminals, leader of 'The League' and most dangerous villain since the downfall of All For One.

And Katsuki's prime pain in the ass.

"No." The head of the list of the most wanted criminals answered with a pout.

Katsuki shook with rage. He stomped to be in front of him and picked him up by the neck again. The drunk shrieked, holding Katsuki's wrist with both hands and looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Don't throw me again Kacchan! It hurts!"

Katsuki held him higher, lifting the man's weight from his feet. He threw daggers at the guy's pathetic cry of mercy, and used his other hand to pat over his clothes.

He traced over the man’s vest and pants, pressing and sliding his palms over the soft material. The clothes were cold to the touch, and their price could be felt on the tip of the fingers. The man twitched and tightened his grip on Katsuki’s wrist. Katsuki moved his hands from his waist up to the side of his ribs and the man arched his back at the contact.

"Ah, Kacchan.” A soft whimper. “What are you doing?" His voice made Katsuki's hand ache with the need to punch him in the face.

If the room were bright enough and he got to see a blush on the man’s face at this exact moment there would be no God he could pray to that could save him from Katsuki splitting his skull open.

"Shut up." He cut him, but it didn't stop the despicable man from wiggling and starting breathing at a weird pace.

"Kacchan—" he called as Katsuki found what he was looking for on one of the pockets of his vest. He took the phone out and let go of the grip of his hand, making the man fall flat into the carpet at his feet.

"Oh..." he complained.

Katsuki ignored him. He walked away from Deku to get closer to the window. He noticed the lock was broken.

Asshole, always messing with my shit. How many locks will I have to replace before you fucking die.

Katsuki thought of looking for the man’s wallet —the one he had felt in his back pocket-– and take what at this point was rightfully his. But before doing that, there was something else he had to get done. He held Deku's phone with both hands and typed the password to unlock it.

As the screen saver popped off he heard the guy’s voice calling him from behind.

"Kacchan, I did miss you but I also came to tell you some good news." Deku dragged his words and tried to push himself to stand out, but if the deaf noise was any indication of anything, it wasn't working for him. Katsuki didn't bother to look in his direction.

He scrolled across the menu and opened the contact list, looking for a particular name. He found it and typed a short message before hitting 'send'.

me

Pick me up at XX and XX street.

2:47 a.m.

Deku cursed under his breath as he struggled to get up, pushing Katsuki’s table out of the way. The vase that had fallen to the floor rolled to the other side of the room and hit the wall.

The phone dinged and lit up when less than three seconds later came the reply, followed by another three in quick succession.

Dabi

you are going to get us in so much shit one day for going to see that damn hero all the damn time

i swear to god

i'm going to start a fucking strike

i'm on my fucking way.

2:48 a.m.

Katsuki blocked the phone again and turned around to see Deku ultimately getting onto his feet. The guy lifted his head and Katsuki could tell how drunk he was by the way his eyes shined glossy.

"I don't want to hear any news from you." Katsuki replied.

He crossed back the distance that separated them, pulled the neck of the vest making the drunk’s stand wobble, and forced the phone back into his pocket. As he was taking his hand away, it was suddenly grabbed. Hard. Deku held Katsuki's hand with bone breaking strength and moved it to keep it close to his heart.

Katsuki held his features in place not to show how much it actually hurt.

Deku reclined closer to Katsuki's face, moved his other hand to cup one of his cheeks and whispered sweetly to him,

"I got rid of that gang that was bothering you so much."

Katsuki bit the inside of his cheek. The gush of fear running down his back and into the pit of his stomach was an acid warning to be aware around the switch that turned this person into what they actually were. A reminder. This person was dangerous.

He shouldn't be surprised. He knew what gang he was talking about, a bunch of losers that had started a home business of quirk trading. Tracking, kidnapping, and selling people whose quirks could be of interest to creeps all over the country.

"They really had some nasty stuff going on, Kacchan. I'm glad you didn't have to get involved." Deku said.

There was no point in asking how he knew about the case the agency and the federal police had asked him to help with. Katsuki was long used to this guy knowing not much, but everything when it came to him.

"You're not gonna ask me about how I did it, Kacchan~?" Deku sang. His feet wavered and he had to rethink his stand so as not to fall over the carpet again. The motion got him an inch closer to Katsuki’s face.

"I kind of feel like—"

"So what do you want?" Katsuki cut him, knowing to the fact that guy did nothing for the kindness of his heart.

Deku locked eyes with him again and smiled. A drunk smile, the kind that was eerie because the thoughts behind it weren’t clear.

At Katsuki's question Deku gave a step forward, forcing Katsuki to give a step back. Then another, and another. Katsuki followed –prey to the grip that wasn’t budging–, knowing that fighting back might get the psychopath to break his arm all together. In the end, the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch and he was sitting on the cushions. Deku forced him down by sitting his weight over his lap.

Deku finally let go of Katsuki's hand and face. He sat up straight, looking down on him. Katsuki’s muscles spasmed at the scrutiny of what they recognized as a predator. Katsuki’s mind was on their side, but Katsuki’s heart stinged.

Deku’s smile was sweet as he spoke.

"Say 'please' and I'll tell you."

But being frightened would never be enough to make Katsuki play anyone's games.

"Where are the people they abducted and what happened to the assholes?"

"Ah...", Deku seemed to remember something and pulled his head back to look at the ceiling. "The assholes... they had a wall of pictures and info on you. It pissed me off so much. So they are kind of... gone."

"Gone?" This fucker.

"Yeah", Deku lowered his eyes and lifted his thumb to caress the wrinkle that appeared in between Katsuki's eyebrows. "Don't worry about it so much, as you said, they were just assholes."

Katsuki pressed his jaw tight, telling himself it would be a waste of time to try to get more answers about what might have happened to those people. He wasn't sure he wanted to know either.

Memories flashed with the images of corpses on the ground and pools of blood. 

A few months back, police got intel on the League’s hideout and Katsuki was called in to take part in the breakin. When they arrived everyone was gone. The mole was dead. And Katsuki didn't know what was worse, that he knew the guy and he actually thought he was cool, or the relief that overcame him when the tight grip on his chest came undone at the sight of the empty basement.

Katsuki pushed that feeling and the revolving memory to the darkest corner of his mind where it belonged, focusing back on the depths of those green eyes.

“What about the victims?”, he asked. Izuku moved his hands to play with the locks of Katsuki's hair, his eyes on the ash blond strands, running them on the tip of his fingers as if hypnotized by them. 

“It’s all sorted out~. The hostages are in a warehouse all out of danger. I came to give you the location”, Izuku stopped playing with the hair on his fingers, hugged Katsuki’s neck and said, “In exchange for a kiss~”

“You have finally lost it.”

“Have I?” Katsuki smelled the whiskey on his breath along with a sweet perfume that should not linger around a bloodthirsty villain. “What will Pro Hero Dynamight not do for a defenseless civilian?”

Katsuki bit his tongue and refused to grace him with a response. Izuku brushed a lock of hair away from Katsuki’s face. The man lowered his face so their noses would touch. “Your worst weakness is your kind heart”, he mocked him.

That face, so close, was the thing of his nightmares. The features that hide the ghost of a kid he met in another lifetime.

Katsuki closed his eyes.

The way those eyes had changed, from the glistening green of summer leaves to the darkest shade of a night forest, was a disturbing reminder of what had been lost.

He remembered the night at the camp during his first year at UA. That night while attempting to run and get to safety, he was separated from his group of classmates. He was alone, looking for the path that would take him back to the camp while staying alert to any villain that might intercept him on his way. With his senses heightened out of fear, he could feel the crunching of the fallen leaves as loud as his heartbeat. It’s hard to tell how he heard nothing coming from behind before the voice called for him.

‘Kacchan’.

He turned around to see and the walls of his heart caved in. As much as he had played this scenario on his head since the day Izuku disappeared, he was not by any means thrilled for how the scene had unfold. From all the emotions that flooded him, there was one that was the loudest and the clearest: Izuku had died a long time ago.

Katsuki opened his eyes again, focused on every feature that had changed, and held onto them with all his will. He, the one that had refused to believe Izuku was forever up and gone, switched to grief when everyone else that had known about the kid cried that he was back.

Are they blind? He thought back then. This is someone else on his shell.

“No kiss, no location.” Izuku said with a giggle on top of him.

This person was the only thing that was left of the kid he once met.

“No location, brain injury.”  Katsuki answered back.

The only thing he had left of him.

“Kacchan!” he whined.

‘Kacchan!’ Echoed on his mind.

“Shut the hell up, you're going to wake up the neighbors.” He snapped.

Izuku dropped his head over Katsuki’s shoulder and released a loud, frustrated sigh. After a moment of silence, he tightened his embrace around Katsuki’s neck and moved his knees to sit higher into his lap. Katsuki tensed immediately.

“If you try anything weird I swear–”

“Do you ever miss me, Kacchan?” He asked.

Katsuki’s voice died on his lips. His heart was pierced by an emotion he didn't want to name.

Miss Izuku?

For years.

To this day.

“Why are you wasted?” And what was he the one who had to suffer the worst of it every time?

“I was lonely”. His voice was so faint, so fragile. It had a dangerous resemblance with the voice that still lingered on his ear after so many years. The voice that had asked him to play with him in the sandbox and by the river close to their home, the voice that called for him at school and always tailed after him during the breaks.

Those words in that voice were too much to hear.

“What about all your minions? Go bother them.” Katsuki attempted to move away to feel less suffocated but it was no use.

Izuku tangled his fingers around the heat at the back of Katsuki’s head. He pulled his hair slightly and groaned in annoyance.

“My minions don’t shut up about plans, and plans, and plans. They want me to do so many things for them. I’m the one that should be doing the bossing, but they nag me all day long. Think plans by yourself if you’re so smart, idiots.”

He raised his head to look at Katsuki.

“They are so stupid. I have to make backup plan on top of backup plan because they keep messing things up. It's exhausting.”

He let his head drop down again. Katsuki felt the cold tip of his nose tickle his neck.

“What do they want you to plan for?” What the hell do we have to prepare for next?

“A bunch of bullshit.” His voice was muffled by the clothes of Katsuki’s shirt.

Katsuki’s frustration at his answer must had being obvious because he later added,

“Don’t worry Kacchan, I’ll make sure they don’t make too much of a mess.”

“Yeah, it’s not them I have the most worries about.” His voice was tinted by grudge.

In the following questions Izuku’s voice was heard next to his ear. “Why? What did I do?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“...”

Izuku seemed to think harder about the matter and something must have clicked because his tone suddenly turned soothing.

”You meant that thing that happened over the weekend?” He laughed, “Didn’t I tell you they keep messing up all my plans? Those people blew that place on their own. I contained the damage as best as I could.”

Izuku’s fingers moved from his nape to his back to play with the edge of the neck of his shirt.

“I like heroes, Kacchan. I don’t hurt them just because.”

Katsuki felt him scratch over the line of his spine with his nails.

“Is that damn anti hero faction that makes them believe they can think on their own. They’re a pain in the ass.” A hiccup. “Some of the assholes even found one of my merch hideouts and burned it. If I ever find out who it was I’m going to kill them!” Izuku pulled another strand of hair, hard enough to almost rip it off Katsuki’s head. Katsuki had been well aware of his every move, but that took him by surprise.

“For fucks sake–! Lower your voice.” He lifted a hand to hold the hand that was gripping his hair. “And let fucking go off me.”

“But Kacchan–!”

“Enough with the drunk talk, loser!”

In a daze, Izuku was caught by Katsuki’s eyes. He stared, then smile, and the whisky was clear on his voice when he leaned his weight over Katsuki’s chest and said,

“Almost half of my Dynamight merch was in there. I only have a hoody left. And some photocards and some posters. I had to fight so many people to get those.”

“You’re disgusting.”

He giggled.

“I can’t help it. They piss me off sometimes. So many people drooling over your pictures.” He frowned at the memory and seemed to suddenly recall something that had particularly bothered him. “Like that picture of you on the subway!!” He complained and hit Katsuki’s shoulder with his fists in protest.

