#biceps with resistance band

[musclexfit]

Resistance band bicep workout at home

[fitnessmantram]

Bicep Curls At Home || Bicep Curls Workout || Bicep Exercise || #shorts ...

Typically, a bicep curl begins with the arm fully extended and a supinated (palms facing up) grip on a weight. To perform a full repetition, bend the elbow or "curl" it until it is fully flexed, and then slowly lower the weight back to the starting position.

Read More : The Ultimate Guide to Reverse Hack Squat

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men doing the bicep trend. Their s/o will tie a pink string on their bicep and once they flex it’ll break off!!!

Doing the ribbon around biceps trend with JJK men

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Nanami x wife!reader; Toji x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: Tying a ribbon around your boo's biceps and watching how they flex it off? Hell yeah.

Notes: not proofread, Sukuna's part is a little short because I wanted to get this out today, I'll have my knee surgery tomorrow so sorry for ignoring your comments and messages, I'll get back to you when life gets a little easier lol, totally love and appreciate your interactions, I hope you have fun with this!

Gojo Satoru

„Come here babe, I need to show ya something real quick.”

You can’t help but yawn, annoyance dripping from every pore. Oh, your boyfriend is definitely too fit for the fact that it’s still dark outside. What time is it? If he woke you over a strange video he saw on TikTok again…

“Can’t this wait like…4 hours longer?”, you try to resist his urgent wish, shielding your tired eyes from the harsh light of the lamp above.

“I might forget until then. Hey, do you have like a band or something lying around in the bathroom?”

A…band? Your eyes dart towards him, nothing but sheer excitement written on his face. What on earth is Satoru up to now?

“My pink dress has a satin band around the waist I guess”, you mutter.

Maybe this is all he wants. Yes, he just grabs the satin band and goes straight back to sleep-

“Thank you babe!”, he shouts over his shoulder while opening your wardrobe with so much enthusiasm that the door almost falls out of it.

You flinch, rubbing your temple in a desperate attempt to keep yourself together. You love your boyfriend with all your heart, appreciate this childish side of him more than anyone else. But not when you have an important mission tomorrow and had maybe 2 hours of sleep…

“This better be something important, Satoru”, you mumble through your fingers, a sigh escaping your lips.

“Okay babe, ready to see something really big?”

“I swear if you slap your d-“

“Look at me!”

His insisting tone forces you to remove your hand from your face. There he stands, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers paired with a tight black shirt.

And a pink ribbon wrapped around his biceps tightly.

“Now watch.”

With one flex of his veiny biceps, the ribbon opens itself, your pink satin band falling to the floor while he looks at you expectant.

“I have one question”, you begin, eyes still resting on his delicious arm.

“Go ahead babe.”

“How on earth did you tie that ribbon yourself?”

He opens his mouth, nothing but pure outrage written on his face.

“Is this really everything you’re thinking about!? I just gifted you my strong arm!”, he barks overdramatically at you.

“You’re the best present ever”, you purr at your fuming boyfriend, gently stroking his arm when he finally gets back into bed.

“But if you wake me over something like that ever again, I’ll murder you.”

Nanami Kento

“Why are you looking at me with those eyes, darling?”

You blush immediately, the day dream of that trend you saw earlier on your beloved husband not leaving your mind. Kento with a bow around his strong arm. Kento flexing his arm in front of you, causing the ribbon to open up.

…Just like your legs.

“You’re daydreaming again.”

You force yourself to look up at him only to find out that he’s already looking at you, soft eyes lightened by a spark of curiosity.

“It’s just…I saw that trend online and it kinda…reminded me of you…”, you mutter, embarrassment crawling up your veins.

You’re acting like a horny teenager over a man you call your husband for several years by now. Kento is the epitome of a gentleman, the most elegant male being walking on this earth. How stupid to even consider wrapping a ribbon around his biceps…

“Don’t be embarrassed, (y/n). Tell me what’s on your mind. What exactly is this trend about?”

He puts the paper he was reading aside and wraps his fingers gently around your chin, slowly but surely making you lose your mind. It should be forbidden for a single man to be this captivating. Should you…Just tell him? Your imagination runs wild, breath getting stuck in your throat by the simple thought of him actually doing this…

“Tying a ribbon around your biceps and opening it by tensing your arm”, you blurt out.

His eyes widen just the slightest. Oh no, does he think you’re weird, desperate, pathetic? You should really stop roaming around social media late at night-

“Why not trying it, then? Even though I don’t think I’m strong enough to untie a ribbon with my muscles.”

Wait…Did he really say yes? You blink over and over to make sure he’s not messing with you until he gets up and grabs a roll of ribbon from your cabinet before cutting off more than enough of the black band. Before you fully realize what just happened he takes off his dark blue shirt, naked skin getting exposed to the dim light of the room.

And your merciless gaze.

“Would you mind helping me out? I can’t tie a bow on my own with just one hand, darling.”

You force your mouth to stay closed, keep your palms from getting sweaty. This is your husband, goddamn.

Your husband, wearing nothing but his work pants. Your husband, holding up a black band, waiting for you to wrap it around his strong arm only because you couldn’t stop imagine him doing a stupid internet trend. Out of instinct, you follow the invitation of his stretched-out hand, fingertips pulsating against his firm muscles while you tie a perfect little bow.

Until he flexes his muscles, forcing the band to untie itself in slow motion. His beefy arm, veins threaten to pop open any given minute. How is it possible for a man to be in this shape when relaxed? Your gaze is fixated on his delicious sight in front of you – so focused that you don’t notice his other hand grabbing your chin before it’s too late.

“It seems like you’re enjoying the view”, he comments softly.

“Just because you are the view, Kento”, you clarify with a small smile, allowing him to drag you into his strong arms.

Toji Fushiguro

“You want me to do what?”

You grab his arm tightly, doe eyes making it hard for none other than Toji Fushiguro to focus. What did you see on the internet again? “Ribbon around bicep”…What the hell?

“I want you to tie a pink ribbon around your bicep and pop it open with your beefy muscles”, you explain briefly.

“Come on babe. Why can’t I just wrap my hand around ya neck instead?”

“Tempting”, you purr, finger gliding over his firm chest delicately slow.

“But you’re the perfect match for that trend. Now sit your ass down and gimme your arm.”

Just before Toji is even able to press his longing lips against yours, you shove him onto the couch and position yourself on top of him, pink ribbon dangling from your fingertips.

“C’mon (y/n)”, he groans, pouting like a little child when you slap the hand that tried to dig into your butt away.

“Hold still. I need to concentrate”, you instruct him.

“Promise we’ll fu-“

“DONE!”, you scream out, the sheer excitement radiating from your voice making him stop mid-sentence.

His eyes follow your gaze, revealing a wonky-looking bow tied around his biceps so firmly that it might burst any minute.

“And now you want me to do what?”, he questions.

It’s hard to keep himself from smiling when you sit in front of him grinning like an idiot. Is that really all it takes? A fucking ribbon wrapped around his biceps? What a strange thing you are.

But still…

You look so breathtakingly gorgeous that he can’t keep up his annoyed façade.

“Flex your muscles babe!”, you instruct him, index finger poking into his biceps.

Fine, he’ll do you the favour. Slowly, he lifts up his arm before popping open the bow with ease, watching the shocked expression on your face.

“That trend was totally made for you, Toji!”, you shriek, your eyes still fixated on his arm.

“Let’s do that again.”

“I know something better.”

All it takes is a swift motion for you to lay underneath him, your hot breath escaping your lips in shock.

“I’m next, babe”, he breathes out.

Bonus: Sukuna

“Why did I even agree to do this…”, the king of curses mumbles while you’re busy tying another ribbon around his arm.

“Hold still, I’m not done yet.”

“You already tied this one three times, (y/n). I’m getting impatient.”

“Oh, I know you don’t. Deep down you enjoy me caressing your arm”, you reply with a cheeky grin, carefully forming another bow around his fourth arm.

Tying a bow around a single arm already sounding inviting, but the stinging fact that your lover has not only two but four arms to offer for this delicious trend…There was no way in hell for you to resist this opportunity.

“Really deep down”, he grumbles.

“I’m done. Now stand still and don’t move until I say so”, you bark at him while taking a few steps back.

“Watch how you talk to me or I’ll-“

“Shut up Sukuna, your threats don’t work for me. Okay, flex your muscles in three, two, one…”

Out of instinct, he lifts up his four arms and pops open every ribbon you tied so laborious these pasts minutes. Damn, he really feels like an idiot, standing in front of you shirtless with pink ribbons falling from his arms. But that look on your face, the way you clap your hands in sheer excitement, that phone…Wait.

“Did you film this, brat?”

You blink a few times, the smile on your face disappearing as fast as it came.

“Maybe I did”, you reply, quickly turning on your heels and sprinting away.

“Delete that right now!”

“I will watch this every time I go to bed!”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru @starlightanyaaa

[workoutsholic]

Resistance Band Bicep Workout at Home ‖ FULL WORKOUT

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 8/12)

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie is bad with words

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, moreee jealous!eddie, mentions of piercings, smut, King James III, flirting, tension tension tension, and eddie being... idk, here u go <3

word count: 6.2k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“A date?”

The room has kicked into an orderly chaos compared to how it was just seconds ago. Richie is rallying the boys out of the room, an assistant is walking through with a trash bag to clean up the disastrous aftermath of pre-show rituals, and James is looking at you like you both have all the time in the world.

“Yeah, I mean… we don’t have to call it a date,” he shrugs, “we can just… hang out, maybe? Grab a bite to eat, maybe? Whatever you want.”

And oh god, Eddie was right.

And fuck— Eddie.

You scan the room for any sign of Eddie, but you find none, just the remains of smoke in the air and an irritated assistant picking up sticky bottles.

James’ hand has dropped from your waist, and his fingertips now lightly dance across the back of your hand, slinking around to grasp two of your fingers and give a light squeeze. Your heart races, eyes snapping back to his kind gaze. “Oh, um… okay, yeah.” You nod.

James smiles and tells you he’ll be out in the crowd with you in a little bit, and you nod before making your way out of the room. 

You said yes.

You said yes to James’ date, and honestly, a small part of you is excited because, god, it’s been such a long time since you’ve been on a date.

It’s hard to find time to date when you’re busy jumping from band to band, writing articles and music reviews, and still, somehow, managing to balance your own home life.

However, you were also under the impression that you and James had more of a friendship than anything romantic, so a bigger part of you is shocked (and slightly annoyed that Eddie managed to catch onto it before you did).

And then there’s that feeling. That tiny feeling in the corner of your mind that just wishes it was Eddie who had asked you. It’s a small feeling, yes, but it has a loud voice, and you find yourself growing irritated that you’re even thinking about Eddie when he only ever made things difficult.

But is it wrong to want somebody who doesn’t know what they want for themselves? Is it wrong to want someone who can’t even bring themselves to look you in the eye and be honest for one minute?

Because it’s no secret, the chemistry brewing between you and Eddie, from the moment you met, there was an obvious attraction, and the only thing that got in the way of that was Eddie’s aversion towards your job— which is beyond your control. 

And though there’s obviously a sexual attraction between you both, you can’t seem to deny the emotional connection you also share— because you and Eddie are more alike than what meets the eye.

Clearly, you both share a love for music, but you also grew up with similar experiences— from being teased for being and liking different things than your peers to having your heart broken by who you imagined would be your forever person.

God, why are you thinking about Eddie when you’ve just scored a date with James? 

You’re not paying attention when you step out of the dressing room, so you’re shocked and slightly spooked when you feel a hand wrapping around your bicep and tugging you off to the side of the door.

It’s Eddie; you know it’s Eddie because you’ve become an expert at depicting Eddie’s scent, and right now, you’re drowning in him. 

Eddie’s eyes are sharp and angry with a chilling undertone of something you can’t quite pinpoint. Fear? Jealousy? Resistance?

“Not into each other, huh?”

