#boxers or briefs or nah

[beefrobeefcal]

I need your professional opinion: what kind of underwear does Big Fish like to wear on a special night out? 🩲

Such a good looking question, Nevy!

What underwear?

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

📖 Rafe distracts you during your online class 💕

c/w: teasing, oral, fingering, pet names, unprotected p in v, cockwarming

900 words

"Fuck, baby..." His eyes work up your body slowly, hands holding and kneading the globes of your ass. Rafe's big hands trace your soft skin before cupping your breasts, squeezing, and watching the way your body draws closer.

Grabbing for his t-shirt, you pull it tug his head. Your lips claim his as your fingers trace over the deep indentations of his abs, his cut v-lines disappearing below the band of his sweats. You curl your fingers under the elastic as your tongue slips in his mouth, swirling with his as you pull his pants off.

Rafe lifts you off your feet into his arms as your tongues tangle together, your body rolling into his with the cadence of your kiss, the wetness of your soaked pussy transferring to his hot skin.

He throws you down on the bed and crawls on with you — the devilish grin on his handsome face spreading wider. "I needed this," he hums against your lips.

Your eyes fall down his perfect body, Rafe's hard dick pressed between the band of his boxer briefs and his hot skin. His tip's sheened, leaking precum, making your mouth water. You reach out your finger, teasing his fat tip, tracing his slit as his mouth falls open. Lifting your finger, you bring it to your lips, running it along your tongue.

"Yeah, Rafey?" You whisper. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You look over at your phone, trembling on the nightstand.

Alarm: British and World Literature

"No... No, baby. C'mon," Rafe groans breathily as he hovers over your body, reading it as well.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, running your fingers through your hair, trying to look half-presentable as you reach for your laptop, resting on your lap, before pulling it open for class.

"You're jokin' me," he rasps as he looks at you over your laptop as the faces of your classmates fill the digital classroom. You shush him, and he scoffs, his face twisting in disgust.

"M'sorry," you whisper, keeping your voice soft.

"Nah, baby... Don't be," he hums as he rests his hand on your thigh, making your face twist slightly with his sudden change of heart.

Your professor's face pops up on the screen, delivering her usual greeting.

Your breath catches in your chest as Rafe's grip tightens on your thigh. You realize it wasn't acceptance on Rafe's end but a momentary pause.

Your heart starts to race a little faster, pussy throbbing as Rafe's large hand traces up your body, squeezing your upper thigh. "Present," you speak, pushing out the word for attendance as his rough fingers draw along your soft skin.

You feel your cheeks warm up, your thighs drawing in slightly, but he stops you, pushing you wider, making you bite your lips to keep your whimper inside. Rafe chuckles just under his breath at the sound that slips past your lips, angling himself slightly to get a better look at your pretty face.

"Pretend I'm not even here," he taunts through a whisper as his fingers cup your pussy, pushing against your sex.

You try your best to focus, your body trembling as class goes on. Rafe pushes two long fingers inside you, pushing his against your clit, making you have to lift your laptop ever so slightly so he won't knock it. You clear your throat, disregarding him, but it's useless.

Rafe kisses your thigh as he starts to fuck his fingers into you.

He curls his long digits, making you fight back moan after moan from his hand alone.

Your legs draw in, but he grabs your thighs, pushing them into the mattress again, holding you open to look down at your drooling hole, giving you a few teasing licks.

"Holy shit," you breathe as Rafe flicks his tongue against your clit before sucking down. He drops one arm, pushing his fingers inside your pussy as his mouth works on you as well.

Your head gets fuzzy, body quaking, your screen visibly shaking. Fuck, Rafe. You grab the top of your laptop, slamming it shut, letting a deep moan pour from your lips as you cum hard off his tongue and his fingers, throwing your head into the pillows.

Rafe crawls up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss on your mouth as you come down from your high, tasting yourself on his lips. "Mmm... I love you, baby," he hums, and you want to be mad, but you just can't.

Your brows pinch together in confusion as Rafe rolls flat on the mattress. He grabs the elastic band of his boxers, looking up at you with a smirk as he pulls them down his thighs, his heavy cock slapping against his skin.

"You got thirty minutes left, baby," he smiles smugly as he wraps his fist around his thick dick, waiting for you to climb on top.

"Rafe..." You chuckle breathlessly, still breathing heavily from your first release. "I don't know."

"Looks like you don’t know," he mumbles teasingly as he reaches for you, but you're already moving toward him, your body telling a different story entirely. "Just be a good girl and sit on it," he hums.

You climb on him in reverse, Rafe's big hands slapping, and kneading your ass, pulling you open slightly as he watches you trace his tip through your wetness.

"Goddamn, princess. C'mon... Shittt," he moans as you slide down on his dick, inch by inch, your pussy swallowing hip up 'til you're fully sat, nails clawing into his muscular thighs. "Atta girl. Fuck, you're wet, pretty," he praises as you let the oversized t-shirt Rafe gave you loose.

His hands slip under the bottom of it, resting on your ass, his long cock throbbing inside you as you grab your laptop, holding it open as you try to keep a straight face stuffed full of your boyfriend's cock.

tags: @rafesthroatbaby | @marleymarleymarleymarley | @chelzaa | @rafesheaven | @nemesyaaa | @starkeysbabygirl | @littlelamy | @cameronsprincess | @lottalove4evelyn | @yasmin-oviedo | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @watchmerora | @rafeslovergirly | @buckybarnessweetheart | @anamiad00msday | @namelesslosers | @cades-outsider | @romaescapes | @starkeysprincess | @lish-0 | @unrealmirrorball | @lilithblackkk | @sleepiibunniiii | @gri959 | @rafesgiirl | @daryldixon83 | @akobx | @hyperfixationgirl | @lhhlver | @rrafeswhore | @slut-4-gojo | @blair-bears-blog | @loveesiren | @rafegf-real | @alphabetically-deranged | @ariana2saucyy | @rafestoothbrush | @hauntedfawnn | @alejstarkey @laniirackssss | @jkrafe | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @wtfdudesblog | @rafe-cameronswife | @rafedaddy01 | @st8rkey

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my boyfriend to wear lingerie?

Wow that sounds really fucking weird and this is weird but anyway

I (31M) am dating a guy (29M) and have been for about 4 years now, and we share an apartment. He's so beyond perfect and I am insanely lucky, and I'm planning on proposing to him this June.

Important to note that he is FTM. I am not, I'm very cis. He doesn't dress very masculinely, he likes dresses and skirts and stuff, which I like because he looks fucking hot in them and it makes him happy to dress like that. I haven't ever seen him wear ladies' underwear or anything like that before, only boxer briefs. I didn't really realize that till after this conflict though.

Lately I was in... a certain store for adults, picking up some undisclosed items, and noticed some lingerie that I thought would look really good on him. I ended up buying it as a gift.

When I showed it to him that night though his face just fell. He started tearing up and said he really didn't want to wear it and that he felt really insulted that I'd ask him to wear something like that. I apologized right off the bat, but I said was confused and I told him that he wears fem clothes the time. He told me that women's underwear made him feel really dysphoric and the lingerie had this thing, I forgot what he called it, but it basically makes the breasts more prominent like a wire or something (I grew up with two equally cis brothers and a mom who never talked about any of this so cut me some slack). He got top surgery years before he met me so I'm not sure what he's talking about.

Anyway. I apologized and put it back in the bag, told him I'd return it and I intend to. We ended up going to bed without having sex like we planned. He didn't touch me at all all night and didn't kiss me goodbye before he went to work the next morning.

I want to be very clear. I'm not trans, and I would never challenge him on what makes him dysphoric. But I do want him to explain what upsets him so I understand. I want to know what he's thinking so he doesn't just shut down on me.

One last thing. I know this is the drastic actions website but I don't want to see any of the "break up" comments or any sort of slander against my boyfriend. I love that boy and I am going to marry him if he'll have me.

Was I TA for getting him a gift? I wanted to surprise him but it did not turn out well. I would also appreciate any advice, especially from other trans guys. Thank you all.

What are these acronyms?

[hughesmuse86]

Fuck i have this idea on my mind so please could your write something about it 🙏🏻🤭 jack going down on you while you are in online class/meeting and you have to keep a straight face but at some point you just can’t so you have to turn the camera off and jack feels accomplished

𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓳𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓪𝓼𝓴 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 💕 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 🥹

+18 → smut | Distracting You, fingering, oral, brief unprotected p in v

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

“Fuck, baby…” His eyes work up your body slowly, hands holding and kneading the globes of your ass. Jack's big hands trace your soft skin before cupping your breasts, squeezing, and watching the way your body draws closer.

Grabbing for his t-shirt, you pull it tug his head. Your lips claim his as your fingers trace over the deep indentations of his abs, his cut v-lines disappearing below the band of his sweats. You curl your fingers under the elastic as your tongue slips in his mouth, swirling with his as you pull his pants off.

Jack lifts you off your feet into his arms as your tongues tangle together, your body rolling into his with the cadence of your kiss, the wetness of your soaked pussy transferring to his hot skin.

He throws you down on the bed and crawls on with you — the devilish grin on his handsome face spreading wider. "I needed this," he hums against your lips.

Your eyes fall down his perfect body, Jack's hard dick pressed between the band of his boxer briefs and his hot skin. His tip's sheened, leaking precum, making your mouth water. You reach out your finger, teasing his fat tip, tracing his slit as his mouth falls open. Lifting your finger, you bring it to your lips, running it along your tongue.

"Yeah, Daddy?" You whisper. He leans forward, his grin even more smug with the title.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You look over at your phone, trembling on the nightstand.

Alarm: British and World Literature

“No… No, baby. C’mon,” Jack groans breathily as he hovers over your body, reading it as well.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, running your fingers through your hair, trying to look half-presentable as you reach for your laptop, resting on your lap, before pulling it open for class.

“You’re jokin’ me,” he rasps as he looks at you over your laptop as the faces of your classmates fill the digital classroom. You shush him, and he scoffs, his face twisting in disgust.

“M’sorry,” you whisper, keeping your voice soft.

“Nah, baby… Don’t be,” he hums as he rests his hand on your thigh, making your face twist slightly with his sudden change of heart.

Your professor’s face pops up on the screen, delivering her usual greeting.

Your breath catches in your chest as Jack’s grip tightens on your thigh. You realize it wasn’t acceptance on Jack’s end but a momentary pause.

Your heart starts to race a little faster, pussy throbbing as Jack's large hand traces up your body, squeezing your upper thigh. “Present,” you speak, pushing out the word for attendance as his rough fingers draw along your soft skin.

You feel your cheeks warm up, your thighs drawing in slightly, but he stops you, pushing you wider, making you bite your lips to keep your whimper inside. Jack chuckles just under his breath at the sound that slips past your lips, angling himself slightly to get a better look at your pretty face.

"Pretend I’m not even here," he taunts through a whisper as his fingers cup your pussy, pushing against your sex.

You try your best to focus, your body trembling as class goes on. Jack pushes two long fingers inside you, pushing his thumb against your clit, making you have to lift your laptop ever so slightly so he won't knock it. You clear your throat, disregarding him, but it’s useless.

Jack kisses your thigh as he starts to fuck his fingers into you. He curls his long digits, making you fight back moan after moan from his hand alone.

Your legs draw in, but he grabs your thighs, pushing them into the mattress again, holding you open to look down at your drooling hole, giving you a few teasing licks.

"Holy shit," you breathe as Jack flicks his tongue against your clit before sucking down. He drops one arm, pushing his fingers inside your pussy as his mouth works on you as well.

Your head gets fuzzy, body quaking, your screen visibly shaking. Fuck, Jack. You grab the top of your laptop, slamming it shut, letting a deep moan pour from your lips as you cum hard off his tongue and his fingers, throwing your head into the pillows.

Jack crawls up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss on your mouth as you come down from your high, tasting yourself on his lips. “Mmm… I love you, baby,” he hums, and you want to be mad, but you just can’t.

Your brows pinch together in confusion as Jack rolls flat on the mattress. He grabs the elastic band of his boxers, looking up at you with a smirk as he pulls them down his thighs, his heavy cock slapping against his skin.

“You got thirty minutes left, baby,” he smiles smugly as he wraps his fist around his thick dick, waiting for you to climb on top.

“Jack…” You chuckle breathlessly, still breathing heavily from your first release. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah?” He asks teasingly as he reaches for you, but you’re already moving toward him, your body telling a different story entirely. “Just be a good girl and sit on it,” he hums.

You climb on him in reverse, Jack’s big hands slapping, and kneading your ass, pulling you open slightly as he watches you trace his tip through your wetness. “Goddamn, princess. C’mon… Shittt,” he moans as you slide down on his dick, inch by inch, your pussy swallowing hip up ‘til you’re fully sat, nails clawing into his muscular thighs. “Atta girl. Fuck, you’re wet, pretty,” he praises as you let the oversized t-shirt Jack gave you loose.

His hands slip under the bottom of it, resting on your ass, his long cock throbbing inside you as you grab your laptop, holding it open as you try to keep a straight face stuffed full of your boyfriend's cock.

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[fayelero]

— AFTERPARTY ! tooru oikawa

➥ pr : timeskip!oikawa x famous!fem!reader

➥ syn : waking up with a famous model in your bed after a afterparty you didn’t remember ? hell nah

➥ wc : 3.2k

➥ tw : drunk sex (no description of sex lol), suggestive talks, make out session at the end, fluffy morning, kind of a oneshot??

➥ a/n : new baby : tooru. but the matter is that I love tooru from s4 only (like the mini moment) because he is prettier in the art of the s4 (like all haikyuu characters lmao)

The bright morning light streaming through the slats of the blinds was enough to make Oikawa Tooru groan as he stirred in bed, his head pounding mercilessly. He squinted against the intrusive glow, and his hand instinctively came up to rub at his temple.

How much did I drink last night?

The pounding headache was relentless, accompanied by a haze of fragmented memories from the night before. He remembered the match—Argentina against Japan. He’d played well, as expected. The crowd had been electric, the cheers still echoing faintly in his ears. After that? The after-party. It had been a lavish celebration, as it always was when his team won a match.

He groaned again, this time shifting slightly to sit up. Something felt off. The sheets bunched uncomfortably low around his waist, and… there was a distinct chill against his skin. All of his skin. That’s when it hit him. He wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Oikawa blinked once, then twice, as the realization settled like a heavy weight in his chest. Slowly, he turned his head to the side, his stomach twisting with dread.

His breath caught in his throat.

There, lying tangled in his expensive silk sheets, was someone else. A woman. Naked.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. Long hair spilled over his pillow, framing a face that could only be described as breathtaking. Even in sleep, she radiated elegance and beauty, her features far too familiar to him.

He blinked again, harder this time, hoping he was hallucinating. But no, it was her. You. The internationally famous model. The model who had attended the match last night, who had drawn attention from everyone in the room, including him.

“The fuck did I do?” Oikawa whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing his brain to recall more of the night. Images flashed in his mind—brief but damning. He remembered you laughing, your hand brushing his as you leaned in closer. He remembered drinking, and then drinking more, the two of you at the center of the party. Dancing. Your hand in his. The way you’d looked at him, eyes sparkling with mischief and something more.

And then… nothing. A black hole of memory.

His heart raced as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to jostle you awake. His bare feet touched the cold floor, grounding him slightly as panic set in. He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, muttering under his breath, “This cannot be happening. What the hell did I do?”

He stood up, wincing as the pounding in his head intensified. The sleek, modern apartment he called home suddenly felt far too small, the walls closing in as he scrambled to piece together what had happened. His mind raced with questions.