“Shhh!!!” Katsuki hushed him and held him by the throat in a silent threat.

“They have no right!” Izuku whispered dramatically loud. Another drunk thought and a tender feeling overcame the anger. He smiled, his nose touching Katsuki.

“Other heroes are cool, but Kacchan is my hero.”

How much Katsuki wished the idiot would shut up, delivering stabs to his heart and playing oblivious to it.

‘Kacchan is my hero.’

Nothing could be said with the lump he had on his throat. He trembled at the thoughts of the dreams he had every night, a kid with fear in his eyes and an iron hope in his voice when he stated to the evil people,

‘Kacchan is going to come save me’.

Katsuki's will waivered. That kid in the park that had gone missing. The kid that was all alone there waiting for Kacchan for their play date. But Kacchan decided to ditch him that day to go to the arcade with the other kids. He looked at the man on top of him, at that face that hid the core of all his guilts, and he ached with the need to lift his arms and hold him in place so that face wouldn’t disappear on him again.

What would have happened if he had shown up back then?

Would the kid be safe? Would they both have had the same fate?

Would Katsuki be dead by now too?

But would that mean they could have stayed together?

Katsuki’s only weakness was that kid he left in that park.

‘I'm sorry’ always lingered on his tongue, but sorrys couldn't turn back time.

And still, the words urged to be said, and pushed his lips open on moments like this when those eyes mushed his insides and had his soul begging. ‘I would go back and go with you if I could. I would leave with you if I could.’

But as the words wanted to spill out of his mouth, a sound ripped the veil of the moment.

Izuku frowned at the tune that cut the silence and moved away from Katsuki's shoulder. He sloppily felt around his pockets to look for his phone. He took it out and looked at the screen confused. Katsuki snatched it out of his hand and read the message on the notification bar.

Dabi

im here

where the fuck are you

 3:25 a.m.

“Your ride is here, get off of me.” Katsuki pushed Izuku off of his lap. He grabbed the bottle  that was still on the floor next to the sofa, walked a few steps to pick up the jacket laying over the carpet, and then held Izuku's arm with a strong grip, dragging him to the window.

Izuku mumbled his protests but Katsuki didn't pay him any mind. When they got to the window, he slammed the bottle on one of Izuku's hands and the jacket in the other, before pushing the window open. He point out and said,

“Get out.”

“But why by the window?”, Izuku complained without complying.

“You got in by the window. And you are not leaving by the fucking door. No villain is going to get spotted leaving my apartment by the front fucking door.”

Izuku looked back at him with an angry expression. None of the honey on his eyes remained and Katsuki was targeted with a laser gaze as if he were any other piece of trash on the sidewalk dirtying his shiny fancy shoes.

Izuku looked away from Katsuki, insulted. He murmured something under his breath. Katsuki could distinguish some of the colorful words that were directed towards him. He put on his jacket before approaching the window.

The villain prompted one of his feet to the frame, getting ready to jump, when Katsuki suddenly grabbed him by the collar.

“Give me the location”, he ordered.

Izuku huffed, laughing at the only man that had the guts to believe he could be ordered around by someone. He shoved his hand under his jacket and took out a wrinkled piece of paper the side of a small notepad before trusting it in Katsuki's hand. He refused to look at Katsuki or honor him with a ‘goodbye’ –not that it would be welcomed– and shoved away the grip that held him from behind.

Katsuki let go of him and didn't say anything more as he saw the villain drop from the tenth floor of the building.

When Izuku was finally out of sight, his body could finally relax.

Katsuki sighed, and closed the window. He was about to lock it when he remembered the broken latch. He clicked his tongue and cursed at the idiot that left once again without paying for the damage he had caused. Giving up to his tired muscles he turned to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. 

He gave himself a moment to breathe. When he felt his hands stop shaking he looked for his own phone in his pocket to message his boss while helding Deku’s note still folded on his fingers.

me

my source handed me another tip

3:46 a.m.

ponytail (boss)

Hit me.

Whoever this person is, one day we will have to condecorate them.

3:48 a.m

[gayratguy]

You had been backpacking for a couple of days now. You decided that the summer after college you’d take some time to reconnect with nature before entering the corporate world. You were setting up camp along the Appalachian trail when you spotted the bearish mountain man lounging on a picnic table. He was reading a small book shirtless his powerful frame in full view. You almost started to drool when he looked up and made eye contact with you. While hiking you had discovered that a lot of these campsites were great for cruising and you had been having a lot of sweaty outdoor sex so when he smirked at you and started to walk over you didn’t even flinch. You felt yourself start to chub up when he approached you asking, “Can I help you with something?” You stumbled over your words but you’re growing hard on did enough of the talking and he asked, “My tent or yours?” You led him into your three person tent and quickly got to work. He laid on his back as you licked all over his glistening muscles tasting the sweat he had worked up from hiking all day. You started to suck him off when he told you to flip over, he spat on his 7 inch dick and began slowly working it into you. When you had gotten comfortable he began to pound you for what had to be at least an hour. Your tent’s floor now ruined from the 5 or 6 loads you’ve shot and you started grinding back on his dick. “Oh yeah give me all of you baby” he said as he slapped your ass. You felt a tingle and before too long he was slowing down his pounding to slow deep fuck. He raised your ass and put your face to the ground as he began messaging your body. It felt so good that you didn’t even notice when your legs had merged into his sack or when your arms merged into your chest. You started to realize what was happening but honestly it felt too good to care. “Oh yeah good cockmeat just accept it we’re gonna have so much fun together.” He moaned as you felt a pressure build in your throat. “Oh fuck!” He said as you felt yourself spray cum out of your mouth now piss slit. The guy got dressed, raided your campground for snacks before going back to his own tent and falling asleep. The next morning he continued on his way. You never would enter that office job but honestly being cockmeat has a lot more benefits than you’d thought.

[gascon-en-exil]

What kind of build do you picture Osvald and Partitio having? Any images for reference?

Unlike a lot of other gay guys apparently, I don't keep a portfolio on hand of naked and nearly-naked men. I need to save room for my explicit selfies. Also, I know now that Tumblr can be weird about censoring posts that show too much skin.

Fortunately, text is fine.

Osvald's a bear, period. I think his Champions of the Continent art captures that best.

Very tall - tallest of the travelers - broad-shouldered, strong jawline, stocky, and a ton of muscle from an extensive workout regimen. He's also extremely hairy: chest, back, ass, all of it. All that natural insulation served him well on Frigit Isle, but it's bound to kill him if he ever spends much time on Toto'haha unless he gets creative with ice magic. He will, of course.

Has especially well-defined and squeezable pectorals with prominent - and sensitive! - nipples, so that the fiery breasts/juicy, fuzzy peaches jokes can flow unabated. Now that he's pushing forty and has a sugar daddy determined to make sure he eats well, Osvald will be getting a bit softer all over. Partitio likes this, in part because it's nicer to cuddle with but mostly because it's a sign that his lover is comfortable and well-treated.

Also per my own canon and likely actual canon as well, has an abundance of poorly-managed scars from his time in prison. I have them all over his chest, back, and arms, as well as small but visible scars on his cheeks from the muzzle that were hidden beneath his full beard but can be seen now that he's gone for a more fashionably trimmed look as in his ending CG.

(Beginning with Chapter 12 of What Burns Between Us, where he's dumped the prison clothes and gets his glow-up, that one official piece has been my most consistent visual reference for him. He's so unexpectedly dapper!)

His teeth are noticeably worn, as expected from someone who'd gone five years with no ability to practice oral hygiene of any kind. Osvald is uncomfortable about letting anyone other than Partitio see his scars; if these two ever do get around to a threesome, he'll probably be keeping his shirt on unless the circumstances are perfect.

Has a comically-oversized cock and equally large and heavy balls; Osvald manspreads with purpose, and when he's hard everyone knows it even when he's fully clothed. The fascination with large penises is a relatively recent development in history, so Osvald being surrounded by horny size queens might come off as slightly anachronistic...but he takes it all in stride. Roque has some especially interesting thoughts on Osvald's endowment that I'll be delving into in my next fic re: historical perceptions of penis size and his own insecure, classist snobbery. Partitio however is not a size queen, and while he might be inclined to brag (in select company) about his ability to take the biggest dick in Solistia it's not something he especially prizes about his lover. Still, if anyone could knock him up through sheer willpower and an ungodly amount of semen, it would be Osvald. (I have absolutely no intentions of ever writing mpreg...but we may all enjoy the image of an enraged Papp chasing after Osvald and attempting to castrate him while Partitio and Roque look on in horror, for very different reasons: Partitio because he hates when his family fights and doesn't want Osvald to be maimed, Roque because Osvald's equipment is an unprecedented miracle and deserves to be studied...preferably by him.)

Oh, and both men are uncut per the norm for the time period. This does present some issues when doing sex scenes since I mostly handle circumcised men (as is currently standard in the US) in my offline work, but nonetheless I have enough experience with foreskins to manage.

On to Partitio - I've spent less time physically describing him because most of my first two fics are from his PoV, although points where his build/appearance would deviate from canon have forced me to think of that somewhat.

In general: lean, long legs, second-tallest of the travelers. It's hard to say for sure, but in the group ending CG it looks like the top of Partitio's head would come about up to Osvald's cheeks so he's not quite a full head shorter. It'd be easier to tell if Partitio weren't leaning on Osvald in that pic...but I'll gladly take the incidental gay in exchange.

Several of his pics give off the impression that Partitio's yellow longcoat make him look larger than he really is:

Let's also enjoy him get casually handsy with another man in an illustration meant to showcase a game mechanic.

This helped contribute to my perception of Partitio being big on performative masculinity, possibly to mask his insecurities about being gay, and that if he were in a situation that allowed him to step out of that role, as in Wooing that Drifting Imagery, he'd take to it well and even come to enjoy it.

Per canon he doesn't exercise but stays fit through his work, presumably manual labor and combat. As such his build might be closer to a farmer's or miner's compared to Osvald's developed gym bod (very gradually sliding into dad bod). Later in life, and taking Partitio's wealthy lifestyle and his father's build into account, this may translate into Partitio developing a gut which he won't be very happy about. I've had nothing to say about any body hair Partitio might have aside from Osvald getting a hair while rimming him...although that says very little since even smooth guys tend to have some hair around their assholes. With as moderately hairy as I've made Papp, it's likely that Partitio has some modest amount of chest hair that's just never been worth remarking on. He's also capable of growing a "patchy" beard, as he did in prison before he shaved it off. Papp has a full beard, so I assume Partitio has the genes for it.

Haven't had much occasion to comment on Partitio's junk either. It's presumably average. He does precum quite a bit which has manifested in several sex scenes and allowed Osvald to roleplay Partitio getting "wet" as part of their feminization bit, though.

Partitio's hair color is a little hard to define. It looks black in-game, but some pieces of art give more of a dark brown tinge. I've dodged around this by simply calling it "dark" and thereby suggesting it could be either or both. I've also split the difference with his parents: Papp obviously has black hair, while his wife (who's a recurring character in my third fic) was a brunette.

The question of Partitio's skin tone is an uncommonly interesting one. Some early concept art depicts him with darker skin and features compared to what appears in the finished product.

This is why you'll sometime see fanart more along the lines of how he appears in these sketches.

While I don't have a problem with that and can even appreciate the variation, when it came time for me to stick him in drag in my second fic I had to actually think about that for a bit. My stories already layer in a bunch of homophobia and occasionally sexism and classism into the world of OT2...so trying to work through how (human) race works in Solistia on top of all that just seemed like entirely too much. It's already a bit of an odd sell since no one in-game seems to make much of a distinction between the people of Hinouema (obviously East Asian) and humans elsewhere in the world (Europeans/Euro-Americans). Of course there's also the beastlings...but that's a whole other mess that I really don't want to start reading real-world 19th century analogues into even though the material absolutely is there if someone wanted to do it.