You blink at Eddie, still trying to find your way through the daze of events you’ve just gone through, and your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, “Oh, for fucks sake, Eddie. Are you serious—” “You can’t stand here and lie to me when I just witnessed whatever the fuck that was in there.” He gestures to the wall beside you, the wall that separates you and Eddie from James.

“It wasn’t anything.” You lie. 

Eddie doesn’t buy it, however, because he’s leaning in closer, alcohol and mint-coated breath fanning across your face as he calmly asks, “Then what did he say?”

You shake your head, dizzy with his proximity and the fear that James could walk out any second and see you and Eddie practically pressed against each other and misread the situation— because even though you may not precisely like James romantically, you still care for him, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

How will you let him down easily after the date, then? What if the date goes well, and James thinks you’re more interested in him than you actually are? This is a mess, and your mind is a whirlwind of things you shouldn’t have done.

You blink through the haze once again, “Huh?”

Eddie’s jaw ticks, “What did he say to you? You looked shocked; what’d he say?”

Oh god, Eddie saw that? You thought he’d maybe have gotten bored of watching, and now you wish Richie had bursted through the doors just a few seconds earlier. And why do you even care? Why do you care that Eddie saw or what his reaction might be if you tell him the truth? 

Your heart is racing, and Eddie’s eyes are beautiful, and he’s still holding your arm, and you hate how much you want to scream at him to just let you in. Because, suddenly, you don’t want to go on a date with James, even if James is the kinder route, the more willing candidate, the one that makes more sense.

“Why do you care, Eddie?” You snap.

“Because I,” Eddie pauses, frustration settling into his bones. He looks at you like you might be the only thing he’s ever truly seen, and you don’t realize how your fingers are curling around his elbow, both of your fingertips sinking into the warmth of what could be.

“Eddie!” 

Eddie removes his hand from you as if your skin is hot to the touch, and you drop your hand as well, curling your fingers into the palm of your hand and clenching with a deep breath.

Eddie turns to Richie, who’s holding a clipboard and barking directions at staff and crew. “Come on, man, you’re on in 30.” Richie waves his hand.

Eddie turns back to you, dark eyes now cleared and holding urgency as he speaks, “Can you just— fuck,” Eddie tugs at his curls, and your face twists in confusion. You say his name at the same time that Richie calls him once again, and Eddie grumbles, “One second, Rich!” Eddie calls back.

“Just don’t go anywhere for the first few songs, okay?”

“What?”

“Eddie, 10 seconds!” 

And Eddie’s pacing backward as he speaks to you, “Just the first few songs. Please?”

Please. You never thought you would hear that word coming from Eddie— and your stomach twists, but you nod anyway, and then Eddie’s off to the stage.

For some reason, tonight has spun out in ways you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around, and you barely hear James walking out of the room until he presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, pulling your eyes to him.

He has your lightweight jacket in one hand as he offers it to you, “I was thinking maybe we could dip out now? I know a good place for burgers, and I figure we’ve seen the show plenty of times now— I mean, unless if you’d still like to watch, that’s not a problem,” He’s rambling, and you find it cute, so you reach out a hand to press to his arm and thank him for your jacket.

And you feel bad, glancing over your shoulder as you hear the crowd screaming upon the band's entrance, but you figure James is right— you have seen the show plenty of times, so one night off won’t hurt, will it? And besides, it’s not the big finale yet, so you’re not really missing anything.

You nod as you slip on your jacket, “Yeah, let’s go; I’m in the mood for a good meal anyway.”

James’ universe is fun and bright and spontaneous, all things he is. It’s something you find yourself admiring as you watch him jump from game to game at the arcade he dragged you to after dinner.

You were both full and satisfied from heavy burgers and fries, and James decided you both needed a way to shake off the food coma; and, as James said, “What better way to wake up than lose money in a bunch of rigged games?”

You start strong with a winning streak in Mortal Kombat, Daytona USA, and Star Wars, but you eventually lose your stretch when James crushes you in Dance Dance Revolution. You made him go a second time, but you still lost, and James called your frown cute, and it made your stomach twist because— fuck, this is a date. You aren’t here as just friends.

You make your way around the arcade until you both decide to call it a night and wrap it up with a few rounds of Pac-Man. It’s chillier in the city tonight, so James takes it upon himself to haul over a taxi to take you both to the hotel.

It’s nearing midnight when you and James walk into the hotel lobby, well past the ending of the show, and you’re holding your breath all the way to the elevator, silence taking over when the doors shut. And tonight was fun and lighthearted, and you’d hate to end it on a dull note.

You should just rip the bandaid off. Do it quick and get it over with so you don’t mislead James, because god, he’s such a good guy, and you’re just… you’re all confused with yourself and— fuck, James is looking at you, just do it.

“I think we should just stay friends.” You rush out.

If James is surprised, you wouldn’t be able to tell by a long shot because he’s simply shoving a hand in his pockets and shrugging, “Yeah, I kind of figured when you avoided holding my hand.” He scratches at his neck, and you fail to hold back the sympathetic twist on your face, “I had a really great time, I did, but I just can’t do anything serious right now…” You shyly explain, and James nods his head.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you curse Richie for booking the entire crew near the top of the building because the floor numbers seem to change slower than the seasons. James breaks the silence just four floors away from your destination, “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

You freeze at that, head snapping to look at James in shock, “I— what?”

James shrugs for the second time and turns to the doors, “I kind of clocked it as soon as you joined; you two have some weird thing going on.” He halfheartedly teases, and you feel your body heating up because if James can notice it, then who else has noticed it? God, this is more of a mess than you thought.

“Nothing is going on there,” you lie, “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but Eddie hates my guts, so.” You jokingly shrug. James laughs to ease the tension, only glancing back at you when you slow to a stop and the doors open, “I had a fun night, too, by the way. No hard feelings.” And with a wink, he wanders off to his room, and you’re left stepping out into the hallway. When you turn the corner, you find yourself wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole because right outside of your door stands Eddie Munson.

He watches you walk down the empty hall until you stand before him. He’s leaning a shoulder against your doorframe, one hand tucked in his pocket as the other works his cigarette back and forth from his lips. He’s in his usual all-black attire, and his eyes are dark beneath the smudged eyeliner and eyeshadow from the show. And it seems as if he got off the stage and came straight here, seeing as his hair is still slightly damp with sweat and the chains on his neck stick to his chest.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke, dark hooded eyes peering down at you with a gaze so sharp you almost cower, “Where were you?”

Jesus Christ, the audacity of this man.

Your initial thought is to snap back at him and ridicule him for being an asshole— and what’s his deal with always coming to your room? But then you remember you walked out on him when he’d asked you to stay for the first few songs.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I—” “You went on a date.”

You freeze at that, blinking up at him as your face twists in confusion, “How do you know that?”

“Because where else would you be?” He counters.

“Maybe I got sick.” You argue, and Eddie raises an eyebrow, eyes dancing over your figure, “You don’t look sick.” He points out.

Your eyebrows pinch in frustration as Eddie takes another hit of his cigarette, “What do you want? I already said I’m sorry— which is much more than you’ve ever done, by the way.” 

“I said sorry.” Eddie snaps. Eddie snuffs out his cigarette in the large plant next to the door as you scoff, turning to angrily shove your keycard into the door, “What, that shitty apology in the garden alleyway? You call that an apology? How fucking dense are you?” You open the door, moving to step in until Eddie’s fingers wrap around your arm, turning you back to him, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.” He seethes.

And woah, what the fuck does that mean? You weren’t there to hear it? What does he mean?

You blink, head shaking in confusion as you gaze up at Eddie, brows furrowed, eyes searching for an answer as you ask, “What do you mean?”

Eddie’s eyes are so beautiful, with swirling pools of forest ground and the tiniest specks of honey, and you believe somewhere within his eyes lives a fairy that gives him that ability to pull you in every time. He’s a hypnosis of a human, and it’s dangerous the way you can’t seem to fight through it.

Your eyes flutter shut when Eddie leans close enough to graze his lips over yours, and your heart races in anticipation of a kiss, but you can physically feel Eddie holding himself back.

“Eddie,” you lowly say, “What do you mean?”

Eddie turns his head to where his lips kiss the skin of your cheek, breath tickling the warm skin and sending shivers down your spine. He lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes tight and muttering a curse under his breath as your hands slink up his chest to curl into the fabric of his shirt. The soft, curly strands of Eddie’s hair dance across your lips, and you want to scream because every inhale and exhale of your lungs is full of nothing but Eddie.

His name prances across your tongue once more, and Eddie cracks.

Eddie cracks wide open; one last hit of your hammer, and he’s putty in your hands, mouthing at you as if his life depended on it, devouring you and breathing you and pushing you until you have nowhere to go but inside your room.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against your lips. “I’m sorry… let me make it up to you.”

You’re breathless and dizzy from lack of air, and Eddie is pushing you back onto the hotel bed, “I— what?”

Eddie’s fingers slip under your top, cool fingers pressing into your warm skin and causing your breath to hitch against his lips, “Let me make you feel good.” Eddie whispers against your lips.

And fuck, this is insane. 

This is insane.

Just a few hours ago, you would’ve shoved Eddie away from you and told him to eat shit, but for some reason, with the way Eddie’s touching you and talking so gently, you find your body melting into his touch as you nod your head. “Yes?” Eddie seems like he doesn’t believe it, and your stomach twists as you clench your thighs together, nodding once more, “Yes.” You confirm.

Eddie kisses you once again, hastily and eagerly, as his hands push your top further up your torso. Your muscles tense and twitch beneath Eddie’s calloused fingers, and Eddie hums against the softness of your mouth, panting against your lips as he repeats, “Gonna make you feel good. Make up for what I did.”

You breathlessly laugh, “S’gonna take a lot more than this, Munson.” 

And although you were slightly serious with that comment, you suppose Eddie takes it as more of a challenge as he shoves your top entirely over your chest, pulling away to tug the shirt off of you and toss it to the side.

Eddie surges forward to press sloppy kisses against the uncovered skin of your chest, sucking tiny little marks as he moves further down your body, pressing a hand to your chest to push you down into the bed when he reaches the waistband of your skirt.

It’s a black denim skirt, and Eddie takes a moment to admire how they hug your thighs perfectly— and he can’t seem to bring himself to remove it from your waist, so he pushes the skirt up around your hips instead. Your heart is racing, and you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks as you attempt to close your thighs, but Eddie places his palms flat against the warm insides of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me already. I haven’t even taken off these cute little panties of yours.” Eddie presses a thumb to your cotton-covered clit, dragging the pad of his thumb down your slit and pressing into the damp spot. Your breath hitches, sparks flying throughout your body, and Eddie smiles. You whine, “I thought you were apologizing.” You frown.

Eddie hums, leaning forward to press a kiss right where your thigh meets the fold of your pussy. You squirm, and Eddie snickers, “I am.” He responds.

You sit up to lean on your elbows, glaring down at him between your thighs as you speak, “You’re not. You’re just teasing me.” You point out.

Eddie doesn’t respond as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, drags them down your legs, and drops them to the side, gaze flickering up to yours as you clench your thighs together. Eddie holds your gaze as he wraps his arms around your thighs, hooking his hands into the dip of your waist and tugging you to the edge of the bed. Your center throbs in anticipation as Eddie sinks to his knees on the carpet floor, dark eyes still locked onto yours as he fits his upper body between your thighs.

And Eddie doesn’t even bother looking between your thighs when he dips his head in and begins devouring you.

Eddie, you find, eats pussy like he has all the time in the world.

He’s sloppy with it, lapping at your center and suckling your clit until you’re a whiney mess beneath him. His fingers curl into the denim skirt that’s bunched around your hips, and his rings tauntingly wink up at you under the light as he clenches his fist against the material, tugging you closer to him so he can thrust his tongue further into you.

While Eddie is busy tasting you, you scramble to reach behind your back and unhook your bra. Between your thighs, Eddie watches as you toss the garment off to the side before cupping your tits in your hands and rolling your nipple between your middle and forefingers. Eddie moans against you, burying his face deeper into you and suckling enough to have you crying out in pleasure.

