#brock fetch

[deadthehype]

A$AP Mob photographed by Brock Fetch

[maedboard]

Archives from photographer Brock Fetch

[dimensionnowblogspot]

[traumatizedkids]

Traumatized Kids 3x17

[propheticbride]

Smile for the Camera

𐙚 Steve Rogers has taken freshly initiated baby frat brother, Peter, under his wing. And what better way to help break the boy in than Steve allowing him to help record a sex tape with his two partners?

𐙚 Steve Rogers x Reader x Natasha Romanoff/Peter Parker x Reader (tw: straight porn)

Peter Parker had miraculously been the only one to pass the seven days of hell within the Avengers frat house. Everyday a challenge was given to the boys who wished to pledge, every one harder than the next.

Not only had Peter outshined all of the boys, but he had impressed Bucky, an almost impossible feat. So when they had taken the boy, along with two other boys, in the middle of the woods and ordered them to down a 60oz and dive naked into the lake, and swim across and come back without puking, Peter had stood there, in full nude, smiling with the question.

‘I'm in right?’ despite shaking to death from the cold, he was grinning.

Steve, being the only one in the house from Peter’s high school, agreed to take him under his wing. It was either him, or Brock, but Peter happily agreed for Steve after looking the straight faced man up and down. Brock scared him.

Peter had come freshly from high school, on a fancy ass scholarship nonetheless. A bit naive, but smart as a whip that caught on quickly without needing to be told twice.

Steve and him got along quite well, and found several things in common. However, Steve found one thing odd about the boy.

It was no secret that the frat was a sex factory, even those with members that had girlfriends. So when Peter had accidentally walked in on you, and Natasha giving your boyfriend a blowjob, he admitted days later (when he could actually face Steve) that he was a virgin. Too caught up in his grades and dancing that girls and dating hadn't even crossed his mind.

That's when Steve got the idea. Albeit, when he was very drunk, bar hopping with Bucky.

Now Steve wasn't a sick guy, but when you have a sexy-confident woman as your girlfriend, along with having an adorable subby baby as your other girlfriend, things get pretty interesting inside his head.

Natasha needed to be convinced more than you did, her mostly being protective of you.

“I don't want her being exploited by your asshole friends. You already see how Brock and Jack look at her. How Bucky and Sam try to tell her dirty jokes when I walk away for a second.” Natasha had pouted. “I don't want them seeing my baby in such a vulnerable way.”

Now Steve wasn't submissive, him and Natasha both being equal doms in bed, but Steve had come to learn that it was true what they said. Women are wiser. And Natasha did own most of the brain cells, even in big bad dom mode, she was always reasonable.

Those times when Steve wanted to overstimulate you, Natasha would tell him you were already at your limit.

So when he discovered that his new baby frat brother was a virgin, his wheels began to turn. And after a long conversation with Natasha and you (mostly the redhead’s overprotective ass) he had the perfect idea in mind.

He spoiled Peter with breakfast, then lunch, and then promised him dinner after his 'present’. Peter was confused.

“You don't have to get me anything.”

“Oh I know that.” Steve nods.

When Steve opened the door to the frat and locked it, he instantly heard your sighs of pleasure. When Peter followed Steve up the stairs, Steve stopped him and requested he get the camera and stand from the main closet.

“What's that moaning?” Peter is visibly nervous when he asks.

“Left some porn on. Just get it.” Steve demands.

Peter nods and goes to fetch it. However, the sighs never stopped.

After his frat brother disappears upstairs, Peter sighs and claims the camera, quickly heading back up the stairs as the moans grow louder. Who leaves porn on?

He opens the door, without knocking, and nearly drops the camera when he sees the sight in front of him.

Peter had first met you a couple nights ago, when Steve introduced you and Natasha as his girlfriends. Peter struggled to comprehend the dynamic. Natasha hadn't been the warmest to him, but to be fair he watched her to be cold and distant to every other frat member, not excited that her girlfriend was being lusted after. Steve didn't seem to care, having his complete trust they won't ever attempt to try at anything, all having their own girlfriends and lovers at their beck and call.

But now you lay on the bed, your hands fisting the sheets while Natasha eats you out, her tongue focused on your clit while her two fingers plunged in and out of you.

Steve stands against the window, leaning back and looking at him with a grin. “You gonna set up the camera?”

“Y-Yeah.” Peter hesitates, quickly setting everything up.

“Puppy, how does that feel?” Steve asks you.

“Really really good daddy!” you cry.

“Yeah? Mommy’s tongue feels really good huh?”

“Yeah!”

Natasha pulls her fingers out and places both of her hands on your hips, immediately latching onto your clit and sucking it.

You cry and grind against her face, which she happily allows, beginning to moan to add vibrations to you.

“Steve Steve Steve-”

“I'm not pleasing you baby.” he informs you.

“Natasha. Mommy!” you cry.

Natasha begins to lick you out wildly, until you begin to shake and tears stream your face. You cum with a scream, and silently whimper as Natasha licks you completely clean.

Natasha pulls away from your cunt, licking her lips and giving you her fingers to suck.

You happily take them in your mouth, holding her wrist, and sucking them completely clean.

Natasha was wearing a deep red cami set, while you donned, or was once donning, a soft baby pink cami dress that was pushed up to your breasts, your panties completely gone, giving Peter a good view of your cunt. It made him turn red in the face almost immediately.

“Peter…right?” she asks, with an uninviting tone.

Peter nods, eager to please her for some reason. He then shifts his weight, feeling his boner getting bothersome.

“Steve?” Natasha asks. “Is he just going to stand there?”

“No. He's going to be a good boy and behave. Aren't you?” Steve asks him.

He nods again.

“Use your words.” she snarks.

“Y-Yeah.”

Natasha hms in approval, then stands up and pulls his arm closer. “You can touch her. But no kisses, or fingering. Or putting your mouth on her. Just touch her.”

Natasha then shoves him onto the bed.

Peter would be lying if he said he didn't find you attractive. Even at the most recent frat party, the night you were introduced, with you and Natasha kissing and her grinding you against her. Or the time you got up on the tables and danced ‘Can't Take My Eyes Off You’ drunkenly with Bucky’s girlfriend (in an appropriate way.)

And now, you were lying there looking at him with lust in your eyes, cunt on display, and spit gleaming around your mouth.

You whine.

“What's wrong baby?” Natasha beats Steve to it.

“Wanna feel good again.” you admit.

“Greedy girl. Natasha just made you feel good.” Steve shakes his head.

“I haven't even gotten to cum.” Natasha pouts.

Peter feels almost as if he's intruding on this moment. It feels sexual of course, but so intimate. Yeah. Steve and Natasha are your doms, but also your caring significant others who would do anything for you and each other. He stays quiet.

“Hmmm.” Natasha comes to your side, allowing you to roll over and meet her face. You exchange small kisses against each other, so loving, so soft. “I'm gonna ride your face. Daddy is gonna fuck you, and Peter is gonna rub your pretty clit. Make mommy cum and she'll be so happy.”

You nod and roll onto your back, making grabby hands as she pulls her flimsy shorts down, arousal evident on her panties.

Steve begins to undress as well, taking his dick out and giving it a few pumps.

He then looks at the younger boy, “You can undress too.”

Peter nods and begins to shed his clothes.

“Hey.” Natasha stops him. “Look, you seem like a good kid but I don't want to see you naked, and I don't think baby should either.”

“Alright. Just your boxers Petey.” Steve nods.

He nods, and follows Steve orders, removing all but his boxers.

Natasha settles over you, and before she's even ready, you immediately pull her down and hold her thighs. Natasha moans, a throaty and desperate whine that goes straight to Peter’s growing hard-on.

He couldn't get harder than he was at that moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Natasha cries. “You feel so good puppy oh god!”

“Feel good mommy?” Steve leans into a kiss Natasha.

She leans into it. She pulls back breathless, “So good daddy. Our puppy’s mouth is so so good.”

She begins to grind, you happily flattening your tongue and holding her down as she rocked.

Peter gets lost, watching it unfold. Sure he watched porn, but nothing was like this.

Steve quickly moved and slammed into you, catching him off guard.

“Go ahead and touch her Petey.” Steve instructs.

He nods, and quickly brings himself to the side of the bed, leaning against the soft fabric, hand immediately attaching to your cunt while he begins to run circles into your clit. You whine against Natasha, which causes her to pant and moan more at the sensation.

“Fuck. Daddy, she feels so good.” she cries.

“I bet mommy, puppy takes so good care of her doms doesn't she?” Steve rocks into you, not paying any attention to Peter anymore.

“She's the best girl. She's my favorite girl.” Natasha coos, pushing some hair out of your face as you suck and lick her.

Natasha begins to shake, rock and whimper fast. She cums with a slight squeal, as she rubs and pulls at her nipple to help her truly finish.

“Puppy let mommy up.”

You quickly shake your head and begin to lick up her arousal.

“Puppy I mean it.” she warns.

You hold onto her harder.

Steve laughs slightly, you never challenge him, but thanks to Natasha’s spoiling you, you tend to be bratty towards her.

“If mommy cums again, I'll spank your ass red. We have a guest over, you want to misbehave?” Natasha asks.

That quickly makes you release her, and she stands up once more.

“Rub her clit harder Peter.” she frowns at his fragile touch on you.

“S-Sorry.”

Steve laughs again, shooing him away before folding your legs up to your chest and begins to pound into you at a faster speed.

“Steve please!” you squeal.

“S-She's kinda loud…w-won't the other guys hear?” Peter swallows, not taking his eyes off your form for a second.

“Oh they hear. Her little fans are probably jacking it.” Natasha rolls her eyes, pulling her panties back on. She trails back to the camera and zooms in a little.

Steve cums inside you with heavy pants and a throaty fuck.

Natasha turns the camera off and closes it.

“Baby. Say goodbye to your guest.” she smiles.

“He's rock hard puppy.” Steve laughs, pulling out and reaching for his boxers.

You reach out and palm him through his boxers, he slowly rocks up against you.

“Fuck.” he swears in a low voice.

Steve and Natasha don't say anything, they know you love to please. Love, to please.

Like that one time when Bucky’s ex cheated on him, Steve had been able to convince Nataha to allow you to cheer him up, grinding against him with just your undergarments on, making him cum.

You quickly sped up, and Peter began to rock into your palm and you gave him a sly smile.

“Does it feel good?” you mumble to him.

He nods, you haven't spoken to him yet, and now you have. He was too dizzy.