So I settled on Partitio having his in-game skin tone, with the Yellowils being faux-Anglo-American or something along those lines. They still code as foreign in the Brightlands on account of their accents (as seen in canon with Agnea), and Partitio thinks he looks paler than usual with powder on his face, but no one's making any concrete racial or ethnic distinctions.

(Somewhat unrelated final point: I think another incredibly petty contributing factor to my latching onto these guys for my first ever fanfics is that they, as well as Papp and Roque, all have natural hair colors so I don't have to think about blue/purple/white etc. pubes. The most headcanon-y I have to get there is with Roque; I have him having been blond before he went grey, with a lot of insecurities surrounding twink death and such to match.)

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Omg congrats on 300 hon!!! Here's to 300 more!!! After some serious contemplating, I went with a prompt instead 👀 "standing on your tip toes to reach your partner's lips" + Poe?

It was common knowledge that Poe Dameron was an absolute menace.

No matter the situation, he would find some sort of way to tease you. It didn’t matter if you were alone in your quarters, doing maintenance on Black One, or out on a mission: he’d find an opportunity to get on your nerves.

You knew it was his way of dealing with all of the stress and tension of the war, of keeping both of your lives a little bit lighter. And, as much as you hated to admit it, sometimes his antics put a smile on your face, accompanied by a roll of your eyes.

Today, though, he seemed more keen to get on your nerves than usual. Maybe he was feeling stir-crazy, adrenaline building up with nowhere to go. Maybe he just wanted to be near you, spend time with you while you worked. Or, maybe, he just likes to be a smart ass and annoy you.

“Maker, Dameron, can’t you find something else to do?” You ask, feet sticking out from under an x-wing, BB-8 whirling around you.

“Nope,” he responds, popping the ‘p’ sound in the most obnoxious way possible.

You roll yourself out from under the ship, and fix Poe with a look that says ‘please let me work for five minutes before I lose my mind’. He understands, smiles gently at you, and plants a kiss on your oil-stained forehead.

“I’ll see you later!” He yells out as he retreats, BB trailing behind him.

You loved to spend time with Poe, but you’d been feeling overwhelmed and strung out, and Poe understood that. He always understands you, never takes it personally when you get a little frazzled with him and send him off, because he knows he can be a bit much for you at times.

Plus, he knows you’ll always come back to him, ready to be smothered in his attention and affection.

Tonight, when you return to your quarters, Poe has already showered, biding his time until your return by reading over some reports, BB sitting quietly by his feet. You strip from your grease-stained coveralls and spend more than enough time in the shower, letting the hot water work over your muscles.

When you exit, you’re ready to spend the rest of your evening with Poe, even if he insists on being a shithead.

But, as you exit the ‘fresher, Poe is not sitting in the same chair he was before, BB-8 gone as well. It doesn’t take you long to find him: he’s in your small kitchen on a step ladder, fixing a light that has gone out the night before.

Craving time with him, you go and stand by him, craning your neck to talk with him as he tries to fix the light. Competent as he is, he’s certainly not an electrician, and it takes him a while to replace the light.

“Alright, come down and we can watch a holo or something.” You say, pushing off the counter you had been leaning against.

“No thanks,” he says, trying and failing to hide a smile.

You sigh, in a good natured way, and cross your arms.

“What will it take for you to hop off that stool?”

“A kiss.”

“A kiss?”

“Mh-hm.” He looks all too proud of himself, but he’s too cute not to indulge him.

So, you lift yourself up on your tiptoes, kissing him gently before grabbing his hands and pulling him off the stool. He stumbles a bit, right into your arms. Despite his teasing, there’s no one you’d rather spend your time with, no one else you’d rather indulge on their silly requests.

Because, it’s really no secret that you’d do anything for Poe. And, you know he’d do whatever you asked of him, whatever you needed from him. So, you smile into the kiss and pull him a little closer, feeling beyond lucky to have him in your arms.

[hqcult]

EYELINER ## suna rintarou

trying to apply his eyeliner would've been easy if only rintarou can keep his hands to himself.

. tw smut, dom suna, established relationship, fingering, oral f receiving, edging, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, mind break, unprotected sex, pwp . wc 4k

"ugh, he's gonna do it again." you mutter, eyeing suna's hand as it skims around your vanity desk for his favorite brand of eyeliner. for some reason everybody naturally finds themself drawn to suna rintarou, even if he was always so stoic and detached. 

you hate how girls would flock around him in parties as they stare at his kohl-lined eyes or at the painted black nail polish whenever you disappear to get a drink, knowing full well what kind of thoughts are running in their heads because you, for sure, thought of him the same way. alright. we get it. your boyfriend can be a hot mofo if he wants to be and his idgaf attitude just adds to the whole appeal.

we get it.

because you love him more than the stars in the galaxy combined, sometimes you can't help but feel jealous when people get too close to him. you really didn't want to be that type of girlfriend but sometimes you just like the assurance that he's all yours and nothing's wrong about that, right? plus, suna seems to exceptionally love when he gets you jealous and feral. he may always pretend otherwise but he loves staking his claim on you just as much as you liked being claimed by him. 

"are you done yet?" you say, staring at him from your bedroom door frame. 

atsumu was throwing a party tonight and you were all dressed up and ready to go, just patiently waiting for your boyfriend. 

suna replies a beat later, not bothering to meet your eyes. "just a minute."

you just want his attention all on you. you don't even want to go to this stupid party and see all these people shamelessly flirting with him even if you were right there by his side. you just want to have some alone time with suna rintarou. 

and you may or may not have just come up with an idea to make that happen.

"where's the eyeliner? the one i always use?"

"it's not there? i know i left it there. wait, let me look." 

you straighten up, walking towards him in your red leather mini skirt that can make any man's eyes sliver down to your ass. 

suna is sitting on your swivel chair, leaning back in a man spread as he clicks his tongue impatiently. he looks good even in a plain shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, his athletic and tall build enough to make any outfit look good.

"are you sure it's not in the drawers?"

"yes, i already checked."

you pout, making a show of muttering "i swore i threw it in here," under your breath as you maneuver around his spread legs to stand in between them, bending forward as you rummage around where he's already looked twice. 

you know he's staring at your ass. suna was never lowkey with how much he loves you in this leather mini-skirt. it's a miracle he hasn't landed a rough spank yet after getting a face full view of your ass. 

"wait a minute, maybe it rolled under my vanity."

so you get down on your knees, making sure your butt grazes the front of his jeans and just like you predicted, suna was half-hard already. 

it was truly such a stroke to your ego but you focus on the task at hand. 

you arched your ass up as you bend down to look for the little tube of eyeliner, slightly shaking it side to side as you "struggle" to get the eyeliner out from underneath the table. 

when your hands feel the cylindrical plastic, you retreat, sitting up straight again and proudly showing your boyfriend the eyeliner in your hands. 

you made sure your eyes were as huge and innocent as they look, kneeling in between his legs, shins tucked in and hands in your lap like a good girl. 

"i found it!"

you could've sworn you've seen his left eye twitch as he stared you down. you've been with him long enough to notice that look in his eyes. what are you playing at, huh?

you wait for him to speak but you can see all the gears turning in his head as he continues to stare at you. 

you wait anxiously for what he's going to do next. maybe he'll make you suck him off, or he'll throw you on the bed, or spank your ass because you were clearly teasing him—

"why don't you put my eyeliner on for me?"

you stand up, opening the tube in as he shuts his eyes. you try not to let your disappointment show too much. fine. maybe you can just have a quickie later while drunk in one of the rooms in the frat house. 

"why are you standing? come sit on my lap while you're doing it."

you were too busy removing the excess product off the brush to notice his eyes had taken a dark turn, contradicting the gentleness of his warm hands as it snakes around the back of your bare thighs pulling you closer. 

"no, i'll mess this—"

"i said sit."

delicious shivers create goosebumps on your skin. 

you know that tone. he only uses it when he's horny and he wants to bend you over. so maybe your game plan did work after all, yet you're staring at him dumbfounded with the eyeliner brush in midair. 

"come sit. i won't repeat myself." he leans back against the chair, manspreading as he waits for you. 

you scramble to straddle his strong thighs, muscles a manifestation of his hard work and dedication to volleyball. it was great to see him in action on the court but you'd rather he flexed those muscles when you ride his thighs. 

you cup his face, getting all up in his personal space to apply the eyeliner. 

you've long grown out of the honeymoon phase but why is your heart beating so damn fast right now?

your hands were shaking, perspiration was building up in your forehead, and you were holding your breath.

"are you nervous?"

"shut up, rin. 'm not."

when the brush first touches the lid of his eyes, a nimble finger traces the expanse of your whole slit over your panties. 

you pull the brush away, hissing in surprise. 

"rintarou—!"

"what?"

his sharp tone isn't what shut you up, it was the hand cupping your sex. the heel of his wrist slowly grazing against your sensitive clit. you drew a sharp breath. he smirks. 

"go on. continue, doll."

you want to hate the teasing lilt in his voice but you know deep down you love it.

you held your breath, diving in once again to the task at hand whilst trying to ready yourself from his ministrations. 

your hand slightly shakes as you start in the middle of his waterline, slowly tracing the bottom part of his eyes before making a small wing at the end. 

you've seen him apply his own eyeliner so much you have this down to an art form. everything would've been easy if only he kept his hands to himself. you try to ignore the digit still feathering over your slit or the hand wrapping around you to bunch your skirt up around the waist. 

for someone whose eyes are closed he's doing a damn good job navigating. but maybe that's how he shows you're his. he knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows what makes you tick, what makes you pant, what makes you moan in ecstasy. 

"i can never resist when you dress up all pretty for me. you know that, right, doll?"

applying the eyeliner to his waterline had been fairly easy. the lash line, on the other hand, proved difficult. especially when suna's upgraded from tracing your pussy lips to dangerously toying with the elastics of your panties, slipping his finger under before stretching it to slap your skin. 

as you try to connect the upper part of the eyeliner to the small wing you made from his waterline, you hissed. 

"why don’t you pull them down?"

he chuckles at your impatience and you slightly pull the brush away as he finally shoves the fabric down. you gasp when the cold hits your wet cunt. the scent of your essence unmistakable and you know suna's holding back from teasing. 

"as you wish, baby."

as suna grows bolder, the more your hands shook as you worked on his other eye. 

just as the tip of the brush touched his left eye's waterline, he pushed two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls in a lazy manner that was so distinctly him. he curls his fingers when he fucks it in before dragging them against your walls when he pulls it out, slightly scissoring you. he uses his other hand to draw figure 8’s against your clit. 

you swallow, trying your best to keep your hand still as a surgeon but you see the jagged little curves where your jolts of pleasure were too strong. 

you never should've provoked him to shove your underthings down, at least then you wouldn't have to suffer through his fingers. they were just so long, so thick, and so experienced when it comes to pleasuring you that you can never touch yourself anymore without craving suna's own fingers instead. 

you bit your lip, the hand that was cupping his jaw tightening as you try to fix the little mistakes here and there, hoping suna won't see them when he inspects your work in the mirror. it doesn't matter that he purposely set you up to fail. there'll be consequences if he isn't satisfied with what you did. may god have mercy on your horny little soul if rintarou thinks you were a bad girl. 

"you just hate losing, don't you?" you hiss, jolting when you feel him slap your cunt. your knees nearly buckled and you almost fell off the chair if not for his sturdy hand on the small of your back. 

"what are you talking about? i'm just fingering my girl like a winner."

just as you started outlining his left lash line, suna shoves a 3rd finger into your sopping cunt. loud squelching noises fill the room as your walls pulsate around his thick digits. the metal rings he wore brushing against your pussy lips as he fucks you knuckle-deep with three fingers. involuntarily, your own hips started moving to match his pace, shamelessly thrusting up everytime he shoves his fingers in.

he knows you so well. he doesn't even need to look at your face, he can feel you out by the noises you make. so good. so good. his fingers feel so good. fuck. fuck. fuck.

until he pulls them out of your sopping pussy. 