Did we…? He glanced back at you, your bare shoulder peeking out from under the sheets. The answer was obvious.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, louder this time. His hands tugged at his hair in frustration. What was supposed to be a simple celebration had somehow spiraled into this.

Oikawa moved quickly, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on with a sense of urgency. He needed to think, to figure out how to handle this before you woke up. The last thing he wanted was for the world to find out that Tooru Oikawa, Argentina’s star setter and public heartthrob, had spent the night with one of the most famous women on the planet—and couldn’t even remember how it happened.

As he reached for his sweatpants, he stole another glance at you. You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent as you shifted beneath the covers. He froze, his heart leaping into his throat. But you didn’t wake.

He let out a shaky breath. Figure this out. Damage control. His thoughts were a mess, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

All he knew was that this was a disaster waiting to happen, and he had no idea how to fix it.

The sound of running water filled the silence of the apartment as Oikawa leaned against the counter in his sleek, minimalist kitchen. A glass of cold water sat on the marble countertop next to a packet of painkillers, a necessary remedy for the throbbing in his head. His thoughts were still scattered, the events of the night before refusing to organize themselves into a coherent narrative.

How do I get through this without making things worse? He sighed, rubbing his temples.

But just as he was about to pop the medication into his mouth, a small cry from the bedroom jolted him upright.

“Ah!”

This was followed by a loud thud.

Oikawa’s eyes widened in alarm, and without a second thought, he abandoned the glass and rushed toward the sound.

Pushing open the bedroom door, he found you on the floor, tangled in a heap of silk sheets. You were rubbing your temple with one hand, clearly disoriented, while the other hand clutched the fabric tightly to your chest in an effort to cover yourself.

“Are you okay?!” Oikawa asked, rushing toward you but stopping a few steps away, suddenly unsure of how to proceed.

You blinked up at him, your expression a mix of confusion and discomfort. “What the…?” Your voice was hoarse, your gaze darting around the room. It didn’t take long for your eyes to land on him—dressed now in sweatpants and nothing on the torso, his hair still messy from sleep.

Your eyes locked. For a moment, neither of you said a word, the silence charged with unspoken questions.

Oikawa broke the stare first, clearing his throat awkwardly and running a hand through his hair. “Uh, you fell. Are you—are you hurt?”

You shook your head slowly, your fingers still pressing into your temple. “No, just… dizzy. My head is killing me.” Your voice carried a groggy edge as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. “Where am I?”

“My apartment,” he said quickly, before realizing how bad that sounded. “I mean, um, last night… we… Uh…” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his face flushing slightly.

Your brows furrowed as you pulled the sheets tighter around yourself. “Last night?”

“Yeah…” He scratched the back of his neck, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. “It’s… complicated.”

You groaned softly, closing your eyes and leaning back against the bed. “Of course it is.”

Oikawa hesitated for a moment before walking over to his closet. “Uh, here,” he said, pulling out a neatly folded sweatshirt. He handed them to you, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. “You can wear these for now. I, uh, couldn’t find your dress.”

You glanced at the clothes and then back at him, one brow arching slightly. “You ‘couldn’t find’ my dress? Or did you not want to look too hard for it?”

“Hey!” he protested, holding up his hands defensively. “I swear I looked!”

You let out a soft laugh, your voice laced with amusement despite your pounding headache. “Relax, setter boy. I’m teasing.”

“Setter boy?” He blinked, surprised you recognized him despite the chaos.

You smirked faintly, accepting the clothes. “You’re Oikawa Tooru. Star setter for Argentina. Kind of hard not to know who you are.”

“Ah, well, I guess I’m famous.” He flashed a small grin despite himself, but it quickly faded when he remembered the situation. “Anyway, uh… you can change in the bathroom if you want.”

Once you were dressed in his oversized sweatshirt—which practically swallowed you—you emerged from the bathroom and followed Oikawa into the kitchen.

He gestured toward one of the high stools at the counter. “Here. Sit. I’ll get you some water and something for your head.”

You slid onto the stool, glancing around the apartment as the golden morning light poured in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was stunning, showcasing the bustling streets of Buenos Aires far below.

“You’ve got a nice place,” you commented, your voice light.

“Thanks,” Oikawa replied, handing you the glass of water and the painkillers. “Volleyball pays well when you’re good at it.” He gave you a playful smirk.

“Modest, aren’t you?” you teased, taking the pills and downing them with a sip of water.

“Only when it counts.”

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away as you both talked. You shared fragments of last night—how you’d ended up at the match, your thoughts on the game, and your blurry memories of the after-party. Oikawa admitted he didn’t remember much either, earning a laugh from you when he sheepishly confessed to drinking far too much.

“So let me get this straight,” you said, resting your chin on your hand as you gazed at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “You invited me to the after-party, we drank way too much, and now we’re here—me in your clothes, with no idea what happened in between?”

“Pretty much,” Oikawa replied, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “I swear this isn’t how I usually spend my mornings.”

“Sure it isn’t,” you teased, your smile widening.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re awfully confident for someone who woke up in a stranger’s bed.”

“Well,” you said, leaning forward slightly, “when the stranger is as charming as you, it’s hard to complain.”

Oikawa froze for half a second, caught off guard by your boldness. His ears turned red, and he quickly looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Charming, huh? You must still be half-asleep.”

You laughed softly, enjoying how flustered he was. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just fun to mess with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “Drink your water before you pass out again.”

The golden light bathed the two of you as the conversation continued, the tension from earlier replaced by a surprising sense of comfort.

Oikawa leaned back against the counter, watching you sip the water he’d given you. He tapped his fingers absently on the marble surface, his thoughts still a little scattered, though the easy rhythm of your conversation was helping ground him.

“So,” he started, after a brief pause. “You’re a model. Internationally famous, apparently.”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What gave it away? The fact that half your team was trying to talk to me last night?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Not my fault you showed up looking like…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely in your direction. “…that.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was,” he admitted with a small smile. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in his head, he straightened. “Wait, do you like matcha?”

The sudden change of topic caught you off guard, but you nodded. “Yeah, I love matcha. Why?”

“Perfect.” Oikawa pushed away from the counter, opening a cabinet and rummaging through its contents. “I think I have some matcha powder lying around. Someone on the team gave it to me because they thought I’d like it, but I’ve never actually bothered to make it.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You don’t know how to make matcha?”

“Is that so weird?” he asked, glancing at you with mock offense.

“Yes!” you said, laughing. “It’s not hard at all. How do you not know how to make it?”

“Look, I’ve got plenty of other talents,” he retorted, pulling out a small tin of matcha powder. “But making fancy drinks isn’t one of them. Think you can handle teaching me, Miss ‘International Model Who Knows Everything’?”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and walking over to join him at the counter. “Fine. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Oikawa stepped aside, giving you room as you inspected the tin and found the necessary tools. He watched you intently, leaning slightly against the counter as you explained each step.

“First, you need a small bowl,” you said, grabbing one from a nearby cabinet. “Then you put a teaspoon of matcha powder in it, like this.”

You demonstrated, your movements confident and precise. Oikawa’s eyes lingered on you as you worked, taking note of how focused you looked.

“Next,” you continued, “you add a little bit of hot water. Not boiling, though—it’ll ruin the flavor.”

As you poured the water, he leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. “Okay, what’s next?”

“Now we whisk,” you said, grabbing a small bamboo whisk. You turned to him, holding it up. “You do have one of these, right?”

Oikawa blinked at the whisk, then at you. “I mean… I guess I do?”

You laughed. “Unbelievable. Anyway, you whisk it like this.” You began whisking the mixture in quick, precise motions, creating a frothy layer on top.

Oikawa leaned closer, peering over your shoulder. “You make it look easy.”

“It is easy,” you teased, glancing at him. The proximity between the two of you was suddenly very apparent—his face was only inches from yours, his warm brown eyes locked on the bowl. Your breath hitched slightly, but you forced yourself to focus.

“Here, you try,” you said, handing him the whisk.

Oikawa took it, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He hesitated for a moment, then tried to mimic your movements.

“No, no,” you said, laughing as you reached out to guide his hand. “Like this. You need to whisk in an ‘M’ or ‘W’ motion, not just stir in circles.”

Your hands covered his as you corrected his movements, and the closeness left you both a little breathless. Oikawa cleared his throat, his cheeks warming slightly.

“See?” you said softly, glancing up at him. “Not so hard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away to hide his growing embarrassment.

Once the matcha was ready, you poured it into two mugs and handed one to him. “Alright, moment of truth. Try it.”

Oikawa hesitated, eyeing the vibrant green liquid. “It smells… earthy.”

“Just drink it,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He took a sip, his expression instantly shifting from curiosity to regret. “Oh. Oh no.”

You burst out laughing, nearly spilling your drink. “You hate it?”

“It tastes like grass!” he exclaimed, setting the mug down and sticking out his tongue dramatically. “How do people drink this stuff?”

“Not everyone has the palate of a five-year-old,” you teased, still laughing. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Well, I’m not acquiring it anytime soon,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You smiled, leaning against the counter. “At least you tried. That’s something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Next time, I’m teaching you something. Something that doesn’t taste like… whatever that was.”

“Deal,” you said, raising your mug in a mock toast. “But I’m still counting this as a win.”

The playful banter between the two of you continued as you lingered in the kitchen, the golden morning light washing over the space and reflecting off the sleek countertops. Oikawa leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, shaking his head as he watched you sip your matcha with an expression of triumph.

“You’re way too smug about this,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Well, someone has to be,” you teased, taking another sip and setting the mug down. “I mean, you’re the one who didn’t even know how to whisk properly. That’s basic stuff, setter boy.”

Oikawa let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “I’m a volleyball player, not a barista. Cut me some slack, Miss Perfect.”

“Perfect?” you repeated with a smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to be—” he started, but stopped when he saw your grin widen. He huffed. “Fine, it was a compliment. Don’t let it go to your head.”

You laughed, stepping closer to him as you leaned against the counter. “Too late.”

Oikawa shook his head in mock exasperation but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. The conversation felt effortless, the awkwardness from earlier replaced by a surprising sense of comfort.

As the laughter died down, you reached for the mug of matcha again, only for your fingers to brush against his. Oikawa had moved at the same time, intending to push the mug further aside, and the sudden contact startled both of you.

“Ah—sorry,” you said, pulling your hand back.

“No, it’s fine,” Oikawa replied, his voice quieter now.

You both froze, the playful atmosphere shifting into something else entirely. You were suddenly acutely aware of how close you were—close enough to see the golden light catch the warm brown in his eyes, close enough to feel the faint heat radiating from him.

Neither of you moved, and neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, charged with an unspoken tension.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first—maybe it was him, maybe it was you—but the distance between your faces vanished in an instant. Before you could second-guess it, your lips brushed against his, soft and tentative.

Oikawa stiffened for a fraction of a second, clearly caught off guard, but then his body relaxed, and he leaned in further, pressing his lips more firmly to yours.

The kiss was hesitant at first, like neither of you could quite believe it was happening. But as the seconds passed, it deepened, the tentative nature giving way to something more passionate. His hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your head slightly to deepen the angle.

Your fingers curled into the muscles of his toned torso, pulling him closer as his lips moved against yours. His other hand found your waist, the touch gentle but firm as he pulled you flush against him. The heat between you was undeniable now, your breaths mingling as the kiss grew more heated, more desperate.

Your back pressed against the counter as Oikawa crowded closer, one hand braced against the marble to steady himself. The other remained on your waist, his fingers curling slightly as if he were afraid you might pull away.

But you didn’t. If anything, you leaned into him more, your hands moving to tangle in his hair. He let out a soft, almost surprised sound against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening in response.

Time seemed to blur as the kiss turned into a full-blown makeout session, the golden morning light casting everything in a dreamlike glow. The taste of matcha lingered faintly on your lips, but it was quickly forgotten as Oikawa consumed your attention entirely.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath.

“Well,” you murmured, your voice slightly breathless, “that… wasn’t in the plan.”

Oikawa let out a soft laugh, his lips curling into a small, lopsided grin. “Yeah, definitely not.”

He kisses you again.

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his. “But you’re not complaining, are you?”

“Not at all,” he admitted, his voice low and warm. “In fact, I think I could get *kiss* used to this.”

Your lips quirked up into a playful smile. “Careful, setter boy. You’re starting to sound smitten.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, surprising even himself with his honesty.

The golden light continued to spill into the room as the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence, the rest of the world forgotten for the moment.

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[coveredinsweetpea]

not to be a whore........... but imagine making out with Eddie's buldge through his underwear 😩

🥴🥴🥴 tbh I think there are two different scenarios and I wanted to choose only one to elaborate on but I couldn't so here I go: you're both either too lazy to care and this evolves from a sleepy cuddling session OR you're being needy and clingy, begging for his attention - just a whiny mess basically, and this is all that he's willing to give you. Both detailed under the cut 🥴🥴 (the 2nd one is pure filth, humiliation, degradation etc 18+!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

It's summer, Wayne's not in town and you have all the trailer to yourselves. But it's still early, no one's in the mood to party yet, it's hot and you're both too lazy to move. 

Eddie's starfish on the bed, a comic book having him completely under its spell, while you lay lazily with your head on his tummy, hoping sleep would envelop you. But it doesn't; Eddie's too caught up with a plot twist he didn't see coming, and ideas start coming to you. 

Your eyes fix the outline of his cock and without saying a word, you palm him in your hand, your fingers drawing random patterns on the material of his boxer briefs. 

Eddie doesn't react, at least not to your knowledge, but one eyebrow does pop up. You don't see it however and decide to keep going, moving your hand a bit to the side so you can rub the length of his cock. 

"Sweetheart?" Eddie lifts his comic book so he can look at you, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing"

You don't even look at him, just keep teasing him through his boxers, until he can't help but tense his thighs. "Love?"

"Yeah?" again, you answer without bothering to face him, but this time you do move. Just in the opposite direction, nonchalantly pressing your lips against his bulge. 

The gesture was light, not too sudden or too strong, but the reason he froze for a second is the pure confusion that washed over him. But he doesn't get a chance to ask, because when he feels what you're doing - understands that you're right now literally kissing the length of his cock, he can't help but chuckle. 

"Sweetheart, you know I can take those off for you, right?" Eddie teases, one hand on the top of your head as you keep going.

"Nah" you shrug and wrap your lips around his clothed tip. One of your hands slips lower, your fingers brushing against his balls as you start sucking. 

"Ah fuck" he gasps. But you don't budge.

You keep at it - licking, sucking, grabbing, your teeth lightly grazing the tip of his cock. 

"Baby, damn it" the comic book flies across the room, his attention now fully on you. "You wanna make me cum like that?"

But you don't answer. You just shove your hand up one of the legs of his boxer, cup his balls into your hand, and resume full on making out with his cock. 

The sheer feeling of him getting hard under your lips, the way he can barely control his breathing, how his thighs tense and how his abdomen clenches every time you apply just a little bit more pressure, makes you want to see just how far you can go. 

Brushing your thumb over the wet patches on his underwear, you look up at him, "Yeah, I wanna. Can I try?"

"Try?" he laughs and rubs your cheek with the back of his fingers, "Darling, you're halfway there"

You beam under his praise and resume your quest, eagerly sucking and tugging through the material as his cock visibly stiffens.

"But then you'll take yours off. You can play around all you want, but you know I can't stop until you've made a mess on my face, doll"

Fine by you.

OR

You being clingy isn't anything new. The planets sometimes settle so that some days the only thing you want is his attention and nothing else. And it's usually not a problem, Eddie being more than happy to oblige and give you what you so desperately crave, but there are also days when that is not possible. 

Like this one.

Busy with tasks Wayne left for him, the campaign needing some last minute fixes, Dustin asking for a ride and a Corroded Coffin concert late in the evening - this day is bound to suck for the both of you. 