“Yeah. Really good puppy-”

“You don't call her that.” Natasha hisses from behind them. “Steve tell him.”

“Nickname is sacred Petey.” Steve warns.

“S-Sorry.”

Peter cums with a high moan within his boxers, and you touch him through it.

“E-Enough. P-Please.” he begs.

“M’sorry.” you retract your hand.

A clapping of hands causes him to jump.

“Time to go Peter.” Natasha is opening the door and tapping her nails against it, a bit annoyed. “Baby needs a bath and then it's her nap time.”

“She gets grumpy. Both of them do.” Steve says the last sentence just to him. “C’mon, I'll see you out. I think Pietro is home from hockey practice. You share a room, yeah?”

Peter collects his clothes and is walked out by Steve, “Welcome to the frat house bro, lemme know when you want dinner and we'll go. On me.”

The door shuts, leaving Peter standing there, cum in his boxers, and his mind attempting to process what just happened.

[thefanficmonster]

Heavy Metal Lover pt.2

PART 1

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smoking, Paranormal Investigations, Drinking, Swearing, Suggestive Content, Vague Sexual Themes

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Angst with a happy ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? Or at least that's what Y/N and Colby hope is the case.

NOTE: Sam and Kat are still together in this fic. This detail is not meant to be disrespectful to Sam's current girlfriend in any way.

A rude reminder in the form of dizziness and nausea hits Y/N like a ton of bricks when she sits up all too quickly for her state. A reminder of her excessive partying last night. She was aware the night wouldn't be on a list of her proudest moments for a multitude of reasons even as she was actively indulging interested men in the club - so, she just went with it. Went along with the unruly stream of the river that is a wild night in Vegas. She's not at all pleased with the memory of her eagerness to end the night in someone else's bed - which would've been a mission successful had she not been dragged away from this one guy whose name she can't even recall now. That, in and of itself, is enough of an indication that going home with him or taking him back to her hotel room would've been a bad idea.

She isn't entirely certain who saved her from herself in her active pursuit of a one night stand but her foggy memory suggests it may have been Kat. Y/N would love to thank her for the intervention but a quick roll over to her other side reveals her best friend to still be in her bed, solidly asleep at the ripe early hour of....- she checks her phone - noon.

The most appropriate of times to wake up in Vegas, really.

With a brief outfit change into something that wouldn't get her in trouble for indecent exposure she quietly exits the room as to not disturb Kat who is barely giving any signs of life other than the slow rise and fall of her chest. That's good enough to convince Y/N she'll be ok while she goes to fetch them coffee to get them through the day - their last whole day in Vegas.

Their schedule isn't as packed as yesterday's, thankfully. Unlike the turmoil of the flight, hotel check-in, Oasis investigation and the very late night bar crawl, today they only have the last two items on their itinerary: another investigation and an even later bar crawl. Maybe some gambling if they manage to squeeze it in before they have to take an hour long roadtrip to yet another motel with a shady past and paranormal intrigue.

The hallway is wobbly in front of Y/N, her vision still under the influence of all the tequila - and everything else Kat offered her - she ingested last night. Shot after shot, each thrown back with a silent prayer that it would aid her forgetfulness into erasing whatever happened at the Oasis Motel from her mind. If anything, each drop of alcohol only made it clearer, bringing to light details that were shadowed in the overall power the moment held.

The softness of his lips, warmth of his hands, the scent of his cologne, the weight of his body pressed atop hers on the bed. She was reliving it the whole night as she did her best to avoid him entirely. Talking to him, looking at him, being in the vicinity of his aura, breathing in his direction. And yet she still felt him all around her, all over her. A sensation not even the hottest boiling shower wouldn't wipe off her skin.

Now, if only she could pretend to be blind, deaf and not fluent in English because there's no other way to avoid the oncoming figure without making the lingering awkward tension even thicker...

"Hey."

"Hey."

Neither Y/N nor Colby looks particularly pleased with the fact that the silence had to be broken. Still, unlike her, he should've prepared himself better seeing as how he actively went in search of her. After all, the two cups of coffee in his hand are for her and Kat.

The warmth seeping in through the walls of the cups reminds him of the reason he took this venture in the first place and gives him an easy out of this silence that has befallen them. Still, he lingers in the buzzing quiet between them for a few seconds longer before extending the low-key peace offering her way, "Thought you and Kat could use a pick-me-up."

It's more so testing the waters than a peace offering. There never was nor will there ever be peace between them. As much of a natural disaster as they are, it would be far more detrimental to the planet if they were to put an end to their war and start getting along. It would cause a disturbance on a fundamental level. But after what happened back at the forsaken motel, Y/N would be a fool to think he too isn't as impacted as her.

Colby from 24 hours ago would never bring her coffee. If anything, he'd bring only one cup for Kat, just to prove a point. So much for pretending like nothing happened...

"Which one is poisoned?" Y/N, on the other hand, is better at this play pretend. The whirlwind of emotions and flashbacks manage to stay exactly where they're supposed to be - inside her head. Not an ounce spills over into her body language, expression or words.

Her question almost fills him with relief. Almost. It's a double-edged bitter sword. On one hand, he'd like nothing more than to let things settle back into normality. On the other, he doesn't want to forget what happened between them. Scratch that, let me rephrase - it's not like he can forget what happened. It's been permanently etched into his brain and there is no reversing that process. He simply doesn't want to pretend nothing happened.

When, in fact, everything happened at once. Seven years of animosity crashed and molded together in one burning kiss that had a lot of potential to lead further. But neither of them allows their thoughts to wander down that path.

"It's a gamble." He shrugs all too casually, his outward demeanor not at all corresponding with his internal turmoil.

Y/N can't help but snort at his remark. In the seven years they've known each other, a snort or a scoff is the closest he's managed to get to provoking a laugh from her. She'd never give him that satisfaction, especially not now.

"You better pray nothing happens to Kat or I'll end you." Despite the bite of her words, she still accepts the cups she's being offered. Beggars can't be choosers and all that. Still, she's particularly mindful in avoiding any sort of contact between their hands in the process.

Colby shakes his head with a sigh, "Sheesh, I'm never doing you a good deed ever again."

Y/N allows herself one second of vulnerability - letting her eyes trail over to his tired ones. She sees her own emotions reflected back at her and it only worsens the hangover nausea in the pit of her stomach. That's mainly why the words that leave her mouth end up sounding so bitter, "I'd rather you didn't."

With that, she turns on her heel and makes her way back to her and Kat's shared room, paying no mind - or at least trying not to - to the silence she leaves trailing behind her, suggesting Colby is still in the exact spot, watching her go.

He's used to it, though. He's been watching her go for seven years now, never once having the courage to grab ahold of her before she's out of reach.

* * * * *

Their casino trip was a blur of disappointment and strings of curses before they chose to end it and hop in the car to head over to the Redfield Motel with only a couple earned and many lost dollars in - or missing from - their pockets. Kat abstained from the majority of the gambling to keep an eye on the competitive three that lost far more money than they're willing to admit.

"Hope we have more luck with the paranormal." Sam jokes as the car pulls into the small parking lot of the old but still classy-looking motel that, in comparison to the Oasis, looks like a five star resort.

With that, the gang exits the car with newfound enthusiasm - more so aimed at the partying they'll indulge in after this investigation. Sam and Kat grab the camera equipment while Y/N slings the strap of the duffle bag containing all the investigation equipment over her shoulder. However, she's barely taken five steps away from the car before the bag is swiped from her grasp.

She's not given any time to comprehend what just happened and can only glare at the back of Colby's head as he walks in front of her, not sparing her even s fleeting look.

It's so....normal, for lack of a better term. It's the kind of pettiness Kat swears is their own twisted love language. It's so '24 hours ago' it almost eases her mind.

Almost

And fuck does she hate that word.

"Welcome!" The motel owner meets them at the main entrance with a smile, "I'm Sharon. So happy to be giving you a tour tonight. Our little motel has never really been the most popular and I'm hoping to maybe get the public interested in it. We're opening for official business in about a month which is why we can't have you guys staying the night here. I hope that's not a problem in any way." She explains as she leads them inside in the lobby decorated in a 1920's style reminiscent of Hotel Cortez.

It does elicit a bit of suspicion among the group - the popularity seeking right before a grand reopening, the overall horror aesthetic of the décor, the ominous piano music playing from the carefully disguised sound system. Sam and Colby are no stranger to paranormal baiting from establishments that, at the end of the day, only ever wanted the publicity. It's always been a slippery slope that usually a Google search would be enough to settle but they can never be too sure. Each time they visit an established or in the process of re-establishment hotels or motels, it's a gamble for their reputation and authenticity.

Y/N is a lot less concerned with the honesty behind the supposedly paranormal stories Sharon is currently sharing with them. She's all too focused on appearing composed and relaxed in front of the camera. The blinking red light is almost taunting her, reminding her that she can't let her mask slip off for even a second. No matter the fact that Colby's arm is brushing against her each time either of them moves.

"I'm not sure if I mentioned this over the phone, but I am also a Priestess. I've been calling myself a medium for the longest time until I was corrected by my daughter who's done a bit more research in the terminology and stuff." Sharon's words snap Y/N out of her raging thoughts, momentarily breaking her intense awareness of the camera. Following the motion of the older woman's hands, she sees a small suitcase that has been prepped open to reveal a Ouija board, Tarot cards and scattered crystals among other items.

Although a fan of the paranormal, she's never managed to fully shake the uneasiness that the sight of a Ouija board brings on. Still, she manages to swallow it down and not show it. God forbid she gives Colby the opportunity to mock her again. She might actually deck him this time, her nerves are that haywire.

"We've worked with a Priestess before but we never got to properly understand how that title is different from a medium." Sam says, balancing the camera's weight on his right shoulder as to give his arm a small break.

Sharon gives a small chuckle at his statement, motioning to the deck of Tarot cards and Ouija board, "Well, I can make a rather accurate estimation of your past and future as well as communicate with spirits. I cannot see them, though. I can also do a protection ritual. From what I understand you put yourselves in a lot of potentially dangerous situations without much care for your safety."

Yeah, well, she isn't far from the mark. And all four members of the group know that, which is why they are quick to agree to the protection ritual.

"Can we also have our cards read?" Colby suddenly inquires, earning him the puzzled looks of his friends, "It'd be interesting to see if the reading aligns with what the last Priestess told us."