"rin," you whine, folding into his shoulder as you struggle to balance your kneeling self on the chair. you blindly reach down for his hand, urging him to put his fingers back in. "rin, please don't stop. please please please—”

"i told you to put my eyeliner, not fuck yourself on my fingers," he leans back on the chair, eyes still shut close while licking his digits clean. 

your lips press into a thin line, eyes dilated as a whine starts to threaten to pass your lips. you're sick of whatever game this is, you just want him to fuck you silly already! but as if sensing your thoughts, suna clicks his tongue and speaks. "hurry it up. we have a party to get to."

without his fingers to plug your cunny, your slick runs down the insides of your thighs. it's slow descent against your skin making goosebumps run up your arms, shivering as the cold hits your bare cunt. 

suna must've known your anguish, he could feel his jeans getting soaked but he didn't care and you wish to punch that smug smirk off his pretty face. 

your fingers stilled when you cupped his cheeks and leaned in to start applying a thin stroke of eyeliner to his water line. with a simple flick of the wrist you ended it with a little wing, just like how your boyfriend likes it. now, you just have to do his lash line and—

you let out an audible gasp when his fingers started feeling around your thighs, having an inkling idea of what he's tryna look for. true to what you expected, he traces the line of your dripping slick up your inner thighs until his fingers graze your nether lips, successfully collecting your essence. 

you stare entranced when suna brings them up to his lips, eyebrows furrowed and almost moaning aloud because of your taste. the fact that his eyes are closed made you want him even more. his fingers pop out of his mouth, but you get the feeling it wasn't enough. he wants more. suna wants you under his mercy. he wants to taste and ruin you until you're fucked out and lying in a pretty mess on the bed sheets. 

"so fucking sweet, my baby. you're this desperate for me? for my fingers?"

you snapped. you threw the makeup elsewhere in the room (though not before screwing it shut) before diving down to kiss him on the lips. all lust-filled and rough as you both channel the desires you have for each other. maybe suna was at his tipping point too, noting that he doesn't even bother to push you away. 

with his strong arms he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his torso, never breaking the kiss before literally throwing you down on the bed, knocking the air out your lungs. 

"rin!"

"whoops."

he's kneeling before the bed, the sheets ruffling when he pulls you to the edge by your calves, hot breath against your sex making you squirm. 

"my pretty thing," the kitten lick against your pussy drove you crazy, desperately bucking your hips up and suna chuckles condescendingly. "but such a bad fuckin' girl, aren't ya?"

you yelp when he slaps the side of your thigh. 

"who said you could kiss me?"

he pinches your clit hard as he enters your line of sight. suna has never seen you this pretty and desperate for him before. sweat making your skin glow, lips raw from your biting, eyes conveying your every lust-filled thought about him. the sight of you so riled up makes his dick ache and he wants so badly to fuck you already but bad girls don't get what they want just yet. you have to earn it. 

"i asked you a question. who the fuck told you that you could fucking kiss me?" the acid in his voice contrasts the gentle way he caresses the spot on your thigh where he had hit you. 

"no one."

you sob in pleasure when his hot tongue licks a stripe up your pussy before suckling on your clit. once. twice. sucking particularly hard on the third. before running his tongue swiftly over the bundle of nerves and kitten licking his way down your pussy lips. your thighs were shaking so hard he had to pin them down. he knows it's a sign that you're close, not that he's surprised, he's been stimulating your body for minutes now it was amazing you haven't cummed yet. 

but then he stops.

a thread of your slick dribbling down his chin as those cat eyes of his stare you down. he watches, enchanted by how your chest rises and falls. another sweet release he snatched away from you.

"i thought so. what does that make you?"

amazing how he manages to sound so normal, conversational even while he's literally edging you like there's no tomorrow. what do you expect? it's his favorite punishment. he gets to see you sob and beg for him like there's nothing in your mind but his cock and he loves it so much. loves seeing you bend and break for him to please. 

you sniffle, arm coming up to hide the frustrated tears in your eyes. "been… been a bad girl."

a hand slaps your thighs, brutal. eyes on rintarou when answering his questions. your eyes shoot up. 

"and who's bad girl have you been?"

"yours."

this time he reaches forward to tweak your pebbled nipples. the sudden cold of the pads of his fingers making you gasp and spasm. your boyfriend straddles you and you shiver at the head of his glistening cock leaving trails on top of your thighs. but he doesn't make another move. when you sneakily try wiggling your hips for your sex to graze his dick, he slapped your thigh without holding back. you doubt it won't start leaving a handprint. you wait with bated breath when he grabs hold of his cock, the head angry and dripping, the only proof of his also growing desire for you. 

when he directs the head for it to graze your nether lips, you almost cried another fresh batch of tears. his hand quickly brushes up to wipe it away, though not before feeling his dick twitch. you know how much he loves seeing you cry from the overwhelming pleasure he can give you. 

"last time i checked, my name isn't yours. didn't i tell you to answer in full sentences when i'm fucki—"

"suna! suna rintarou! i've been sun-suna rintarou's bad girl!"

suna ducks to mark your neck and torso. he feels the goosebumps forming on your body. the heat enveloping the two of you as you both quickly shed any remaining pieces of clothing. he kisses you. sloppy. nothing but teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance as he cradles your face with his big hands, feeling the mushroom head of his cock grazing your thighs.

usually he'd appreciate you not cutting him off mid-sentence but he too has reached his own limits and right now all he can think about is drilling you to the mattress. "rin, please!" you sob, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"shh. yes, doll. i hear ya." 

you were dripping wet enough that all it took is one deep thrust for him to bottom-out. usually you're quite hesitant when rintarou's rawing you but at this point right now, you doubt fucking with a condom would've felt this good. no thin plastic whatsoever that's separating you from him. when he starts to move, you both moan in ecstasy. the bed creaking under the weight of you both as he pistons his dick inside. "you feel so good, doll. so fucking wet and tight. look how wet you are. dripping for my cock, huh? this all for me? answer me!"

you hardly register his voice, the pleasure you've been craving since minutes ago now being crashed down upon you. it's overwhelming and you don't want it any other way. 

"yes," you pant. the tears still leaking from your eyes as you claw at his biceps. "yes. all-all for you, r-rin! just for you!"

he stubbornly keeps hitting the spot that'll make you keen and whine, suna forcing your hips down and sitting up with his palms at the sides of your head. he wants to see you come undone, he'd love to grab his phone and make this memory permanent but he doubts his camera can capture the real deal. your moans and pleas reaching his ears, spurring him on, the beautiful way your back arches of the mattress, the way you physically shook in pleasure and you screamed and worshipped his name.

"rin! oh my god, rin! fuck. 'm close," your voice breaks, hiccuping from the onslaught of tears you can't hold back as blinding pleasure grips you in a tight vice.

suna comes down to snake his arms around you, pulling you infinitely closer as one of his hands supports your lower back, manually moving your hips to match his frantic thrusts. "why you crying? bad girls should be tough, right? aren't—shit—aren't you a bad girl? hmm? bad girls like you shouldn't be crying."

you shake your head, looking pretty and desperate as you meet his eyes. "no, i'm not a bad—"

"yes. you are," you groan, his thrusts particularly hard to shut you up and make a point. "you're a very, very bad girl. you don't listen to me at all. bad girls don't even deserve to cum."

"no! no! rin, please!" you say, a blubbering mess as you bury your forehead into his neck, licking and suckling at his skin to get in his good side. "i'll be good. i promise! please, let me cum. rin! please, i'll be good. i'll be good! only your good—ah."

"you fucking bet you're my good girl," he hissed, biting your shoulder before moaning, pitched and wanton as it threatens to snap the stretched cord inside of you. but not yet. you can't. not unless he says so. "it's me that's making you feel this good. this is my pussy. my plaything. repeat what i said—doll! repeat what i said."

you cried, screaming in frustration as his cock stills inside of you and you know he won't move until you oblige. "this is…" you hiccup. "rin-rintarou's pu-pussy. i'm rintarou's play-plaything."

"what was that?" he asks, hips starting to rut against you again in full force. the headboard violently hitting the walls. when your hands scramble to cling onto something, you accidentally shove something off the bed but you couldn't care less. "louder, doll. i want the whole fucking neighborhood to hear you."

"this is rintarou's pussy. i'm rintarou's plaything." you say in your normal speaking voice, albeit shaky and almost incomprehensible as he holds you firm against him, his cock embedding it's shape and size into your sopping walls.

"louder!"

he hoists you up into a sitting position, his hips fucking up towards you and you only realize he did it when you see the window situated meters behind you two. curtains-drawn, open for the night breeze to billow in. he wasn't kidding. suna rintarou wants the neighbors to hear how good you're getting rawed. he wasn't kidding. he was not kidding.

"go on," he whispers, breathy and teasing. "you'll do it. you're a good girl for me arentcha?"

fuck. "this is rintarou's pussy! i'm rintarou's plaything!"

he licks a stripe up your neck, hands coming around your neck as he whispers into your ear the words you've been dying to hear. "cum, baby."

and your orgasm surges through your whole body in violent jolts, thick ropes of cum squirting out your pussy as you distantly hear him groaning, your walls tightening and sucking him in with every aggressive thrust. rintarou quickly finishes after you, teeth embedding themselves into your shoulder as he groans. you knew bruises will form and you're going to be sore as a bitch but you don't fucking care.

"rin, i love you." you say, grabbing a hold of his face as you stare deep into his eyes. and you don't understand why there's doubt clouding in your head when he takes a beat later to answer, when really, he just can't help the sudden wave of emotions festering in his stomach as he meets the gravity of your gaze. the love and devotion in your eyes as he can only hope that he could translate his emotions through his eyes, too.

he smiles, leaning in to give you a kiss. it's sweet and gentle, completely unlike the one he gave you a few minutes ago when in the throes of pleasure. no. you feel every bit of his love for you in this one kiss and you don't know why you ever doubted yourself, doubted him. you've been together for so long and you're it for him. 

"i love you, too."

but leave it to your darling rintarou to ruin the moment.

"but you'll never apply my eyeliner ever again."

. a/n » this was so self-indulgent im sorry lmao

[glorified-red]

Oooo!!! I never thought of it like that!!! Honestly I could see it. His jawline could cut diamonds it's so defined. That's probably what makes Batman so intimidating, his shoulders are broad and square, his jawline being the only part of him you can see and it's that defined? Terrifying.

Clark I always picture to be such a Dad™ and I can never unsee it. I like seeing Clark as muscular as FUCK. Like he's 80% pure muscle mass it's insane. But he squishes yk? His muscles are just Built Different. They look bigger but they aren't defined, they soften to protect his body.

Jason I always like to picture with a tum. He's such a soft guy with a heart of gold, I can't imagine him having a defined body type because it just doesn't suit him. Is he intimidating?? Hell yea, but not because of how he looks, it's his reputation. I love his big hugs!!! I feel like he takes after Clark in the Big Squishy Muscle thing.

Dick is always gonna be more lean and defined for me. Hes an acrobat, if you see male acrobats they're always super toned and their muscles are hella defined like all the time, but that's because they have a naturally leaner build so when they do gain muscle, it's noticeable. They have to be aerodynamic so their waist and hips are small but their thighs and arms are big enough to carry their weight and catch themselves.

Tim will always have a lean build. He's scrawny and thin, especially growing up and during the early days. Any muscle he has was purely from him working his ass off to grow it. Maintaining that muscle is always gonna be harder for him than any of the other boys. That's why he's such a health nut in canon, he can't afford to slack off health wise. I can imagine he used to compare himself A LOT to his older brothers because he was so much smaller than them which isn't great in the field, you WANT to be bigger (not just muscle but fat too, and both are hard for Tim). Eventually tho, he learned his own fighting style that was suited for his build. (Less impact, more stealth and defense, relying on his intellect to make the fight end swiftly because he knows he won't last in prolonged close combat.)