You manage to compose yourself for as long as you can, but by the time you reach the venue for the show, you're almost out of your mind. Begging, teasing, whining, throwing yourself at other men to get his attention - you do everything in your power to get his attention. But you fail. Miserably. As once you finally get home, things don't play out the way you had hoped - at all. 

"So fucking desperate, like a fucking whore" Eddie scoffs, plopping down on the couch. He spreads his legs and nods, "Do your thing"

Normally, you'd whine and complain, but your brain isn't cooperating so you listen to his command. You kneel in front of him, undo his jeans, and then helplessly look up at him, bottom lip popping out. "Eddie…"

"Do you need help, kitten?"

You nod.

"Do you deserve it? You acted like a dumb slut all night. Why would I help you? You can't even take my dick out, why would I let you suck it?"

"Please, Eddie…" you cry.

"Look into my eyes, doll" he commands, his hand on your chin forcing you to face him. "Apologize for the way you've been tonight"

"I'm- I'm sorry" you sniffle, "Please-"

"Sorry for being such a cock thirsty whore that you can't even function unless you get to have my dick down your throat?"

"...yes"

"Say it, baby. You need to hear yourself saying it. And look into my eyes while you do it, love. Show me how bad you want it"

"Please, Eddie-" you blink, "I'm sorry for being such a whore, but I need it, please. Can I please, please, suck your cock, please?"

And your pleading might have been enough but you'll never know. Eddie doesn't even get a chance to fully strip before he sees the hungry look in your eyes. "Come here" he motions as he stands up, his jeans now pooling around his ankles. "Show me you want it"

For a second, you look up at him in confusion, but the way his cock stretches the material of his underwear has you feral all over again.

So you don't question it, don't complain, you just get to work. He's hard - throbbing almost, the wet patch of precum making your tongue tingle as you make out with his cock as best you can. 

"That's my girl" he grins, patting your head, "My good girl, keep going. Make me cum. If you can do it, you get to swallow it all, baby"

[daydaydayrk420]

Imagine whatever beetlejuice you guys want. I'm going with this one. Also i know that the picture on the right is probably a girl but we gotta deal with it because i couldn't find a better one. And i hope you guys like the changes i made. :)

Ew

Beetlejuice x male reader

⚠️major age gap, but who's counting after 100, right? Blow job, cock warming, oral fixation ⚠️

🚨minors and girls do not interact 🚨

Whispers.

That's all y/n hears when he's in the attick.

"Come on, sugar, i know you want it." The deep mucky voice called out from the towns sculpture.

Y/n looks up from his sketchbook. His eyes land on the mini figure of the poltergeist.

"For the last time off-brand Joker. I'm not calling your name."

Let me take you back a couple of hours. Or days. Who knows? Y/n isn't counting.

Y/n Deetz. Oldest kid of Charles Deetz.

Him and his family have just moved into an old house in Winter River.

Why is a 19-year-old still living with his family, you ask? Because he's 19. Why would he move out at 19? He's not even employed.

Anyway.

Lydia and y/n weren't too opposed to moving in. They actually liked it. Before their stepmother turned it into a modern house nightmare.

But after a couple of months Lydia and her brother found out that this place is haunted.

Thing is. Lydia found a lovely couple Adam and Barbara. But y/n? He found a weird green haired ant in the attic that just won't shut up. And even then? Y/n can't stay away. Why?

"Oh, come on, sugarplum, ya know that you want to." The tiny figure said as he leaned on his headstone.

"Nah I don't think I do." That's a lie. And they both know it.

It's not like the beetle man can't see the sketches y/n is drawing. Those definitely aren't pornographic sketches of said beetle man.

The green haired man groans with frustration. "Are you toying with me or do you not remember my name?" He asks annoyed.

Both. But y/n doesn't want to answer that. "You'll never know."

"Y/n! Dinner is on the table!" Lydia yelled from the bottom of the attic stairs.

"Well that's my que. Goodnight Mr freaky." Y/n said and took his sketchbook downstairs.

The green haired man groans in frustration and punched a tree that falls over. Not because he's strong. But because it's a plastic tree.

A couple of days pass and y/n is still refusing to say the name.

He promised himself he'd never do it. But...

Last night something happened.

Y/n sits up panting. What the fuck was that.

He looks down and sees a wet circle on his boxers. He groans and rubs his face. "What the fuck am I dreaming of..." He mutters to himself.

That's when he realized he was still hard. He stares in between his legs as he holds his head. His face is blank as he tries to process the situation.

He lays down. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His hand travels down his chest to his belly and eventually his boxers.

"Fuck..." He groans as he palms himself.

Those hands.

That tongue.

That voice.

"You alright sugar?" That rumbling and cocky voice fills the room. Or at least y/n thinks it fills the room. But it's in his head.

"Let me help you with that" he said with sickening eagerness. But nonetheless. Y/n imagined how the older man kneels in between his legs.

"y/n!" Lydia's voice snaps the daydreaming man out of his thoughts and looks towards the door.

"What!" He yelled back trying to sound calm.

"You're going to be late for class!" Shit. Y/n thought to himself. It's his first day at his new school, and he's already late.

He hurriedly gets out of bed and rushes to the bathroom to clean himself up and wash his face.

He splashed cold water into his face and cleaned his eyes. Once he looks into the mirror he lets out a brief yelp when he sees the poltergeist standing behind him with his sick smirk and a clear bulge in his pants.

But when y/n turns around he sees nothing. He quickly looks back into the mirror. It was just his imagination.. he hopes.

The day doesn't get better from there on for y/n. Anywhere he goes it's like the ghost is with him. He sees him in pictures. Reflections. Faces. Everywhere. He feels like he's going mad.

So the moment he gets home. He throws his bag in his room and rushes to the attic.

But when he storms in he freezes in place when he sees Adam and Barbara talking with Lydia.

He stands there awkwardly pondering whether he should leave or ask what they're doing.

"I'll just..." Y/n trails off as he turns to the door again.

"Actually no you should stay. You should know this too." Adam said. The younger man nods and closes the door.

Once he's next to Lydia he looks at the couple.

They sigh. "If you see him. Or his ads again. Do not call him." Barbara said as she placed the bio exorcist poster on the chair. Y/n looks at it finally realising what this is about.

"Why?" He questions.

"He's not a ghost.. he's a demon. He's disgusting.-" "And he's really horny." Adam added to Barbara's explanation.

"... right." Y/n mumbles.

"How do you know that?" Lydia questions.

"We called him once... It was a mistake..." Barbara sighed.

"Do we have to be near him to call him?" Y/n asked as he got an idea.

"No I don't think so... That's why you should be more careful." Adam said.

The siblings nod and look at the town's sculpture.

"Can we go now? I have some homework I gotta do." Lydia asked. Adam and Barbara nod and let the siblings leave.

Once y/n is locked in his room he flops on the bed. He closes his eyes. But even then his mind isn't at peace as all he sees is that mossy face.

His eyes snap open. That's it.

"Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice."

Poof. The chubby moss man appeared right in front of y/n's bed.

He looks around while y/n watches him. What did he just do. Fuck fuck fuck fu

"Fuck" y/n said without thinking. Beetlejuice looks at him with his sick smirk.

"If that's what you wish to do then I'm all willing." The bug man said with his sickly confident voice.

Y/n watches him stunned. Why is he suddenly frozen? He literally dreamt of this last night and all day.

"Oh, come on, pretty boy, don't say you don't want this," BJ said with a smirk as he turned around and squeezed his ass. Y/n obviously stared. And the green-haired man knows it.

"Beetle-" "Ah ah ah!" BJ hissed and jumped on the bed to cover the younger man's mouth. "Don't you dare say my name."

That's when y/n laughed. BJ looked at him with confusion. Y/n reached up and removed the man's hand from his mouth.

"Ya know guys usually say to scream their name when they're about to be intimate." He said with a chuckle.

The beetle man can't help but chuckle too.

"Well, we don't want me disappearing while we're in the middle of having fun, now do we." He said with a smirk and slowly positioned himself over the younger man.

Y/n watched with a smirk. Oh, this greenhead thinks he's topping? Ha!

Y/n lifts a hand, tangles it in the green grass hair, and pulls him down towards his crotch. "How about I call you BJ? Hm?" He said as he used his free hand to undo his belt.

"BJ?" The green-haired man scoffed. "Yeah..BJ. because that's what you're going to give me right now," Y/n said as he lowered his pants just enough for his dick to spring free.

And right on comical timing, y/n feels something poking his leg that the green-headed man is conveniently straddling.

"Oh come on now. Where's all that sickening confidence?" Y/n said with a smirk as he watched the poltergeist look at his cock nervously.

"oh no. Have you never sucked a guy off?" Y/n teased.

BJ gulped and looked up at the younger man before shaking his head. That only made y/n smirk and tug at those green locks of hair. "Let me guide you."

With his free hand, he takes hold of himself, and with the hand In BJ's hair, he tugs him closer. "Start off with kisses or licks." And as ordered, the green-haired guy did. He gives a nervous kiss to the tip and looks at the younger man.

Y/n hums in approval. BJ nods and keeps going. He kisses the tip again before his lips make their way down the shaft.

"Just like that," the younger man grins, and he watches the bug man try his best to please him.

"Open your mouth," Y/n ordered. And BJ did just that. He watches as the younger man grabs the base of his dick and lines up with his awaiting mouth.

The green-headed man sticks his tongue out eagerly.

And before he knows it y/n's tip is pushing past his teeth and all the way down his throat. He can't help but gag at the unfamiliar sensation.

Soon enough the green-headed man starts to hump y/n's shin. The younger man watches with hooded eyes. The bug man's mouth feels way better than the younger man imagined.

"You're doing so well. So so well." He pants as he starts thrusting up into that nasty mouth. BJ gags but pushes himself to take more of the younger man deeper down his throat.

Y/n uses both of his hands to hold the head of green mop of hair in place.

He thrusts up urgently. Using all his pent-up tension from the day to chase his relief. The deeper his dick goes the more desperate Beetlejuice's humps become.

"Are you enjoying yourself, bug boy? Is your sick mind getting off of this?" Y/n said between grunts as he thrusts up with fervor.

"Fuck!" The younger man said and his hips stilled.

BJ's eyes widened as he felt the familiar texture of cum filling his mouth. He tries his best to swallow. He doesn't want a single drop to get wasted.

As he swallows he looks up at y/n for praise. But all he gets is the view of that pretty face. Those pretty lips were wet and swollen as they parted to get more air. Those pretty eyes rolled back and hooded as the intensity of his climax shook through his body.

Bj feels pain all around his scalp because of how tightly y/n is holding onto his hair.

But the green-haired man's hips haven't stilled. In fact his humps might've gotten even more desperate.

It's been so long since Beetlejuice felt this good. And fuck he can't last for long.

And he doesn't. His arms wrapped around the younger man's thigh, and he buried his face into the bush of pubic hair at the base of y/n's dick. Yes. He still has his mouth full of dick.

Y/n gasps when he's now all down BJ's throat. He's so sensitive. He looks down to check on the demon. But all his eyes focus on is how the poltergeist's shirt rolled up and how he now has the perfect view of how his ass bounces.

Y/n groans and grips BJ's hair tightly when he feels the poltergeist moan around his dick as he climaxes into his underwear.

His hips still. So does his body. His eyes close as he holds onto y/n's leg like he's afraid to let go.

Y/n runs his fingers through the grassy hair and waits. But BJ doesn't move. So the younger man carefully tugs the older man's head up to pull him off of his dick.

But BJ shakes his head and bops his head back down.

"Wha-" y/n gasps. "You don't want to pull off?" He asks. The green headed man shakes his head.

The younger man sighs. "Alright then." He gets comfortably on the bed and runs his fingers through the older man's hair.

Beetlejuice relaxes and rests his head on y/n's hip while he enjoys the weight on his tongue.

They enjoy the silence. But the silence gets too suspicious. Y/n looks down and sees that the poltergeist has fallen asleep.

Damn him.

Y/n is going to be in so much trouble if anyone finds out about them.

But he's too tired to think about that. So he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Maybe this time he won't have another wet dream.

[nubsdolls]

cautiiioooon!!,, slighty touchin, hobies real sweet, some gentle teasing, reader gets high with hobie, jus some fluff slash smutt, i also do not smoke so i apologize if any of the smoking parts arent true!!! but other than that enjooy!!

your back's pressed up against hobies chest, nicely placed atop his lap, in one of his, definitely way to big in size, band tees and some boxer briefs, the warm skin of your thighs rubbing against him, one of his hands resting on your hip.

he listens as you ramble on about your day and how miguels an absolute dick as he takes a long drag of his blunt before tilting his head up to blow out the cloud of smoke, not to blow it into your pretty little head.

you kind of pause, youve seen him smoke before, but you had never tried it, straying away from the substance, for no reason in particular, you didnt have anything against it, but just watching him made you a little curious.

you shuffled around in his lap a little before he firmly held onto your hips, holding you down.

"luv?, whatcha doin?" hes not sure if your aware that your grinding on him just the slightest. "hey um, bie'.. do you think i could try smoking with you?" you mutter, kind of embarrassed, of never having had smoked before.

so a few minutes later, you were seated across from each other, hobie explaining what to do, and what not.

"you dont wanna keep it in too long, yeah? but dont exhale immediately." he explained, his hands gesturing and practically talking along with him, sliding the blunt into your hand.

bringing it up to your mouth, you take a sharp drag, before exhaling, coughing from the effect, it was sweet yet a little bitter, it had a strange aftertaste to it.

he chuckled, rubbing your back and patting it gently, "you did good f' ya first dove."

leaning back a little for stability, his hands propping his up as he watched you.

"it has a weird taste, its not bad but like its kinda bittersweet." explaining, smaller coughs escaping you, your eyes stung a little. hesitantly, you took another drag, a little deeper, but softer. waiting a moment before exhaling, to your surprise, not coughing.

your eyes lit up, turning to him, hands slightly raised. he sat up, eyes glistening in admiration, seeing you excited over something so small made his heart beat a little faster.

"i forgot to tell you, this is probably gonna hit tha' hardest since its ya first.. id suggest only 2 to 5 hits.." tilting his head to look over at the blunt in your hand, then back at you.

"nah i can handle it."

yet a few minutes later, it had hit. and it hit hard.

"how d'ya feel?" he mumbled, you guys were back on your bed and his hands were on your waist, playing around with the band of your boxers. "has i' kicked in yet?"

"mhhh, i dunno, like im floating, and.. im here.." only small sounds escaped from you from here on out, inaudible babbling and giggling as you practically sank into his touch.

he genuinely laughs out loud from the state your in. "christ, ya absolutely baked luv." he mumbled through giggles, his long slender fingers making it onto the skin above the boxers, simply tracing little shapes onto your skin.

impulsively, out of nowhere, you flip over and make it so your facing him, he lifts his hand up confused, but not stopping you, your hands around his neck before you just collapse onto him.

"ya' need me so bad love? coulda jus' said so." he mumbled, his voice teasing, he moved one of his hands to your hip while the other gently ran up and down your spine.

you just spoke nonsense into his collarbone, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, almost nipping at it.

maybe you hadnt noticed it but hobie noticed the way you started gently straddling yourself on him, he could feel the ache between your thighs, the sheer fabric of your boxers not dismissing any subtle feeling. the high combined with the grinding sensation made it so so much better, the waves almost melting your brain.