Sam takes less than a second to agree, thrilled at the idea of putting the cards - and their readers - to the test. Kat and Y/N, although not nearly as thrilled to have their future read - in their case, for the first time ever - they don't disagree. Instead, they exchange a somewhat encouraging 'why not?' look and press onward, following Sharon and the guys into the ballroom like restaurant of the motel.

A insight and guidance Tarot spread is laid out on one of the tables, each card picked out by the person whose turn it is as they get told their futures one by one with Kat going first - an act to encourage her best friend to follow suit after seeing the positive overview she got. Y/N's is a bit more wishy-washy with no certainty of anything bad happening in her future but still there seemed to be an undertone of weariness to each card she picked. Sam was completely in awe of how identical this reading was to his last one, so much so he didn't even really pay much mind to what the future may hold. And lastly, it is Colby's turn.

His reading goes without a hitch - again, as was the case with Sam's - eerily identical to the one he got back at the Conjuring house. That is until...

"Is it against any rules for me to ask a question on his behalf?" His best friend interferes just as the reading is about to come to a close.

Sam ignores the puzzled arch of Colby's eyebrow and focuses his attention on Sharon who shakes her head, "Not at all. What would you like to know?"

The smile on the blonde's face, although sneaky, has a small tinge of apology as he gives Colby a brief glance before asking the question he was pondering voicing since before the reading even started, "Colby has never had much luck in the love department, not by fault of his own, though." The last part is added after a two second delay during which Colby didn't bother hiding the comical offense he took to Sam's implications. It provoked a genuine laugh from Y/N and Kat who are now operating the camera as a team effort in order to keep the two targets in frame and capture each of their reactions. "So...can we get some insight on that? What can we do to change that?"

Sharon doesn't even attempt to stifle the laugh Sam's words elicit. It's far from the first time she's been asked this question in her career but the phrasing of this one specifically is quite amusing. Luckily, she can help.

"I doubt there's much you can do for him." She says, causing Sam's face to comically fall into a faux frown, causing Colby and the girls to cackle. Afterwards, her attention is turned to her reading subject, "However, I can give you a brief love spread reading if you'd be open to it."

Being open to it Colby is most definitely not, especially on such a sore topic. But he'd never allow himself to let his audience down like that. Just like Y/N, there are times he's too aware of the camera for his own good. Sure, this part can be edited out later but that would alter the authenticity of the entire experience. So, with a suppressed sigh he decides 'what the hell' and agrees to withstand a love reading.

He picks his cards and flips them over in the order Sharon instructs him, watching intently as the furrow of her brows deepens as she observes the combination of three cards on the table. "Huh..." She tilts her head to the side, confused.

Her reaction is far from what Colby expected or wanted to hear. In his head he's already made a plan of adopting a dozen cats and buying a house in the woods when Sharon finally speaks up again. "Am I right in assuming that you're single at this moment in time?"

Although taken aback by the question, Colby still nods, "Yes. Have been for the past couple of years, actually." He's so ready to get revenge on Sam as soon as fucking possible for putting him in this position even though he knows he's coming from a place of love and care.

Sharon chuckles, her eyebrows lifting impossibly high, "If I may be brutally honest with you - it seems like it's your fault." Seeing Colby's face morph in horror, she hurries to offer an explanation, "You see, what the cards are telling me is that you've already met 'the one' and..." she taps the middle card which just happened to be The Lovers, "...there's nothing standing in the way of you two being together. Had you not confirmed that you're single, I would've thought you two are already in a relationship."

Sam and Kat are busy exchanging a mixed set of looks - his rather surprised and hers bordering onto grateful. They both know why he brought up the question and Kat is extremely thankful that he's still supporting her matchmaking agenda. And good thing they were busy with their telepathic communication, otherwise they would've seen the not-at-all subtle moment of vulnerability between their friends.

A moment of weakness. A moment in which they both seemed to have lost control of their motor skills and their sense of rationality. The revelation sent Colby's head snapping directly in Y/N's direction, his eyes meeting hers and mirroring the terror they saw there. Her body is rigid much like his own. Their faces are painted with a look of horror no paranormal entity has ever managed to provoke from them. It's a look that is begging for reassurance, asking the silent question 'there's no way, right?'

Had this happened 24 hours ago, it would've been a laughing matter. Now, it's a cause for massive discomfort and uneasiness. Because, no matter how in denial they wanna be, the suspicious 'what if?' lingers at the back of their minds.

24 hours ago he would've been disgusted at the idea. He would've been adamant that if she in fact is the one, he'd rather die alone. Not that he'd ever think it plausible.

But now...

"So, what you're saying is..." Kat breaks the silence, looking between Sharon and a distressed Colby, "He needs to pull his head out of his ass as soon as possible?"

The Priestess nods, "Pretty much. Both him and his potential partner need to give each other a shot. Preferably soon. By the sound of it, it's already been too long."

If Colby didn't know any better, he'd be offended. Or rather, he would find it in himself to be offended if he wasn't still prowling through his brain to find a branch to grasp onto in this emotional flood. A twinge of rationality to comfort him, reassure him he's being ridiculous. That this is ridiculous.

Yet a part of him, a self-sadistic - or, well, masochistic - part of him hopes it may be true.

Y/N on the other hand wants to puke and for the first time today it has nothing to do with last night's tequila. She's horrified by the way her heart fluttered the moment their eyes met. She wishes she could grab ahold of her heart and physically slow it down because she's a few beats short of a heart attack right now.

When Kat's hand lands on her arm, her soul nearly evaporates from her body. "Shit, girl, sorry. Didn't mean to freak you out." Her best friend apologizes, squeezing Y/N's hand in an attempt to calm her down, "You ok?"

Nodding rapidly, the girl hurries to reassure her very worried friend, "Yeah I just spaced out, no worries."

Although clearly unconvinced, Kat doesn't press on. She's always approached Y/N like a wounded wild animal, worried she might shut herself away if she feels like she's being put under pressure. Or worse, she'd hate to lose her friendship if she were to bring up her theory of whatever might be going on between her and Colby. She can only imagine how badly she'd flip out if she were to find out.

So, Sam and Kat alike have long decided to never let either Y/N or Colby find out their agenda.

"If you say so...", with a small nod Kat motions to the bag on the floor as she balances the one she's holding, "Could you grab that? We're gonna leave them at the front desk before we go to the diner."

The last thing Y/N's unruly stomach wants right now is food but there's no way in hell she's gonna say anything and garner further suspicion from her friends. So, she nods in agreement, watching Kat as she follows Sam out in the hall before turning to pick up the appointed bag.

And suddenly her hand's been burned.

Both her and Colby jump back when the unexpected skin-to-skin contact brought on the feeling of an acid burn.

He wants to apologize, though there is nothing to really apologize for. It's such a miniscule and insignificant moment for an onlooker that they'd be perceived as utterly ridiculous for reacting so dramatically. Luckily for that onlooker mind reading isn't a thing, otherwise they'd see some ungodly images flashing through the pair's heads.

God forbid they heard me calling them a pair. They'd have me beheaded.

"Let me." He says, his voice rougher than he'd intended. He flinches at the sound of it and cringes even more when she does in fact let him take the bag, stepping away from the spot she'd crouched to collect it from the floor.

And again he finds himself in the agonizing position of watching her go without having a morsel of a chance to stop her. Truly, there's nothing he could say even if he were to stop her. They've always had a preference for few words - rather hostile ones, at that. So, what's there to say? They said plenty but not via words just last night.

If only they could resume that conversation.

"Hey!" Y/N calls out to Kat, picking up the pace of her steps so she can catch up to her.

Disentangling her arm from Sam's, she turns to her best friend, "What's up?"

On instinct, Y/N links their arms together in silent gratitude for, well, everything. Years of friendship. Years of Kat putting up with all seasons of her attitude. "I never got to say thank you for not letting me home with that guy. And I'm sorry if I was being bitchy about it. I know you did it for my own good."

It's far from the first time Kat has had to pull such a maneuver to keep Y/N safe. Hell, she dragged her out of this guy's car once. No feat is too big when it comes to keeping each other safe, and that goes for both sides. Although the rescue missions have been pretty one sided, seeing as how one has far less self preservation. I'll let you have a guess who that is.

The expected reassurance never comes, beckoning Y/N's gaze to Kat's face where she finds a pretty confused expression. "What guy?"

Mortification seeps into Y/N's bloodstream with a searing heat creeping up the back of her neck. "'What guy' as in you don't remember or 'what guy' as in there were several?" She doesn't really wanna hear the answer, rather she sink into the floor, but she has to know. Ignorance is bliss and all that but it's also the coward's weapon. And she ain't no coward.

"No, no. I mean, yeah, there were several..." Kat is very obviously and very unsuccessfully trying to soften the blow of the answer's delivery, "But you only danced with them. There was this one you were adamant on leaving with but thankfully Colby stopped you."

No amount of cushioning would've prevented that sentence from hitting her like a ton of bricks.

Kat mistakes her silence for anger so she hurries to add on to her previous statement, "He did the right thing, though! Please don't be mad at him."

Oh, I'm mad at him. But not for the reasons you might think...

Y/N snaps out of her thoughts with a shake of her head, "No, no, I'm not mad at him. In fact, I should probably thank him."

To say Kat is taken aback by these unbelievable words would be an understatement, "Ok, let's not got that far. I don't know what natural disaster may occur if you do that."

Oh, they've gone a lot further than Kat can ever imagine.

The tension of uncertainty climbs in the car with them, leaving a lot to be speculated and anxiously awaited. One thing is concretely certain, however - this is gonna be another long fucking night.

* * * * *

Y/N's ears are perked up with expectation. Not so much in search of a knock or creak that could be considered as loose evidence but in hopes of hearing footsteps. She hates it, how each sound puts her on edge for all the wrong reasons.

She's not waiting on any paranormal entity to make itself known. She's waiting for a rerun of last night. Hoping for it is a better way to put it. Hoping on him and hating on herself.

Ten minutes, that is the window of time they decided on for the solo investigation portion of the night and it's going by too quickly for her liking. Typically the minutes would stretch on in endless anxiety whenever she found herself alone in these supposedly haunted places. And yet tonight, she wishes she could buy a couple extra minutes. Or maybe buy herself a new brain if she were to listen to the more hostile part of herself. The part of her that is so against what went down that it's fucking exhausting.

But the footsteps never come. Not because the other party doesn't want to make the venture just down the hall but because he's convinced she'd forever hate him if he were to give into his temptation.

He's no stranger to hate and anger from her. What he's afraid of is avoidance. Indifference.

So, he stays put. Or tries to.