I consistently see Bruce and Clark being portrayed as fucking ripped, like eight packs, massive muscles all the time, etc etc. And while they both would have a large percentage of muscle mass because of what they do, muscles don't always look "defined" when someone's relaxed or after a long day.

Most often, muscles can be jiggly and soft, even squishy if they aren't flexed. Doesn't mean they aren't strong or not there, they just aren't being used at the moment.

So yes, their thighs are massive, but when lounging around?? Squishy. Squatting?? Hard as a fucking ROCK.

Long story short, I wanna see more of Clark and Bruce being portrayed with a healthy level of body fat.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRGUy4tH/

[mazikomo]

Change of Attire

Arno's new outfit will be the death of you.

AO3 Link

Arno Dorian/gn!reader, NSFW 3.8k words PWP, fingering, semi-public sex

Sans-Culottes outfit > Athos Duel Shirt When the husband @straight-into-the-animus says there's not enough true gender neutral reader inserts for Arno, you finish your year old WIP. Anything for you honey 😘

Thanks for my favorite piece of trash and the brain rot crew for betaing!

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the market, you watched the movement of the crowd in front of you. Paris had been tearing itself apart at the seams and this was certainly reflected in its citizens. People were shouting at one another, a desperate look in their eyes as they fought over what little food was available. Thievery was at an all time high due to the shortage and that was just what you were trying to fix when you had agreed to help Arno on this mission. 

You had been surprised at his request, but with tensions so high in the city, even he saw the rationale in working as a pair instead of alone. Initially, you had been hesitant to lend your aid, as you had been developing an attraction toward him for quite some time now. You knew the best way to get over this was to avoid the man, but the people of the city came first over your own personal matters. Besides, you were an adult and full fledged assassin, it shouldn’t be any problem to put a lid on your feelings and work together.

Finally, you saw Arno across the market. Your heart jumped into your throat as he grew nearer. Instead of his usual long, navy coat, he was dressed in an outfit you had never seen before. A soft, lightweight shirt clung to his shoulders and sturdy leather sleeves wrapped around the muscles of his arms. Over that was a very well-fitted vest that accentuated his narrower waist and two thick, leather straps crossing over his broad chest. Arno’s usual red sash and belts were present, but in contrast to the impeccable fit of the top garments, loose, striped pants completed the outfit.

“Wh-where’s your usual clothes?” you asked as you stood from the bench, trying to sound as normal as possible despite your brain beginning to overheat. The lid you had oh so carefully secured lay shattered at your feet. 

So much for getting over that attraction. 

“Snagged my coat yesterday while on a run and tore it. While it’s being mended I thought I would try something a little different.” He spread his arms. “What do you think?”

“Uh, looks good.” You coughed in an attempt to clear the sudden lump in your throat. “Very flattering.” 

“Thanks,” Arno replied with a smile. If he noticed your flustered state, he didn’t let on to it. “So what have you been able to gather so far?”

You explained what you had learned over the past few days. It seemed there were many small groups that were causing the food shortage. Rumor had it the Templars played a major role in organizing them. Luckily, you had an address of where several related meetings seemed to have been taking place. Today’s goal was to search the place and try to find out where all the food was being hoarded.  

The two of you set off. It was only a short distance away, but you kept to the rooftops. It was safer that way, but you also knew Arno liked to show off his free running. 

And show off he did. Scaling building sides like gravity was nothing and smoothly shifting from move to move, over chimney’s and across balcony railings, like water flowing through a stream, motions as second nature as breathing. 

However, that wasn’t what captured your attention. 

Oh no, as you clambored a few yards behind him, your eyes were glued to one thing. 

His ass. 

You were well aware of the effects the man’s backside had on you. This wasn’t the first time you had admired it, but usually it was in passing as he strolled through the hideout. Seeing it in action, the loose pants hindering it in no way as they stretched across the swell when he crouched, had you almost falling to your death on more than one occasion. 

Death from ogling the ass of the most pompous assassin in Paris. There were worse ways to die.  

Thankfully, for the sake of your own physical well-being, you arrived and slipped through a conveniently open window. 

What greeted you, however, almost caused you to keel over on the spot. 

The view of Arno’s ass, single view, already had you floundering, but multiple views… dear Lord, you were surrounded. 

Mirrors. Were. Everywhere. 

“Well, someone likes to show off their status.” Arno remarked all too casually. 

You scrambled to pick your jaw up off the floor and spoke in a cracked voice, “probably all paid for with dirty money no doubt.”

“That’s what we’re here to figure out. You start searching the study, there’s probably nothing of use in the rest of the house, but I’ll do a quick sweep before joining you.” he said as he began to head down the stairs to the main floor, your eyes hungrily watching his retreating form. 

As you entered the study, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. If the mirrors lining the hallway had been pretentious, then the amount in the study was downright obscene. Every space on the wall that wasn’t taken up by a bookcase or painting was covered with a mirror. Reflections of yourself filled your vision wherever you walked. 

“There’s probably mirrors on the ceiling in the bedroom,” you murmured to yourself. 

Wouldn’t that be an interesting display? Sweating bodies, being pinned to the mattress by strong arms, looking up to see— 

No. Best not to let your thoughts go there. 

Eyes surveyed the actual contents of the room instead of their impostors. The desk. That’s a good place to start. 

Its surface was covered with newspapers and a few personal letters, but nothing of worth was there or in the drawers, you learned as you rummaged through them. Disheartened, you pulled at the handle of the last drawer only to be met with resistance. Finally, something promising.  

You crouched down and withdrew your lock pick from your belt and set to work as Arno entered the room. 

“Woah,” he paused in the doorway at the sight of all the mirrors before blinking himself back to attention. “I didn’t find anything useful, you?”

“Not yet, but this locked drawer seems promising,” you replied, “I’ve only looked through the desk so far if you want to check out the bookcases.”

Arno nodded and began to poke through the nearest one as you returned your attention to the lock. Normally, lock picking was one of your better talents, but this desk seemed to be an antique and the old pins did not want to cooperate with you. Frustration built as you fought the stiff mechanics. The drawer probably hadn’t even been opened in a while if it was this tough. 

Movement out of the corner of your eyes caught your attention. It was Arno’s reflection in the mirror closest to you. The particular angle gave you the perfect view of his back. Arno was by no means a broad man, but as your eyes raked over his form, you knew without a doubt that there was nothing but lean muscle under those vexing clothes. 

That outfit does cling to him rather nicely, you thought to yourself as you imagined what it would feel like to run your hands across his strong shoulders, down his chest to slim hips, and even lower to—CHINK! The metallic sound of the pin breaking snapped you out of your thoughts and you swore under your breath. 

“Everything alright?” Arno asked from across the room.

“Yes everything’s fine! Just broke a pin.” You replied quickly, hoping the nervous pitch of your voice wasn’t too noticeable. 

“You sure you don’t want to trade—“

“No no!” You cut him off, “I got it really, just a stubborn lock is all.”

“Of course,” he replied, sounding unconvinced but returned to his own searching nonetheless. 

Okay, focus now. You have a job to do. You told yourself as you reached into the pouch on your belt for another pin… only to freeze as your hand felt nothing but empty space. 

This just wasn’t your day. 

“Uh, Arno?” You called out hesitantly.

“Broke your last pin, didn’t you?” The smug tone of his voice only served to deflate you further.

You sighed, “yes.” 

“Here,” he walked to the desk, “You search the bookcases, I’ll pick the lock.” 

Reluctantly, you got up and moved to the door, eyes cast to the floor as you passed Arno. You squared your shoulders and took a deep breath, determined to be productive in any sort of way, but your eyes betrayed you. They couldn’t help but peek a glance backwards via the closest mirror. Once again, the damned things were providing you with a delicious view of Arno. If you thought seeing the back of shoulders had you flustered, then sight of his behind as he squatted down in front of the locked drawer was downright torturous. Quickly, you snapped your eyes away and bit your lip trying to keep your composure. Still, you couldn’t help but sneak glances every few seconds. 

“Got you!” Arno exclaimed. You jumped, fearful that he had caught you shamelessly eyeing him before the click of the lock opening eased your mind. He pilfered through the drawer and, seemingly finding something useful, tucked some papers into his belt. 

“What did you—” the front door banged open downstairs. 

All it took was a single glance at each other before you both darted across the house and back to the open window. Your pursuers reached the top of the stairs just as you leapt out. 

“After them!” someone shouted as you begin to fly across the rooftops right behind Arno. 

This time, you actually focused on the path below your feet and only glanced up at Arno occasionally to make sure you hadn’t lost him. You didn’t care where he was headed, just as long as you were able to keep him in sight. 

The distance between your pursuers and you shrank while the buildings were becoming further and further apart. Arno jumped to the ground in a small courtyard and hopped into the well. As much as you hated being in the city’s sewer tunnels, it was the best option you had. 

Despite their massive size and the maze of their layout, it wasn’t hard to follow Arno down here as every movement echoed and broadcasted your location. Just as you thought you were making headway, splashes from behind told you otherwise. The pace picked up again and you stayed right on Arno’s heels this time. All sounds blended and echoed together in the tunnels and in your head; you didn’t know which were your own footfalls or which belonged to your enemies. You hoped Arno had a plan because you certainly did not.

Just as you were sure they were closing in, Arno grabbed your arm and darted around a corner. He pushed you against the wall and covered your body with his own in an effort to make yourselves disappear. Your heart was in your throat as the running footsteps drew closer and closer until they, finally, ran past your hiding spot. The both of you remained frozen as you listened to them get farther away until they couldn’t be heard at all. 

It was then you fully realized the position you were in. Arno’s body was pressed flush against yours and his panting breath was tickling your neck. Despite your pursuers being gone he made no move to step away.

“You know what I love about mirrors?” he murmured, soft lips just barely ghosting over your ear, “two people could be looking at the same one, and yet be seeing completely different views.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been eyeing me all day.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, “Like what you see?” he asked with a hum, nuzzling his nose just below your ear before continuing, “Lucky for you,” he emphasized with a chaste kiss to your neck, “I liked what I saw too.”

Your head was spinning. Not moments ago you had been running for your life and now you were cornered, literally, by an entirely different adversary—one you didn’t want to get away from. You couldn’t believe this was happening. All day you had been worked up by just being around Arno. The way his clothes clung to his lithe body just made things all the more difficult to bear. Your mind had been running wild but the situation you were in now was far beyond anything you could have possibly imagined. 

Arno drew his head back but kept his body still pressed against yours. You knew you were staring at him with wide, dumbstruck eyes while his own bore into you. His hands slid down to your hips as he leaned forward, stopping with his lips fractions away from yours. 

“Do you want this?” he whispered against them so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. It took a moment for your mind to process the question. On the one hand, this was a terrible place to be doing this. The men chasing you could turn around at any moment and catch, possibly kill, you. On the other hand, that just made it all the more exciting. 

You were sure your heartbeat could be heard. 

“Yes,” you breathed. No sooner had the word left your mouth and Arno’s lips were on yours in a hungry kiss. 

His mouth ravished yours and you eagerly wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close, his own hands slid from your hips to your backside with a strong grasp to do the same. Everything about your movements was urgent, the adrenaline still pumping through both of you from the chase now fueled your actions. He licked at the seam of your lips and you happily opened your mouth for his tongue to slip in. Neither of you could get enough of the other as your mouths moved desperately together.  

Arno’s thigh moved between your own and pressed up, forcing you to stand on your toes. Your hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the leather straps as you tried to keep your balance. His mouth moved back to your neck, the teasing movements of before now replaced with heavy kisses as he sucked marks into the skin. Thrills shot down your spine at the action and he worked each part thoroughly. 

His hands squeezed your backside before they began to move. One came up to grip your hair to pull your head back while the other, slowly, slid to the front of your pants and firmly cupped your sex. You couldn’t help the low moan that left your mouth from the contact and the sound echoed down the tunnels. 

“Better be quiet,” Arno teased in your ear, “Wouldn’t want to get caught like this.”