"baby.." he whines, almost pitiful, his girl's trying to get off by just pushing her hips against him. he plants the sweetest kisses to her neck, his teeth gently biting down but not breaking skin. his hands inching farther up your shirt, hands cradled around your tits.

he could feel his tip leaking with precum, she was just too precious like this, your eyes tearing up from the neediness or from the high, maybe both. you left out a frustrated whine, and who was he to deny his girl?

a few minutes of just straight, slow, sloppy, panting thrusts, filling your needy cunt all the way up, his hands on your waist, guiding you back onto his dick, your face up against the couch and holding onto the pillows to ground yourself.

while hes fucking you hes also slowly taking drags of a blunt. blowing the smoke onto your lower back as he picks up the pace, earning pornstar—worthy moans out of you. "bie—" you shuddered, so incoherent and tears almost spilling from how much pleasure you were taking in.

"cmon baby.. use ya words, yeah?" he grips onto your waist a little more, his nails digging into your skin, the warm blunt in his hand as he gently pulls out before slamming back into you, the sound of your juices and skin slapping almost a rhythm.

and when he finally cums into you its almost an out-of-body experience, like your floating, back arching so far you thought you were gonna snap. finally, he pulls out, your evident orgasms rushing down your thighs. he flips you over, gently placing kisses on your heated face.

hi guys!!! im sosososos sorry ive been gone, whole lotta school work nd i just got back from nyc.. also im not vry creative so pls send requests:( (im goin crazy)

[lillaydee]

Head Over Heels Part 16

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11 @liciafonseca @senoratess @denisanoemi @lovefreylove @heartpatch

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 15

---

Joel raised his hands as the guards pulled the dogs away, eyes still on you. He was studying your face. Just in case. He wasn’t going to take his eyes off you until he was sure he wasn’t getting shot. If this was it for him, let your beautiful face be the last thing he saw.

“Wait,” Tommy said, moving towards Joel. The guards stood still, guns still aimed at the man you loved, but did not shoot. Tommy saw it in their faces, how hesitant they were, how disbelieving. He didn’t want to believe it either. He was not losing his brother like this. He stopped maybe five feet away from Joel, just behind the guards.

“Were you bitten?” he asked Joel.

“Not that I remember. Last clicker was maybe two days ago. I would’ve turned by now.”

Tommy pointed at all the muck and blood all over his person, “That your blood?”

Joel shook his head, “Nah, clickers’.”

Tommy turned to Diana, asked her to get some hot water in buckets. Hank, Benny and some of the ladies went with her.

What followed was an awkward ten minutes where Joel was just standing there with his hands up, the dogs still trying to get at him, Ellie telling you she could smell him from all the way where you were standing, Marcus trying hard not to laugh.

When the buckets were brought out, Tommy ordered Joel to strip.

“What?”

“Strip. You’re washing, and then we’ll let the dogs sniff you again.”

“Here? It’s freezing.”

“Hence the hot water.”

Joel looked at everyone who had gathered at the gate, a good fifty people at least. His eyes caught yours and you might have imagined it, but you thought you saw his ears got pinker, even more so than it already was. He took his jacket off and tossed it aside, peeling his clothing one by one, his skin looking red and raw from the freezing temperature, dirt and sweat residues all over him. The scar you had stitched up was visible, and the crowd started murmuring at the many such marks on his well-built body.  

You didn’t realize it until Liv nudged you with her elbow, but you were ravaging his body with your eyes. That dream you had of him was giving you so many naughty thoughts, now that he was here in front of you rather than your dream, and it was clearly written all over your face, your bottom lip almost bleeding from your own teeth biting on them.

Someone brought him a stool as he was unbuckling his belt, toeing his boots off. Some naughty whistles began sounding as he stripped his lower body off his pants.

Well damn.

It was freezing. You didn’t know for sure, but it had to be in the low 20s. And yet, his boxer briefs still revealed what seemed to be something quite impressive underneath.

Damn, you were starting to sweat. Maybe it’s not in the 20s after all?

Someone cleared their throat, and you saw Esther standing to the side, openly gawking at your currently-ex-sort-of-boyfriend-but-hopefully-soon-to-be-boyfriend-for-real's crotch, a sly, hungry smirk on her face. You noticed the other ladies having a similar look, although they were not quite as open about it as she was.

Oh, hell no.

You didn’t realize it, but your feet were quickly moving towards him, turning around and facing the crowd, opening your jacket to cover him.

There was an audible groan from the ladies.

“Oh, come on, Elena. Be a sport,” Esther said.

“Your nose looks nicely healed, Esther. Perhaps we should break it one more time?”

She rolled her eyes, “Spoilsport,” she said, turning around to get back to her job.

“Nothing to see here, ladies,” you shouted, shout whispering at Ellie to come help you. She did, but had a ‘you stink, Joel’ look on her face at all times, standing next to you with her jacket open.

“Jealous, are we?” Joel’s low voice teased, as he took a seat on the stool, hissing from the cold contact. “I thought we broke up.”

You couldn’t see him, but you could tell he was smirking.

“Shut up.”

Will, Benny and Marcus came to join you and Ellie, Hank joining a little later with a blanket which they all held in front of him to protect him from the gawking crowd. You swore you heard some ladies boo.

You took the smaller bucket Diana had placed among the bigger ones and scooped some steaming water, checking that it wasn’t boiling hot before pouring some down his head, tipping his head back a little so as not to drown him. His eyes were opened, looking at you as you began massaging his scalp a little to get rid of the crusted gunk and blood that nested there. His eyes closed involuntarily as you did, making you feel all warm and gooey inside. Must be the steam from the water.

Once his hair was clean-ish, you began rubbing his face, his neck, his shoulders, Joel surrendering to your care, his eyes shut, his body relaxed. But when you began rubbing his chest, his eyes snapped open again, telling you maybe he should continue bathing himself from there.

“What? Why?”

His lips were in a circle, trembling a little, maybe from the cold, but maybe from trying to figure out what to say.

Marcus snorted, his hand covering Ellie's eyes, the teenager questioning his action, and that’s when you noticed Joel's hands were covering his crotch, a guilty look on his face. Marcus pulled a still confused Ellie away, mumbling something about waiting with the crowd instead.

Oh.

“Elena,” Will said, “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

You followed Ellie and Marcus, your cheeks feeling so hot you were sure everyone could see them blush. You didn’t know what Ellie told then, but Maria, Liv and Diana were having a difficult time straightening their faces, bursting into laughter as soon as you angrily asked them what they were smirking about.

Sheesh. Children.

As soon as the buckets were empty, the men wrapped the blanket around a shivering Joel, and the dogs were brought back, happily wagging their tails at him this time.

Oh, thank God.

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw yourself at him, hugging him with all your might and telling him you were sorry you slapped him, sorry you broke up with him. He let you hug him, his arms trapped under the blanket, telling you he needed to go into quarantine now, will you bring him some clothes? And maybe his toothbrush?

You were about to kiss him when Tommy pulled you away, telling you he still needed to quarantine. Standard procedure when he had been alone out there for this long, just in case. You can kiss him tomorrow, he said. You rolled your eyes at him and walked to your old home, happily choosing some warm clothing for him, bringing him his toothbrush as requested, a pillow and an extra blanket for the night.

Unbeknownst to him, you sat by the door, refusing to leave him. You didn’t sleep at all. You heard him snore, God, he must be exhausted. Captain was drinking non stop for nearly 30 minutes, you were told. He fell asleep almost soon after. Poor lad.

Ellie came in the next morning with breakfast, the two of you practically vibrating as you waited for the 24 hours to be up. As soon as the doors opened, Joel found himself almost toppling over from very aggressive hugs from you and his little girl. The two of you thanking him for coming back, for not dying, for finding the books you wanted. And as soon as he found his footing, he gave the hugs right back, thanking the two of you for waiting for him, for not giving up on him, holding his two ladies close to him as they escorted him to breakfast.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, worried that if you blinked, he would disappear, and that this would all be a dream. Ellie went off to school after, telling you that she would go straight home after school, so please, no hanky-panky in the living room, and ducked just in time as your hand mysteriously reached out to pull her ear. You and Joel stopped at the clinic, the doctor giving him a general check up. He frowned a little at Joel's wince when he was asked to lift his leg, his back clearly bothering him, but he decided against asking the man to stay for a night - mainly because the man was practically growling when asked about anything that might be of concern.

You walked him home, fingers interlaced together. You stopped at his front door, telling him that you would leave him to rest, that you would be back for lunch to bring him something. You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but he pulled you inside with him, going for your lips instead, kicking the door closed behind him.

You found yourself unable to protest at all. Realistically, you should demand him to rest. But you couldn’t. You let him kiss you, pull you up into his hold and brought you upstairs to his room. He placed you gently on his bed, his lips moving from yours to your jaw, your neck, your chest, before going back up to kiss you once more on the lips, ending the kiss with a peck on your nose.

“I need a shower,” he said. “I know you didn’t sleep last night. I know you were outside my door. Sleep. I will join you in a bit,” he whispered as he nuzzled your ear, before biting your earlobe gently, and getting up, pulling the blanket up, covering you to your chin, and went into the bathroom.

Wait, what?

**********

Really? He was going to just leave you hanging? You tried. You really tried to see his point of view, as you heard him potter around in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, heard small metal clipping going on, maybe trimming his beard. You got it, sort of. He was tired, he was filthy, he wanted to have a proper clean up, maybe shave. But… he carried you all the way up here, making your legs all useless with his kisses, and then… just… asked you to sleep?

How the fuck were you going to do that?

Especially in this bed, where in your dreams he… well… you know.

And he was right in there, in that bathroom. Naked.

Well, you thought, as you heard the shower turn on, and heard his groans from having the hot water hit his body, technically, you haven’t showered in two days. You needed to preserve water here in Jackson, and it’s winter, so showering wasn’t exactly ideal if you were preserving water and it’s freezing cold outside. But, you thought, realistically speaking, it wouldn’t be a waste of water if you were to say… share the shower… and him being in there was just a bonus. Right?

You could smell the shampoo he was using. So you got up, undressed, and opened the door, gently knocking before you did, even though you knew that he wouldn’t hear it over the sounds of the shower.

Shit, he looked good wet. And naked. His back was to you, so you slowly went into the shower with him, gently touching his back as not to alarm him, and slowly brought your hand around to his front, hugging him from behind. His hands immediately joined yours, bringing one up to kiss.

“Can I help you?” he asked, a smile heard in his voice, shampoo suds running down his body.

“Just thought you might need some help cleaning yourself,” you said, kissing his back.

“I thought we broke up,” he said, teasingly. “Changed your mind?”

“We are still broken up. I’m just being a good friend.”

“That so?” he asked. He picked up the soap and ran it onto the small towel he used to clean himself and passed it to you. You cleaned his back, his arms, his butt, unable to help yourself from taking a bite, and he chuckled at your cheekiness, behave now, he said.

“What if I don’t want to behave?”

He turned, pushing you up against the shower wall, his eyes ravaging your naked body you ran the towel on his torso teasingly, going lower and lower before lowering yourself to clean his now very much awake manhood.

Fuck, he whispered.

You didn’t touch him. Not directly. You proceeded to clean his crotch as gently and as thoroughly as you could, keeping the towel between your hand and his very sensitive skin, while he hissed and cursed from your taunting. You moved on to his thighs, legs, and finally feet, before standing back up and telling him to rinse himself, using the towel to clean your own body after running the soap on it again.

You went about cleaning yourself, acting as if this was a daily occurrence, as he stood there under the water, staring at you in disbelief. You lathered up your hair with shampoo, asking him to move aside once you were done.

“Excuse me?”

“You need to move. I need to rinse.”

He did, after seemingly snapped from a deep, deep daydream, and you moved under the shower, groaning a little as the hot water hit you at full force, rinsing the suds off your hair, your body, humming a little.

His hands suddenly wrapped itself around your body, his lips latching onto your neck. You could feel his stiffness on your back as he growled a little from contact with your nipples, stiff and perky from being in the shower – okay, maybe the fact that the man you had used for inspiration for 16 years was holding you, naked in the shower might have had something to do with it – his fingers quickly trapping the stiff peaks between themselves as he mouthed openly at your neck, jaw and ear.

You couldn’t move. You so desperately wanted to keep up the nonchalance, the charade of just wanting to share a shower in times of need, but God his fingers were delicious, and his mouth… fuck. You tried to speak, but your words came out in whimpers, a squeak, at most.

You jumped a little in his arms when his fingers rubbed your long neglected nub, the activity of tending to such needs neglected from a busy life of running away from clickers and raiders and settling in a new town while navigating your feelings for a man you’d been in love with for so long and healing from an attempted assault, your legs almost giving out at the sensation. He didn’t stop, circling on the nub with two fingers, pulling your body closer to his own, saving you from drowning in the falling waters as your head tilted up, your eyes closed, your mouth open, his mouth never stopping the much welcomed assault on your neck, whispering to you to let go, he’d got you, let go, beautiful. Fuck, you are so beautiful.

And you did, clamping your legs shut as his fingers continued their excellent, deserving of applaud work, body shuddering uncontrollably in his arms, as he soothed you with whispers and promises of more to come.

As soon as he dried you, he wasted no time in studying your entire body with his tongue, sending your rocketing to heaven two more times before finally taking you, holding you close to his body, whispering his adorations for you, his longing for you, rocking slowly into you as he made love to you, his body shivering from control, wanting to get you there again, before you pulled him tightly to you and begged him to let go, that you loved him, to make you his, that you had always been his, and will always be.

He came with a whimpered grunt, his breath heavy in your ears, breathless whispers of love and devotion followed, telling you that he loved you, that he was yours, before, now and always.

You fell asleep in his arms, a dreamless sleep, feeling so much safer than you had ever felt before.

You spent the rest of the day in bed, stepping out to go get something eat, only to find a Tupperware container with food in it in front of his bedroom door.

Oh… that’s right… Ellie…

You ignored the cringing images of the teenager in your head as Joel reached out for you, peppering kisses all over your naked back, and you were back in his arms, and he didn’t let you go all the way ‘til morning.

Joel woke up the next morning with a stiff back, his back being shot anyway from the fight with the clickers. That was why he was so late, it turned out. He threw his back, so badly, he couldn’t even mount Captain those first few days. The steed laid down next to him and made him roll onto him, and he was in so much pain the horse had to walk slower than it would’ve liked. That horse saved my life more times than I’d like to admit, he said. Stood guard over him as he slept, alerted him when there was threat around, and at one point, even chased a group of rabbits so he could shoot one.

Was there enough space in Jackson to plant premium grade barley? What else do horses love? That steed deserved the best, you’d decided. Kingly treatment from now on. Only the best for him, even if you had to starve yourself.

You gave him a massage, even going so far as heating some rocks and using them to soothe his aches. Sorry you are with an old man, he said, sorry you are with a premenopausal woman, you said. The two of you laughed, giddy that the two of you were finally together.

**********

“Well, well, well, look who finally came out for air,” Diana teased as you and Joel walked into the hall for breakfast, three whole days after he was released from quarantine.

Ellie scoffed, “That’s probably because their food supply magically stopped. After what I heard last night, I am never risking going up there with food again,” she said, dodging a punch to the shoulder from Joel, who immediately winced.

“Back bothering you again, old man?” Tommy asked, a smirk accompanying the concern. Joel nodded, blushing a little at the implication.

“Threw it fighting the clickers off,” he grunted, punching a now laughing Tommy on the shoulder, wincing again.

“Hey, Teresa!” Tommy called, the new lady immediately coming over. “You said you used to massage people, right? Can you do something about Joel’s back?”

The lady, in your humble opinion, looked a bit too eager when nodding, eyeing Joel up and down as if he was candy, and she was an greedy little girl on Halloween.

“Uh, you can demonstrate on me, I’ll do it,” you said, a little too quickly, and definitely louder than you intended. Her face fell, before composing herself and nodding.