Out of the ten minutes he was left alone in room 11B, Colby only remained seated for a total of ten seconds. He's been pacing the room like a caged animal, his hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob several times. It felt like fighting with his second nature trying to pry himself free from the urge.

But fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on the perspective - he prevailed. Ten minutes in isolation, almost completely forgetting the quest at hand.

The solo investigations come to an end with a ping from everyone's phones, letting them know the time is up. The sound sends shockwaves down Y/N's spine as she comes to terms with the fact that she's been stood up by both the spirits and living.

Upon exiting the room, she finds herself to be faced with another of the Universe's cruel jokes in timing. She'd much rather have just run into a shadow figure if she's being honest. But a shadow figure he is most definitely not. Not with such piercing blue eyes, anyway.

For a brief second they are left in silence, just staring each other down. But it'd be very unlike them to let the quiet linger for any longer. So, Y/N takes it upon herself to break it, "Glad to see you didn't pussy out and make a run for it this time."

Very on-brand for a Colby-Y/N interaction. Or it would be if he were to retort with the same sort of hostility. He does, but not verbally. Instead, in two long strides, he finds himself in her personal space, giving her no room to dodge him. Not that she would, she talks a big game and stands behind it. Even now, trapped between his body and the wall with only mere inches separating them, there's not even a twinge of hesitation in her stance or gaze.

"What, were you waiting for me or something?" He too is no stranger to pulling on her strings but he'd usually do it from an arm's length away. Not a centimeter away from her face.

The retort she's ready to spit at him dies in her throat when she feels his fingers ghost over her thigh, giving an almost accidental tug on the chain dangling from the belt loops of her shorts.

As soon as the contact was established it has dissipated with Colby taking a step back, "Forgot to give it back."

His words throw her for a momentary lop before her hand comes to clasp the small bump in her pocket. Reaching in, she retrieves the lighter he so smoothly swiped from her yesterday. By the time her brain has processed what just happened, he's already disappeared down the hall, leaving her leaning against the wall on unsteady knees and with a newfound craving to light a cigarette.

"Fuck you, Brock..." she mutters under her breath, darting down the hall in search of the nearest exit so she can give into the urge to drown the breath they briefly shared in nicotine.

* * * * *

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Hair tousled, lipstick smeared, heels in hand - that's Y/N's current state. The worst of it, in her opinion, is that she's sober. The two drinks she downed about three hours ago evaporated from her system long before they could affect her perception of time and space. Throughout the whole night she was all too aware of the pair of eyes that remained trained on her the whole night. And she was even more aware of the sudden disappearance of the heat on the back of her neck when Colby inexplicably disappeared from her viewpoint. From the club entirely.

Curiosity scratched at her brain but she pushed it down, restraining the need to ask Sam and Kat where he'd gone. Why he'd left. Who he'd left with. To be fair, it would've been pretty hard to get answers out of either of them, seeing as how they were too busy making out on the dancefloor.

Or at least that's the last she saw of them before they too disappeared from her immediate vicinity. After a solid fifteen minute scavenger hunt for her friends she called it a night and made her way back to the hotel, discarding her heels halfway along her journey.

The texts she sent Kat remain unanswered but as she ventures down the hall to their shared room she gets the answer to at least one of her questions - Colby's whereabouts.

Whereabouts that place him seated on the carpeted hotel hallway floor, back against the door to her and Kat's shared room. His head is tilted back, his eyes peacefully shut. Or at least they were until her question startled him back into weariness.

"Sam and Kat banished me from the room. Can I crash with you?" He makes no attempt on getting up despite appearing sober himself. He's just exhausted, mentally more so than physically.

She's tempted to be petty. In fact she can feel horns poking through at the top of her head at just the thought of leaving him without a place to stay for the night. It's a minor revenge for seven years of animosity and a chaotic twenty four hours of anxiety and overthinking. But she can simultaneously feel a vastly different sensation heating her body at the thought of having to share a room with him for the night.

Does she believe that ridiculous crap about being the bigger person? Hell no. Is that enough to just leave him out in the hall? Well....

"Only if you keep your hands to yourself." She says, twirling the keycard to the door between her fingers like a taunt.

Little does she know the real taunt for him at the moment is her two inches too short dress. Listen, he's a gentleman, but if she were to take one more step toward him, it would take an ungodly amount of self control to look away.

Instead of letting those unorthodox thoughts render him speechless as they wrack his body, he finds it in himself to sass her right back, "Only if you follow your own rule."

She offers him no verbal reply. All he gets in response is a scoff and eye-roll before she approaches him, offering him a hand to help him get up to his feet.

He's a wise man - he takes something when he's offered it. But he's also insightful, more so than he lets on. And that allows him to give others what they haven't even come to terms with wanting. Which is why he doesn't let go of her hand once he stands up. Instead, he rounds it behind her back, gently locking it in place as his lips come crashing down onto hers.

Despite the rule she put in place, she's all too eager to meet him halfway, returning the same burning passion he's showing her. There's not a fiber of her being that isn't currently on fire, not a single thought that's rational, not a single hesitation that is being heard.

She's overdosing on him and enjoying every second of it.

Colby's free hand tangles in her hair while the other steals the keycard from her secured hand, swipes it and pushes the door open, guiding them blindly into the pitch black room.

They don't need a light anyway. The way their hands roam each other's bodies with such familiarity, it feels like a regular occurrence. Like they give into their hidden desires frequently enough to know the other's body by heart, play it like an instrument. Each touch, each kiss, each softly spoken word feels so...right. Not at all out of place, not at all unusal.

It's been seven years coming, and the waves are finally crashing down over them.

Only the moonlight lazily seeping in through the windows bares witness to this culmination of animosity, anger, hostility - the result of which is awfully gentle. Well, gentle might not be the best term if you were to factor in his hand around her throat and her nails scratching down his back.

Said hand of his loosens its already leisurely hold, travelling up to her jaw then her cheek where it cups her face in a - dare I say - loving gesture.

It stirs up something too warm and fuzzy for Y/N's rough nature. Yet she still embraces it, not without a snide comment though: "Don't get sentimental on me now, Brock."

She's quick to bite back her words and replace them with a moan as he marks her stomach with a not at all modest hickey, "Don't worry, I'll still hate you in the morning."

She laughs. Genuinely laughs. This night is full of surprises, is it not. "You better."

They greet the dawn on the balcony, her back pressed to his chest, his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. And as if we didn't already count plenty of milestones... In seven long years, they'd never smoked together. That changes now.

"You still hate me?" Colby dares to ask through an exhale of smoke. I believe the answer is pretty obvious though, considering she hasn't tried to headbutt him the whole time his chin has been resting on top of her head.

Although he hasn't heard it much, at least not in response to him, her laugh has officially become his favorite sound in the world. "Of course I do."

"Good."

"You?"

"I've never hated you more." He accentuates his response by capturing her lips with his own in a sweet kiss.

* * * * *

"Hey, Kat." Colby speaks up softly, careful not to disturb the still drowsy Kat that's so ready to fall asleep the very second her butt hits the airplane seat.

"Hmm?" She offers in response. It's too early for either her or Sam to form words and Colby respects that.

"Mind switching seats with me?"

Now that wakes her up, the force of the statement's meaning not at all corresponding with the softness of his tone.

"You think you'll be, um, safe? Sitting next to Y/N and all that?" Although inwardly buzzing with excitement at the potential of her years long labor finally baring fruits, she needs to make sure there will be no murders on this flight.

What Kat doesn't catch is the smirk Colby sends Y/N's way over her shoulder. A smirk she returns with the same level of mischief.

"I think I'll manage."

Tagging: @jessy-shine @benbarnesprettygurl @mushycore @smuttiest-smuttt @honey-bees-13 @richardsamboramylove55

[seecarrun]

Pokeshipping Week 2024

Prompt 6: Puberty

Ash had spent the last almost eleven months training up on top of Mount Silver like some sort of pokemon obsessed hermit.

After holding tight on to his Alola League championship title for three strong years, his fourth and most recent league battle against Gladion had been way too close for comfort.

Thankfully Pikachu came through in the end and they won, but it was close, and a few days after the battle, Ash announced his newest, harebrained idea: spend the next year training atop Mount Silver, and come back down just in time for the next Manalo Conference, stronger than ever.

Apparently he’d heard about something similar in Pokemon Friend Magazine or a podcast or something, Misty wasn’t sure, but he was determined.

They literally all told him he was nuts, but when Ash got his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. So in the end, off he went for nearly a year.

But he was finally back.

According to the electronic sign, his train was about three minutes away, and Misty and Brock were waiting for him on the platform, chomping at the bit to gather him up and whisk him back to Pallet. He would hang out at home for a few weeks, become a civilized member of society once again, and then head to Alola for the League Conference and hopefully keep hold of his Champion title. His mom had insisted she stay home and make his welcome home dinner, so Misty and Brock were sent to fetch him, which they were more than happy to do.

Finally, they spotted the train in the distance, and Misty’s heart skipped a beat in excitement.

Sure, she was used to going long periods of time without seeing Ash in person, but usually they at least got to talk on the phone or through PokeGear. This time however, his camp on Mount Silver had been so remote and removed, the only correspondence they had from him was a handwritten letter skribbled on notebook paper, literally delivered by a carrier pidove once every few months to assure them he was still alive.

Once the train pulled into the station, the doors slid open, and the passengers began pouring out in one big mass. Brock shielded his eyes with his hand as he surveyed the crowd, Misty next to him on her tip toes, doing the same.

She scanned the platform, looking for the yellow of Pikachu’s fur, the red of a baseball cap or the blue of a jacket, anything that might belong to—

“Misty, Brock!”

They both spun to the direction of the voice, which sounded both achingly familiar and yet somehow not, and came face to face with Ash and Pikachu, both grinning ear to ear.

Brock immediately pulled Ash into a handshake-turned-hug, laughing loudly, but Misty was struck on the spot, her mouth going dry.

Ash had changed.

Along with the expected shaggy hair and dirty clothes, he was taller, still not as tall as Misty, but only shorter by a centimeter or two. His shoulders had broadened a bit, his shirt looking just a bit snug around the chest and sleeves where it was once baggy. His jaw was slightly sharper and ever so noticeably more angular, and when he laughed and greeted Brock, his voice had taken on a new, deeper pitch.

Ash had grown up over the last year, and Misty’s palms itched looking at him.

He turned to her next, giving her a quick hug that left her embarrassingly breathless. Thankfully, Pikachu hopped into her arms for a hug right after, and she jumped on the excuse to direct her attention away from Ash’s collar bones, which were suddenly very interesting.