You knew Arno was right but you couldn’t help the small gasps that left your mouth from his actions. You could feel his length hardening from where it was pressed against you and suspected that, despite his warning, those sounds fueled his own arousal. He was purposely trying to draw them out of you, reveling in each echo as he did so. 

“What was that?!” a gruff, but distant voice shouted. Your head snapped in the direction and the unmistakable sound of footsteps began to draw closer and closer. 

“Merde,” Arno cursed against your skin. He grasped your hand and pulled you into a run once more towards the way you had come in. 

Out of the tunnel and into the streets once more, your head swam as your senses were immediately flooded by the bright sunlight and sounds of the crowd. Arno all but dragged you into a side alley, trying to get off the main street as fast as possible and avoid attracting anymore attention to yourselves. You didn’t even try to keep track of where you were going, all your attention focused on not tripping over your own feet. 

Large stones flashed past in your vision as Arno brought you to a small, decrepit looking shed and led you down the stairs and back underground. Out of one tunnel and into another. You were thoroughly lost as he zigzagged through the carved passageways and finally brought you inside a small room. 

It was hardly larger than a kitchen storeroom but you could see the appeal to someone down on their luck as a place to stay—the small chest in the room indicated as such. Besides that, the only things in the room was a frayed blanket and a few discarded wine bottles. 

“There,” Arno stated as he stepped away from securing what looked like a makeshift door. “No one should interrupt us here.”

“Interrupt?” you questioned, and eyebrow raised as Arno sauntered towards you.

“Unless of course you’d rather not continue where we left off and forget the whole thing.” he said, slowly pushing your hood off and cupping your face in his hands. “I, for one, would greatly enjoy hearing more of those delightful sounds you were making,” he rested a thumb on your lip. 

A small spark of indignation flared in your gut. You darted your tongue out to lick at the digit, enjoying the brief flicker of surprise on Arno’s face. “I don’t know how much noise I’ll be able to make with my mouth full,” you drew his thumb into your mouth and sucked on it, feigning an innocent expression and looking at him with large, doeful eyes. 

Arno gasped at the action, but to your dismay quickly regained his composure as his eyes darkened. “I’m afraid we’ll have to save that for another time,” his other hand moved to retrieve something from his pocket, “because I went to the trouble of acquiring this,” he held up a small vial of what appeared to be oil, “and I plan on using it, now.” He withdrew his saliva covered thumb from your mouth and smeared it down your chin. 

“Where did you—?”

“Paperwork wasn’t the only thing I was searching for.” Arno replied with a smirk. The smug bastard had planned this. “Now,” he gave you a wet kiss, “bend over.”

A chill ran down your spine at the command and you quickly complied, turning around and falling to your knees. Arno’s firm hand between your shoulder blades pushed your body down over the chest. You heard him kneel behind you and soon felt him work at your clothes. The end of your coat was pushed up over your back out of the way and your belt and sash quickly discarded before your pants were tugged down to your thighs. The cold air raised goosebumps over your exposed backside immediately. 

A warm hand ran over you appraisingly, lower and lower, working its way between your legs and over your undeniable arousal. You bit your lower lip as it ground against you, once, twice, before disappearing. The protest on your tongue became a gasp as it returned, this time cooler and much wetter, and a finger pressed against you. 

Your body acted on its own as it pressed back, eagerly seeking more contact than a single fingertip. Cheeks burned from the sound of an amused chuckle but you didn’t care. You had wanted this, dreamed about it for so long, that nothing was going to ruin it for you. 

The finger pressed in and you gasped. So little, and yet it felt so good. Hips shifted again until you felt the breach of another digit. 

“So eager,” despite his teasing, Arno sounded a little breathless himself, “go on then.” 

And you did. Not caring how desperate you must look. Not caring that it gave away your hand. Not caring how it gave him full control.

No. All you cared about was the stretch. To work those fingers inside until you were ready for something else. 

You took your time, back and forth, back and forth, grinding onto his hand and taking your pleasure. Back arched and hands pressed onto the surface of the chest for better leverage. It had been too long. Too long since you had felt the touch of another in such intimate places. You wanted to savor it. 

But you also wanted more. 

Soon enough, you were properly fucking yourself against his hand. Head tossed back and breath panting as you reveled in the sensation. Distantly, you heard the clink of metal and shift of clothes, felt the cool metal buckles and scratch of fabric against your backside. 

“P-please,” God, when had your voice become so ruined? “Please, I need more.” 

You whined when instead the fingers were removed and left you grinding against nothing in a desperate search for contact. At any other time you would be ashamed at how easily you had given away control, had let another play you like a puppet on strings. But you didn’t care. All you cared about was the blunt intrusion of Arno’s cock as he finally gave you what you wanted. 

“So tight,” Arno groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest. 

You quivered around him as he gripped your hips in an attempt to keep you still for a moment. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was maddening. Delicious. Torturous. Euphoric. 

Your knuckles were white around the chest’s edge, your entire being suspended on the precipice, lungs tight as the air in the room became stifling. Until it snapped. Until Arno snapped. 

Hips shot forward against your own, knocking you flat against the chest as a rough pace was set. You didn’t care. It was exactly what you wanted, what you had been craving for so long, and you were more than happy to let it happen. 

“Is this what you were thinking about while you stared at me all day?” Arno gasped, “Would you have let me take you then? In front of all those mirrors so you could see just how desperate you were from every angle?” 

“Yes! Gods, Arno, yes. Anything you want.”  

He responded with a particularly hard thrust, as lost as you were. Sweat dripped from him and mingled with your own in your suffocating robes. 

You knew you weren’t going to last much longer, and from the gasps above you neither was Arno. You shifted in order to work your hand between your legs but it was swatted away and replaced with Arno’s own hand, his gloved hand, to work over your aching sex. 

That was it. Your heavy breath became sobs as the sparks that had been flitting under your skin finally ignited. You shrieked, body jerking violently against Arno as your orgasm surged within you. His own body ground to a halt with a deep groan as he spilled inside you. 

The pleasure  smoldered in your veins as you lay panting, sandwiched between the hard chest at your front and Arno’s firm body at your back, but you couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to be. 

“Now,” Arno, breathed against your shoulder, too out of breath to achieve the teasing tone he had adopted earlier, “about your mouth being full?”

Join the taglist!

@agoutighost @nemo-my-name-forevermore

[drainthehero]

Clark joins the wrestling team. Ch 4

The Boy of Steel entered a large room to the raucous noise of a large crowd of people. Clearly they had been building up for his entry as he felt the mood change the moment he entered, and all the occupants tried to work out whether this was truly the powerful and annoying young hero who had been interfering with so many of their plans. Numerous close up shots of his handsome face were broadcast around the rooms many monitors as proof of his identity.

He stood briefly in the doorway wearing the iconic form hugging costume which had so quickly become admired by most and reviled by this small few. A spotlight was trained onto his figure, showing off the bright blue spandex as it clung to his muscular frame and the big red bulging briefs sitting outside his costume. The young hero had chosen this costume to draw the attention of criminals, thereby allowing innocent people to escape their notice. But never had he felt so conspicuous in front of a group. He was made even more aware of the conspicuous nature of his costume due to the semi boner he was still sporting thanks to Tim’s very recent blowjob.

He was led down a short walkway to the wrestling ring which sat in roughly the centre of the room and was met by continued cheering and booing from the crowd. In spite of his difficult situation Superboy composed himself as the hero. He walked with a confident stride and his head held high. The bright red boots of his costume rang out loudly as he walked the short distance, his clearly identifiable red cape fluttering along behind him.

He could see that many in the crowd were openly leering at his beautiful physique, and he tried to ignore the terrible consequences which awaited him if he were to lose this match. He could not help but feel both out of place and vulnerable, standing in his eye-attracting costume and completely devoid of his powers in a room full of criminals and villains.

His opponent was already inside so the Boy of Steel examined him as walked toward the ring. He looked to be around 5’9 with golden blonde hair and a well-built muscular frame. He wore a pair of light blue wrestling briefs in a skimpy bikini style and bands around his biceps which showed them off for the crowd. Superboy could tell the young wrestler had bigger muscles than himself.

The announcement of the match was underway, with Superboy being described to the backdrop of cheering and booing from the crowd. The Boy of Steel was only partially listening due to the fact that his mind was racing for ways to try and escape this situation, before he was facing his opponent – the Bruiser – and staring into his cold and hate-filled green eyes.

When the match started, the two boys paced warily. The Bruiser had the more muscular physique, but Superboy had his greater height plus his imposing heroic stature on his side. They embraced in a grapple with each testing the strength of the other. The Bruiser quickly became confident that the Boy of Steel was without his powers as he realised that they were fairly closely matched.

The Bruiser expertly dropped his body weight and broke the hold before swivelling his body to slam his shoulder into the chest of the unsuspecting hero. Superboy was left a little dazed as he wobbled slightly from the shock. Taking advantage, The Bruiser grabbed a blue spandex clad arm and flung Superboy around and into the corner with force. The young hero hit the corner hard and was left trying to clear his head but too late saw the short stocky wrestler charge forward and slam his body into the prone Boy of Steel, crushing him against the corner post.

“Oooof,” exclaimed the young hero as the air was crushed out of him. He teetered briefly on watery legs, before falling forward to his knees and then landing face down on the canvas.

The Bruiser picked up the cape of the young hero and flung it to the side, exposing the bubble butt within the tight red briefs. He brought his hand down hard on the Ass of Steel, causing both pain and humiliation as Superboy yelped from the sharp pain to his buttocks.

The Bruiser danced around showboating for the crowd, eliciting cheers and calls while allowing Superboy to roll onto his side and quickly get back onto his feet. Seeing an opening, the Boy of Steel lunged in behind the Bruiser, wrapping his arms around the big chest and lifting the shorter wrestler off the ground. He squeezed his arms tightly and was rewarded when The Bruiser thrashed his arms around to escape the move.

Superboy felt his confidence grow and started to shake his opponent around to sap his strength and hopefully end the contest quickly. But the stocky wrestler was heavier than the weakened young hero expected and Superboy lost his footing and fell to the mat, only to have the wind crushed from his lungs when the Bruiser landed directly on top of him.

He quickly recovered, jumping up and flipping the Boy of Steel onto his stomach. He then sat on the broad back of the hero and cupped his hands under the chin, pulling up and arching his back painfully.

“Ungghhh!” cried the Boy of Steel through gritted teeth as he felt the pain of the camel clutch spread across his back and neck, instantly sapping his strength. “Urgghhhhh!” he cried out, feeling as though his back would snap.

The Bruiser knew he was required to keep the match going for a while so he jumped off the muscular back after a brief stint. Standing alongside Superboy he reached down to grab a fistful of wavy black hair. The Boy of Steel had no choice but to drag his sore body off the mat as his head was pulled up painfully.

The Bruiser let go of the hair, leaving Superboy standing on unsteady feet before he was dragged by the back of the neck over to the corner where the Bruiser slammed the young hero’s head hard into the padded turnbuckle. Superboy could not even react before the Bruiser grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his head for a second time into the padding.

The Bruiser released his grip and Superboy fell to the mat on his back like a wet sack, wild screams and applause the only sound he could hear through the ringing in his ears. He groaned weakly as his arms and legs spasmed weakly from the repeated abuse to his body.

“Well look at this,” came the voice of the announcer. “The Bruiser has managed to easily overpower the Boy of Steel and is throwing him around the ring like a sack of potatoes.” He paused to let the crowd work themselves up as the Bruiser stood over Superboy menacingly, throwing a questioning look to the audience.

Sensing his query they started chanting “more, more”. The Bruiser was happy to give them what they wanted, reaching down to once again grab the Boy of Steel by his hair and pull him up off the mat.

Superboy found himself at the mercy of the experienced wrestler. He was slammed, pummelled, driven and thrown to all sides of the ring. When the Bruiser held Superboy high above the ground by his neck the crowd went into a new frenzy.