Tommy stood up, laughing, telling Joel to stand with him.

“Put your arms across your chest,” he said, slipping his hand around Joel’s torso and lifting his up a few times, cracking his back, bringing his brother immediate relief.

“You couldn’t have just done that straightaway? You had to call Teresa and ask her to massage Joel?” you threw a spoon at him.

“Just wanted to see you squirm, sister,” he said, laughing as Maria smacked him on the chest.

After breakfast, Joel helped you pack up your apartment, for what it was worth, carrying your possessions home, all entire box of it. When he got upstairs, he passed by your old room and unpacked your clothing in his closet, placing your pillow on his bed, well, your bed now, too, and you didn’t care to correct him. Especially not now, when he was showing you how happy he was that you were finally home again, determined to never let you go, ever.

The next morning, you made the three of you breakfast. And this time, Joel sat down with you and Ellie, eating his fill of omelettes and toast, asking for seconds. He watched as you checked Ellie’s Science homework at the table, telling her where she made mistakes, the teenager listening intently to your explanations. A smile decorated his usually grumpy face at the sight.

This was his dream, the one he was so scared of living at first due to the possibility that all this would be taken away in the blink of an eye in an uncertain world. But being alone on that road with Captain made him realize that he would rather live it while he could, so that at least, the memory of it would ease the pain that loss would inevitably bring, be it for him or you or Ellie. The memory of Sarah grinning at him with eggs all over her teeth the morning before she died was one he thought of every time he had breakfast, and for a long time, that memory haunted him. But now, he realized, it was a memory he cherished more than anything, his little girl being cheeky with him.

And this, right here, the sight of the woman he loved teaching his daughter at the kitchen table over breakfast that she made and served with love, was one he wanted to remember should the dreaded happened, and he wanted the two of you to have such memories of him too.

“So, now that we are all living together again,” Ellie said, “Are you two going to get married?”

“Ellie!” you exclaimed, worried that the question might scare Joel into panicking, although you were dying to hear his answer.

“What? It’s a long time coming!” she defended herself.

“She’s right,” he said, standing up and going around the table, kneeling before you with a grunt. He took your hand in his, kissing it, before looking up at you with hope in his eyes.

“Elena, I never thought I would be this happy in my life. My luck with women was non-existent, at best, to the point that I shut my heart out to anyone. But you, you managed to find your way in and never left. Elena, I’ve been in love with you for 16 years. Took me a long time to finally admit it, but now that I have, I want more. More of us, more of this, forever. I want to spend whatever’s left of my life with you and Ellie, here, in our home. I want to grow old with you. I want you to be last thing I see before I go to bed and the first when I wake up. Always. Elena, Darling, will you marry me?”

You looked down to see a gorgeous diamond ring in a battered velvet casing, the rock glittering in the morning light.

“Where did you…”

“Found it about a year after I met you. Kept it with me since, in case I found the balls to tell you how I felt.”

“I would rather wear the ring you made for us,” you said, as his ears turn pink at the realisation you had peeked inside his secret box of obsession.

“Well, if you say yes to this ring, we can put those on say… Sunday?”

“Sunday? That’s two days from now! I have to go tell Maria. Make sure there’s enough time to prepare!” Ellie said, jumping off her chair running to the door, ignoring your pleas for her to come back and not make a fuss.

“Well?” Joel asked, looking up at you, his eyes so hopeful and true, earnest.

You gave him a teary smile, nodding, a whispered yes escaping your lips.

He stood up, picking you up and kissing you breathless, asking again and again if he heard you right. Did you really say yes? You will marry me? Yes, you silly old man, I will marry you. He slipped the ring onto your finger, rubbing his thumb over it before kissing you again, slowly pushing you back onto the kitchen counter, deepening his kiss to the point that all the thoughts in your head disappeared.

The front door burst open and the two of you jumped away from each other as if someone threw cold water all over you.

Maria, Liv and Diana were in your living room, their faces red from running, excitement clear across the three of them. Will, Benny, Tommy and Marcus ran in after them, all with expectant looks on their faces. You just lifted your hand up and the ladies’ screams were so loud you were sure the guards could hear them all the way from the gates.

Later, as the nine of you were in Maria’s living room, having a glass of wine celebrating the happy news, the three ladies cornered you.

“So,” Maria started, “Who’s your maid of honour?”

You wanted to laugh, the idea of having a wedding party when all it would be was maybe fifteen of you at the spot at the edge of the town with you and Joel exchanging vows in your best clothes before heading to the hall for a meal was rather funny to you. But then, Marcus cleared his throat, Jake in his hands, looking at you expectantly, making you remember a promise you made him.

“Erm, actually, I promised Marcus that he would be my man of honour.”

The ladies looked to him in protest, but he just smiled his winning smile at them and they deflated, conceding that at least they didn’t have to be jealous of each other.

Later that night, you found Joel in the kitchen with your brothers alone, they two of them speaking in low tones to him, their faces serious. Joel said something back, which seemed to change things, your brothers hugging him tight, patting him on his back, whispering something to him, and he nodded, before the three men parted with wet eyes.

“What were my brothers saying to you just now? In the kitchen?” you asked him, as the two of you laid in bed that night.

“The usual, they were just telling me what they’ll do to me if I hurt you.”

“What would they do?”

“Something along the lines of skinning me alive before removing all the bones in my body, and then killing me.”

You laughed. “Was that all?”

“They asked me to take good care of you,” he said, turning to kiss you on the temple. “I will, you know. Until my dying breath, if you would let me.”

You smiled at him, whispering that you already knew that, before kissing him.

**********

As far as weddings in the outbreak went, yours and Joel’s was perfect. You said your vows at sunset, at the edge of the town, overlooking the rolling fields of Wyoming. Your brothers walked you down the aisle, Ike officiating. Marcus held your bouquet, while Ellie was the ring bearer, even going so far as forgetting her aversion to dresses for the occasion, the rings Joel had made now placed on your fingers. His, with your name carved on the inside, yours, his.

The ladies found a white dress for you to wear, Lucy altering it to fit you perfectly, and Joel wore a smart suit they had found for him. God, he looked, mouth-wateringly good. Ellie and her friends scoured the town for fake flowers for your bouquet, seeing as it was winter. Joel’s bad-assery was completely thrown out the window when he first saw you walk down the aisle, tears falling uncontrollably down his face amidst his contagious smile, kissing you on the cheek, telling you that you looked so beautiful in your dress, although he did place your jacket on you as soon as you said ‘I do’.

In his speech at dinner, Will welcomed Joel to the family, acknowledging the irony, seeing as he and Benny were absent for the majority of your life after the outbreak, and Joel was there all along. Benny could hardly speak as he hugged you congratulations, telling you your parents would’ve loved Joel and Ellie.

Joel led you onto the makeshift dancefloor, swaying you in his arms, kissing you as if he needed your lips to breathe, thanking you for giving him a chance, for saying yes to him, for marrying him. You, in turn, thanked him for asking, for not giving up on you.

You couldn’t help see Ellie and Dina dancing together, your brothers with their ladies, and Tommy and Maria, Jake in between them, his gummy smile evident.

Wait… was Marcus dancing with Lydia?

He saw you looking at him, and you gave him a meaningful eyebrow raise. He shrugged, a sly smile on his face, as he led her in the slow dance.

“Looks like Marcus found someone,” you said to Joel, who turned and smiled at the sight.

“Phew,” he joked, “At least I don’t have to worry about him anymore huh?”

“You never had to worry, silly. I’m yours. Have always been yours,” you said, kissing him.

“I know that now. We belong together,” he whispered, as you laid your head on his chest, his body rocking you side to side, “Two old birds, at the end of the world, head over heels in love with each other.”

You lifted your head up, kissing your husband sweetly. You were never going to argue with that.

THE END

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

Sleepover + scary movies with Pete Di nunzio

The night was colder than expected, but maybe that was just the leftover tension from earlier. After Bill threw both of you out, you and Pete had no real plan—until you suggested a movie night at your place. Horror movies, naturally. It wasn’t like either of you were in the mood for anything lighthearted after that mess. Pete flopped onto your couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table like he owned the place. “You better have good taste,” he muttered, arms crossed as he eyed your movie collection. “You’re just mad because you wanted jerry to bring back your character.” you shot back, smirking as you popped in The Thing. Three movies in, the bravado started to slip. Pete had spent half of The Thing grumbling about bad decisions and another half gripping the couch cushion a little too tight. During Halloween, he cursed at the screen every time a character did something stupid,. By the time you put on The Exorcist, he had stopped complaining entirely and had scooted a little closer. “You good there, tough guy?” you teased when you noticed how interested was sitting. Pete scoffed, shifting further into the cushions. “Pfft. Yeah. I just—your house is drafty. You should fix that.” It was around 2 AM when Pete finally cracked. “Alright, that’s enough,” he grumbled, rubbing his face. “I’m staying over. Not ‘cause I’m scared or anything, but I’m not walking home in the dark like some horror movie dumbass.” You stifled a laugh. “Right. Not scared at all.” “Shuddup.” You threw him a pillow and an extra blanket, figuring he’d take the couch. But the second you came back from brushing your teeth, he was standing in the doorway of your room, arms crossed, smirking. “You know the couch sucks,” he said. “I’m taking the bed.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, shuffling over to make room. True to form, Pete wasted no time stripping down to just his boxers before flopping onto the mattress. “What?” he said, catching your look. “I don’t sleep in pants. Didn’t know you were so interested in my bedtime routine.” You just shook your head and climbed in, pulling the blanket over you both. For a while, there was nothing but silence, the only sound the faint hum of the TV still playing in the background. Then, in the dim glow, Pete shifted, turning on his side to face you. “You’re not really mad about earlier, are you?” His voice was quieter than usual, but there was a hint of something playful in it, like he was daring you to challenge him. You shrugged. “Nah. Bill’s just a dick sometimes.” Pete huffed. “Yeah. Guess so.” A beat passed. Then, suddenly, he poked your side. “Admit it, you got scared too.” You swatted at his hand. “Please. You were the one practically jumping into my lap.” Pete smirked. “Oh yeah? Then why are you still shaking?” You scoffed. “Maybe because some idiot invited himself into my bed.” “Oh, you love it.” He wiggled his eyebrows before flopping onto his back, smug as ever. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It was brief, barely more than a press of lips, but it was enough to make his cocky expression falter for just a second. When you pulled away, he blinked at you. Then, after a beat, he scoffed. “Wow. Finally admit you can’t resist me, huh?” You smirked. “I just wanted to shut you up.” Pete grinned. “Yeah, okay. Thats what that was.” You rolled onto your side, closing your eyes. “Scared now?” Pete scoffed, shifting closer just enough for your shoulders to brush. “You wish, takes more then a wimpy kiss to scare me.” But he didn’t move away. And when sleep finally took you both, he was still close enough that you could feel the warmth of him beside you, steady and real. This was definitely something you both wouldn't forget anytime soon.

[shinakazami1]

Transcript of IGN Handsome Jack QnA

This thing doesn't have the whole text but - questions and some of my fav Meg-Jack interactions :^] I tried to write their speech patterns as close as possible

Transcript under the cut:

0:30: Question: Is Buttstallion the best horse ever Jack : Well it’s my horse. That I made her ( <- FACT CHECK: he bought her) out-out of diamonds, so…

0:45 Q: What it’s like wearing a face (mask - though in video it's funnily shown) J: It’s not a mask, it’s a freaking face! Do people think I’m wearing a freaking mask on my face? MEG!! I’m kidding. You’re cute tho. You know what it’s like—do you ever put a onesie on right out of the dryer? (whisper) it’s like that. (normal volume) It’s cosy. It just feels right. And a cool thing about wearing a face is – you can swap them out with however many people you kill in course of an afternoon or a week or whatever. You get off that face – you put on another one! (laughs mid-sentence) It’s fantastic. I can look at whoever. I could look like you Meg if I wanted to. I might later. Wear your face.

1:43 Q: Boxers or briefs? J: Commando!

1:50 Q: What dead celebrity would you bring back? J: Tom Cruise. (learning he is still alive) He’s not dead. Oh. Well-well let’s kill him and then I can bring him back to life or whatever.

2:10 -2:52 (Off top) J: Where did you get these pretzels Meg: From the Hyperion vending machine J: They’re delicious. (long silence) They’re good. (longer) I promise someone will clean it up – my God that’s what happens If you drink beer at lunch, people!

(….) J: Pandorian, people are dumb but loyal. M: I’m loyal sir. I’m very, very very- J: Nah, so much of this. M: Oh yes, sir.

2:15 (Answer 3:25) Q: Do people recognise your voice in public? J: I’m all over the fucking place. I’m in megaphones, I’m in-in like convenience store, vending machines so—yeah. Yeah uh, I have to say. Yeah.

3:48 Q: Favourite type of weapon? J: What do you think, Meg? M: Uhh-anything that kills, sir. J: Well, I would say Hyperion would be a good start, wouldn’t you. M: (louder, nervously) That would be a very good start. J: There you go. Smart… uh. (Awkward horrible silence he prob wanted to say ‘smart girl’ and im glad he didn’t say it cus Jesus Christ man how much cringe can you spout out of your mouth). Anything made by Hyperion and anything that and anything that inflicts, like you said. Fairness to you. The most damage possible.

4:09 Q: (person wanted a greeting for her cat Tunses) J: Hey Tunses.

4:30 Q: Which Vault Hunter do you hate the least and which the most? J: I try not to play favourites. I hate them all the same. M: They’re all pretty terribl- J: (growling) They’re all equally hateable. M: They’re all pretty terrible. (you go girl say your lines) J: Each and every one of them. M: They all want to kill you, sir. J: God I hate them so much.

(Off top) J: (soft laugh) I enjoy your company M: You would make a great voice actor, sir. J: You know I’ve heard that! Yeah yeah yeah – people tell me sh# t all the time. You know. Like : , uh- I (chuckles) get that you, babe- M: You can cook, sir?! J: I- uh, um, I, uh – yeah. I'm really quite handy in the kitchen. M: Yeah? J: Yeah. M: What do you like to make sir. J: I find it- I find it z-zens me out after coming home and washing all the blood out of my clothes.

5:25 Q: Why are you so perfect? J: I don’t know, ask my mom. (pause) You can’t – you can’t because she’s dead, I killed her – but if she was alive, you could ask my mom.

(offtop) J: (playing the game) Where is my oxygen level? M: So, your oxygen level isssss – where the hell is it? J; Come on Meg – I cannot with your (Meg breaks out laughing) you stupid little sh#t like this (they both laugh) and you’re letting me dooown. M: Oh my God I’m the worst!! J: No it’s right over (chin upfront sounding voice idk how else to call him becoming a goblin) it’s right over there, did your little brain fall out of your head, Meg? M: Sorry, should be on your map. J: (genuine soft sounding) Why am I so mean to you? M: I don’t know, sir. J: (still soft, but cool persona) AAA that’s cus of what- that’s what I do.

J: How does Handsome Jack butt slam? M: I think youuuu- J: Anyway he likes (laughs) M: (chuckles) Yes, yes, exactly- J: Joke right there. Welcome

(…) J: That’s what the hip kid say. Instead of , they say (he becomes sonic and laughs like him). Did you know that? M: No, sir J: Yeah. That’s what they do.

(…) M: (after Jack killed a few monsters) Good job! J: Thank you Meg! Thank you for being such a loyal supporter. M: Absolutely sir: J: Really appreciate you, Meg. M: You do sir??? J: Claptrap (HEEEELP THE TIMING??? WHY DOES HE SAY THIS) M: That’s great. Oh- J: I appreciate you Claptrap.