(Misty kind of wanted to bite them, she was scandalized to realize.)

“How was Mount Silver, man?” Brock asked, blissfully unaffected by the change in Ash’s appearance. She was even just starting to entertain the idea that it was all in her head; some absence makes the heart grow fonder kind of thing, when he added a subtle and amused, “You look great!”

Ash made a face and looked down at himself with an unfairly charming chuckle. “Great?” he asked. “I dunno about that; I haven’t slept in a real bed or had a hot shower in months!” he laughed again, giving Misty the chills.

‘He doesn’t know,’ she realized, as they boarded the shuttle to Pallet Town. ‘He doesn’t realize he’s grown up and become so…so…’

Her thoughts trailed off as Ash slid into the seat next to her and gave her that megawatt smile. Her heart skipped a beat.

‘Dreamy.’ she realized, a little bit in horror. She’d always found him cute, but now Ash was dreamy.

She, Misty admitted to herself, was in trouble.

[canadiandogteeth]

@mothercain

Photos ~ Brock Fetch

[tparker48]

Request for anonymous

Fog scoured over the cul-de-sac as the sun rose from its curtain of mist. In a house at the ed of the street, a tall man named Guro Awakened from his slumber lumbering himself out of bed as he stared groggily at the clock.

“6AM..” he rubbed his chin, “Fuck we overslept, we need to get to airport..” he stuck his toothbrush in his mouth before heading to the bedroom, two lumps bunched beneath a sheet on the windowsill. He prodded at their curvatures with a finger. "Brock, Jerry, up and adam! We're gonna be late for the flight if we’re not gone in a few minutes."

The lumps shift beneath the sheets, growing in size as the cotton balls surrounding them dispersed to the floor. Scrawny arms poked from one side of the cover, a pair of feet extending from the other.

"Oh..shit.." one of the tinies stretched, their curly hair spiraling spreading from the cover like wires. “You just had to pick the morning flight..” Jerry rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked to the lump next to him, nasally rumbles lingering beneath them as he nudged a foot into its side. “Brock, stop acting like a brick and get up already.”

The exposed toes curled, cowering beneath the sheets as the tiny groaned groggily. "Why’d you have to go and kick me?” he wiped the slobber from the corner of his mouth, “ I was just having the best dream of my life."

"You say that every night, dear."

"Well it's true."

Guro rolled his eyes, taking to the window as he plucked the two from the platform. He lumbard toward a table, placing them on top as he made his way for his luggage in the chair. Today was the day the three of them went on their trip to Vegas. Since he was a kid he always dreamed of visiting there, his fantasy running wild of the possibilities he’d find. Fame, fortune, hell even the chance to see good actors. His mind thrived on the potential for him to explore, but nothing spiked his interest more, than to find someone who could take on his size.

He dabbled in a few hook ups during his time in the city, managing to fish a few guys here and there looking for a good time. But his tall physique was like kryptonite to potential seekers, each cowering before the colossal ass that spreads before him. He had no luck here, but that didn’t mean he won’t find one out there.

Finishing the rest of his packing, he placed the two love birds into his pocket before heading out of the door and to his car. And with that they were off to the airport, Guro taking the south highway that shortened the 40 minute drive through traffic. By the time they reached the main entrance, the sun rose over the hills, its crimson glow shining over the land.

Guro parked the car as he fetched the two from his pocket. "Alright we got about an hour before the flight boards.”

“Perfect, then that leaves us plenty of time to prepare.” Jerry hopped onto the glove compartment and kicked the loose panel, a bottle of anti-digest jostling to the edge. “I knew these would come in handy someday, it’s the perfect heist for the stomach.”

“About that, why again are you guys going in my stomach?”

“You’re the one that said the cost was too expensive for the three of us, so I thought of an alternative.” Jerry plucked one of the pills. “You get to sit all cozy in your chair, while me and hubby travel in your stomach.”

“It still doesn’t sound appealing when I hear it a second time around.” Guro said. “Having you two inside me sounds way too weird.”

“Relax, it’ll be fine.” Brock chimed in, “Just think of me and Jerry like skittles.”

He shuddered at the thought of swallowing his two friends, looking to his watch as time edged toward seven o’ clock. With a sigh, he grabbed a water bottle from the cup holder, untwisting the cap of the pills as he two. He washed it down his throat, before picking up Jerry and Brock, hovering them in front of his mouth.

“Here goes nothing..” He parted his lips, sprawling his tongue like a carpet as he tilted his head.

His tongue squished as the two tinies hopped into his gaping maw, sliding down the muscular appendage like penguins as they darted into his awaiting gullet. His lips scrunched as his throat worked at their complex forms, working them past the back of his tongue that rose to the ceiling. He squeezed his tongue against their feet, and his throat gave way, the muscular tube expanding as Jerry and Brock were accepted inside. The descent was like a slugs pace as peristalsis took over, guiding them to the entrance of his stomach.

Getting out of the car, he raised his shirt as his belly distended, a softened handprint poking from his torso. "It's darker in here than I expected,” Jerry said. “did you bring the flashlights with you, Brock?"

"Flashlights? I thought you grabbed them from the nightstand?"

"Why would you think I grabbed them? I was literally right next to you."

"Keep it down you two," Guro pounded at his chest. "we're almost inside."

He entered the sliding doors to the main lobby, other travelers swarming through the corridors like a sea of fish. Guro followed the narrow path to the terminals further in the distances,, ushering the shoulder of others to clear a way for his hefty luggage that nipped at his heels. He visited the check in machine, grabbing a ticket for his things as he dropped them with the attendees.

Dropping his luggage off, he spread his arms like wings, popping the cramps on his shoulder for hauling the heavy thing. He approached the line of the terminal, and his sense of his relief dispersed. Security would be up ahead, scanning baggage along with the passengers clothes for any signs of breach in policy. It wasn’t long before one of the officers approached, scanners in hand as they ushered him forward.

He sucked in his gut, and the scanning commenced as the coned device raised up and down his body. "Scanner's seem all clear, proceed." one of the officers said.

Guro nodded, moving through the terminals to the connecting hallway. He looked out of the translucent window to metal fins gliding over parts of the platform, the head of the plane turning the corner like a shark as it docked near the loading bay.

Movement stirred inside of him, his abdomen bucking as limbs twisted over the other. "Ugh, I knew I should’ve woke up earlier.” Jerry muffled, “ my cock’s leaking like a faucet for release.”

"Fear not my dear hubby, for your noble night shall ease your stress." Brock said.

Guro cheeks flushed, pounding a fist at his chest. " You two are not fucking in my stomach, it’s hard enough trying to keep you down already."

"Fine fine, party pooper.” Jerry said, “Then let’s at least get some grub, I’m starving in here!"

"Yeah!" Brock chimed.

“What? I just told-”

"Food! Food! Food!" the couple chanted, bouncing wall to wall as if they were seeds in a popcorn kettle.

"Alright, Alright already. just stop with the bouncing."

It was a good walk as Guro traversed deeper into the airport. Searching for the docking terminal, he followed the bolded signs that hung from the ceiling as they pointed further down the hall, leading him to the corner of the building where travelers waited for the aircraft.

Good, he still had some time to get those two some food. He followed a vertical path to a few shops stationed along the walls, passing by refreshment and accessories before he got to the food court section of the building. Snackbars stationed between the narrow pathways, packets of Doritos stacking their shelves as some spilled from their platform to the Gatorade bottles below.

"Perfect, chips should ease you two until we land." he said.

"Chips? No way! they'd be waterlogged by the time it enters in here." Brock said.

"It'll be soggy regardless once it gets there," he replied. "If that won't work then what do you want?"

"Burgers!"

"What? no that's too-"

"Ooo burgers, great Idea!" Jerry chimed. "What better way to kick things off than to have a burger!"

"A burger is way too greasy right now lets-"

"burgers! Burgers!" the couple chanted, bulges dancing beneath his tank top.

For fuck sake. He held his stomach extending a sheepish way to passerbys before speed walking around a corner. A burger parlor rested ahead, guarded by a crossroad as passengers passed to and from the bridges connecting it. He ordered his food and made his way to a booth facing the stream of other flight goers, fiddling the ticket number of his order between his fingers.

"Be sure to add extra cheese!"

"Oh! and ketchup, don't forget the ketchup!

Guro pounded his stomach. "Will you two pipe down, if you keep it up someone will-"

"Man all this traffic today," a smooth yet gruff voice said from behind, passengers splitting apart as a short lean man stepped through them. "Who’s bright idea was it to put this place in such a piss poor spot? I’m getting a wedgie down here."

The small man wrestled with his pants as he traversed to the booths. As he looked to the other tables occupied by guests, his gaze met Guro’s who peeked over his arm.

“Hey you, that seat next to yours taken?” the man pointed at the booth.

"Oh, uh no. It's all yours." Guro replied, gesturing a hand to the seat next to him.

The short man let out a sigh, the gears of the seat creaking as he crashed down upon it. “Ah, thank god, I can finally sit and eat.” He sat his tray upon the table.

Guro held a hand to his face as he focused on the passing passengers, the sound of paper unraveling as the lean man unwrapped his burger. Not a moment later, a waiter arrived with his food as they placed it on the tray. He picked up a stray fry, dipping it into ketchup as he nibbled over his shoulder.

The lean man tore into his burger as ketchup splattered the wrapper. "Say, I haven't seen you around these parts.” He garbled over his food, “You knew to this airport?"

Guro froze. "You could say that, I..don't really travel a lot."

I see," the lean man swallowed his chewed food, pounding at his chest. He extended a hand to Guro. "Well let me be the first to welcome you. Name’s Gary, it’s good to see new faces around here."

“Guro," He replied, shaking his hand. “I’m sure you meet a lot of folks out there.”

“Oh sure, I've seen so many passenger’s I’ve lost count. Met a few good ones over the years..” He stirred a fry into his ketchup. “And busted a few too.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Oh..you have? It must be..pretty rough.”

“Ugh tell me about it, they come out of the woodwork and think they run the entire place. Man, they give me gray hairs.” Gary said, “But nothing grinds my gears more than those with tinies.”

Guro’s eyes widened at the statement, fiddling with his straw. “Yeah?..”

“Totally. Smuggling them on board in my presence, it just makes me so..so..” He pounded his fist against his palm. “gah, they're lucky I’m at work. But you know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah yeah, I do, totally.” Guro fanned the air, sipping at his straw. “Those..rotten smugglers, why if they were I would-”

"cold! cold!" a faint mutter escaped his stomach..