Eddie pulls back for a moment, sticky strings of his saliva and your arousal dripping from his lips as he removes one hand from your waist to sink two fingers into your cunt. You pant out his name, your face twisting in pleasure when he curls his fingers up against your walls. Your eyes are screwed shut so you don’t see Eddie leaning forward to purse his lips together and let a drop of saliva drip over your pussy and sinfully coat your clit. He’s quick to attach his mouth to the throbbing bundle of nerves, and you reach out a hand to thread your fingers through his hair, knuckles curling at the root to drag an animalistic growl from Eddie.

Eddie is one of the best, if not the best, head you’ve ever received. By the time you begin teetering over the edge, your thighs are twitching and tensing as if you’ve already come undone, and your chest is heaving beneath Eddie’s fingers as he toys with your tits.

When you cum, Eddie becomes greedier than he’d been before, licking and slurping up every last drop you have to give until you’re twitching away from him and pressing a shaky hand to his shoulder. 

Eddie slinks up your body, sinking his fingers into his mouth to clean off your wetness before you slink an arm around his shoulders and pull him down to kiss you. Eddie’s fingers are wet as they cup the left side of your face, and the feeling of something wet on your face would usually have you cringing in distaste, but you only moan and press yourself further into Eddie.

You mumble for him to take his shirt off, and Eddie follows swiftly, too eager to go back to kissing you. He shivers when your hands meet his bare chest, fingertips exploring the vast expanse of untold stories in ink, hard yet plush muscles of his arms flexing beneath your touch. 

“I wasn’t done saying sorry.” Eddie pants against your lips, and you breathily laugh, “You can finish some other time; I want to feel you now.” You respond, busying your hands with trailing down his lower stomach, sinking past the waistband of his leather pants.

Eddie kisses his way down your neck to begin sucking pretty bruises into the skin, and your core clenches when you realize Eddie is wearing nothing beneath the leather pants— and you try hard not to imagine how he’s probably been pressed up against the rough fabric, achy tip undeniably receiving pleasure from the sinful ways he uses his hips when he’s on stage. 

Your shock doesn’t end there, however, because when you sink lower to wrap your hand around his cock, your body goes still at the feeling beneath your fingertips. Against the fiery skin of your cheek, you feel Eddie’s lips stretch into a smile and your heart races.

“What’s the matter, princess? Find something you like, hm?” Eddie can’t help the way his voice shakes near the end because you're giving his cock an experimental squeeze and running a finger over the sudden surprise.

You smile as you speak, “Is that a piercing?”

Eddie hums, turning his head, nose smashing against the side of yours as he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Maybe..” He teasingly confirms.

And god, you might pass out.

Eddie’s dick is pierced. You’re not sure what more you’d expect from a rockstar, but you’re still shocked and ushering him to remove the annoying restriction of his pants.

When Eddie finally gets rid of his leather pants, you’ve shifted to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, and Eddie stalks over to the edge of the bed, beckoning you over.

You don’t waste time crawling over to him, eyes stuck on the pretty sight before you. And sure, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a pierced dick (you’ve spent too much time working with rockstars), but it sure as hell is the first time you’ll be fucking one— not to mention his cock is perfect. It’s shaped and cut to perfection, something you’d expect from a pornstar, but Eddie is not a pornstar, and god, the sight of the metal barbell nestled right beneath the pink tip on the underside of his cock— it’s dizzying to see.

You peer up at Eddie, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking him once, chest fluttering when he fails to hold back a moan. “It’s really pretty, Eddie.” You softly say, and Eddie sheepishly and breathlessly laughs as you squeeze at his tip. “Want you to fuck me with it.”

Eddie groans, muttering a curse as he leans forward to press his lips against yours, pushing you until you’re crawling back up the bed to lay beneath him.

“I’ve never been with someone with a piercing…” You admit, and Eddie smiles at you, and your stomach twists when he reaches down to gently guide your movement up and down the length of his cock.

“Really? You’ve never fucked a pierced cock before?” He manages to say through his pleasure. Your teeth dig into the inside of your cheek as you shake your head no, and Eddie snickers when you ask, “Have you?”

His lips quirk into a smile, “Honey, you think I got the piercing done without a test run on how it feels?” He jokes.

You snort at that, and Eddie beams at you. You swipe your thumb over his leaking tip, and Eddie curses, watching as you mindlessly bring the glistening pad of your finger up to your tongue and hum. 

“How’s it taste, sweetheart?” Eddie teases, and you hum as you respond, “Good. So good, wish I could taste more—” “No, no, no.” Eddie cuts you off with a shake of his head, reaching down to wrap a fist around himself.

“This isn’t about me. Plus, I’m losing my patience right now; I’ve been thinking about this since I fucking met you.” He presses himself flat against your pussy, and you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as he rolls his hips to slide himself up and down your wet cunt, the cool metal of the piercing catching onto your clit and sending shivers up your spine.

His gaze falls between your thighs to watch as your slick centers meet, cursing at the way your wet folds part around each drag of his cock. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess, fuck.” He rasps.

Your mind is spinning with the roll of Eddie’s hips, his dirty compliment, and his admission that he’s thought of fucking you before. You don’t dare to tell him you’ve thought of it too or that you’ve gotten off to the thought of it. You don’t even have to think about it because the tip of Eddie’s cock is catching the slickness of your entrance, and you’re gasping, body jerking in pleasure. Your lips accidentally smear against Eddie’s shoulder, and he hums, tilting his head and dipping to catch your lips in a sloppy kiss.

As he distracts you with his mouth, he slowly presses into you, and you lose your ability to keep up with Eddie’s lips because holy fuck— Eddie is bigger than you thought. Sure, you got a good look at him when he removed his pants to show you his surprise, but your mind must’ve been too muddled with lust to clock the size of him.

You can feel everything as he sinks into you, every vein running up the sides, and the mind-numbing sensation of the barbell as he presses into you. “Holy shit,” you breathlessly whisper against the skin of his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist as the burning yet toe-curling feeling settles in. Eddie snickers above you, “That good?”

You’re coherent enough to snap back at his cockiness, “No.”

Eddie laughs, and you want to make a snippy comeback, but it gets lost on your tongue when Eddie gives his hips one experimental roll.

Eddie is pathetically close to cumming.

Eddie’s cock has only been nestled within your warm, wet, pulsing walls for barely two minutes, and he’s about to blow like he’s a goddamn teenager— and it doesn’t help how heavenly you sound and look writhing beneath him.

Eddie’s not sure where to look; your face, your tits, or the hypnotizing sight of your cunt sucking him in over and over with each thrust he gives you. “Fuck,” he curses, “You’re taking me so well, princess.” He leans in the nose at your cheek before licking at the curve of your jaw, shivering at the wet moan you pant into his ear.

“Been hiding this pretty pussy from me?” Eddie hums, sucking a delicate bruise right below your ear. And god, Eddie could spend forever like this, drilling into you and marking you everywhere and pulling these pretty sounds from you. Eddie’s so close, oh god.

You mewl at his words, hips squirming as Eddie snaps his hips into you, “No,” you whine, “You’ve been mean to me.” And Eddie thinks you’re awfully cute when you’re blissed out and pouting. And your eyes are glossy, lips slick with spit and swollen from kissing.

Eddie wishes he had a photographic memory because he doesn’t want to forget a single detail of this moment. Eddie has one hand clutching the sheets beside your head as he lets the other hand coast up your side to land on your chest, thumb brushing over your nipple to pull a moan from you. “I know,” Eddie lowly replies, “I’m sorry, princess.” He kisses your chin, and you clench around him.

Eddie’s fist clenches around the sheet, fighting to hold himself back as he presses deep into you and stills, cock twitching within your walls. “Gonna let me show you how sorry I am?” He asks.

You're hazy and cockdrunk, and Eddie can’t wait to unpack the fact that you go braindead when you’re fucked good. Eddie nudges himself into you, although he’s pressed all the way into your cunt, and you whimper before eagerly nodding.

“Yeah?” Eddie teases. You nod again, fingers digging into Eddie’s arm as you speak, “Yes, Eddie— fuck. Yeah, show me, please.”

Eddie almost loses it.

It’s slightly scary how much Eddie likes this, how much he’s enjoying this— the feeling of you beneath him, the wetness, the heat, the sweat-sticky touches, and the sloppy smattering of kisses. God, Eddie’s in love with it.

The short five-second break Eddie managed to pull from questioning (teasing) you was enough for him to get ahold of himself. Eddie sits up and grasps the back of your knee, hauling your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle at fucking you, and you gasp when his cock rubs against your spot.

Eddie doesn’t waste time once he gets the position situated. He leaves one hand splayed beside your head to hold him up as the other hand grips the warm flesh of your thigh before resuming his thrusting, this time at a deeper and quicker pace.

The sound of skin meeting and the wet sloshing noise of sex echoes through the room amongst the mix of moans and sultry-soaked remarks. Eddie doesn’t notice his hand slipping from your thigh and slinking up to wrap around your neck, but he hesitates when you whimper. He almost removes his hand, but you wrap a shaky hand around his wrist and nod— and fuck, Eddie will never be the same man after this.

Eddie can feel the heat and the pulse of your heart as his fingers tighten around your neck. Your moans are becoming more and more frequent and higher in pitch, and Eddie can feel the way you’re fluttering around him more sporadically, and he can’t wait to feel it when you cum.

Eddie leans over you, lips brushing your parted ones as he encourages you to let go, “Come on, let me feel it. I’m not leaving until you soak my cock, princess.”

Your body is on fire.

It’s almost alarming how easily and well Eddie has unraveled you. His presence is nearly overwhelming with the way he’s hovering so close over you, but you love it— the tickle of his long curls on your shoulders and chest, the intoxicating smell of him, the dizzying hold he has around your neck— you preen for it.

You’re so close when Eddie tells you to cum, and you barely have enough time to prepare for the earth-shattering orgasm that ripples through you the second Eddie presses a thumb to your aching clit and rubs tight circles against it.

Your body tenses, and your moans crack upon the surface as you melt into him until you’re nothing but a quivering mess. Eddie talks you through it, tells you how pretty you sound and how good you feel wrapped around him. Your orgasm had hit you so hard that you barely registered the broken moan that came from Eddie before he pushed deep into you and emptied every last drop of himself into your pulsing heat.

Eddie curses, his cock pulsing within you, and you let out an exhausted yet satisfied sigh when he rolls his hips into you once more. You’re both silent for a long moment as you come back down to earth, Eddie’s forehead pressed against your shoulder as you subconsciously let your hand run up the side of his torso.

Eddie shifts to turn his head to where he can slightly see your face as he still hides against your shoulder, “Apology accepted?”

Saturday morning, the next day, you wake up and want to bury yourself under the hotel sheets.

Last night was… interesting, to say the least. It was good— mind-blowing— but you still have that lingering feeling in your chest that maybe you and Eddie shouldn’t have slept together. Maybe you let him in too quickly. Maybe it was all a lie, Eddie’s ‘apology’. All the gentle caresses and the passion-filled kisses with the heart flutter words. Maybe it was all for show, just to get you to let your walls down so he could have at you.

Eddie didn’t spend the night with you.

In fact, Eddie practically ran out the door after your extremities were over, and you were left with the aftermath of spinning thoughts and an aching chest. So much for sorry.

The dining room is buzzing with chatter and laughter of excitement— today is the last off day before the final show of the residency— but you’re too in your head to join in on the conversation because Eddie won’t even look at you.

Your throat feels tight, and you spend the majority of breakfast just pushing your food around the plate, and you manage to pull a smile and nod your head when Naomi asks if you’re okay. But fuck, you want to scream.

You should’ve never believed Eddie when he told you he’d change or when he practically spent the entire night worshipping your body and begging for your forgiveness. Eddie didn’t want forgiveness. He just wanted to fuck you, and you should’ve known that from the second he kissed you.

But Eddie’s kisses can tell a hell of a lie, and damn you for falling for them.

You’re spooked when you feel a hand rest on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s Richie, and he peers down at you and gives you a tight-lipped smile as he leans in and lowly speaks, “Can I speak with you outside?”