(…) J: Gotta get some things- M: Yes. J: Gotta get some uh- hopefully some grenades. I love- I love the grenades! I got to say, I’m a huge fan (starts chuckling) blowing sh#t up.

7:25 Q: Is Handsome Jack happy? J: (laughs) That’s a great question. It’s deep, isn’t it? Um, there’s a lot of smiling going on here (chuckle) but really, I’m dead inside. It seems like everything I say has just a weird connotation to it. Some kind of inappropriate connotation to it. (sincere) Did you- did you ever noticed that? M: No, sir. J: Good answer! (laughs)

(Offtop) J: Ah for f#ck sake (kills a skag) M: That’s where you’re supposed to go. J: That’s – so I got to go outside. M: Yeah, you have to go outside. J: So you were right. Before. First time for everything, Claptrap. M: Yes. Yes sir. J: Yes siiiir.

(…) M: You’re doing great, sir. J: Atta girl. (pause) I got- I got to stop saying that. (laughs) Okay (nervous chuckles continue) M: And you got another badass rank so you can use that as well. J: Oh, okay – that’s see- now that is some useful information. M: (joyful and surprised) Really?? J: Yeah!

(…) J: (Asks about a game feature. Ben, someone out of the mic, answers before Meg in a monotone voice) Why is Ben so much smarter than you. Ummm- (nervous chuckle turning into silent cry-laugh between Meg and him) M: I’m doing my best sir. J: Ay-ay.

(…) J: What the f that just happened here. That just- I just picked that and now I can-okay. M: You have- you have- you have multiple. So it-do-does it— J: Oh, you’re God, how do you make so much sense when you say things. (…) J: (talking about enemy name pronounciation) Had to do an r-roll with that criiiticic crrrretin (??? im sorry I cant hear it well 9:15 pls help ) M: That’s very – that’s very fancy, sir. J: Mmm. You know what I am? M: What are you? J: I’m so fancy. M: You’re- J: I’m schmancy. (Meg snickers) You cut that one out too, Ben. That was- that was some bullsh#t (laughs) M: You’re so fancy, we already know.

(…) J: (About game dialogue) I don’t know who that is but I find them (emphasis) extrrrRRREMELY annoying. M: Oh they are the Vault Hunters si- J: (immediately) God they’re f#cking annoying, aren’t they. M: They are really, really annoyin- J: I feel like they’re trying too hard, that’s the thing. That’s the thing that’s standing out for me here. M: Yes, I think you should kill them. J: It’s one thing to be naturally funny and then there’s another – it’s another thing to- to be like – you know what I mean like – put yourself out there too much, feel like you’re overcompensating is the world I’m looking for. M: Don’t think you have to worry about that at all. J: (smooth convo swap) You know what I’m liking the most about this game? M: What do you like- J: The lack of Claptrap. M: Oh-uh, well, he is, he’s in here, if you want to- J: Listen, that’s fine – I’m in a good mood run right now, you don’t have to ruin it byyy talking about how I’m going to run into Claptrap. M: (silence) Okay sir. I’ll be quiet, sir. (pause) Yes. (pause) OH!! There’s Claptrap (in-game) Claptrap: HELLOOO- J: Oh you little son of a b#tch. Welcome to the pit of pseudo-solid sorrows, that is some alliteration. That’s a literary term for (long sign) all you people that didn’t finish school. Meg. Arena – of, partially see-through Triumph, the Hippodrome of marginally tangible everything else. (quieter) Do that make any sense to you? M: (joyful) No sir.

(…) Axton (in-game): Is it going to be a LONG story? Gaige (in-game): Yeah, just give us the Bluff’s Notes. J: (Jack is mimicking Axton’s voice) Wait, is it going to be a loooooong story? M: Yeah, they just keep talking- J: Axton is a handsome guy. M: Kinda looks like you sir- J: A little TOO handsome, if you ask me. M: He’s not as handsome as you. J: Well- I mean (chuckles) good luck with that, right. M: I mean, he might sort of be but- J: Oi! (pause) Slow your roll, sister. All right – wait, I was too busy talking, cus I love the sound of my own voice, now the f#ck am I doing? Am I loaded for bear? (Meg is trying to talk) Oh wait- M: I feel you are. No, you’re full (on amo), oh- J: Oh yeah, okay. That’s what she said. (immediately quickly nervously) Joking there. Okay if you want to, TAKE IT MAG feel free take it. M: No, that’s- J: (forceful) TAKE the joke, MAAG. M: I-I- J: Take the joke or you’re fired, Mag – or wait actually – take the joke or I’ll set you on fire, Meg. M: (playful) That’s what she said, yeah? J: God it just-it just sounds so much better coming from you for some reason.

(…) J: I think living on the moon would kind of suck. M: Why? J: I mean uh- I mean if you had to run like this all the time, you’d think it would be more advantageous or better than uhh, running –uh, say with like, uh, gravity? M: (smacks lips) Yeah, but you can do- J: Yeah but gravity Meg, is something it’s-it’s a force of energy that keeps the- it’s the Earth and the moon create, and it keeps things on the… neverm- ff, M: That was a great explanation, sir. J: (defeated) That’s fine. M: I have no idea what the hell you just said. J: (chuckles) It’s really – it was really scientific, wasn’t it? - M: It’s a thing! J: It’s a thing with the… M: I think it’s a good place to wrap this up.

(….) J: You want to do another-another thing? M: Uhh, I don’t, I don’t think we have time to do another thing, sir. J: Is that because I’m so busy and important that I have to go do stuff that is, I have people to do, and places to see- M: You’re- J: Places to see and people- I mean, places to go, people to see, things to do. M: All that. J: Yeah. M: All that more. J: Correct (laugh) Well listen, kids, first of all – you’re welcome, because this has been a real treat. Sorry about- what was your name again? M: Meg. J: Yeah, she tries real hard but uhh- let’s face it. Uhhh I don’t know. We will see. M: Thanks. J: You still might get a retirement package out of this. M: Oh- that’s great. That’s uhh- J: But it’s been a lot of fun, will go to build homeless shelters, and, (pause and rapid speech) dig wells. M: In Africa. J: Yep. M: And by Africa, we mean Africa on Pandora. J: (giggle) Yes.

[woodle-isbae]

Hi! I’m a huge fan from ages and I have a request, if you’re comfortable ofc!

So could you do male reader (top) x Joost (bottom) smut, where reader get jealous at a party cause this girl flirts with Joost and Joost says it’s nothing so reader slowly works Joost up during the night to the point that he is really needy and kinda desperate for his touch. Reader then takes him into the bathroom and proves who’s in charge. (sorry if that sounds weird)

Please and thank you (I love your work sm, don’t stop 🙏🙏🙏)

🎐anon

You entered the costume Party with your Boyfriend , Joost , him dressed as a man in black and you as a vampire

The party alive and wild , with people playing crazy beer games and couples all up on eachother in the corners of the house

"I'm gonna go get us drinks..be right back"

He hummed in confirmation, allowing you to dissapear off into the dimly light house.

You were mixing up some drinks all together for you and Joost until a softer voice came up behind you.

"Your gonna drink all those by yourself?"

It was some chick dressed up as an angel , the extremely short pink dress and white wedge heels.

"Uh..nah I'm drinking these with my..uh friend"

She giggled at what you said , mabye it because you were awkward about it or the fact you said it in a dumb vampire accent

"Your really hot...you got a girl?"

"Well-kinda?"

"Would she mind?"

You were kinda taken aback by her boldness , she really expects you to cheat on your partner for some one night stand? Jeez.

"Well-I have to go-"

You couldn't even bother to give her a smile or anything , wasting no time to get lost in the crowded living room. Trying your best to find some platinum blond hair in the wave of bodies before you.

In the corner of your eye you saw your boyfriend laughing with some blond girl , not being able to tell what they're talking about but it seems entertaining.

Just as you began walking towards them, they began walking to the dance floor , dancing all up on eachother. Placing the drinks down on the table before you pushed through people to get to them , throwing your arm over his shoulder

"Exuse-"

"Who do we have here?"

You looked over at the girl and it was the same chick from the drink table. She moves on fast. Turning back to face your boyfriend who was avoiding your gaze

"You wouldn't mind if I stole him huh? Great ,thanks."

Not even giving her a chance to speak before you pulled him away from the dance floor , shoving him into some seat.

"Fuck around and find out"

"Wha- what do you mean?"

You simply shrugged at his question, helping him get up from the seat before brushing your hand behind his neck , face being dangerously close to his collar bone. Moving away from him with a cheeky smile as he was about to grip onto you.

This continued on for the rest of the night, constantly sending him lingering touches and being all up against him. He was ready to explode by the time you let your touch linger longer than the rest.

. . .

"Where are you taking me?"

"I fucking need you."

You held back a chuckle , for his sake , allowing him to shove you into the bathroom. Locking it with haste before he turned over to face you , his outfit was absolutely ruined , his tie sitting loose and shirt slightly unbuttoned.

"Your a mess"

"I wonder why."

"Watch your tone."

Sloppily making out with him against the bathroom counter , clothes flimsely being removed before Joost stood before you , only in his Vest and briefs. Wasting no time to unbuckle your belt and drop your pants , boxers following suite

"Fuck prep , just do it."

Taken aback by his need , you allowed it. Turning him over to face the sink mirror , staring him in the eye as you entered him, shockingly easy to get in but obviously not with full prep.

"R'you sure?"

"Fuck- yes! I'm sure."

The desperation in his face evident as he bucked his hips back into you, your own following the steady rhythm. In a blink of an eye the taller man beneath you was ruined , face pressed into the sink and hands held behind his back.

"This what happens when you try f'king around."

Your anger proven in the harsh thrusts and grit of your teeth , the way you shoved his face down and held his hand with the other hand. Hips not giving out the slightest.

"Flaunting around , y'tryna fuck someone?"

Pulling his head up by his hair , forcing him to look at you both in the mirror. The sly smirk on your face enhanced by the dark red contacts and the dimly lit bathroom. His face red and covered in tears , moans choking out of his puffy red lips

"They know you liked to get fucked? Like some whore , always wanting me..even at parties"

"N-no! -fuck- I won't do it again-pleasepleaseplease-!"

His voice cracking , barely being able to form a full sentance , too fucked out to even thunk about what you said , all the things he did earlier in the night far from his worries

"You can cum , you deserve it after all huh? Say it."

You were also nearing your end , unable to hold back anymore but still wanting to torture him a little bit more.

"I- fuck - I deserve it...I deserve to cum"

Those words were all you needed to hear , letting go of his hands and turning him over , kissing him as he came all over your torso.

A few more pumps and you pulled out , gasping out as you came in between his legs , coating his inner thighs with your cum.

After cleaning up and getting redressed you both left the bathroom separately, Joost heading over to some corner of the house to regain his composure while you went to get some drinks.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

Relax, Sweetness - JJ Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

JJ x GF!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 Warnings: smut, language, pet names, gunplay, cum tasting, brief unprotected p in v

📖 JJ enlists his girlfriend (reader) for a little help christening his gun.

✨ “You don’t trust me?” He gives you a crooked smile, lifting the gun up to his head, pulling the trigger. You hear the clinking of metal on metal making you gasp. “So… We good? You gonna help me, angel girl?” ✨

700 words

Reader’s POV:

“Don’t you think it’s a little much, Jayj? Do you really need a gun?” You ask wearily, cocking an eyebrow at your boyfriend who’s a little too excited about his new gun as he moves around his room stealthily, aiming at invisible bad guys as you continue to read your book.

“‘Course I do, princess.” He gives you a smirk, cigarette dangling from his lips, nothing but some white boxers on his tanned body.

“Why though?”

“Protection, doll. Think of it like a condom. Yeah? Ya keep it in your pocket, just in case. Wouldn’t wanna risk not having one of those. Same shit,” he chuckles raspily; twirling the gun around his finger.

“Is it loaded?” You whisper.

“Nah… Used all the bullets up this afternoon.”

“Doing what, JJ?”

“Shootin’ stuff.”

“Like…”

“Cans, mom. I was shooting cans with Pope, alright? What are you so worried about?” He chuckles as he saunters your way, ashing his cigarette out on your metal bed frame. He turns his hat backward as he leans in a little closer, giving you a sweet kiss. “I know what you’re gonna say-”

“You, Jayj. M’worried about you. Why would you all of a sudden need a gun?”

“I’ve always needed a gun,” he mumbles. “And, could you stop bringin’ down the room? It’s fine. It’s fine. Alright? Nothin’ to worry about. Papa J is safe. Even safer now. One regret, though… One big ole regret. Never got to christen this thing.”

“Christen your gun… How do you do that?” You ask, apprehensively.

“With good pussy,” he chuckles, his response making your heart race as you puzzle together what he wants to do with your help.

“It’s not loaded… Like – Are you sure?” You ask weakly, feeling a steady pulse between your thighs, terrified but excited all at the same breath.

“You don’t trust me?” He gives you a crooked smile, lifting the gun up to his head, pulling the trigger. You hear the clinking of metal on metal making you gasp. “So… We good? You gonna help me, angel girl?”

“Yeah-” He pushes you back on the mattress, flipping your skirt before you can change your mind. JJ loops his fingers around the string of your panties, tugging them away.

You feel the chill of the metal against your warm skin as JJ traces the gun higher and higher. Goosebumps spread across your body as he reaches your inner thigh, making you draw in slightly. “Relax, sweetness. You’re safe. Alright?” He mumbles as he crawls a little closer.

“Fuckkk,” he moans as the gun hits your slick, gliding through your folds. He plays a little more, collecting your essence on the muzzle. JJ swirls the tip gently on your clit, watching as you whimper and moan below him. Your eyes widen as he moves lower, assuming what’s to come.

“Uh – Jayj? I… Um,” you stammer as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“My cock’s bigger,” he rasps, giving you a little wink before pressing it inside, making you toss your head back.

“Shit, JJ,” you gasp.

“My girl likes it. Huh?” He lowers himself to your lips as he strokes nice and slow. Your tongue greets his, reeling as he swallows moan after moan.

You feel him draw it out completely, eyeing the weapon glazed with your wetness. “Beautiful,” he groans. “For you.” He extends it your way, your hand trembles as you take it off his. JJ rolls to his back, working his boxers off his hips, tossing them to the side. “Co’mere, darlin’,” he drawls.

You hover over his rock-hard cock, gun clasped in your other hand. “Now what, Jayj?” You smile. He clasps your hips, lowering you slowly down on his length until you’re fully sat.

“Look at you,” he praises. His baby blues brimming with lust. “Fuck. You look good.” JJ’s hands rest on the fullness of your hips, looking at you hungrily as his tongue glides along his bottom lip. “Let me taste it.”

“Jayj…”

“C’mon,” his lips part ever so slightly. The gun passing his lips. JJ sucks off your slick, eyes rolling back as a deep moan rumbles in his chest. His eyes flutter shut, sucking all the way back to the tip. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as you rest the piece down on the comforter. He smacks your ass roughly, soothing the sting with his heavy hands as he grips your ass. “That’s how it’s done, baby.” JJ reaches up, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, towing you close. “How’d that feel?” He whispers as his lips graze yours slowly.

“Good,” you giggle breathily, still riding an indescribable high. You start to wind your hips, grinding on his cock as he smiles against your lips.

“Just another reason I needed that gun, Princess.”

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[itwasthereaminuteago]

Blood

Tags/warnings: lingerie kink, unprotected anal sex, little bit of fluff. Written based on a prompt from @murdock-and-the-sea for @frattweek ! 😀 "Would Frankie like it if Matt surprised him by wearing lace boxer briefs? 👀"

Sorry for any mistakes.