His body locked, punching into his own stomach. Gary was caught aback, the lid of his drink popping undone.

"Woah there, drink went down the wrong pipe huh?"

"Y..yeah, guess I must've drank too long." He replied, holding at his stomach.

"Give me the fry!"

"get your own, I saw it first"

Guro froze again, looking to Gary who stood there attentively.

The side of his cheek twitched. "Ahe, you know I think my ears are whack from working on flights, but I could’ve sworn I heard some little voices just now."

"No! No! Not at all, I’m sure it was just uh..the conditioning."

“Nah, it sounded like voices alright. Just like it sounds like smuggling.” Gary leaned closer. “And when there’s smuggling in my presence, I-”

He jumped out of his seat. "Would you look at the time, I really must be getting to my flight.”

Guro scampered into the sea of passengers, rushing back to the narrow hallway he came from. He caught a glimpse of Gary’s stern stare, before it disappeared around the corner. —---------------------------

that was close, he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold that conversation. He lifted his shirt and gazed at his round belly, the lumps of his abs rising and falling as the two tinies danced beneath its layer.

"Can you guys at least try to keep things low? that guy was onto us." he said.

His stomach grumbled, Jerry’s voice resonating. “Wal..we…”

“What?”

“Hun, don’t try to speak with your mouthful” Brock replied. “It's just a minor hiccup, Guro. it slipped out.”

“Well don’t do it again or we’ll be caught.”

He returned to the main path of the hallway, joining the crowd that lined the entrance to the air bridge. He showed his ticket to the tenders and made his way down the hollow straight way, the hums of the plane's turbines vibrations through the metal floor. A wave of cool conditioning washed over him as he entered the opening of the plane, stray legs in the lane brushing against his own as passengers sat their luggage into the compartments above.

He found a seat in the middle of the plane, taking a seat as he glanced into the Isle. He managed to get on board, thank goodness, that hurtle of their journey was complete. He eyed the other passengers that traveled passed, looking at the metal wig blocking the window frame as its lights blinked. Movement stirred inside his stomach prodding at the muscular wall. He pulled the collar of his shirt over his face, staring at the wobbling lumps i his abdomen.

“Get the energy out while you can you two, it’s gonna be a long trip before we reach vegas.” he said in a lone tone, keeping an eye towards the lane.

“Easier said than done when your cock’s craving release. ” Jerry replied. “Blasted thing’s still leaking.”

“For the last time, you’re not fucking in my stomach.”

Jerry slouched against a fold in the fleshy chamber. “Ah come on, how else are we gonna get through this trip.”

“Because we almost got caught with you two’s bickering.” Guro replied.

“You’re still o about that guy back there, there’s no way he’d follow you in here.” Brock chimed, “Poor bastard’s probably helping the janitor’s than thinking about us.”

"Attention passengers, please listen up for the time being.” a voice called from the cockpit, the heads of passengers splitting as they turned to the front of the plane. Holding a microphone in hand, hidden away by the shoulders of the would be the short man from the burger parlor. "We've got a long flight ahead of us, so if you’d be so kind to keep in your seats we’ll be cruising through to vegas in no time.."

Guro peeked through the curl of the woman in front of him to the front aisle. “Shit..”

“What is it?” Brock asked.

“It’s that Gary guy again, of all the planes to be on it had to be this one.”

The fuzz of Gary’s hair traversed further down the aisle, a pamphlet in hand as he wagged it through the air. "As you all know it's important to ensure your mask is working to full condition," he said, "If you are having issues please let me or our staff.."

He trailed as he came to the middle of the aisle, the corner of Guro’s gaze meeting his own. His eyes were like daggers as they seething their judgments into Guro’s brain, eyebrows furrowing as if to harness their fiery sight.

"…Our staff know at a moment's notice." Gary continued, his steps drawing closer. His curly hair peered from the top of the pamphlet, his eyes locking onto him. "If there aren't any further questions..may you enjoy your flight."

His steps trailed behind, but he could still feel his sharp gaze as he moved to the back of the plane. The tension eased as the aircraft jerked, the docking platform fading from the small window as it faced the runway. The white stripes of the runway zipped through the window frame as the aircraft made its way to its lane. He hoped it would distract him from the sudden predicament, but he couldn’t help but look back to flight attendants buckling their belts, Gary side-eying him from a seat along the wall.

He leaned his head against the chair, and let out a heavy sigh. "This is going to be a long flight.”

--

Some time passed as the plane left the airport, soaring over the mountains decorating the plains below. Guro’s attention aimed at his body as the wall brushed his shoulder, hugging him into the cool interior as the plane tilted to the west. He looked down to his still stomach, prodding at the faint dimple protruding beneath his pecs.

Those two have been quiet since they took off, he’d best check on them.

He scoped the aisle for a second glance, eyeing the slouched necks of fellow passengers who tilted to the ceiling. He lifted his shirt, tapped at his distended gut. "Hey,you two good?.." he asked, his tone overwhelmed by the turbine outside. "Is everything okay in there?"

"Is what okay in there?" A voice startled him, Gary standing in the aisle with a tray.

"Geez you really need a bell, you can't just sneak up on people like that."

"What did I startle you fraidy cat? Its merely time for the passengers to have their snacks for the evening.” He plucked one of the bags from his tray. “I wanted to give you yours personally."

Guro eyed him cautiously. “Why?”

“Think of it as an apology, I’ve been watching you all this time to see if you’d croak. And yet, you sit there without a trouble in hand. So..” he set a couple of bags upon his tray, “I wanted to ensure you get the best nuts I could offer, as tribute.”

"Ah..how kind of you."

"Yes," Gary said. “I hope they're..to your liking."

He cycled to the next passenger, sharing a glance as he handed them peanuts from the trays below. That guy on his ass for so long, he forgot what it felt like to finally breathe in piece.

his stomach rippled as it sung its gurgly song, taps resonating from his abdomen. "What’s this I hear about snacks?" Jerry asked.

"About time you started to speak," he replied, "I thought I digested you too."

"You thought being in here would get the better of us?” Brock said. “It’ll take a lot more than a few burgers and fries for us to kick the bucket."

“Huh, I suppose you have a point.”

“Yeah.” Jerry chimed in, “on a related note, how about those snacks!”

Quick and to the point, that’s the Jerry experience for ya. But his request did linger in his mind, he thought the food from the restaurant would satisfy him for a little longer, but he can already feel his belly yearn for more to fill in its chamber. He looked to the plastic packets on his tray, fondling at their sealed ends.

"Why not," he picked one of them up, "a few peanuts couldn't hurt."

He tore the flimsy corner of the bag, dumping the miniature contents into his awaiting mouth as he chewed on their salty texture. Their solid form were soon reduced to mush beneath his molars, escorted by his tongue as it slithered down his throat with a simple gulp. Arriving in his stomach, Jerry and Brock became active, swirling inside his belly like pet fish.

"Huh, a little salty but these things actually aren't that bad." Guro opened another packet, tilting the torn opening to feast on the nuts.

He chewed at their crunchy forms once more, lapping at the slaty flakes in torn opening to savor their taste. But his stomach twisted as a bulge pushed in his stomach, Jerry and Brock moving around.

"What are you doing down there?" He said in a low tone, tapping at his stomach.

" These nuts are making me.. feel tingly." Brock muttered, kicking into the side of the stomach. “Hehe..my legs feel like jello

"you feel it too, I thought I was the only one." Jerry added, the bulge in his stomach expanding. "You know.. Did I ever tell you? you're.. kinda hot. Like really..really hot."

"Really? I was gonna say the same to you."

Guro shuddered as he felt his stomach swirl, the two tinies swirling around the wall like propellers as their moans reverberated the surrounding flesh. flustered, Guro leaned into his legs, tapping into his gut.

"Hey I told you not..to fuck in-” His stomach bucked as the two drove into stomach wall, footprints marking his abs before sinking back in. “Guys..stop..fucking.”

His words fell on deaf ears, the tinies pressing horizontally into the side of his belly. It was as if he swallowed a dinner plate, his stomach manipulating its curvatures as it squashed against his folds. He gripped at the armrest of his seat, over biting his lower hip.

steps echoed from the lane, Gary returning with a glass beverage. "Oh man, you look like you’re getting put through the ringer there?"

"What did you put in those nuts?" Guro groaned, holding his stomach.

"Nothing, just regular peanuts compared to us." Gary said, "though for small folk, you could say they become more..energetic. good thing it was just you who only drank it, right?" He shared a glance at Guro.

"r..right, no..tinies here."

"Mhm.” Gary plucked the drink from his tray, setting it up on Guro's. “ If there were tinies who ate them, this stuff does the trick for calming them down. Who knows,maybe it'll work on that stomach ache of yours too."

Guro opened his mouth to speak, but shuddered as legs swiped against his belly like brushes. Gary trailed from his gaze, walking down the path as he gazed upon the sloshing liquid in the plastic cup. Not good, if this keeps up he’ll jizz in his pants before they land.

His stomach turned again, his head brushing against the seat as sweat dripped on his brow. Looking to his pants ran through his body, his shaft pulsating as it bulge climbed to the surface. When the tip of his shaft outline the pouch, a wet spot darkening into the fabric, he caved.

He raised the plastic cup against his lips. swallowing ice and all as its cubes raced down his pipe. It sizzled along his tongue like sprite, its suds raced down his throat as it collected into his stomach. He shook the cup until the last drop met his tongue, slamming it upon his tray. His stomach expanded, the cool liquid spinning inside the chamber as the two couples calmed themselves.

He took a breath, basking in the hums of the plane. But he froze as the lingering figure returned, a golden name tag appearing in his peripheral.

"So it seems your stomach ache has calmed down, and not a single ice cube in the cup." Gary eyed the empty plastic, his arms crossing across his chest. "I'm sure it doesn’t take an Einstein to know what comes next?"

Guro's face grew dull, rolling his eyes to the window. "Fuck.."

Tires squeaked as the plane arrived at the vegas airport, cruising its way to the corner of the building where an empty air bridge awaited it. Guro stared at the front door, hands gripping his shoulders as Gary held him close.

"We have an hour before our next flight," Gary told another flight attendant. "I'm taking this one personally to security."

The flight attendant nodded, informing the captains of the situation. The door's hissed open, and a knee nudged into his legs.

"Is that really necessary-"

a knee struck him again. "Silence troublemaker, you'll be given what you deserve soon enough."