You nod, dropping your fork onto your plate and quietly rising from your chair. And for the first time today, Eddie looks at you. Your chest tightens, and you think it’s stupid that you’d been upset about this because it’s Eddie for fucks sake. He’s a rockstar, and he surely never made the mistake of presenting himself as if he was anything other than a man who fucks whoever they want and moves on the next day. Eddie’s jaw ticks, he looks away, and you bite your tongue as anger floods your body.

You ignore it as you turn around and follow Richie into the hallway.

You’re hardly paying attention when you both step out of the room, but the slamming of the door is the cue for Richie to start speaking. “Listen, Birdie,” he begins, “You know I adore you. I’m always in your corner, no matter what… But I have to put my boys first.”

It’s concerning, the way Richie is beginning this conversation, and it’s even worse when he can’t seem to look you in the eye for more than five seconds at a time. Your heart rate picks up, and you begin to think maybe…

No, Richie can’t know. There’s no way he’d know, right? Unless if someone told him. One of the band members, or James, or— fuck, there’s too many people that know at this rate. But you didn’t think it would reach Richie.

No, you’re just spinning out. Richie doesn’t know, and this is about something else; it has to be.

You shake your head, brows furrowed as you speak, “I’m not sure I understand.”

Richie glances around the corridor and shifts in his spot, scratching at the back of his neck as he speaks, “Listen, I uh,” he glances at you, and your heart drops because you now know why he’s pulled you aside. 

“I know about you and Eddie.”

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part nine

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a/n: hiiii, you made it to the end !! IM SORRY FOR ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER FRIENDS, i promise there won't be anymore from here on out (i think hehe), BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS SMUTTY LITTLE PART, thank you for reading, ilysm and i appreciate all and any feedback <3

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[novasintheroom]

132. Blush

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.6k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: You're very distracted while mending Vash's coat.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3.

You try to stop staring.

You really try.

The teal lining of Vash’s coat sits open on your lap. You’d offered to patch up the tears within, noting strings of blue hanging off the cuffs and closure. As hardy as his coat is, the inside is nearly as torn up as the man himself.

But that isn’t what you’re staring at. No.

It’s your friend and the brick house build he was hiding under the coat.

His broad back is turned to you. It feels like an eclipse. Vash is messing with lunch, letting out hums and little clicks of the tongue as the food cooks in the blazing suns’ rays. The outcropping’s shade keeps you cool enough. Still, you feel sweat slide down your back, and you have to squint against the metallic shine from the nearby town.

You don’t know how he handles the heat. Eyes roving over his figure (his very large, very interesting figure), you boggle at the black turtleneck. It’s not a thick shirt by any means, but still. How is he not baking? And the coat on top of it!

Looking back to the coat on your lap, you pinch the fabric between two fingers and rub. It lets out a skeet-skrt sound. Very hardy. You don’t know how bullets bounce off it. You glance at Vash again. He’s so…big. How did you miss it? How do the bullets miss someone so big? You trace the line of his back, the rounded muscles of his shoulders, his slim waist. He reaches for some powdered potatoes and water, and you see the delicate bunch of his forearm’s muscles when he grabs them. Your mouth waters.

As if sensing your stare, Vash looks back at you. His smile is instant and pleasant. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

A blush overtakes your throat, and you’re left clearing it and looking anywhere but him. “Just…wondering how you’re not hot wearing all of this.” There. A half-truth.

Vash pauses and looks down at his clothes as if seeing them for the first time. Then, he chuckles and goes back to cooking. “Guess I’m just used to the heat!”

That’s a lie. No one is used to the heat of this dead planet. But you’ve already dodged one bullet; you aren’t about to start prying into what he doesn’t want you to know. So, you go back to staring. He stirs what’s in the pan. It sizzles and pops, and you watch his bicep and forearm bunch and contract with use. His other limb – the robotic one – holds the pan steady.

What would it take for him to hold you steady?

You prick your finger suddenly and hiss. You’d forgotten you were even sewing. A blot of blood wells on the tip. Reaching for your medikit, you’re aware of Vash’s eyes suddenly on you. Again, you feel embarrassed; that familiar flush to your skin. “I’m fine,” you say, bringing out a small Band-Aid and wrapping it quickly around. You hold up your finger to show. “See?”

Vash shakes his head and stirs the meal. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can mend my coat.”

“I know,” you say, then scramble for something else to reassure him, “but then I’d have to be the one cooking, and I’d definitely get sweat in it.”

Vash laughs. “Gross.”

A smile comes to your lips. It falls away again when you look him over. His large stature, his resistance to heat, his easy smile whenever something goes wrong…What else are you hiding? You wonder. Taking up needle and thread again, you force yourself to focus on sewing up the holes and tears he’s endured.

Maybe, in time, you’ll be able to do it to his heart, too.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Not Jealous

@wolfstarbingo2024 - prompt: enemies to lovers - warnings: mildly explicit (is that a thing?) - rating: explicit (minors DNI) - words: 923 - link

Sirius Black was the most horrible, annoying, disrespectful roommate on the planet. Since Remus had started living with him three months ago at the start of University, Sirius had irked him to no end by leaving his things all over their space, staying up until ungodly hours playing videogames, bringing back more people than he could count to sleep with, and being the most attractive human on the goddamn planet.

Well- the last one might not be annoying per se. But wrapped in with the others, it was the most infuriating of all.

So when Remus stayed up until 2am writing a paper that took most of his brainpower and all of his patience, Sirius stumbling in with a tall tan man with dark hair, giggling together, was the last fucking straw.

"Sirius I don't give a single flying fuck if you want to fuck this guy in his room or on the roof," Remus said lowly, hands balled into fists, "But you will not fuck him in our room."

The man, who looked like he had stuck his finger in a light socket with the way his hair stood on end, immediately laughed. "I'd rather not fuck either of you if I have the choice, man. Regulus would be a bit pissed."

Sirius laughed as well, starting to retort, but Remus was still too mad to enjoy whatever inside jokes they were sharing. "Just get the fuck out, alright?"

And the other boy, who didn't seem to be capable of seriousness or remorse, simply bid Sirius goodnight and left, yelling loudly as he went.

But as soon as he left, Sirius turned, his face falling flat. "What the fuck made you think you can act like that?" he asked, storms in his eyes.

But Remus was done. "Me? What about you? Treating our room like your personal trash can, staying up until all hours, bringing back god knows how many people to fuck you?"

But Sirius only smirked at Remus's last statement. "Wow, Remus. I didn't realize me hooking up with people had that much of an impact on you. Are you jealous?"

Remus felt blood rush in his ears at the question, and he used all of his sense to resist punching Sirius. "No, Sirius," he denied through a clenched jaw. "I'm not-"

But Sirius interrupted him, taking a step closer. "It's too bad if you're not," he said softly, his eyes going strangely wide. "Jealousy looks kind of good on you." And as he said it, he kind of tilted his head to the side, smirking and biting his lip as if challenging Remus to react. To understand what he was saying.

It was like a bomb went off. Like all of the annoyance and fury and tension built up and culminated into an eruption, and suddenly, without even thinking about it, Remus lunged forward, grabbing Sirius and pinning him to the bed behind him, the entirety of their bodies pressed together, his mouth by Sirius's ear, the other man gasping at the quick contact. "I'm not jealous," Remus insisted, hands grabbing at Sirius's hips hard.

"P-prove it," Sirius nearly moaned, eyes wide and pupils blown with sudden lust.

So Remus had no choice but to roughly reach down, cupping the other man through his pants, groaning as he felt the hardness there. "If I was jealous," he murmured, squeezing just a bit as Sirius threw his head back and keened in pleasure, "I would fuck you, right here on the bed."

"Yes," Sirius mumbled, eyes closed and hands on Remus's biceps loosening as he fell apart a bit under Remis's grasp.

"If I was jealous," Remus continued, licking roughly at his palm and then slipping his hand under the band of Sirius's sweatpants, grabbing his length without thinking of being gentle, "I would open your arse up with my tongue, and watch while you screamed my fucking name."

"Remus," Sirius exhaled almost silently, barely keeping himself up on legs that were surely not working properly with the way Remus was working his cock with his hand.

"If I was jealous," Remus repeated, teasing his thumb over Sirius's leaking tip, inhaling as Sirius moaned with the movement, Remus's own cock twitching at the noises the shorter man made, "I would shove my huge cock so far into you, I'd make you come without touching you."

"Please," Sirius begged, his knees giving out, now, his expression completely fucked out as Remus moved his hand over his cock faster and with more purpose, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

"But baby" he cooed into Sirius's ear, reveling in the gasping sounds he was making, "I'm not jealous. So I won't." And then, grinning triumphantly, Remus stopped, removing his hand from his pants and staring down at Sirius, who collapsed on the bed, looking like he had just been told that Christmas was cancelled.

It took all of Remus's self-control to stroll into their adjoining bathroom before he shoved his own pants down to his knees, grabbed his own aching cock, and worked it over roughly, not even mothing to keep his moans quiet. And, less than a minute later, he came, loudly yelling, "F-Sirius!" as he did so.

But not loudly enough to drown out the noise of Sirius yelling his name as he came at nearly the same time on the other side of the door.

And he realized that yes, Sirius was annoying and infuriating and disrespectful. But fuck, him being attractive was definitely not a bad thing.

[tadpolesonalgae]

The Libraries

Helion x reader

a/n: I haven’t written for him in a long time so I hope he isn’t insanely ooc! 🧡💛

word count: 1,287

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“What may I find for you today, High Lord?” You ask, peering over the bright red rim of your pointed glasses. 

“So cold to me,” Helion drawls, bracing his forearms on the lip of your desk, the golden snake that bands around his bicep digging into the dark skin as the powerful muscles shift. “Didn’t you miss me while I was gone, peaches?” 

“It was certainly emptier,” you reply neutrally. “Now, what may I find for you?” 

“Can I not visit simply for the pleasure of your company?” The High Lord inquires, faux hurt showing in his sturdy features. “Pleasure certainly seems to be the main motive for your scholarly trips,” you reply, returning you gaze to the charts spread out on your desk, marking which books are due to be switched out and moved, and which sections are due to have new additions to their already full shelves. 

“Anything new?” The High Lord asks, and you can hear the wicked grin on his mouth without having to glance up. “A few things, since your last visit,” you reply, reaching over to the short list you’d scribbled down, now pulling it over and handing it to him to look through. Helion raises a brow as he scans through the short compilation. “Fully illustrated?” He repeats, clearly reading the note you’d added beside one of the titles. “Fully illustrated,” you repeat back in confirmation, ink pen scratching as you make an annotation for some sections to be swapped around. “And you verified that personally?” Helion asks, his deep voice taking on a low, suggestive drawl. 

“Personally,” you repeat back, again in conformation, still not paying him the attention he’s seeking. 

“Will you show me to it?” He asks, trying to pry you away from your desk. 

“You know the section,” you reply, a hint of amusement in your tone, but still annotating. 

“I don’t see anyone else requiring your attention,” Helion drawls, “and I didn’t come just for the book…” 

“To.” You correct, without looking up. 

“…to?” Helion repeats, blinking. 

“And I didn’t come just to the book, is what you meant to say,” you answer, a faint upward tilt at the corners of your normally straight-pressed lips. “Your humour is as sharp as your tongue, I see,” Helion says, huffing a low laugh that has the hairs on your forearms raising. 

At last you look up, and Helion resists the urge to stand upright, keeping his positioning casual as he looks into your eyes, partially warped by those red-pointed glasses. “Have you returned the last one you borrowed?” You inquire, reaching for a blank piece of parchment. Helion raises a brow, “you’ve let me borrow tens at a time, why does this book require an urgent return?” 

“It’s on the list to be shipped out to the continent. I take it you haven’t yet returned it?” You ask, and Helion shakes his head. You nod, scribbling something down before handing it to him. “A reminder,” you say when he takes it from your fingers, “to please return it at your earliest convenience. I understand you have a lot on your plate.” 