The young hero’s bright red booted feet dangled above the mat as he clawed at the hand around his neck. But the combination of his ordeal and the kryptonite cockring made him completely helpless in that iron grip. As the Bruiser held the hero up the crowd began to chant, “down, down, down”, building in fervour until it seemed the walls themselves shook.

A big smile finally crossed the wrestlers’ face and he arced his muscular arm around and down, pounding the Boy of Steel into the mat so hard that his body bounced once before settling and staying still. The announcer continued to call the match, describing the pain being inflicted by the Bruiser, keeping the crowd in a frenzy.

Superboy was dazed and out of it, but he now just hoped he would get pinned so this nightmare could end. The humiliation and punishment of defeat seemed a welcome compromise at this point.

The Bruiser once more pulled Superboy up, leaving him to waver unsteadily on legs that felt like water. “Oh ho, what’s this,” called the announcer, seeming to know what was coming. “Looks like a test of strength.” As he spoke the young wrestle grasped the hands of Superboy and dragged them up over their heads between them. “The brawny muscles of the Bruiser against the Boy of Steel himself!”

Even though this was clearly not a fair contest, the crowd lapped it up, eager to watch the young boyscout get bested once more.

Superboy realised the situation and felt his instincts kick in, not realising the Bruiser was baiting him by holding back. The hero attempted to use his greater height to his advantage and pushed back and down, trying to topple the shorter wrestler backward. The Bruiser, however, was merely goading Superboy and allowed himself to fall back but as he did brought his booted foot up to connect with the squishy contents of Superboy’s bright red briefs.

“Arrghhh!” cried out the Boy of Steel as he quickly released the hold on his opponent to make a now useless attempt to protect his balls, dropping to the mat on his knees and grabbing at his tortured balls.

The cheering of the crowd rang in his ears as they enjoyed the spectacle of their hated foe being taken down by such a low blow.

“Oooooh,” called out the announcer with mock concern dripping from his voice. “I think I heard those Balls of Steel crunch under that booted foot from up here.” This drove the crowd even more wild as The Bruiser regained his feet and stood over the hunched figure of Superboy.

Reaching down he grabbed a handful of the hero’s hair and dragged him over to the side of the ring. While the hero was still dazed from the numbing shot to his balls, The Bruiser quickly wound the top two ropes around Superboy’s outstretched arms, pinning him helplessly.

The Boy of Steel quickly realised his predicament and thrashed around in a futile attempt to break free. The frenzy of the crowd rose as they watched the boy struggle and their excitement continued to build.

The crystal blue eyes of the young hero widened as he searched his opponents face for mercy. “Please… no,” he implored. But The Bruiser just grinned with enjoyment of the sight of the pinned cocky young hero and brought his fist back before swinging forward and landing right in the exposed gut of the Teen of Steel.

“Bfhoooofff,” exclaimed Superboy as he felt the blow crush against his 8-pack abs and force all the air from his body. His body was pushed back against the lower rope briefly before being thrust back with elastic pressure. The Bruiser met that motion with a second punch delivered back into the Abs of Steel, causing the young hero to cough and splutter as he continued to thrash weakly in his rope prison.

Superboy raised his head and waited for his bleary focus to clear, only to be rewarded with repeated blows into the abs that were once a wall of steel. Pound, pound, pound came the repeated bashing as the treatment continued. The abuse on his bruised and tortured abdominals was too great and he cried out from the pain in spite of himself.

Finally the pounding on his abused stomach abated, leaving the Boy of Steel panting heavily as he tried to regain his composure. He felt the tightness of his costume which was now blotched by sweat stains.

The young hero was not allowed any respite though as The Bruiser reached behind him and wrapped the proud red cape around one arm, using his other hand to grab a chunk of hair and lift clear the head of the Boy of Steel. Sensing what was coming Superboy was helpless to protect his neck as The Bruiser wrapped the cape around the exposed neck of Superboy and pulled it tight to restrict the flow of air. He was careful to not make it too tight, wanting to ensure the boy experienced the full feeling of his humiliating defeat.

Superboy could only sputter as he writhed helplessly in the hold of the ropes, feeling the tightness around his neck as he breathing was restricted.

“Whoa!” exclaimed the announcer, “the young hero is now being choked by the very cape he wears when he swoops in where he is never wanted! No swooping today though, Boy of Steel!”

The pitch of the crowd rose again as they watched the heroic muscle stud writhing under the control of the powerful Bruiser. Superboy heard the crowd starting a fresh chant as – unseen by the young hero – the Bruiser brought his free hand to hover menacingly over the exposed red bulge. The chanting reached a fever pitch while Superboy struggled for breath and the wrestlers hand continued to threaten that big exposed bulge.

“Aiieeeeeeeeee,” screamed Superboy in pain as he felt the powerful hand of his opponent grab his balls through his briefs and take them both into its grip. The Bruiser then squeezed that hand forcing the two squishy testicles to be crushed against each other.

Video of the match was being broadcast on screens around the room, and these switched to a closeup of the crushing hand with an inset picture of the handsome young face of the hero, contorted in pain with his mouth opened in a scream.

The Boy of Steel felt tears well in his eyes as the unforgiving pressure was maintained on his vulnerable jewels. “Arrrghhhh! Aaaieeeee” he screamed in a high pitch as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. He struggled and wriggled desperately to try and free his arms but the ropes held him firmly in place as his balls were crushed relentlessly.

The Bruiser was not satisfied however and squeezed his fist tighter as he pulled his hand away from Superboy’s hips, stretching the sack painfully as the briefs were also stretched. The young hero cried out from the new pain as his nuts were crushed further while his sack was stretched away from his body. Superboy’s back arched upward to move his groin but was prevented by his shoulders pinned to the ropes.

The crowd was clearly enjoying the spectacle of the defeat of the Boy of Steel. The frenzy of their cries and cheers was now almost deafening as hundreds of eyes were glued to the scene up on the mat.

The Bruiser fed on their energy and pulled harder on the Balls of Steel. “What’s wrong Superboy, having trouble flying?” he taunted. “Let me help you get your feet off the ground,” he chuckled as he pulled harder and finally lifted the shiny red boots free of the canvas mat.

The crowd cheered as one was the Boy of Steel was lifted clear off the mat, watching with admiration as his body arched gracefully over the wrestling ring, his shoulders trapped by the ropes while his bright red briefs and hidden sack stretched within tight grip of The Bruiser.

With much of his body weight supported by his painfully stretched ballsack and crushed together testicles, Superboy let out a blood curdling shriek which was met by a chorus of jeering from the crowd.

The Bruiser had been promised a great reward if he bested the Boy of Steel and he decided it was finally time to put the kid out of his misery and pillage that tight hero ass. He grabbed the balls with both hands and pulled with all his might.

Superboy screamed in pain as the crushing and stretching increased. For what felt like an eternity to the young hero his body was pulled and punished between the unrelenting ropes and crushing grip of the Bruiser. Finally the ropes yielded and Superboy felt himself fly free of the ropes, sailing through the air and crashing to the mat on his back, practically unconscious.

“Watch out everyone,” called the announcer with a chuckle. “Superboy is flying, maybe he does have his powers after all!”

The Boy of Steel lay groaning on the mat, unable to move. The proud red cape was strewn out to his side and his arms and legs were spread out and away from his body. The mighty muscled chest was the only thing to be seen moving as he desperately drew in air. The once firm and proud Bulge of Steel now looked abused and misshapen within the red briefs, clearly visible above the outline of the hero’s flat muscular stomach.

The Bruiser moved in for his glorious victory. He straddled the chest of the Boy of Steel and slid himself forward so that his bikini clad bulge was right on the open mouth of Superboy. The Bruiser even took his semi hard bulge and shoved it into the open mouth, causing a new round of raucous screaming from the crowd as they relished his humilation. This continued as the Bruiser repositioned himself and thrust his hips up and down, causing the bulge to fuck the mouth of the Boy of Steel as he lay barely conscious.

The Bruiser once more sat astride the Chest of Steel and the digital referee began a three count, but The Bruiser, keen to milk this moment, lifted himself from the mighty chest right before the final count. Instead, he assumed a pushup position over the barely conscious form of Superboy with his blue bulge right above the open mouth.

The crowd cheered wildly as The Bruiser completed a set of ten pushups, ensuring his bulge filled the mouth of the Boy of Steel for a full ten seconds on each completion of the lower position. Superboy was physically exhausted and could think of nothing more than the pain in his arms, shoulders, gut and balls. So he lay under the Bruiser, forced to taste the sweat dripping from the bulge of his wrestling bikini as it was forced and held in his open mouth during the pushup set.

The Bruiser finished the set and stood over the Boy of Steel. He brought his powerful biceps up in a full flex for the crowd as he placed his booted foot on the S Shielded chest of Superboy.

The crowd cheered in time with the final ringing of the bell. Once. Twice…

Superboy braced himself and shifted his weight to escape the boot on his chest and break the pin. But as he did all the lights and screens flickered off, plunging the room into total darkness. The Boy of Steel finally gave himself up to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, barely noticing that the room was now filled with emergency lighting and the sound of alarms blaring.

He vaguely felt the sensation as his body was lifted like a sack and carried out of the ring.

[funfunfuntillmydaddy]

Few things are better in life than the feeling of a bare cock cumming in my pussy.

Of course some guys are a bit shy when it comes to sex and fucking a girl bareback. While not common for me, especially when I’m enticing them to cheat on their girlfriends with me, every once in a while a guy insists.

And that’s what happened with Eric. Eric was one of my ‘friends’ boyfriend. They had been together for ages. He was cute but a bit shy and a bit geeky. But he had all the right attributes for me, a cute face and big hands.

What also made him adorable was how loyal he was to Hannah. My flirting can be both persistent and pretty obvious. After over a year of trying to get his attention and have some fun with him.

I was almost going to give up until one night I found myself out with a bunch of our friends including him, but not Hannah. We had started early in a bar and it had all the hallmarks of one of those marathon, multi venue nights. I locked my sights on him and made sure the guys around him kept him well lubricated with alcohol

Luckily I had dressed for the occasion with a short leather skirt and a tight white top that was just a little see thru to my lace bra.

When darkness hit and we ended up in a dance club I started my campaign in earnest. Being the shy type that he was, dancing wasn’t too much his thing. So I had to drag him on to the floor along with some others in the group.

I’m of course I woman of restraint and patience so I didn’t launch straight into the bump and grind. But I did dance with him and around him so he could get used to it. His nervousness was palpable.

Fast forward a few hours, a few venues and quite a few drinks and we ended up in one of those clubs oozing sex and all sorts of natural and synthetic chemicals. We had lost quite a few from the group. But the hardcore remained. Eric and I had become one night drunken soulmates as we took turns helping each other navigate the treacherous drunken journeys faced by any seriously intrepid bar hopper.

And now the dancing was not restrained at all. We were not just touching, we were pressed into each other. His hands were glued to my hips as I pressed one way, when spun around and pressed back into him the other. I could feel his excitement. I could feel his stiff cock. We went on and on. The dancing getting more intense and his poor balls getting bluer.

When the last ones in our group called it a night and it was just us, I decided it was time to take this to the next level. I told him we should go. He was a little surprised it was so late and it was just us. So I said we should catch one cab and since I was closer, he could drop me off first and then head home. Of course that not what I actually thought.

We found a conveniently dodgy looking taxi and climbed in. As we set off, I gave the driver a flirty look and asked if he could turn the music up. He looked back at me and grinning turned up the dance station he had on.

I told Eric that I still felt like dancing and kinda wished we were back in the club. As soon as he nodded in agreement, I shuffled over to him before I moved up and sat on his lap. I moaned softly as I felt his semi hard cock under me. Then I squirmed to the music as I rubbed myself over his lap. Similar to the club but just with some different geometry.

I saw the taxi drivers eyes in the rear view mirror and I smiled to myself. Unfortunately, of course, the change in position caused my short skirt to ride up. But not quite fully. So I helped it along with some subtle sweeps of my hands. Suddenly my skirt was totally on my hips. My ass framed by a black lace thong on display for Eric.