They moved through the long narrow hallway to the entrance, one of the employees opening the door as he stepped outside. Eyes glued onto the display as they moved through passengers, snickers fluttering the crowd as Guro sulked beneath the collar of his shirt. His sense of security was quickly diminished as a nudge yanked the slim fabric from his chin, Gary shoving him into the next corridor. After countless steps, they turned into an empty path, Gary opening a solid door to darkness on the other side.

"After you." Gary escorted him in, tossing him to the middle of the room.

"Look, I get that this wasn't the best idea, but do you know how expensive tickets are nowadays?"

"Oh I know how much they are, but don’t think you’ll get any mercy from it." Gary slammed the door, locking it behind him.

He approached in a slow stride, his form widening in width as he reached Guro’s chest. Even half his size, his demeanor drove his heart to a fast race, his legs backpedaling as the flight attendant gained ground.

Cold steel soon kissed at his back, Gary breath flowing over his chest. "Remember what I said about those with tinies?"

"I..I don't recall."

"I said when I find in my mist, that there will be dire punishment. And when I get my hands on them I-"

Guro shielded his face. "Jail them!"

"Fuck them!"

Guro's shuddering ceased, blinking in confusion. "W..what?"

"You heard me."

"So you did all of this, just to fuck me."

Gary scoffed softly. "Well I gotta get my buzz one way or another. I could’ve called you out at the restaurant, but why spoil it there?"

"b..but-"

a foot lunged toward him, stomping the wall above Guro’s shoulder. "Ain't no buts about it, You're still a troublemaker for making me have to stretch to get the answer out of you.” Gary caressed his chin. “But since you’re kinda cute, I’ll cut ya deal."

He unbuckled his belt before taking to his fly, ringing his finger into the pouch of his boxer. With a flick of his finger, drawed the beast sleeping in his pants. Its slender length swelled against his thigh, its veins pulsing as it pointed its fleshy tip like a spear.

"You can accept your punishment and show me a good time, or I can let security deal with you and far worse."

Guro's cheeks flushed at Gary's options, its energy driving its way through his body as it was fed to his own cock. This predicament was peculiar to what he expected, and yet, it seemed to exhilarate him the more he ran it though his mind. The cock wagged closer, drawing at the air like a magic pencil as its baked musk whipped beneath his nose. His own shaft throbbed in his pants, punching into his pouch as if it were begging to be let out.

He watered his lips. “Just show you a good time?”

“Mhm,” Gary replied, bucking his shaft closer, “show me just enough, and I might let you off the hook.”

He reflected on his words, before looking to his waist. The lengthy appendage flicked as it brushed the tip of his nose, a drop of pre soaking his skin as salt whiffed through his nostrils. He clasped both hands along the leaking head, nodding softly as he felt its strength pulse between his palms..

"Splendid," Gary said, a hint of excitement decorating his tone. "Unbuckle those pants of yours."

Guro adjusted himself from the wall before taking to his belt buckle, unfastening its hold on his waist as the fabric slithered to reveal his toned glutes beneath. Their warm sheets were relieved, a pinch resonating on both cheeks as fingers spreading them apart.

"Well, well, Quite the star you have back here." Gary said.

"T..thanks, I try to keep it cared for in my spare time."

"I can tell, let's see just how taken care of it truly is for my monster."

his hole rippled as fingers prodded its center, flattening the folds between the rings before the phallus made contact. He strained as his anus widened, sliding Gary's girth inside him as it climbed the curvature of his anal walls. The flight attendant thrusted his hips, and their waist's clapped together as if there were a puzzle.

the attendant started to rock, sawing through Guro's ass like a saw as the shaft drove in and out of him. Pump after pump, his toes curled as Gary filled more of him inside, its bulge intermittently appearing beneath his lower abdomen. From mere moments he found himself bending towards the toilet, his own body taking to his shaft to channel the energy to his leaking tip.

As time passes, the two grinded in sync, their symphony of grunts and moans reverberating through the walls of the bathroom.

"Not bad, you're holding punishment well."

"That's nothing..I can take more."

"Oh?” Gary mused, clasping the tender mounds between his palms. “Then I hope you can keep your socks on for the finale."

He thrusted his shaft deeper into Guro, his waist clapping with his as a lump appeared intermittently in his torso. Push after push, a dimple began to form as the phallus imprinted along his abdomen. With a firm ease into Guro, the softened features of the tip appeared, two human shaped silhouettes decorating next to it as they grumbled beneath the tender muscle

"Hmph, so these are the tinies giving you trouble." Gary said.

"they're.. friends of mine." Guro replied.

"I see,” Gary chuckled, stirring Guro's inside like a batter barrel as Jerry and Brock wobbled around. “Seems they're having fun of their own. no wonder you were so skittish on the plane."

His skin bulged like a vacuumed compartment, wincing as the two silhouettes bobbed along his belly like mardi gra shadow puppets. The two of them basked in the silence between them, feeling the attendant's shaft thrust his torso from side to side. but soon a chime rang through the air, the flight attendant checking his phone.

"Looks like it's boarding time, I better get back to the plane" he said, grabbing one of Guro's cheeks as he unplugged his shaft from the depth of his hole, folding a bundle of tissue paper over the tip that leaked the floor. "I assume you can stand on your own?"

Guro rose from the toilet seat, his legs floundering as if they were made of jelly. "Well..more or less."

"Good, I wouldn't want there to be another mess than there already is." Gary said with a pat.

The two of them walked out from the bathroom, Guro waddling toward the door as Gary held it open. Getting into the main hall, security turned from the far corner, their walkie talkies going off as they approached the two.

"There you are, we had a report of some misconduct from the place." One of them said, "Is this who we were sent to retrieve?"

Guro opened his mouth to speak, but Gary's palm raised in front of him. "No, it was a false alarm. I thought we had a troublesome situation, but it's been resolved."

the guards grumbled at the flight attendant's response, nodding softly before they returned to the hallway. disappearing, Guro took a breath.

"I'm..not in trouble."

Gary patted at the cylinder like bulge in his pants. "Consider it a courtesy for a good time."

"I..well-"

"you're welcome." Gary interrupted, handing him a piece of paper from his pocket. "Take this, a voucher next time you fly with us. and be sure to follow the rules next time, can’t guarantee you’ll be let off easy if it's not me."

Guro blinked at the slim piece of paper, taking it from Gary as he slid it into his pocket. With that, he nodded in understanding, Gary acknowledging as he traversed into the hallway. Soon the sound of passing passengers filled the space, leaving Guro with his own thoughts.

fancy that, he thought, to think a simple fuck with a flight attendant would get him off the hook. Whether it was luck or just pure satisfaction, he was glad that hurdle was over and done with. But something else lingered in his mind, a piece he was forgetting, but what?

"Fuck, my baggage!"

Navigating through the halls to the baggage claim downstairs, he had some time to kill as he waited for his transportation to arrive. Sitting along a bench near the entrance, he reflected on the encounter in the bathroom stall, reminiscing over the long slender shaft that once dwelled inside. He fondled the contents of his bloated belly, his fingers squishing upon his abdomen as if it were a water bed. it was..refreshing in a way, at least now he was able to walk straight.

His taxi arrived as he moved to a hotel further up the road, booking a room as he made his way up the flights of stairs to the second floor. He kicked open the door and dropped his bag, heading over to the bathroom as he ventured to the tub. He turned on the shower faucet, warm water washed over him as he squatted over the drain as seed drooled from his hole like an uncapped bottle. Clench after clench its flow moved like a stream melting into a watery substance before it disappeared into the drain.

But the stream began to spurt as solid objects pushed at his hole, forcing him to heave as his ring flexed and contracted. He adjusted his stance and squeezed at his stomach, a wave of seed spewing from his hole and between his legs as it rinsed beneath the water.

A tangle of arms and legs seeped from a wad,its gunk melting away as the two tinies laid along the drain.

“That's what I call a trip.." Jerry mumbled.

"You can say that again." Brock said, looking to Guro who stood over them. “You certainly made a mess. What were you doing out here?”

He shook his head softly. “Just having some fun.”

[a-heart-attack-ow]

The Arrangement. Part Seven

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7: **NSFW/Unedited**

His clenched jaw was the first thing I noticed when I got called into his home office. I had no idea when he'd returned home or why he'd felt it necessary to have Sam come and fetch me for a meeting, but I could feel my anger boiling beneath the surface of my skin, in my veins as I stared back at my husband. Colby Brock stood before me in all black, a tank top that showed off his muscular arms and his half-sleeve tattoo, paired with a pair of black skinny jeans. Beads of water pooled at the base of his dark locks that hung in his face. He'd clearly just returned home given the state of his hair, the water fresh from the downpour outside. Our house had lost power hours ago because of the storm. Now all we had was the dim light of the candles to accompany us. It had been two whole weeks that he'd been away from me. Two whole weeks that he'd been traveling for 'business'. Business that I hadn't been given any information on. He'd left in the middle of the night, with only a note on my pillow for an indication that he'd gone. He'd not bothered to call or text at that time. He'd truly left me high and dry. 

But now he stood before me. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as he stared into my soul. A part of me wanted to slap him for leaving me the way he did. After that night we had dinner with his parents. After I swore to him that I would always be there for him. He'd told me he loved me but disappeared into the night without so much as a second glance. I fold my arms across my chest as I stare at him, the tension thick in the air around us. I don't speak as I study him. I don't say a word as his eyes look me up and down in quiet appreciation. I'd spent the last two weeks with Kris and Celina, planning which charity events we'd be hosting on behalf of the Brock Family Estate. I'd thrown myself into work because I couldn't think of him. I couldn't think of how he'd left me. So I focused on work, working out, and reading up on what things my husband had been up to with his gang of drug traffickers. Thanks to Sam, I had all the knowledge I needed about their 'business'. Colby throws a smirk my way when he takes in what I'm wearing. The deep v-neck of my long-sleeved, red top. It was form-fitting and paired with a higher-waisted black skater skirt. The skirt was short and the sight of my bare legs caught his attention. 

He looks like he wants to devour me and a part of me wants to let him. But I'm so angry that I can't. 

Colby knows I'm angry, his smirk growing as he takes a step around his desk, his pale blue eyes never leaving me for a second. His left hand lingers on top of his desk, his fingers lightly gliding over the cherry wood. My eyes catch his wedding band as it hits the candlelight. When he takes a step forward, I take a step back, my back brushing the closed door behind me. My reaction to him doesn't phase him a bit as he chuckles darkly. 