“Like a troublesome librarian who looks at me with a particularly…” —you shoot him a sharp glare over the red rims— “…bloodcurdling, expression,” he finishes. You hum, the doubt clear in the sound. You both know he wasn’t going to say bloodcurdling. 

“Now, will you do me the honour of showing me where this particular book is being kept?” He requests, a faint grin on his lips. 

“I suppose it is part of my job,” you reply, “even if you are taking advantage of that.” A distinctly satisfied expression appears on the High Lord of Day’s features as you stand from your desk, the knee-length robes that sit over your clothes swishing with the motion, and you set off down one of the long aisles, knowing Helion is keeping close behind. Able to feel the direction of his attention, too, despite the coverage of the robes. You shoot him a look over your shoulder, and he offers a questioning smile that has you rolling your eyes. 

It takes some minutes to reach the darkened corner of the library this particular book has been stored, and a while longer for you to climb the ladder that will carry you to the shelf it sits on, but at last you find it, handing it over to the High Lord who opens the first page with slight interest. 

“And to think you’ve looked through all of this already,” he remarks, eyes scanning across the few lines of writing beside the illustration. “I’m surprised you could tolerate such lewd imagery,” he muses, glancing at you with a faint grin, “did it bother you, much?” 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you reply blandly, waving your hand dismissively. Helion hums, flipping the page over, eyes passing over the parchment with surprising restraint, then raises his brows. “You’ve seen things like this before?” He asks, half teasing, half serious. 

“Are you surprised?” You reply, brow slightly furrowed, “I’ve been working in these libraries for centuries now, I’ve seen all sorts of things. I doubt anything could shock me anymore.” 

“So if I got to put you in some of these positions…” 

“How very inappropriate of you, High Lord,” you reply, shooting him a look from over top your glasses, before making to move past him. 

You’re vaguely surprised when his large palm wraps carefully around your upper arm, prompting you to pause but not tight enough you couldn’t continue walking if you’d like to. 

You glance back up at him, listening. 

“Do my advances bother you?” He asks, sincerely. “I assume you don’t mind them from your occasional jokes, but I don’t wish to bring discomfort to where you’re required to work.” 

“I had no idea you were attempting advances, High Lord,” you reply, lightly shifting your arm, and he releases you without complaint. “I find that hard to believe,” the High Lord replies questioningly. “You’re flirtatious with most people you encounter, I wasn’t under the impression I was receiving any special treatment.” 

“Would you like special treatment?” He asks, his voice lowered a little, and you narrow your eyes on him. 

“I like genuine interest,” you reply, “I like commitment, and certainty—things I don’t believe you’re yet interested in.” Something shifts behind his eyes, but you wave your hand again, “which is fine. We seek different things.”

“You aren’t interested in finding out what might happen?” He asks, lips curved with a gleam in his eyes. “I would have thought that by nature you’d want to satisfy your curiosity.” 

“I have lived a long life, and I have seen a lot of things, as I’ve said. There are very few topics I’m still curious about, High Lord,” you reply. 

“Not even how it might feel to lay with me for one night?” He asks, that mischievous look on his features. 

But, “no. I’m afraid not.” 

Your lips twitch faintly at the slight surprise in his features before its swiftly concealed. “You’re free to continue as you like, though, so long as you don’t cause any trouble for my coworkers,” you say. “We had a new one in a few days ago and I don’t want you traumatising him with your literature tastes.” 

Helion grins, mischievous look returning, more promising than it was before. “Very well,” he replies, eyes glinting, “I’ll return the book as soon as I can. And I’ll remember to make my advances more clear, next time.”

You turn to head back to your desk, but not swiftly enough that Helion doesn’t catch the upward tug of your mouth. “I look forward to it, High Lord.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

[thebootworshipper]

As you round the corner of the building, heading towards the car park, a figure blocks your path. The first thing you notice is his boots, gleaming under the light of a nearby street-lamp, they almost call to you. Your gaze is fixated on them for a few moments, and you feel a twitch in your trousers. “You like them boi” says a deep voice. Realising the figure is referring to you, you slowly look up to see him standing with a baseball bat over his muscular shoulders. His biceps bulge as he lowers the bat off his shoulder and grips it with his right hand menacingly. You stumble over your words before clearing your throat, “Excuse me, I must be going.” As you attempt to move around the figure to the side he steps in front of you. His muscular body feels like a wall as you bounce off his chest. “You’re not excused, we have business”. You back away as he steps forward towards you, the boots making a satisfying thud on the hard ground. You continue backing up until you hit the wall, and then the figure quickly places a hand on the wall above your right shoulder, causing the baseball bat to rest on your neck, as he grins, you feel your trousers get tight around your crotch. With his now free hand he draws a line with his index finger from your neck, down past your abs and torso, until he reaches your quivering cock. With a quick move he grabs it through your trousers and leans in. As his hand tightens around your erection, causing you intense pleasure, he whispers in your ear. “You belong to me boi”. His hand tightens again and you feel yourself sweating heavily with pleasure. Getting lost in the moment you fail to notice the incoming danger, as two hands grasp your arm and shoulder tightly from either side of you. Looking down your see the hands on either side of you are covered in a strange black material, their grips tighten and as the skin headed figure steps back you feel your shoulders being rolled forward and your hands being pushed behind your back. Panicked at the two rubbered figure restraining you, you attempt to free yourself yet their grips are like iron bands. A moment later you feel the pressure of cold metal wrapping itself around your wrists and the unmistakable sound of ratchets on handcuffs clicking shut. As you are pushed down to your knees, you hear the cold robotic sound of “Sir, target detained. Standing by for orders.” Emanated from the two rubbered figures. From your kneeling position you feel the baseball bat slowly moving up your body until it is under your chin, before it forces you head. Your eyes meet the gaze of the skinhead who hocks up a spit at you. The warm slippery alpha spit, slowly drips down your face and into the corner of your mouth. “Take him to the reconditioning centre, I look forward to having my boots cleaned by this Drone” The figure begins to walk away as you feel a gas mask getting forced onto your head. “Resistance is futile, you will obey” Shaking your head violently but in vain, the gas mask is sealed to your face as a warm gas is released. Holding your breath for as long as you can, you eventually take a deep gulp of contaminated air, your vision slowly blurs as your muscles relax. As you slowly drift to sleep you feel yourself being dragged along the floor, and as you lose consciousness you begin to hear a rhythmic pattern. “You will obey, You will obey, Drone will obey”

[powerfultenderness]

Hello there! I just discovered your könig neighbor series, and I was wondering what would happen if könig got hurt? Maybe he came back from a mission with something the reader notices?

As big or as little as you like. I'm obsessed for real. The way you write him is spot on to what's in my head. I'll take whatever scraps you are willing to throw out!

First, thank you so much! And I'm so sorry for taking so long with this one! I usually try to keep the requests/suggestions shorter, but this one got a little out of hand!

There's a tiny bit of angst here. But most of it is like half fluff and half suggestive. So [Mature 18+ rating]

He never imagined himself as one of those men that would rush home to see his partner. And he still wasn’t. He was a man rushing home so he could see his neighbor. After quickly dropping his bag off at home, he found himself knocking on your door and hoping it wasn't too late for you.

Thankfully you were still awake and answered the door only after his second knock. Clearly you had been getting ready for bed, as you didn't look tired but were dressed in a large t-shirt and loose fitting shorts. You smiled up at him as soon as you opened the door, "König! You're back!" 

And you jumped up and hugged him. Not your usual greeting for him, usually it was just a nice smile and a wave, if he was lucky you'd gently graze his arm. But this was the first time since you moved in that he had been gone longer than a week. 

He quickly returned your embrace, wrapping his arms around you and holding you off the floor, enjoying both the feel of your body against his and your happy little squeal. 

You giggled as he set you down, you let your hands gently glide down from his shoulders, until you were simply holding onto his arms. 

König smiled down at you, taking you in like you were the very air he breathed, and so saw the moment your face shifted from happiness to horror. You let out a little scream and jolted out of his hands, “ah! I’m bleeding!” 

“Shit! What happened?” He quickly, but gently, took your arm, smeared in blood, and looked over it with you. 

“I don’t know!” You panicked as you tried to find the source of your bleeding. 

Wait…you didn’t feel any pain. You looked up from your arm to his and gasped. “I’m not bleeding! You are!” 

It was hard to tell, as he was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, but with a closer look, you could see a dark wet patch sticking to his arm. 

He hummed quietly and followed your line of sight to look at his right arm. “Oh. Yea. I did get hurt.” 

“What do you mean, ‘oh yea’? Come here!” You tugged on his uninjured arm and pulled him into your flat.

“It’s not that bad, darling. I’m fine.” Though he protested, he followed you with no resistance. 

“Sit,” you ordered as you pointed to your couch and disappeared into the back room. 

You returned with some clean towels and a first aid kit; not a cutesy supermarket kind, he noticed, but quite the premium kind. You gently set the items down on the coffee table in front of him and headed to the kitchen, running the water until it was warm enough. 

“Why do you have this?” He asked poking through the first aid kit while you were running the water. It was good that you were prepared for emergencies, but he liked to think that you would turn to him in emergencies.

“House warming gift from my sister. The kids like to spend time with me, and one of her kids is a little accident prone.” Never, at least in your care, needed anything more than a band aid, but better safe than sorry. 

Ah. That made sense, he nodded to himself. A first aid kit of this caliber did seem like something a worried and responsible mother would gift.

You filled a bowl with warm water and set it down on the coffee table next to the rest of the supplies. “Now, let me see.” 

His injury was near the back of his right bicep, simply rolling his sleeve up didn’t even reach the wound. You hummed and dropped your hands back onto your lap. "Even I think it would be too dramatic to cut up your shirt." 

You were about to continue, to tell him to change into a shirt with short sleeves when he crossed his arms at his waist and pulled his shirt over his head. 

You should have kept your gaze up. Not only would it have been more polite, you might have caught a glimpse of his face as he pulled his shirt over his head. Hindsight. Instead your eyes immediately dropped his chest, a breath caught in your throat, as you stared at…him. When you first met, he had rolled up his shirt to show you a scar on his side, and that had sent your heart racing. But now? With his shirt completely off? Your eyes, very wide, were glued to his chest, taking in every dip of his muscles, naturally leading your eyes down and down, only disrupted by scars (that you had the sudden urge to touch) and hair that dipped down-

“Darling?” König cleared his throat nervously. “I can do it, if you are, uhm, scared of the blood.” 

You jumped, and breathed, at his voice. Crap! You were caught completely checking him out and a quick and hopefully subtle swipe to the side of your face proved that you had literally been drooling. You, brain still not caught up, scoffed at his words. Instead of taking the polite out he’d given you, you opened your stupid mouth. “Please, I’m not scared of blood.” 

How did you not notice him take one of the towels to sop up the blood on his arm?

“You’re not?” 

The way his hood moved with him, as if it were a part of him, combined with the streaks of faded paint underneath his eyes should have been intimidating. You imagine that on the field, even to his own teammates, that it is. But the way he tilted his head and how you could tell, even with the eye black still on his face, that his eyes were wide was almost…comical. It was cute. And it grounded you, out of the gutter.

“Nope. Now, let me see.” You returned to the task at hand, taking the towel from him and cleaning up the blood. 

“You are full of surprises.” 

“Not really.” You half laughed as you set the bloodied towel on the coffee table. You had meant that you had experience with blood quite often, once a month for a couple of days kind of often. But considering most men got queasy on that topic, you dropped it. “Looks like a little band aid won’t do.” 

Every time you turned away from him, this time it was to get an antibiotic ointment, König had to remind himself to calm down. Your touch was so soft and gentle, he’d been treated for such lacerations more times than he could count, but the medics were never so gentle. Of course, you didn’t have a line of patients waiting on you, but that somehow made your attention all the more special. It was a good thing you could not see his face, he was sure his entire face up to his ears was red. He would look so much less cool, would ruin the lust he saw in your eyes when he took off his shirt, if you could see just how flustered he really was. 

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” You softly asked as you moved onto applying gauze. 

“Nothing bad.” He leaned forward just enough to get a whiff of your shampoo, or maybe it was your lotion, either way an intoxicating and fitting scent.  “An enemy managed to sneak up on me with a knife.” 