It hadn't got past Frank that there was something off that evening on patrol, but he couldn't put a finger on what exactly it was. The devil was out in full force, and even though he was always non-lethal in his means, Matt was taking no prisoners… and what surprised Frank more was even when he was kicking criminal ass and doing his adorable little backflips he was also flirting shamelessly with him. In front of people. Well, assholes.

When the streets quietened and the sirens faded, all that was left were him and Frank, both standing on a rooftop marked in blood. Matt's chest and shoulders heaved as he panted, his lip curling with a slight snarl as he roughly pulled the cowl from his face as if it was hindering him. Frank still kept his distance as Matt tilted his head to the side in that imitable way, licking his tongue over his lips like he was scoping out prey. It wasn't something Frank disliked, in fact it excited him, but it was something he'd only tolerate from a scarce few.

“‘The hell's got your panties all in a bunch?” He asks, wiping some of the blood away from his nose.

“Funny you should say that.” Matt's lips are slightly parted, breath puffing past them from prior exertion. His lips twist into a smirk.

“Come and get me.”

Frank snorts. “Say that again, altar boy?”

He's already game for this challenge. After the night of relentless teasing he would love nothing more than to shut that damn sweet mouth up with his own, and yeah, maybe some other things.

Matt throws his helmet off to the side, rolling his shoulders. “Get. Me.” he growls, and suddenly Frank is like a coiled spring bursting forward, lunging towards him as the devil takes off leaping across to the next roof.

It's not long in the frantic chase until Frank realises he's being led back towards home, and when he thunders down the stairs (discarded helmet in hand) his infuriatingly hot target is ready and waiting, leaning up against the kitchen counter looking smug.

“You getting slow, Frank?”

Frank chuckles as he moves closer. “Nah, just pickin’ up after you as usual.” He says, casually throwing the helmet onto the couch.

“Well, that meant you didn't get me.” Matt taunts. He slides a hand along the counter, smoothly pivoting on his feet to turn and stick his ass out in Frank's direction.

“Oh,” Frank says flatly, clamping his hands firmly around Matt's hips, “I think I've got you now.” He purrs low, his chin wedged into the crook of Matt's neck like it belongs there. “So what's with you tonight, huh? You're all… riled up ‘bout somethin'.”

With Frank's scruff scratching his skin and his warm breath tickling at his ear, Matt's quickly ripping off his gloves so he can reach back and feel the heat of the other man right under his fingertips. “Can’t I just be riled up about you?”

Frank runs his fingers up the front of the blood-red suit, pressing his blunt nails into the fabric over Matt's nipples making him bite back a barely audible moan.

“Hmm, I guess so.”

Frank's hands continue to trace their way to the back of Matt's neck, taking a hold of and dragging down the zipper of his suit as Matt is working on toeing off his boots at the same time.

“Hmm,” Frank hums, his fingers following the line of his spine until he reaches the small of his back, pushing the suit fabric down to free his hands and then halting.

Frank’s brows arch up the highest they've ever gone as he smooths his calloused fingers over something new, the black lace that's covering the familiar curve of Matt's pert ass cheeks and the tops of his thick thighs. A pretty package all wrapped up… just for him.

“W-wha-where'd you get these?” he manages to stammer out.

These ‘invitations’ came often from Matt, subtle and some not so subtle hints that would regularly make Frank lose his goddamn mind, and that usually resulted in Matt reduced to a satisfied, messy wreck.

Matt arches his back a little more, pushing into Frank's currently far too gentle touch. “Does it matter?”

He's right, Frank is far too busy enjoying the feel and look of it all to care about details. Tracing the patterns that stretch over his private domain.

“Guess not…”

Frank yanks the rest of the suit down to Matt's ankles, bunching it there and rendering him temporarily immobile. He lifts his hand away before swiftly smacking it down sharply on Matt's perfect ass making him hiss out.

“Fuck!”

“Ain't you just full of surprises. That too hard for ya, sweetheart?”

Matt chuckles then, shaking his head back and forth. He's trapped, right where he wants to be. “Not even close.”

Frank swiftly reaches around, cupping the bulge of Matt's obvious erection that strains hard against the soft lace. A grin splits his face as a slight whine escapes Matt's throat..

“Liar.”

He hoists him easily over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, striding purposefully to the bedroom, throwing him down on the mattress and hastily stripping the rest of that dumb red suit off as well as his own clothing. The lacey shorts are the trigger that turns Frank into an animal, mounting the Devil of Hell's Kitchen like a predator toying with his prey.

He wrecks them completely, ripping them apart with his teeth and hands, tongue thrusting through the tear and teasing that tight little furl of muscle revealed to him. Frank takes him apart, roughly eating Matt out until he's almost screaming from the intensity of stimulation. Matt feels like he's going to combust, tears soaking into the pillow from the relentless prodding and lapping of Frank's tongue, the hot burn of his beard against his sensitive skin, and the possessive grip of his strong hands as they spread his ass cheeks open until Matt's cock twitches and drools all over the remnants of black lace underneath him.

He's a picture. Skin flushed pink, hair mussed as he lays on his front with his head turned to the side, breathing shallow and fast. He can sense the tension and power in the muscles of Frank's shoulders as he moves. Matt briefly battles with letting his own body go lax and submissive like he needs to, and being a contrary sonofabitch and fighting this.

“I got you, I got you…” Frank repeats, pulling Matt's hips back gently and it's the truth, he has him, he's all Frank's and whatever he wants to do with him. Giving in makes Matt feel so untethered, but despite how far gone he is already, Matt is still in tune with his surroundings, and his surroundings are Frank. He smells him, clean even underneath the blood and the new sheen of salt sweat that's just starting to break over his brow and chest. He feels him warm, warmer still as he returns from reaching to the bedside cabinet for something. He knows it's the lube and yet there's something else missing, something he can't smell that causes Matt to groan in absolute anticipation.

He relishes in the soothing sting of cool lube before the hot press of the other man's cock head slowly stretches him open, filling him so full his eyes roll back into his head. It's raw and bare, no barriers between them. Frank wants to make him feel every single element of him, and Matt is so weak and willing for it.

The sure, slow and steady motion of Frank's hips rolling into him kicks up pleasurable embers around the base of Matt's spine into hot sparks that seem to set every other part of him ablaze in turn like a wildfire through the underbrush.

“Oh god, you're too much- god, I can't, I-”

Frank softly curls over his back in answer, one arm sliding around under Matt's chest to lift him slightly. “Shh-shh,” his own voice is starting to strain. “Told ya I got you…”

Frank observes the beauty in the shifting and firming of Matt's back and arms muscles, the thick raised veins in his forearms as his hands splay out and claw into the sheets trying to grab an anchor somewhere.

If Matt could even speak he'd swear their very atoms were merging, that you couldn't tell where he ended and Frank began.

When Frank pulls him up flush with Matt's back against his broad chest, skin to skin, he's close. Frank's thick cock is hitting a new angle of ecstasy, heavy balls pounding against him in a maddening rhythm, his own drawn up tight, ready for release at any moment.

One of Frank's big paws is still wrapped firm around him, the fingers sneaking up and making his body shudder as he teasingly circles a nipple. The other is curling around his neck, thick fingers exerting just enough pressure for Matt to continue to communicate his want in needy grunts and moans until Frank knows almost exactly when he's about to break.

Frank kisses his neck, it's more mouthing at his skin than kissing at this point, a gentle scrape of teeth becoming sharper and harder as he starts coming inside him. Matt gasps suddenly, his body jerking in his hold as he feels Frank pulse inside, his fingers digging in as he holds onto him so tightly as he's filling him up with a strangled groan. He doesn't stop, burying his cock so deep, his chin resting in the crook of Matt's neck and watching him cover the remains of those black shorts in drips of thick creamy white.

“Attaboy…” Frank murmurs in encouragement as he slows down, his hot breath in Matt's ear, surprisingly gentle as he's bringing him back from blissful oblivion.

“F- Frank-” Matt mumbles, those beautiful hazel eyes still softly closed. His throat bobs as he swallows, mouth dropping open to speak.

“Just breathe, sweetheart.” Frank husks, as he's gradually softening inside him enough to slip out. He guides Matt to lie down, settling beside him, a hand running through his hair helping him ground again.

“You got me.” Matt says eventually. His body sinking into the mattress, he feels so heavy Iike he could keep on falling through it. He can sense the boyishness of Frank's smile next to him, tracing it with his fingers and returning tenfold.

[ange1sang]

a little to the left

2.6k words, gallavich + brief appearance from liam

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic gallavich, hurt/comfort, trauma, dissociation, vomiting, gentle mickey milkovich

Most days Ian doesn't notice them. The blanks, the disconnect in his mind, the gaps in his memory like potholes in a road filled with oil slick and rainwater. They've been there since his late adolescence, weaving their way into his consciousness and embedding themselves into the membranes that separate his brain from his skull, so that he's used to them. He doesn't have to notice them, not when he can get by just fine without acknowledging them. But that's only on most days. 

Some days the blanks are deep and pitch black, tripping him up or even swallowing him whole. His mind becomes a black hole, everything in disarray and stretched, twisted, deformed until it's all unrecognisable. His childhood is a jumble of scenes from a movie watched on a drunken night, parts of it covered with lumpy, expired Wite-Out and others blotted with blood, smeared and dirty. The confusion makes his head pound and bile rise in his throat. For the longest time he didn't connect the two things. He's been having depressive episodes since he was seventeen, always accompanied by aches and nausea, and it was easy to lump the blanks and gaps in with everything else the depression brought on.

But he's older now, taking medication and watching his routine so that the depression rarely rears its ugly head anymore, yet the days of darkness, confusion and agony persist. They come when he least expects them, when he has a day full of errands to run with his brother or a day he's promised to spend babysitting his niece or nephew. He goes through the motions the way he's taught himself to do on even the hardest days, but it feels like wading through raw sewage in nothing but his boxers, grime and filth splattered against his thighs and clinging to the inside of his nose. He barely survives it, throwing up everything he eats, sometimes before he can reach a toilet bowl, and crawling into his bed deaf to the worried murmurs of his husband. 

It takes him years of survival, white-knuckled and tense-jawed, before it begins to make even a little sense to him. 

"Hey, Ian."

Liam's voice pulls Ian's attention from the comedy rerun he and a sleepy Mickey are watching on the TV. He looks to where his youngest brother is sitting at their kitchen table, school laptop illuminating his face and an old, chewed-up pen in his hand. 

"What's up?" Ian asks, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Mickey's hair. His husband grunts softly, pressing his face down against Ian's shoulder. Liam takes a breath, hesitating before he speaks again.

"You know the club you worked at?" he asks. Ian feels Mickey tense against him, and has to stroke his thumb against his forehead to keep him from cussing at the kid.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ian asks, trying to keep his voice lighthearted. "You aren't thinking of getting a job there, are you?"

"No," Liam says quickly, grimacing at the suggestion. Ian feels something in his chest relax. "I'm writing a paper on CSA for my psych class - you think it'd be okay if I interview you? Interviews get us extra points."

"CSA?" Ian asks, raising an eyebrow. Liam hesitates again, looking sheepish and guilty all of a sudden. 

"Childhood sexual assault," he clarifies after mulling it over for a long minute. The second the words leave his mouth Mickey lifts his head from Ian's shoulder and glares at the teen.

"Write a paper on those fuckin' drooling dogs or something, man," he says, which would be funny if it weren't for how his jaw clenches once the words have left his mouth. "Leave your family outta that shit, we got enough people lookin' at us like social experiments already."

"Right," Liam mumbles, but his eyes don't move from Ian, who feels his face stiffening like concrete. "Okay, sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," Ian whispers, his voice barely audible even though he tried to speak normally. He turns his head away from his brother, back to the TV. The blue light of the screen suddenly takes on a purple tinge, spotlights moving against the inside of Ian's eyelids and illuminating dark, dirty floors soiled with bodily fluids and pills that had been crushed beneath someone's shoe. His veins throb in his arms, skin suddenly too tight for his flesh, like he's waking up with a bad hangover, dry-mouthed and disoriented.

"Ian."

He feels his lips forming a frown on his face but they don't belong to him, invisible fingers pulling down the corners of his lips to turn him into a sad mime. Mickey's hand, warm and rough cups his cheek. He blinks and the dirty floor disappears, replaced with worried blue eyes and dark, furrowed brows.

"Hey. Baby."

"I'm fine," his reply comes, automatic and without thought, before he even thinks the words. Clearly, this does nothing to soothe Mickey, eyes darting around Ian's face. His thumb rubs Ian's temple, stroking the vein that feels like it's about to burst. "I'm... I'm fine."

Mickey draws in a sharp breath, looking like he's ready to scold him, but he doesn't say anything. He shoots Liam a brief but withering look, before leaning in to kiss Ian's forehead. 

"Okay," he mumbles, and slumps back against the sofa, but not without guiding Ian's head to rest against his shoulder. 

Ian's chest is tight and aching, but he's fine. He's totally fine.

When he wakes up the next morning it's to Mickey yelling from the kitchen.

"Ian! You want coffee?"

He stiffens in their bed, his husband's voice sounding foreign. 

"Ian?"

No, it isn't his husband's voice. It's the name. Ian. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to recall the last time he heard that name, but all his mind can offer are broken, fragmented memories of strangers whispering Curtis or Clayton or Benjamin in his ear, their breath hot against his skin. The familiarity of the names is soothing and torturous all at once, and before he knows what's happening his stomach is squeezing, pushing. He sits up but barely manages to lift his head from his pillow before a stream of weak, beige-green liquid pours from his mouth, puddling on the sheets and dripping down his chin. He stares at the pool of vomit, gears moving in his head like he's looking at an old friend. 

"Hey, man, you want coffee or-"

Mickey's voice stops just as abruptly as his movements, the man standing in the bedroom doorway like a statue. Ian turns his head to look at him, the small movement dizzying, and feels that same squeeze in his stomach. This time he has the foresight to move his hands, catching the little mouthful of hot, caustic stomach acid in his palms. 

"Ian, c'mon, don't do that," Mickey whispers, approaching slowly and taking hold of Ian's wrists. He allows himself to be manoeuvred, watching as the vomit sloshes from his palms and lands on the bed sheets. The name on Mickey's lips makes Ian's skin prickle, and he curls into himself. He's too big for it to really work, but he must have been small enough once. Must have been small enough to fold into himself like an ashen baby bird, all skin and bone and ruffled feathers. He tries to curl into himself further, trying to remember where the instinct comes from, but all he sees is a bottomless pit. Panic curls around his throat like barbed wire. "Come on, you gotta wash your hands. I can help you."

"No, I..." Ian mumbles, his own voice startling him. He stares down at his palms, feeling fabric against his skin. Expensive fabric, yarn woven into fine cotton with 2% spandex, fabric he's never been able to afford, not even on his wedding day, but that he must have touched at some point. Blearily, he looks at Mickey, meets his worried gaze through thick tears that refuse to pour down his cheeks even as he blinks over and over. His breath catches in his throat. "I don't feel right."

"That's okay. I got you," Mickey reassures him. Lips press against his forehead in a sweet kiss. "Come on, babe. It's okay."

Mickey takes his hands, not recoiling or frowning when the still-warm vomit touches his skin. He smiles, soft, small, scared, and helps the redhead stand up. 

"You're fine. I got you," he repeats, and kisses the dense patch of freckles on Ian's shoulder. The touch is familiar, and this time the familiarity is comforting without also being nauseating. He holds on tight to Mickey until their hands are under the running water of their bathroom tap, and as soon as their palms are separated he finds himself leaning into the other man, curling up again, trying to make himself smaller. He can feel Mickey watching him, gauging his condition, taking in his expressions and reaction to every little touch. "You're okay, Ia- baby."