My face turned on an even more wicked smirk when I felt Eric’s hands move to my hips and then down to my sides, touching at least some my bare ass cheeks.

We continued for another few blocks till we got to my apartment. Now it was crunch time. I told him this area was a bit dodgy and would he mind seeing me to the door. Or he could come up and sleep on the couch if he didn’t wanna waste money on taking the cab across town, reminding him Hannah was out of state with her family.

He was all hesitant and nervous. So sweet but he couldn’t not walk with me the short distance so he went to get out and I quickly gave the driver$20 and as Eric was out the door, told him to scram. He just laughed as I got myself out and repositioned my skirt.

As we walked the short distance through the front of the building, the taxi screamed off as the driver tooted his horn. I smirked at Eric as I said it looked like he was staying here now. Of course I had no intention of him sleeping on my couch. So I decided to ramp it all up right from there.

As we stood at the entrance of my building I leaned in to him and grabbed the front of his shirt pulling him down to me as I gave him a hard kiss. He pulled back slightly but then o could feel his urges take over as he leaned in. I let my tongue dance in his mouth as the sloppy and slutty kissing continued.

After a good moment or two of this, I broke away before taking his hand and pulling him into the mid sized apartment complex. As we waited for the lift and the kissing continued. The size and layout of the complex meant it was unusual to run into other people especially at this time of night. So with the assumption of privacy I gave him a big grin as the doors closed. We only had 9 floors to go but I still managed to get to my knees and unbuckle his jeans, pull his cock from his underwear and start sucking before the doors opened.

He tried to pull away at first but was already against the wall. By the time the doors were opening though, his hands were on the back of my head, encouraging his cock into my mouth. With no urgency at all as the lift shows no sign of moving I kept sucking his cock. But then the doors closed and the lift travelled back down. As it slowed I hurriedly put his cock away while I stood up and fixed myself up.

The doors opened and a couple walked in, surprised to see us there. I smiled back at them as I pressed back into Eric. Subtext reaching behind to feel his hardness. Through his still unbuckled jeans. This time we did get out on the 9th floor as our fellow travellers continued on.

I spun around and laughed as I lead Eric to my apartment. Eric’s face looked embarrassed but he showed no sign of retreat. So I continued my assault on his morals and I lifted up my skirt again so it was back over my hips. Then as I got to my door I reached behind me and pulled him into me. I grinded back into him, unlocking the door with one hand and and pulling his cock back out with the other.

We tumbled through the door into the small apartment. The couch was right in front of us. I turned to him and offered him the couch and then after a silent pause and a wicked grin, I offered an alternative.

Adorably, he told me the couch was fine. But I just smirked as I leaned back into him and meet his mouth as we kissed. I whispered into his ear that his cock is going feel so good when it’s in my pussy. He let out an groan and then I grabbed his hand and led him to my bedroom.

Once in there I pulled his jeans all the way down, pulling his boots off and helping him out of his jeans. Then I lifted the shirt up to help him remove it. Now he was completely naked and I admired his toned body with better muscle definition than I was expecting and a nice hard cock pointing out in front.

I feel back on the bed and gave him a wink as I pulled my thong to the side. That when he killed the mood and asked if I had a condom.

That’s killed the mood in the past, but I was committed to having fun with Eric so I took it in my stride. I told him he didn’t have to cause I was on the pill but like a good little boy he insisted.

So I went into my bathroom and returned with a condom. It wasn’t something I used that often. In fact this one had expired and was also a medium sized which I didn’t think was gonna work for him. Of course, I had a pack of large ones that were brand new in my cabinet, but Eric didn’t need to know that.

I sat on the bed in front of him as I removed the condom from the wrapper and placed it over his stiff cock. I struggled to get the condom stretched over his impressive size and I could tell it was already dry and brittle. But I managed to get it two thirds of the way over his cock.

Once I begrudgingly wrapped it up I pulled him on to the bed and on his back. I straddled him and lined up my dripping pussy with the head of his cock. I lock eyes with him as I lower myself down onto him. Both of us moan as the tension of the night now focuses on his cock and my pussy. I lift up and then push down. I keep going, quickening the pace and increasing the intensity.

I keep going harder to the point where the bed starts to creak and groan. Eric’s hands make their way to my breast through my top. I pull it off to let him have a more sensory experience as I keep fucking him. He pulls my bra down exposing my breasts allowing him to aggressively fondle them.

Our combined moaning continues to crescendo as I keep fucking him. Every once and a while checking the condom to see if it has given up yet. Alas, it holds on.

Eric is getting more and more into it now. Being very active in the fucking as he thrusts his hips up to meet me. I can feel him trying to reposition himself. So I pause my assault briefly.

He moves out from under me and roughly pushes me on my back. He quickly gets in between me and puts my ankles over his shoulders. He drives his cock deep inside me and instantly restarts the hard fucking in our new position. He keeps going and going. Now his assault on my pussy becomes relentless.

His stamina holds and his nice big cock gets me close to cumming. I’m moaning in ecstasy. As he slams into me as hard as ever, I feel something different. I move my hand to the base of his cock as it slams into me to confirm. Sure enough a broken condom is now bunched up at the base of his cock. It rubs against my lips as he drives his bare cock into me. A broad smile comes across my face as a guttural moan escapes me.

I look my legs around his waist keeping him against me. I tell him that I think the condom has broke but that I’m so close to cumming I plead with him to keep going.

I see the flash of fear on his face as I tell him. He slows briefly but my pleads and moans convince him to keep going. I’m so close to cumming but need a bit more from him. My breathing is so ragged and my moaning intense. I can sense he is close to. I squeeze my pelvic muscles as much as possible to clamp his cock. He starts grunting and I feel his cock swell. I plead with him to keep fucking me and he does, with more intensity than ever. He grunts and groans loudly. We are both totally entranced.

I scream obscenities as I go over the edge. Then i feel him slam deep inside me and hold it there. My orgasm floods my body as I feel him empty himself directly into my unprotected pussy. I look at his face and smile as I see the annalistic pleasure travel through him.

We hold it there for a few moments before he pulls out and collapses next to me.

........

As the light comes into my room, I slowly open my eyes. It must be mid morning. I feel Eric spooning me and I feel his cock pressing into my ass. I’m still wearing my skirt around my hubs and my bra only slightly higher up around my waist.

I get up trying not to disturb him and go and have a shower.

I’m a little bit nervous about what his more sober and stress relieved attitude will be. I decide a cooked breakfast might help him process it and recover. So I put on a short bath robe and go to the kitchen to make breakfast.

A short while later he emerges from the bedroom wearing his boxer shorts, looking sheepish. I smile at him and tell him I’ve got some bacon on the go. He walks over and stands behind me telling me how good it smells. Then he presses his body into mine.

20 seconds later he has me bent over the kitchen bench. His bare cock driving into my unprotected pussy. I smile to myself through my moaning and groaning

[bestofbucky]

Run To You - 1

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Mob AU. Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard.

Warnings: None

A/N: This is going to be a series so comment or send an ask if you want to be tagged in it! 18+ Only please. Hope you enjoy

From this prompt list by @caplanbuckybarnes . Prompts are in bold.

Divider and gif made by me.

Series Masterlist

Your fingers work quickly, manipulating the fabric. Around, over, through. Tying a tie is still second nature, you don’t even have to think about what your hands are doing. You do up the button of the jacket and brush yourself off, straightening out any little creases.

Looking at the woman in the mirror you sigh. You haven’t seen yourself like this for three years. You had sworn off suits for all eternity yet here you are, putting one on again.

You felt torn, your mind telling you getting back into being a bodyguard would just open the floodgates but your heart couldn’t let it go. You loved the adrenaline that came with it, the ability to focus solely on the protection of someone rather than the struggles life and the shit it throws at you. You told yourself you had to at least take the interview, you owed it to Sam.

You met Sam two years ago, when you attended a group therapy session at the VA. You hadn’t wanted to go but after your first session you found yourself going back. You never spoke but your military and personal security past gave you plenty of trauma to relate to the people who did share their stories. Then one session Sam had approached you and you very quickly bonded.

You went from seeing each other once a week in the sessions, to seeing each other almost every day. Movie nights, cooking for each other and talking out of your asses became routine. You were in a dark place in your life when you met Sam but his friendship quickly became a very strong reason for you to continue enduring life.

You chuckled to yourself remembering the shock you felt when he told you he was not only part of a mob, he was one of the mob boss’ second hand men. He told you stories of the two other men at the top of the pack. Bucky, the leader, gets on Sam’s nerves a lot but deep down they really care for each other and Steve, the other second hand man and according to Sam ‘even more of an idiot than Bucky’. The way he talked about them made it sound like they were just really good friends, basically family, not dangerous criminals.

Taking a deep breath you take one last look in the mirror and head to the address Sam had given you. The journey was quick and before you knew it you were sat in the lobby of a very fancy building waiting for Sam to come and get you.

After a brief catch up, Sam guides you to Bucky’s office, giving you a thumbs up before closing the door behind you leaving the two of you alone. Bucky doesn’t look up from whatever work he is doing. You wait but this goes on past the point of being rude.

“Sir?” His head snaps up at your voice, eyes trailing up and down your body not being subtle at all. He scoffs and goes back to his work.

“Excuse me? I’m here for the bodyguard interview?” You don’t have the patience to go along with whatever game he is playing.

“Interview? You’re mistaken. Sam told me to take this appointment so you can pitch me the idea of having a bodyguard. Personally, I don’t think I need one.” He says bluntly still focused on his work.

You laugh out loud but quickly stop yourself when you catch the death glare he gives you.

“Something funny?” He scowls, clearly not happy with the dynamics in the room.

“Yeah, the fact you think you don’t need a bodyguard.” You say frankly.

“I’ve survived this long without a bodyguard. What makes you assume I need one now?” He smirks thinking he caught you off guard.

“Since the time I entered this building I have already found five simple ways to kill you and not get caught.” You cross your arms over your body not letting him intimidate you.

“Ok, you have my attention. Name them.” He challenges leaning back in his chair.

“One, the building over there,” you point out the window and he turns to look, “someone could take you out with a sniper and you’d have a bullet in your head before you could blink. Two, you only have one entrance and exit to the parking garage, someone could easily tail you and cause a little accident.” His calm and collected demeanour starts to fade as he realises the truth behind your words so you continue. “Your packages aren’t checked, anyone could mail anything to you and as soon as you open it, it could explode or release a toxic gas, dead in seconds. The roof of this building is close enough to the one next door, someone could sneak in from there and you have no guards there to stop them.” You stop talking as he stands up chuckling to himself.

Buttoning his suit jacket he crosses the room to you. He is a lot taller than he looked from being sat behind the desk. You can see his bulging muscles even from under his suit and you can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath his clothes.

You notice one of his hands looks like he is wearing a black glove but when he walks across the window it catches the light in a way a glove wouldn’t. You realise it's probably a metal prosthetic, drawing your eyes away from his arm you focus on his face. His sharp cheekbones act as an arrow directing your eyes to his lips.

“That’s only four.” He smirks down at you, his body is close enough for you to smell his cologne but you don’t let his attractiveness throw you. Pulling a knife out of a hidden holster in your suit you hold it up, the blade reflecting the light.

“Five, me. Your guards aren’t very thorough with their weapon search.” You wink at him as you see his eyebrow twitch slightly and the smirk disappear from his face. He takes a few steps backwards and leans on his desk.

“I’d like to see you try to kill me with that.” He is smiling but the slight crease in between his brows, the small amount of sweat on his forehead and the minuscule increase in breathing tells you he has been caught off guard.

“Don’t underestimate me.” Your eyes meet his, neither one of you willing to stand down. You’re not sure how much longer it is when he finally clears his throat and you both look away from each other.

“Fine. You’re hired, but you’re on a probationary period. I can and will fire you if you give me a reason to.” He narrows his eyes at you. You simply nod in response. “I need to finish up here then I will take you to our main base.”

Next Part

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