You gasped and looked up at him, eyes wide once again but for an entirely different reason. “You said it was nothing bad!” 

“It wasn’t!” He chuckled, hand moving to pat your knee. “This was all he got before I killed him!” 

His wound completely bandaged now, you froze for a moment before quickly dropping your hands. “O-oh.”

Shit. Was that the wrong thing to say? You didn’t seem to mind the violence when he told you about the scar on his side, was mentioning that he killed someone too much? His stomach dropped, were you scared of him now? You gently removed his hand from your knee and started to quietly clean up. König swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. You were pushing him away. 

“Please see a doctor or medic or whatever you have on base, tomorrow.” 

While your voice was still soft, there was a cold edge to it that made König want to drop to his knees and beg you to forgive him. 

“In the meantime, you should rest.” You finished and took his shirt from his lap and the bloodied towels and stood up.

He followed, at least he meant to, but you quickly turned and pointed back at the couch. “Rest.”

“Darling, please. I don’t need- This is fine. I am fine.” 

You crossed your arms, and narrowed your eyes at him. “König.” You dragged out his name in warning. “Sit down. And rest.” 

He sighed and sat back down, grateful for the soft blanket you had draped over the couch. The air suddenly felt cold without you next to him. 

You put away the first aid kit and dumped the bloodied towels and his shirt in the wash, luckily noticing that you also had blood on your shirt, probably from when you hugged him. You glanced over at him and he was staring straight ahead, not moving, and quickly ducked into your room. You changed your shirt, and made sure you didn’t have any more blood on you (you didn’t), before adding your shirt to the wash and returning to the living room.

He looked so massive seated like that on your couch. He was slouched a little, legs spread, right knee bouncing nervously, and his arms crossed over his chest. Oh. Maybe you should send him home now, he was half naked in your home now, after all. 

König looked up when you came back and froze, heat instantly returning to his face and chest and ears and. He swallowed thickly and forced his eyes up. You had changed from a large t-shirt to a fitted, low cut, tank top. You were looking at him with a raised brow. Shit. Had you asked him something and he missed it because he was too busy staring at your chest? 

“Are you sure you’re okay? See, this is why I told you to rest.” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He repeated, standing up and taking a few steps, standing close enough to you that you had to crane your head back just to keep eye contact.

“Where are you going?” You shouldn’t be trying to stop him from leaving, but, heart racing and blush heating your face and all, you still wanted to spend time with him.

“Oh, you know.” How could you hear his grin under that mask? “Just to work out.” 

“Don’t even joke about that.” He shrugged. “Lift some weights.”

“König.” 

“Maybe some pull ups.” 

“Just sit back down.” 

He sighed and did as you said. “I told you-”

“If you don’t rest, I’ll make you rest!” In essence, you already were! He was sitting back on the couch!

He chuckled, “oh yea? How?” 

“I’ll! I’ll, uhm…” 

“You’ll what?” Now he was laughing. It was cute how you thought you could make him do anything! (even though you just did…)

Frustrated that you could think of nothing to make him listen, you shouted a last resort: “I’ll sit on you!”

König stopped laughing and blinked at you. “...what?” 

You crossed your arms. “You heard me.” 

The silence that followed dragged on for a second too long, you shifted your weight nervously, and König suddenly started laughing again, loud and gasping for breath, as if what you said was the funniest thing ever. “You’ll sit on me! Is this a dream?”

Even if you had understood the German, it would have been difficult to make out what he was saying between all the laughing. You glared at him, misinterpreting his words as a challenge. “Don’t think I won’t do it!”

His head dropped to the back of the couch and he slapped his thigh, “do it, love!” He sat back up, chuckles still falling from his mouth, “go on. Sit on me!” 

You tried to keep glaring at him while your mind struggled to translate unknown words into English. You were pretty sure he was just repeating what you said, like he didn’t believe you. Well, he was wrong!

He finally stopped laughing and sighed, you were always so willing in his dreams. “Not a dream, yea? I thought so.” 

He tensed, like he was going to stand back up, and you moved quicker than he thought you could, not that he was going to stop you. Just like you “threatened”, you sat on him! Your hands were on his shoulders and you were straddling his lap. He froze for a moment, his mind trying to catch up with his racing heart, and looked up at you.

“Rest.” 

He swallowed and nodded. “Ok.” His hands moved from his sides to run up your thighs, his thumbs playing at the hemline of your shorts before you snatched up his hands.

“Hey!” You dropped his hands, letting them fall back onto the cushions, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Only good boys get to touch.”

König’s head flew back and he groaned, hips unintentionally thrusting up. He was panting, as if he’d been holding his breath for far too long, and looked up at you. “I can be good!” 

You half gasped and half giggled at his reaction, your blood practically sending fire to your face as your heart raced in a mix of excitement and nervousness. You thought he’d laugh at you again, instead he shifted beneath you, and looked up at you with big desperate eyes. 

 “Please.” König pleaded, hands digging into the cushions. If he needed to be good, then he couldn’t touch you again without permission. But it was so hard! You were so close to him, your weight on his lap giving such nice pressure, if only you would scoot a little closer! His eyes rolled back and his head dropped onto the couch again, as he imagined, prayed for, you rolling your hips, grinding onto his growing bulge. 

You were still though, no longer even touching him as you crossed your arms. “Hmm. Are you sure? No working out?” 

He looked at you again and shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I won’t!”

“Noo, lifting weights?” 

“No!” 

“No pull ups?” “No! I’ll be good, I promise!” 

You giggled, heart still racing at how quickly he got riled up. 

He whined and shifted under you again, not in an attempt to get you to touch him, but just to alleviate his need for space.

“Then,” you uncrossed your arms and gently took his chin in one hand, forcing him to look at you again. “What are you going to do, König?” 

He swallowed again, lips darting out of his mouth to lick his lips. Your soft, gentle, sweet little touch that he could barely feel through his hood might as well have been an iron grip, for all that he was willing to give you control of his body. He blinked, eyes searching yours for the answer you wanted to hear. “Ah, rest.” 

You smiled and dropped your hand, though he remained still. “And?” 

König’s heart dropped, his stomach alight with butterflies, and licked his lips again. “Touch you?” 

You laughed, and he laughed with you for a moment, before you shook your head. “Noo. What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“Oh! Medic!” 

“That’s right!” You cheered and much to his disappointment, climbed off of him.

He panted for breath and tried to follow you without standing up (not until you gave him permission to), and leaned forward. You chuckled and held your hand out to him, “come on.” 

He jumped up, reaching out not for your hand, but for your waist. But your hand on his chest stopped him, “you can tell me what the medic says tomorrow.” 

He once again found himself frozen and unable to think clearly. “...what?” 

You started to guide him towards the door, “oh and I’ll drop off your shirt tomorrow too.” 

“What?” 

You opened the door and nudged him through it. “Welcome home, König. Good night.” 

König stared at your closed door for half a minute before he leaned against it, his hand flying to the doorknob and finding it securely locked. Good. But…he sighed, “good night, angel.” 

[More Neighbor König]

Tagging: @warrior-of-justice

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 22: Reminiscing

Mountain wakes in the middle of the night and watches his mates sleep.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for making the dividers <3

Another alternate prompt for today!

Mountain can't sleep. It's strange. He's normally the first of the three of them out, snoring gently before his partners have even closed their eyes. Normally sleeps through the night without fail. But despite being awake, he cherishes it, the room dark, barring the silver moonlight that slips through their curtains, just enough to see by.

He turns in Dew's arms, slowly, carefully, not to wake him. But if Dew can sleep through Aether's snoring, rattling in his chest like a chainsaw, Dew can sleep through anything. The fire ghoul's expression is peaceful, eyes gently closed and moving under lids, dreaming. The furrow between his brows is smoothed over, and Mountain can't help himself from brushing a strand of spun gold hair back behind the point of his ear.

It moves his hair off of his neck, and it's just barely bright enough to make out the silvery, parallel scars that line the sides of Dew's throat. Mountain exhales through his nose, unable to resist bringing his fingertip down, tracing featherlight over one of the long cauterized scars.

Dew's ear twitches, piercings jingling, and Mountain pulls his hand back. He stirs, but doesn't wake, mumbling something nonsensical. Mountain's lips quirk up, just staring fondly at his smaller mate. He remembers when those scars were fluttering teal fins, when the spun gold hair was silver.

It makes something pang deep in his heart, the remembering. When things were unimaginably bad, when the three of them clung to each other like fresh, new kits too scared to leave the nest. Scents changing, sea salt to campfire.Terrified, unsafe, paranoid of every shadow.

Things are better now, the band den full of pack again, ghouls that Mountain loves with everything he has. And he has Aether and Dew, peacefully asleep in their shared nest.

He smiles, moving to settle back down. There's a hand curling around his bicep, and he jolts, Aether's eyes glowing amethyst in the dim light as they meet Mountain's.

"Everything okay, sweet thing?" Aether whispers, voice gruff with sleep. "I knew you woke up early for the greenhouse, but I didn't think it was this early yet." The joke is light in his tone, thumb smoothing over his freckled skin, right on his farmer's tan line.

Mountain snorts quietly, kicking into a rumbling purr. "I dunno why I'm up, sorry for waking you."

Aether shrugs with one arm, the other pillowed under Dew's head. "You didn't, not really, just sort of... felt your emotions. More intense than they usually are this late."

"I was just thinking," he says, eyes drifting down to their mate between them. The grip on his arm tightens, Aether's thumb still rubbing in an arc over his bicep.

"We're okay, we made it," Aether whispers, and Mountain nods.

"I know, this is real."

"We earned it, we earned our rest," he says, eyes half-lidded with sleep but still so kind and warm, the magick swirling in his irises like galaxies.

"If we earned our rest, can we please fucking sleep?" Dew mumbles groggily, shifting between them with an adorable pout on his lips.

"Sorry, firefly," Mountain whispers, leaning down to press a kiss on his mate's forehead, letting Dew pull him closer. Their legs tangle together, and Mountain can feel Dew's pulse where their chests are pressed together, remembers how feathery and frantic it was back then, just how much terror tinged their scents. It was so bad they had to get new sheets.

Dew's expression softens, wrapping his arms around Mountain's torso, squeezing him that much tighter. "You okay, junie?" His voice is soft, sweet, the way he speaks to them versus the way he speaks to the rest of the pack.

Mountain nods, a soft keen slipping past his lips as he ducks down again and nuzzles into the crown of Dew's head, avoiding the sharp point of his little obsidian horns. "I love you two," he whispers, eyes darting from Dew's to Aether's and back. "So much. I don't know what to do with it all, I love you so much."

He can see the way Aether's cheek dimples as he smiles fondly over Dew's shoulder, can feel the way Dew's grip around his middle tightens. "Love you too, junie," Dew whispers, breath infernally hot against the shell of Mountain's ear.

Aether's hand squeezes his bicep in three quick pulses. "Love you too, sweet thing. Don't know what I'd do without the two of you."

Dew cranes his neck, peering over his shoulder at him. "You won't have to find out, swear it on our Father Below," he declares, a stubbornness set in his shoulders, and Aether leans down and kisses him. He turns, leaning over Dew's narrow shoulders to kiss Mountain too, tasting the beeswax of his lipbalm.

"Alright," Dew huffs, pulling the two of them back down to the mattress. "I love you two dearly, but can we please sleep?"

"Anything for my darlings," Aether hums, wrapping his arms around the two of them, hauling them closer to him. "Good night."

Dew hums, satisfied, copper eyes shutting as he snuggles between them. Very quickly, Mountain's the only one still awake. He looks at his mates, feels their body heat burning warm. He settles into the nest, breathing in their oh-so familiar scents, and lets that carry him back to sleep.

[thotofthecentury]

I wrote a thing

Reader x Angela

With such busy work schedules, you with recently joining Smosh and her rehearsals for Cinderella’s Castle, it’s only natural you come up with a sex schedule, right?