Ian looks up, looks at Mickey's wet lashes when he bites back the name on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't understand why or how, but Mickey always knows what to say and, more importantly, he always knows what not to say. He drags in a deep breath that doesn't really reach his lungs and drops his head so he can hide his face against Mickey's shoulder. Hiding. Even if he can't seem to think of much right now, he knows he's good at hiding.

"Sorry I threw up," he mumbles into Mickey's shoulder, which makes his husband chuckle.

"I've seen you puke before, man," Mickey says. "That fuckin' sushi Debbie made us all eat last year? Playing drinking games with Sandy?"

Ian recognises the memories like the face of a quiet classmate in a yearbook - he can place them in the right environment, but can't picture them doing anything, not even opening their mouth to say 'present' for attendance. He winces, the effort of  trying to pull forth images he knows are there making him dizzy.

"C'mon," Mickey whispers, turning off the tap. "Let's get some breakfast in you. Pepto Bismol with your meds maybe."

"Wait," Ian pleads, not ready to open his eyes and face the world yet. Not when he can't remember his place in it. Again, Mickey takes it in his stride. He pulls Ian into a hug that's firm enough to ground him and gentle enough to remind him that Mickey loves him. The reminder is enough to ease the jelly feeling in his joints just a little, Mickey's thumb moving back and forth against his shoulder blade like it's all he's ever wanted to do, and Ian takes a deep breath. The just-woke-up smell on Mickey, a smell that he knows he's always loved, even if he's never been sure why.

"I love you, man," Mickey murmurs sincerely. Ian relaxes just a little more.

"I love you too."

The day goes by slowly, every bit of it like pulling teeth. He downs his medication and food Mickey gives him even though his stomach twists nervously with each swallow. They watch cartoons on the sofa and Mickey smokes through a pack of cigarettes before dinner, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ian and the TV so often that he must not be getting any of what's on the screen. The vigilance is comforting, a reminder that he really is sitting on their sofa and not just dreaming up the four walls around him, so he doesn't mention it to Mickey. 

By the late afternoon he's falling asleep, tired just from keeping his eyes open and his food down. He lays his head on Mickey's lap, nose pressed into his husband's thigh and shuts his eyes when fingers immediately find their way to his hair, running through his curls and brushing stray hairs from his forehead. 

"You wanna head to the clinic tomorrow, check your meds?" he asks.

"Maybe," is all Ian can muster the energy to say. Mickey hums, thumb rubbing his brow bone.

There's a long pause, long enough that Ian almost falls asleep, before Mickey speaks up again.

"You did good, Ian."

Ian. The name finally sounds familiar again. No bile rises at the sound of it and there's no ache in his chest as he tries to place it. Relief washes over him, icy and overwhelming, and pulls him under. 

The next day he wakes feeling disoriented but not nauseous. His head is on Mickey's chest, his heartbeat steady and reliable where it thumps against his cheek. He takes a deep breath in and lifts a hand to trace a fingertip along the tattoo of his name on his husband's skin, his heart fluttering the same way it used to when they were kids and Mickey would show up at the corner store looking for him. His body feels like his own again, every organ, capillary and freckle back in its rightful place. 

He makes coffee while Mickey sleeps in. He knows after a day like yesterday that Mickey must've been up half the night, watching him sleep as though his next breath might not come, and feels a little guilty at the thought. When he carries two mugs of coffee back to the bedroom and a pack of Oreos pinched between his teeth, Mickey is waiting for him, a smile on his lips.

"Morning, mister," he grumbles, voice sleep-rough in a way that makes Ian giddy. Ian drops the Oreos on the bed and leans in for a kiss, hungry for Mickey's touch more than anything else.

"Good morning," he replies, handing Mickey his mug and settling in next to him.

"You feelin' okay? Wanna hit the clinic after breakfast?" Mickey asks cautiously, watching Ian's expression for any telltale signs that he's hiding something.

"Nah, I'm... I'm okay," Ian mumbles, shrugging. "I don't know what was up yesterday, it was like everything was a few inches to the left or something. I couldn't remember shit."

He looks at Mickey and smiles at the crease between his worried brows. 

"I'm okay now, Mick. Seriously."

Mickey grunts, frowning in a way that lets Ian know he's sorting his thoughts into words that make sense. They're halfway through their coffee before he's ready to speak, but Ian doesn't mind the waiting. He doesn't mind much when it comes to Mickey these days, at least not as much as he claims to.

"Y'know, Svetlana had days like that," he says, slow and unsure. "She'd get pukey and shit, couldn't hold a conversation... It was weird, 'cause she was always so fuckin' headstrong y'know? Seein' you like that..."– Mickey pauses, reaches out to cup Ian's cheek for a moment and rubs his thumb over the freckles on his temple. –"Maybe you should see a shrink, talk about the stuff that happened at the club."

Something clicks in Ian's head at the mention of Svetlana, all of the blanks, disconnects and gaps in his mind making a little more sense now.

"Yeah. Maybe," he sighs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Mickey's palm. "Thanks for not freaking out."

"Anytime," Mickey says with a small, worried smile. Just a couple of years ago Ian would've felt guilty for being the cause of his worry, but he understands it now. They're husbands. They're always going to worry about each other. 

"I love you," he tells Mickey, which earns him one of those shiny-eyed smiles he adores with all his heart. 

"Love you too, Red."

Maybe tomorrow he'll book himself an appointment at the clinic. Today though, all he wants to do is make up for the time he lost yesterday.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I woke up on the weird side of the bed today so, yeah. I don't usually write like this. But change is the spice of life, right? I read this as many times as I could to make sure I got everything. If I missed anything that should say "he", "him" or "Mikey", please let me know! I initially didn't know who I was going to make this about and I may not have caught all of those things. Thanks!!

C/W ::: Mikey (Tok_Rev) x F.reader/roommate, language, pillow licking & sniffing, dirty day-old boxer fucking, masturbation, lip biting (vvv brief mention of blood), oral F->M & M->F, quick deepthroating, anal, fingers->ass, names: slut, whore, little fuck, pet names: good girl, F->begging, "gonna punish you again if you ...", overuse of italics

WC ::: 2,100 (ish)

You walk out of your room, sleep still heavy in your eyes. Mikey is in the kitchen, pouring himself a 2nd cup of coffee. "Hey," you say releasing a big yawn, "pour me one? Please?"

He looks up and smiles at you, taking in your cute, soft body stretching the material of your worn old band shirt. The writing on the front is so illegible that you can't even see who the hell the band was to begin with. It hugs you perfectly, they think.

"Sure." He reaches out to the shelf in front of him and pulls down a cup to fill for you. You're already pulling the creamer from the fridge, probably giving them a fair view of your ass in your cute little panties. If they were looking, that is.

But there's no shame between roommates, no. You're both mature adults who can maintain a platonic relationship with one another.

"Thanks," is all you say as you stir the milky white flavoring into the dark liquid. You take a sip and wince at how hot it is against your tongue. "Fuck, is that a new coffee maker? It's hot as shit. Could have warned me, man."

You start heading back to your room, but then stop. "What uh, what time will you be home today?" It's a seemingly innocuous question. Though it strikes Mikey as odd. You never really ask when he'll be home.

"Why? You gonna have a big party while I'm out?" He jokes.

Blinking at them with a blank stare you fake a laugh. "Ha, yeah. You know me. I'm a party animal. Anyway, when?"

Mikey narrows his eyes, "I dunno. Around 5? Same as always. I gotta run. I'll see you." Hes pick up his backpack and coffee and heads out the door. You hear his bike start and pull out onto the street until it gets so quiet you can no longer could make out its rumble.

Glancing at the clock on the wall above the kitchen table, it's 7:40 AM. You have all day before he comes home. Finishing your coffee, you walk down the hallway and stand in front of his door.

There is a voice screaming in your head about how you need to stop doing this. How it's a complete violation of Mikey's privacy - and not to mention, just pretty fucking disgusting. But you can't.

You can't stop climbing into his bed after he leaves for the day. You can't stop burying your face in his pillow while you rub yourself on his most recently worn pair of boxers. Mikey's scent has far exceeded intoxicating to you by this point. And though you can't even remember how long you've been doing this, you do know that it's been happening for too fucking long.

Lately, you've even caught yourself slipping up. Talking about something you saw in his room that you don't think you were even supposed to be aware of.

There's not a doubt in your mind, you need to stop. But first, you need to be more careful.

However, today is not that day. You turn the knob on his door and help yourself to the bed as if it were your very own. His room still smells of that heavy sleep smell. Morning breath and man sweat and BO. And it doesn't turn you off like it probably should. Nah, it turns you on in the sickest way.

You pull the blanket back and see the outline of his body imprinted on the sheets. It's still warm from when he was there not so long ago. You take your clothes off and lay there, imagining him. Imagining that he is still here, in bed with you. That he is holding you and that he wants to fuck you just as badly as you want to fuck him and not his stuff.

You grab his pillow and shove your nose into it, taking in his scent as close to the source as you could get without swallowing him whole. There's a little splop of drool on his dark gray pillowcase and you lick at it. Anything at this point to have a piece of him inside of you.

You begin to rub your clit. It's already wet and thrumming at the thought of him. Of his smell in your nose, his spit on your tongue. You keen as you get yourself closer and closer to cumming. You can feel it building in your belly, you're getting so close.

Your breaths are coming quicker, your tits are jiggling as you bounce yourself around on your fingers - that will never measure up to what his cock would feel like being fucked into your cunt. You bite your lip and you taste blood, but you don't care.

You cum hard, harder than you have in months. You're moaning his name over and over and over, wishing he was here to fuck you like you want him to. Like you NEED him to.

And you hear the front door as it opens. You hear Mikey's voice call out to you and it all comes crashing down.

"Hey, I forgot something, just ran back to gr-" he says, until he walks into his bedroom. "Y/n, what ... the ... fuck ... are you ... doing?"

You scramble to cover yourself as you try to make up some excuse for why you were in here. But it's too late. You know it is.

"You sick, sick, little fuck."

"I - I - I - I ..." you stutter out, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"The actual fuck do you think you're doing in here? In my bed." Mikey looks at what's between your legs, "and my boxers?"

You get up, pulling on your clothes as quickly as you can. Your hands are shaking and your heart is racing. You don't know what to say or do, so you just leave.

You walk passed him, to go, you feel a hand come down on your ass. "You fucked up, big time. And now? You're gonna fuckin' fix it." He gestures for you to go back to their bed. "Go on. Slut."

You do as you're told, hoping he won't kill you after what you'd just been caught doing. And as you watch Mikey take his clothes off, you realize that this might not be going the way you expected it to. But it might be easier if he did just kill you.

"Knees." He orders.

"What?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Fucking. Knees."

You obey and drop to your knees, your face level with his dick. "Suck."

Without saying a word, he opens your mouth and shoves himself in. Mikey grabs the back of your head and pulls you forward, making you gag. And he doesn't care. You deserve it for being such a little slut.

He fucks your mouth, thrusting his hips into your face, slapping his balls against your chin, until he pushes you off. "Up."

You do as you're told. "Face the bed. Bend over."

Again, you do as you're told. You feel him spread your ass and rub his cock against you. You can feel it pulsing between your cheeks. "Please. Please ..." You say softly.

"You don't deserve mercy, you little whore. Unless you're begging for something else? What'd you have in mind, hm? You gonna make this up to me? You fucking pervert."

You can't see it, but Mikey is smiling at your exposed cunt. It's dripping wet and begging to be filled. He spit on his hand and rubbed it on his dick before spitting on his fingers and rubbing it around your asshole.

He pushes two fingers into you, slowly, while rubbing your clit with his other hand. Mikey pumps his fingers in and out of you, stretching you open. You moan and whimper at the feeling of fingers inside of you, at the sensation of being touched like this.

"Fuck me, please. Fuck me. I want to feel you inside of me. I've wanted it for so long." You whimper. You sound so pitiful but can't help yourself.

Mikey laughs at how pathetic you sound. He pulls his fingers out and spreads your ass again. "Beg for it. Beg ... for my cock, slut."

You feel him press the head of his dick against your hole. It's throbbing and you're about ready to explode. "Please! Please fuck me!"

Mikey eases his cock into you slowly. You gasp at the feeling of it stretching you open. It hurts ... but it's so fucking good. He thrusts into you hard and fast, filling you up and fucking you like the little whore you both know you are.

Mikey grunts and moans as he pounds your ass. You can feel him getting close as he pulls out of you and cums all over your back. It drips down between your cheeks and onto the floor. "If you were a good girl, I'd have cum inside of you. But here we are," he whispered against your skin.

He smacks your ass and you feel his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Turn around. Lay down."

You do as you're told and lay down on your back. He climbs on top of you and straddles your hips. "Open." Mikey says, grabbing your jaw.

He spits on your tongue, "Swallow."

You swallow his spit. "Good girl. Now, let's see, ultimately, just how good you can be."

He grabs your tits and squeezes them, pinching your nipples and pulling on them, assaulting your chest, leaving marks and bruises. You moan and arch your back, loving the feeling of his weight on you. The attention he's finally giving you.

Mikey kisses and licks and bites his way down to your pussy and buries his face between your legs. His tongue wandered around on your clit and he put a finger in your pussy, making you squirm.

He pulled back and smiled, "You like that? Don't you, you little slut?"

You nod your head and whimper, "Yes."

Chuckling, he spits on your clit and rubs it with the pad of his thumb. He starts lapping at your cunt so feverishly that it sounds like a dog drinking water from a bowl. Licking and sucking and biting at your clit so dedicatedly that you feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm.

"Please, please, please let me cum. Let me cum," you beg him.

Mikey looks up at you, his face soaked from your juices, "You want to cum? You want me ... to make you cum?"

You nod your head furiously, "Yes, yes, yes."

"Did you not? Earlier, I mean. Because your pussy was pretty fucking wet when I walked in."

You whimper and shake your head, "No, not like this. Not with you."

He smiles, "You're such a little fuck, you know that?"

You furrow your brow as he starts to rub your clit again. He sucks on your tits, making you writhe beneath him. He's biting and nipping at your sensitive skin. It's the most exquisite pain you've ever felt.

"Do you want to cum now, baby girl?" He asks, as he rubs your clit, harder and faster. Faster and harder.

You moan and nod your head, "Y-yeh-hess, please! Please, please."

He smirks at you and stops touching you all at once. "You gonna stop breakin' into my room and fuckin' my dirty clothes?"

The question caught you off guard. Fucking his day-old boxers was the furthest thing from your mind right now. "Wh-wha -"

He starts in rubbing your clit again, even faster and harder than before, "I asked you a fucking question."

"Yes! Yes, I'll stop! I'll ... I promise to stop, Mikey."

He smiles at you and keeps rubbing your clit until you feel that warm, bubbling feeling in your stomach again. "Cum for me, baby girl."

You twist and turn beneath him as you cum. Your pussy clenches around nothing as he keeps rubbing you until you feel like you can't take it anymore.

As you come down, he looks at you and gives you a sly smile. "Good. You wanna be a good girl for me, huh?"

You nod your head. "Yes. Yes. Yes ... I'll be so good for you."

Mikey chuckles, "You better be. Or else."

He gives you a long kiss on the forehead and stands up. "I'm going back to work. Don't do anything stupid. I'll be home in a few hours."

You lay there, naked and spent, unable to even think about doing anything but sleep. "Yes, sir." You say softly.

Mikey walks out of his room and goes back to work, leaving you in a state of blissful exhaustion.

"Wait," you call out, "what if I can't be good for you? What if I just ... can't stop?"

He turns and looks at you, a calm look on his sweet face. "Well, I guess you'll just have to learn your lesson all over again, won't you?"

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @viburnt