Every Tuesday and Friday night for the past month you’ve kept a relatively strict schedule. Your schedule even goes so far as to reserve Tuesday nights to using the strap-on and Friday nights without.

So when the clock strikes eleven pm on a Sunday evening and Angela pokes her head out of the bathroom to look at you /like that/, you tilt your head in confusion.

You’re lying in bed with a book and her eyes are louder than they have ever been. Angela wraps one hand around the door frame and sticks her hip out just a bit to be in view from behind the door.

“Yes?” you smile, knowing what that look means.

“Nothin…” she says in a small voice, picking at the chipping paint of the door frame.

“Angela,” you say in a more serious tone.

“Y/n,” she replies in the same tone right back.

“What’s up?” you ask softly, giving into her game.

“I’m kind of… really horny,” she whines while wiggling her body a little to emphasize her pent up energy.

You smile and toss your book to the floor as enthusiastically as you can. She laughs out loud.

“What, did you think I would say no?”

“No! I only- you’re very type A, I don’t want to ruin your routine.”

“Oh my god, just get over here.”

Angela excitedly jumps onto the bed in her raggedy band t-shirt and black underwear.

She crawls towards you, leans her hands on your thighs and kisses you lightly. Too lightly. You push into her lips with yours to deepen the kiss and she pulls away gently humming, “mm-mm.”

Now it’s your turn to whine, “Ang,”

One of her hands reaches up to hold your jaw. “Be patient, ok, baby girl?” she says lowly, your face only a centimeter apart.

Heat shoots straight between your legs at her raspy voice. The lower she speaks the more gravelly it gets. “Hmm?” she hums condescendingly.

Your eyes meet and you nod. The power she has over you is embarrassing.

This time she kisses you hard, tongue propelling into your mouth knocking into your own. You moan and grab her ass, pulling her onto you. She complies.

She’s directly horizontal above you, leaning all her weight into you and it feels incredible. Her thumb pulls your lower lip down, opening your mouth more. Without warning, she spits into your mouth earning a surprised sound from you. She then kisses you again before you can even think. The few drops of spit are warm on your tongue before you swallow it down.

The two of you make out for another minute before she straddles your hips and sits up. You stay on your back, admiring the view (and knowing if you tried to sit up as well, she would push you right back down). She pulls her hair out of its hair-tie and shakes it out. The slight shake of her hips with the pressure her weight is causing between your legs is making you crazy. The inhale sharply. She smiles down at you before pulling her shirt off in one swift motion.

The view somehow got even better.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathe out.

She leans down to kiss you and you barely notice she slips off her underwear. She pulls up one of your legs from behind the knee and straddles the other thigh.

“I want you to watch,” she says as she sits upright and begins to grind against your thigh. She runs a hand through her hair while the other hand grabs her own boob.

She lets out a low groan, closing her eyes for a moment. The thigh between your legs lightly bumps your center making you clench around nothing.

Angela leans forward to grip your hips to grind herself down harder. You feel her wet and pulsing around your thigh. You resist the urge to shove your hand between her legs.

Her hips move at a quicker pace. She groans loudly.

Her body is unbelievably perfect above you. Her boobs bounce ever so slightly from her rocking back and forth, her biceps flex as she pushes a hand onto your chest, and her stomach and thighs could not look softer. She could not look softer. She’s what should appear in the dictionary next to the word ‘womanly’.

“Slow down,” you dare to speak. You know her absolute weakness is when you suddenly switch from a blinding pace to an excruciatingly slow one. All the chase she had built up is back to ground zero but once she’s close again, she comes harder than ever.

“God, y/n,” she groans and shuts her eyes.

“Keep going,” you whisper. Her face twitches.

Your hands move from her thighs to her ass, squeezing hard.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum,” she stutters in a strained, high-pitched tone. It’s desperate. She’s looking right at you.

She tries to stay as slow as she can but her hips begin to jerk on their own.

“Fuck!” her voice cracks. She squeezes your boobs over your shirt as she finally comes, hard.

“Y/n!” she practically screams, eyes shut. Her body shakes for a moment as a new gush of heat coats your leg. You pull her against you gently as she rides out the aftershocks. You make them last as long as you can. Every gentle thrust of your thigh earns you a strangled moan. Her hair is curly and wild, some sticking to her sweaty face. She eventually starts to come down.

Angela breathes heavily, thighs still quivering around your leg, looking down at you. When she removes her hands from your breasts, there are crescent-shaped indents above each one where her fingers were gripping for dear life. It’s incredibly hot. You hope they bruise.

“That was-“ you pant as well. “So fucking hot, Angela.”

She’s suddenly shy and tilts her head to the side. “Shut up,” she smiles, now avoiding eye contact.

“You are ridiculous,” you say, sitting up right and kissing her.

She kisses you back before trailing down your body to kiss and lick the wet spot on your thigh. You watch in awe, hand brushing her hair out of the way.

“You didn’t come, did you?” she asks, looking up at you now with huge, gorgeous brown eyes.

“No but I’m so close,” you admit, sheepishly.

“Good,” she smiles and winks before dipping her tongue so far into you, you see stars.

(you’re welcome, @thesixthimmortal <3)

[noxgold]

The Pride of S.T.A.R.S.

Raccoon City has declared that it was holding its first ever Pride Parade, and a group of friends decide to go together. Chris/Albert, minor Claire/Jill & Rita/Forest - Rated T. AO3 link

~

Chris resisted the urge to squirm in place as Claire carefully brushed the make-up over his cheeks, leaving stripes of purple behind as she went. It was the last finishing touch before she was done, and he had to admit, he was antsy to get going. Raccoon City had declared that it was holding its first ever Pride Parade, and it hadn't taken Jill long to convince them to go together. 

“All done!” Claire's cheerful chirp had him grinning back, careful not to smudge the flag she had etched across each cheekbone in glittery eyeshadow. His little sister was dressed down due to the June heat in dark blue jean shorts, a purple tank top bedazzled with a pink glittery heart, and her hair tied back in a messy bun with a bisexual flag bandanna keeping any stray wisps back off her face. 

Gesturing for Chris to go check himself out in the hallway mirror, Claire ducked past to grab her bag and put on her shoes by the door. The sight of worn black jeans and his grey FREE BEAR HUGS shirt was familiar, along with the rainbow beaded necklace. But what caught and held his eyes were the differing flags on each cheek. On his left cheek soared the six stripes of the rainbow flag, as bright and joyous as any real rainbow. But what really held him was his right cheekbone, four defiant bands of black, grey, white, and purple shimmering in the hallway light. 

That was him. His flags, the confirmation that he belonged, that there was more than just him that felt this way. As he stood there, caught by the mirror, Claire quietly approached him, hand slipped into his to offer a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready to go?”

Casting one long lingering look at his reflection, Chris nodded, still holding his sister’s hand in his. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s get this show on the road.” 

Raccoon Street was a riot of noise and colour, voices singing and chanting as the parade slowly marched on. They had managed to find a parking spot a few streets over, and were now hovering near the corner of Filbert Street across from the zoo as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. 

Peering over the heads of the crowd, Chris squinted through the sunlight for any sign of his friends as he tapped his fingers against his jeans. The parade was going to start in less than 20 minutes but the place was already swarmed, and he had already given out more hugs than he could count. Apparently, free bear hugs were a siren song none could ignore. 

“Hey, Claire Cakes! Over here!”

Head turning at the familiar sound of Jill’s voice calling to his sister, laughter spilled out at the sight of Jill elbowing her way through the crowd, Rebecca tagging closely behind. Both of them had somehow managed to find a stand selling slushies and hotdogs, with Jill dual-wielding the food in each hand. 

Jill had somehow managed to scrounge up a lesbian flag temporary tattoo for her bicep and a tank top reading Rock Paper Scissors in shades of pink, orange, and red, which Chris didn’t quite get but judging from Jill’s smirk, he very much didn’t want to ask. Behind her, Rebecca was decked out in a short blue dress decorated in bright pink and yellow flowers, along with a matching sun hat with a little pansexual flag sticking out of it.

Rebecca's smile was glowing as she ducked around Jill, glitter sprinkled across her cheekbones like freckles. “Free Bear Hugs? Don't mind if I do.” Passing her neon pink slushie off to Claire, it only took a simple raise of her arms for Chris to sweep her up into a hug. Rebecca’s laugh was like the ringing of bells in his ears, her hands clutching his shoulders as he gave in to the urge to pick her up and squish her in his arms. Offering her one last squeeze before gently dropping her back down on her feet, Chris’ answering grin was wide enough to make his cheeks ache.

As soon as Rebecca was clear, Jill was bounding forwards, handing her hotdogs off to Claire with a “Oh, me next! Hold this for me, babe,” before launching herself forwards into Chris’ arms. The force had him moving with the momentum, using it to whip Jill around in a dizzying spin as she cackled madly in his arms. 

He wasn’t sure which of them were more dizzy when he finally set her down, Jill stumbling for a moment before turning back to Claire to retrieve her food. Only to find his sister with her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s, and one of the hotdogs with a significant bite missing from it. “My hotdog! Treason! Betrayal!” 

Claire’s eyes sparkled with laughter as she ducked away from the swatting hands of Jill, furiously chewing through her pilfered snack. “You're not meant to keep eating it! Claire!”

“You would think by now, she would know better than to hand food to a Redfield and expect to get it back.”

The quietly amused voice from behind him had Chris jumping, spinning on his heel away from the sight of Jill chasing around her gleeful girlfriend. “Captain!”

His captain was dressed in his ever present sunglasses, having donned casual slacks and a button up shirt for the event, the only concession to the heat were the sleeves rolled up to his biceps. The only sign that Albert even knew he was at a pride festival were the woven cuffs wrapped around each wrist. The one on his right side was laced in the same shade of blue yellow and pink as Rebecca's dress, while one on his right boasted shades of black, grey, white, and two differing hues of green, the aromantic to Chris’ asexual.

The responding glance was gently chiding, a pale hand gesturing out at the people clustering around them. “I'm not on duty today, Christopher.”

“Albert.” The man’s name was sweet as honey on his lips, a litany of unspoken confessions. There had always been respect and admiration between them, but recently something soft and tender had nestled behind Chris’ ribs. A feeling unnamed and unsure of its welcome. He had never felt this way before for anyone, and struggled to explain exactly the hows and the whys. Only that being around Albert made him happy. 

He had never found the courage to confront it, to express to Albert his interest, unsure that they would even be compatible romantically or sexually. Sex had never been an interest of his, even during puberty when he figured out that he only thought about other men when the topic came up. He never understood the attraction or the way his peers had spoken about the things they wanted to do with each other. Whenever he thought about touch, it always came back to the idea of snuggling on the couch and exchanging kisses, nothing more. Chris only ever wanted the romance of a partner, but now it was clear that Albert didn’t. Was there even a chance?

But if he never tried, there was no chance at all. 

Jill’s whoop of victory washed over him as she paraded past, Claire swept up in her arms and still holding on to that last hotdog for dear life. At some point Marvin, Rita, and Forest had finally joined them, a gay flag wrapped around Marvin’s shoulders like a cape. Rita’s short hair had been coloured in shades of blue, pink, and purple to match her skirt, while Forest stood nearby in support of his girlfriend as they laughed at the sight. 

All the sights and sounds sweeping around him like a summer storm, yet all Chris could focus on was Albert. Rebecca was calling for them as the parade was starting, and he should say something, yet his brain wouldn’t work, and his mouth couldn’t move, and,

Oh.

Albert’s lips were warm against his, soft yet firm. A hand cupping his cheek to hold him still, thumb brushing against the purple streaks as Albert slightly pulled away with a quirk of his smile. “I can hear your brain overheating, Chris.”

His poor aforementioned brain seemed to finally get with the program, churning out enough words for them to get tangled on his tongue in the confusion. “You- I-?.” 

Albert’s chuckle made his breath catch, offering one last stroke of his cheek before finally stepping back. “You’re not as discreet as you thought you were. I’ve been interested in you for awhile but you seemed oblivious to my attention. So I decided to go with a more overt plan of attack.”

Chris mentally scrambled through his memories, hunting for any signs that he could have missed that Albert was actually interested in him that way. “Really?”

“Really. Now, I believe we should catch up with our friends and prevent poor Marvin from being swarmed. And afterwards, you and I can return to my place and discuss how this could work in depth. Okay?”

Right, yeah. They can do that. Have a responsible discussion like adults about wants and boundaries. But for now, all Chris had to do was accept Albert’s hand and follow him once more into the breach. “Yes, Captain.”

[cum-a-calla]

jesus christ metalhead rory got me feelin' all kinds of ways you just KNOW he reeks of pot and eats pussy like its his job

he sure fucking does, anon. he loves anything that makes you give him that fuck-dumb, brainless, open-mouthed look on your face. he loves it when you come into the metal bar/venue he works at, likes watching you laugh with your friends and likes to make fun of you for ordering your little drinks, he likes the way you visibly fluster when you try to sneak peeks at him across the room just to realize he’s already looking at you, a little smirk on his mouth while he works the tap and wipes the bar down, while he walks plates of bar grub to other patrons between taking orders. he likes watching you walk away when you leave, and isn’t it funny how he’s always on a cigarette break the moment you and your friends start gathering your things to leave? isn’t that funny

((song recs for thrust focus:

“total fucking bliss” - world peace

“patricide - world peace

“pound for pound” - wound man

“man slaughter” - wound man

“he-man” - wound man

“inhuman joy” - regional justice center

“bastard land” - scalp))

he eventually likes guessing what you’re going to order, making drinks a little too strong just to see you sputter and make that cute little face when you take a sip. he likes to make fun of you - aw, come on, girly. too much? c’mon, you can take it, i know you can. do it for me, lemme see you take it. and he doesn’t talk a lot, does he? but when he has extended exchanges with you, it’s always just to the line of innuendo, his words filtered through the look on his face. you know the one - heavy, lidded bedroom eyes, teeth showing through his smirk. just a touch too much eye contact. a little too intimate… but it’s not unwelcome, is it, anon. reading about the electricity between people is fluffy and cliche, but wouldn’t you guess - every time your fingers collide when you hand him your ID, your card to pay, a tip, whatever - any time your fingers touch, it makes your cunt throb. that’s all it takes. and he can see the way you focus on it, the way you are physically unable to look away from his hands - slim, thick-knuckled fingers, veins climbing up into his forearms. and what do you know, those forearms are connected to those biceps, and it’s fucking over. by the time you remember to breathe and look at his face, he’s already watched you eyeballing him. and he loves it. the man doesn’t mince words, he’s so quiet and standoffish, but the little twitches and tics in his expression are undeniable. he fucking loves it. he loves watching you watching him.

but you know what he likes most?

he likes when you come later at night to a show. lots of local thrash bands, metal bands, powerviolence, grindcore. lots of gnashing guitars, lots of screaming and grunting and guttural, cathartic, barely comprehensible words. sweaty, lurching people in the crowd, so many vests and patches and studs. and he waits to meet your eye and watches you as he walks out of the venue, down the steps, knowing you’ll follow him. just a cigarette break. just a little fresh air in the dark.

and who are you to question him when he goes into the alleyway?

and who are you to say anything when he likes to push you up against the wall and crush his lips against yours, against your throat, biting, moaning, and it’s impossible to miss the way he grinds his cock against your hip, hard in his dirty black cutoffs, worn thin and old and full of holes, rips, old faded patches that are long since unable to decipher, the ink all rubbed and washed away through time. and still able to hear the music throbbing in the building, how can you resist the way he kneels down and yanks your skirt up, yanks your shorts down, whatever, just so he can push his face between your legs and eat you right there in the night air? buzzed, heady, hot and desperate. licking your cunt like he’s never had the pleasure before, like he might die in the next hour. sloppy, drooling, pushing his fingers roughly inside of you and licking, kissing, sucking until you’re yanking his hair and covering your own mouth so you can cum just a little quieter, just so you don’t attract too much attention - people occasionally pass by the mouth of the alleyway and they either actively ignore or barely notice. such is life in a big city downtown. who cares? who cares who sees this rabid man with his nose pushing into the soft mound above your pussy, his tongue busy attending every inch of the wet pink flesh inside?

who cares if he occasionally yanks your hips back and the clink of him undoing his belt seems to reverberate above the growling inside the venue? bass and guitar throbbing, the pulse-quick pounding of a band inside, slower than your heartbeat and harder, tantalizing, absolutely animalistic. his hips when he finally plunges his cock into you and pushes your face lovingly against the rough wall, grit on your face. he knows all the bands, he knows the songs. his hips know when to thrust, when to speed up and slow down, and he uses it to his advantage, he bottoms out and fucks you hard enough that you have to keep yourself from screaming. one hand in your hair, one hand digging into your hip, and then both hands, fingers digging into you, his impatient grunts and moans and panting. needing you. owning you. purposely fucking you in half so that even tomorrow you’ll be sore, you’ll remember him through the little pretty bruises his fingertips dig into the soft soft meat of your thighs, your hips, sometimes your tits. the bruises he sucks and bites into your throat and shoulders.

the way you can be away from him for a week, two weeks, longer. but every time you enter the bar, his face lights up just a little bit, his little secret smile, the way he rakes a hand through his hair. the way he leans over the bar and his unwavering gaze. the way he says, “well, hi there, girly.” and guesses your drink, as if he can’t see the leftover bruises on the side of your neck from last time.

[optimal-living-lab]

Strength Training for Beginners: A Comprehensive Guide

Strength training is an essential component of overall fitness, providing numerous benefits such as increased muscle mass, improved bone density, and enhanced metabolism. If you're new to strength training, getting started can feel overwhelming, but with the right guidance, it can be both enjoyable and rewarding. This comprehensive guide will walk you through the basics of strength training for beginners.

Understanding Strength Training

Strength training, also known as resistance training, involves exercises that use resistance to build muscle strength, endurance, and size. This resistance can come from various sources, including free weights, weight machines, resistance bands, or even your body weight.

Benefits of Strength Training

Increased Muscle Strength: Strength training helps to build and strengthen muscles, making everyday activities easier and reducing the risk of injury.

Improved Bone Health: It stimulates bone growth and can help prevent osteoporosis, especially important as we age.

Boosted Metabolism: Muscle is more metabolically active than fat, so building muscle through strength training can help increase your resting metabolic rate, aiding in weight management.

Enhanced Functional Strength: It improves your ability to perform daily tasks, such as lifting, carrying, and bending.

Getting Started

1. Consult a Professional

Before starting any new exercise program, especially if you have any health concerns, it's wise to consult with a healthcare professional or a certified personal trainer. They can help tailor a program to your specific needs and ensure you exercise safely.

2. Set Clear Goals

Identify what you want to achieve through strength training. Whether it's gaining muscle, losing weight, or improving overall fitness, having clear goals will guide your training program.

3. Start with Basic Exercises

Begin with compound exercises that work multiple muscle groups simultaneously. These include:

Squats: Targets the legs, glutes, and core.

Deadlifts: Works the back, glutes, and hamstrings.

Push-ups: Engages the chest, shoulders, and triceps.

Rows: Targets the back, biceps, and shoulders.

4. Learn Proper Technique

Focus on mastering proper form and technique for each exercise to prevent injury and maximize results. If you're unsure, consider working with a personal trainer initially to learn the correct form.

5. Gradually Increase Intensity

Start with lighter weights and gradually increase the resistance as you get stronger. Aim for 2-3 strength training sessions per week, allowing at least 48 hours of rest between sessions to allow your muscles to recover and grow.

6. Incorporate Variety

Include a variety of exercises in your routine to target different muscle groups and keep your workouts interesting. This can include different types of resistance exercises, as well as cardio and flexibility training.

Tips for Success

Listen to Your Body: Pay attention to how your body feels during and after workouts. If something doesn't feel right, stop and reassess your form or consult a professional.

Stay Consistent: Consistency is key to seeing results. Stick to your strength training program and make it a regular part of your routine.

Rest and Recovery: Allow your muscles time to recover between sessions to prevent overtraining and reduce the risk of injury.

Fuel Your Body: Eat a balanced diet rich in protein, carbohydrates, and healthy fats to support muscle growth and recovery.

Conclusion

Strength training is a valuable addition to any fitness regimen, offering a multitude of physical and mental benefits. By following this guide and staying committed to your goals, you can build strength, improve your overall health, and enhance your quality of life. Remember, progress takes time, so be patient and enjoy the journey to a stronger, healthier you!

[mazeinthemiroh]

hihi, I just read the scenario for ateez with an s/o whose personality is similar to another member and I lived it so much,,, I was wondering if it was okay to request scenarios or hcs about going to the gym together with each member?👉🏻👈🏻

ateez when their s/o goes to the gym with them

genre: headcanons; general, crack

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none

author's notes: thanks for your request sweetie. i hope this is what you meant but please let me know if i misinterpreted because i am super tired and it's very likely that i might have 😭

hongjoong

sharing a gym space with you allows hongjoong to step into flirty territory

he uses the equipment around him to make himself alluring ✨

i mean we all know he works on his chest the most so have fun with that one i'm totally not jealous ahaha i'm fine with this

but mostly it's kinda fun and carefree with him. he doesn't take the gym too seriously to be honest

will probably end up just chatting with you on the treadmill, both of you walking at a leisurely pace and using the time to catch up and talk about life

seonghwa

he persuades you to join like a yoga class or something

lists all the benefits of the class and pretends he's a professional when really his knowledge was all down to research he did in the middle of the night

the class is actually a lot more harder than he thought so he regrets even making you do it in the first place

so after bending in places he didn't know could bend, he's very much ready to take his leave and go get a maccies or smth

yunho

literally just goofs around the whole time

like... what did you expect?

if you thought this was going to be a serious gym session, please think again

this man literally does anything to make you laugh, and when he is in one of those giggly moods there's literally no stopping him, even at a public place like a gym

the type to sing 'row row row your boat' whilst on the rowing machine 💀 like you cannot take him anywhere

he's so unserious, pls

yeosang

he's like a humble bragger

will subtly flex and show off his arms to you, perhaps by using weights or resistance bands to work his biceps and triceps and really define their look

and then be all shy and giggly about like 'ahahha i'm so cute and shy but also very very hot please touch my arms uwu'

i can't with him-

he's actually a massive tease, idk if you can tell already

just so coy in like the best way possible, and he doesn't even mean to act like it. that's just who he is

san

he's not as subtle as yeosang is, that's for sure

we've got another flirty boy over here

he loves the attention he gets and he lives for compliments. words of affirmation is his thang, after all

so he will definitely show off in front of you and have no shame in doing so!

will probably go a step too far and lift really heavy weights that he can't actually lift and will probably pull a muscle or something 💀

then you'll have to support him as he limps his way out of the gym. hopefully he would've learned his lesson by that point

mingi

mingi is so touchy at the gym omg

he loves watching you working out regardless like it's just so satisfying for him

and then he will show off what he can do for you, within reason

but usually he likes working out with you and seeing if he can lend a hand in anyway

and between water breaks, despite being hot and sweaty, he's all over you, whether that's leaning on you when his breathing hard when really he just wants a hug, or anything else that he does

he loves spending time with you regardless so he is more than happy to invite you to the gym every time he thinks of going!

wooyoung

is so competitive omg, and for no reason???

like you might just be minding own business when he pulls up on the treadmill next to you and goes a pace higher than what you're doing

so then you go faster than him to challenge him

and then he goes faster than you

and so on

until yall are sprinting on that thing until one of you concedes to the other

depending on how stubborn you are, you could be running for a long while

just be sure to bring some water because you're gonna need it afterwards

jongho

jongho obviously is very strong and can quite easily lift most weights at the gym

he still likes to challenge himself though so he may try even heavier weights that he hasn't tried before

usually sticks to his own thing and leaves you to it

but if you ask him for help, he can be a very good personal trainer

will teach you how to do certain things you're unsure about or tell you how to do things safely so you don't hurt yourself or pull a muscle

he loves being able to help you in this way