"I heard you were a good girl while I was gone..."

His voice is so deep, so needy that it sends a shiver up my spine. He notices the way my body reacts to only his voice, the way I have to physically clench my thighs together to keep myself composed. All I can think about is him buried inside of me. All I can think about is the dirty things he'd whisper in my ear. All I can think about is that I've had to pleasure myself for the past two weeks and my hands just couldn't do it the way his hands could. 

"...Oh no, is my baby mad that I left her on her own for two weeks?"

He asks when he sees my facial expression remain unchanged. Even though he knows every fiber of my being wants him, no matter how angry I am. I don't speak and I don't move as he ponders what to do next. The dark amusement on his face tells me that he's as aroused by seeing me as I am by seeing him. Since we'd gotten married we'd never spent a night apart. And while I understand that he's not always going to be home all of the time, a part of me wished he'd left differently. That he'd communicated without just leaving me. I didn't want to be clingy, I just wanted to be treated like a normal wife would be. A wife that a husband speaks to about basic things like business trips. I shudder to think of what it would've been like if we had children together. How would our children react to their father just disappearing in the middle of the night? Colby strides across the room to meet me, taking a mere five strides to reach me. He glances down at me, his wet hair remaining on his face as he studies me. I peer up at him and attempt to hold my ground as I try not to let his 5'11' frame intimidate my 5'0' frame. His hands rest on the door behind me, on either side of my head. He is focused on me, but I keep my eyes forward on his chest. 

"Do I need to fuck an answer out of you my love?"

He asks, his voice deepening as he uses a hand to force me to look up at him, his grip firm on my chin. Once I look at him, I feel my stomach flip. His handsome face and the desire etched into it made me weak. It made me want to forget why I'd been so frustrated in the first place. It made me wet without him even touching me. 

"Colby..."

I start, my voice giving me away immediately. There's a breathiness to my voice, a willingness to surrender nearly outranking any logic that I might've had before. It's a tone that causes him to laugh once more, a dark chuckle that seems pleased by my reaction. 

"... You can't just leave without a proper goodbye and then come home and act like nothing happened."

I practically moan the words as his hand moves from my jaw, his fingertips tracing down my neck. I feel him guide my head to the side as he leans down to kiss my exposed neck. Slow and sloppy kisses are placed along my skin gently, almost like a nonverbal apology. The sensation of his lips on me causes me to close my eyes for a moment, chills appearing on my arms as he uses his tongue to start marking me. My breathing immediately becomes erratic as he does this and I have to physically focus on not sounding too frenzied. I didn't want him to think he'd won this argument, even if he did set my body on fire with desperate need. I can feel the mark forming on my skin as he sucks, groaning against me. His hands trace over mine slowly as he uncrosses my arms and instead pins them to the door behind me, restraining me. 

"I left you a note."

He rasps as he guides his lips from my skin. For a moment he stares at his handiwork. The smirk grows when he sees the deep purple mark he's left on my skin. I turn my head when I realize he's finished with my neck, my gaze meeting his. 

"The note said, 'I'll be home later' Cole. That's not a proper goodbye."

When I speak, he chuckles once more. His lips trace mine and he hums in response. There's a quiet contemplation for a moment as he mentally decides what he wants to do next, his grip on my arms remaining firm. It feels like a slow form of torture as I wait for him to decide what to do. A part of me wants to talk this out, but a bigger part of me wants to make up for our two weeks apart. Out of pure impatience, I pushed my lips against his, no longer able to have him so close without getting what I needed. He kissed me back with an eagerness that matched my own, my body still restrained under his touch. He kisses me with such love and attentiveness that had been missing when we'd first gotten together. Gone were the days of deepened kisses that felt like constricting lust. He groans against me as I feel his body press up against mine. I can feel how hard he is and instantly I know that I need him inside of me as soon as possible. 

Needing air, we break the kiss, our eyes clouded with desire when we look at each other. His chest heaves up and down as he studies me. Without saying a word, Colby pulls my arms up above my head. Holding both of my wrists down with one hand as he uses the other to trace the inside of my thigh. His index finger slowly creeps up further and further up my thigh with cruel intentions. His eyes never move from my face, not even when he reaches my soaked sex. A look of surprise moves over his face as he starts to trace my clit.

“You’re a naughty girl Mrs. Brock. Not wearing any underwear in such a short skirt.” 

He starts to tease my clit, slowly as he watches me closely. He gets a deep satisfaction as he focuses on how much his fingertips pleasure me. He uses his thumb and his index finger to rub my clit while his middle finger carefully dips inside of me. My eyes close as he starts pumping his finger in and out of me. He chuckles to himself as he moves his lips back to mine. Kissing me deeply until we’re both out of breath. 

“I should punish you for walking around here without any panties. For wearing such a short skirt while doing so. Anyone could’ve seen you, Emilia. Anyone could’ve seen this…”

He pauses to push his finger a little deeper inside of me. 

“... Sweet little pussy…” Once more, he pushes his finger in as deeply as he can. A sensation that feels so good it makes my head spin.

“... My sweet little pussy.”

He finishes speaking as he adds another finger, a moan escaping me when he does. He knows exactly how to move his fingertips for maximum satisfaction. He only has to thrust his fingers inside of me a few more times before my walls start to tighten around his fingers. 

“Colby…”

I whimper as his movements grow more relentless. Nearing my body closer to the edge. 

“... I’m gonna cum.” 

I finish as he finger fucks me over the edge. I cum around his fingertips. I feel breathless as I feel myself relax. My chest rises and falls in quick succession. He stares down at me in hunger as he withdraws his fingers from me. He doesn’t look away as he brings his fingers to his lips licking them clean. His look of satisfaction grows as he tastes me. Watching him is enough to make me wet again. He removes his other hand from my arms which are still above my head. With my arms back at my sides I study my husband closely. My eyes flicker down to his hardened cock, but when I think to touch him, he stops me. Instead, he guides me forward. I don’t speak as I let him maneuver me wherever he wants me. He bends me over at his desk. There’s a silence that hangs in the air around us. For a moment I feel his gaze on me, debating what he wants to do with me first. I don’t speak as I wait in anticipation for him to make a move. The only thing that breaks through the silence is the sound of his pants zipper being pulled down as he takes off his pants. His hands trace my ass cheeks, as he slides my skirt up so my ass is fully on display. He hums as he studies me, placing his hands on either side of my hips. I feel his hardened cock tease my folds from behind. A sensation that causes my breathing to hitch, the anticipation causing my core to ache with desperate need. 

“You know, I’ve thought about fucking you over this desk non-stop for the past two weeks.” 

He pulls my ass in against him, his cock slowly sliding inside of me. He pauses once he’s inside of me, letting my body adjust to him for a moment. I feel so full with him inside of me, my core eager for his movement. Colby pulls back and starts to thrust inside of me, slowly at first. Painfully slow. I want the friction as he fucks me. I want him to fuck me senseless, but when I go to ask him to go faster he chuckles. 

“Baby, be patient.” 

He groans as he thrusts inside of me at his own slow pace. His breathing, ragged as the sound of my ass slapping against him fills the silence. His fingers grip me tighter as my core flutters against him. Even going slower, I still felt myself nearing the edge for the second time tonight. The second he feels this, he groans again. This time he thrusts deeper, the angle of his cock hitting new depths within me. I moan as he does this, his grip tighter on my hips, tighter than before. I half hope that there will be a bruise when he does this some sort of proof of how thoroughly he fucked me. 

He starts thrusting faster inside of me, my ass is flush against him as he leans forward and whispers.

“I’m going to cum inside of you. I’m going to fill my baby up and let her know how sorry I am for leaving her behind.”

I moan once more, my core tightening around him. Without saying another word he thrusts one final time and we cum together. When he does, my eyes flutter closed, my body at peace as his cock twitches inside of me. He spills into me deeply as he holds my ass in place. Lifting me up slightly so his cum doesn’t pool out of me. We remained together like this for several minutes, his lips kissing up my spine.

“I am sorry Emilia.” He groans, pulling out of me. Leaving me exposed once more. I feel his cum escape me once he’s no longer able to keep me in place. I feel his seed spill down my inner thighs and my legs suddenly struggle to stand. It takes me several seconds to catch my breath, but when I do I force myself to look over at my husband. His blue eyes focus on me closely, smirking at me while I pull my skirt back to where it had been. He pulls his pants back on as I glare up at him before poking his black tank top-covered chest. 

“Next time you need to talk to me. I understand if you need to leave, but a fucking note? A note that barely gave me any clue about what was going on? Not okay.” My tone is more playful than the expression on my face. A tone that makes him smile. He leans down to kiss my forehead and sighs. 

“I had to make an emergency delivery overseas. I didn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the night. You were sleeping so peacefully after that awful dinner with my parents. I just didn’t want to bother you and I couldn’t talk about it over text or on the phone.”

I focus on him and sigh. I knew that something had to have happened for him to have left the way that he did. But that didn’t mean I had to like how he left me. He’d said he didn’t want any more secrets between us, but he’d kept me in the dark about this entire delivery. 

“We need a safe word for unexpected deliveries. You could write it down and then I will know for next time.” 

Colby looks down at me, his gaze is soft as he smiles at my words. He nods, arms reaching out to wrap me in an embrace. I’d forgiven him the moment that I first laid eyes on him. I knew and he knew it too. I couldn’t stay mad at him forever. I just didn’t have it in me.  He holds me tightly against him. 

“How about, the next time something like this happens, our safe word is avocado?”

I can’t help but laugh at his words, my arms also wrapping around him. We hold each other, our laughter filling the room. 

“Avocado? Sounds perfect.” 

I whisper against his chest, nuzzling him. The last two weeks without him had been hard. I’d missed just being near him, holding him close, and getting to just breathe him in. Over the duration of our marriage, he’d become a comfort to me. A soothing presence that just felt right. I’d missed the little things he did. The way his glasses framed his face when he was working at his desk. The way he smiled whenever Sam came over for dinner. How he’d read his emails in bed next to me as I fell asleep. It was all of the little things that made up our relationship that made me truly happy he was home. 

He kisses the top of my head sweetly, his fingers running through my long black hair. I don’t want to let go of him. I don’t want it to end, but I do pull back to look at him, and when I do I find his blue eyes looking down at me in appreciation. 

“I read your plans for the charity project you’ve been working on with Kris and Celina. I am so proud of you…”

I feel my cheeks redden at his words. I sent him an email with my plans yesterday. I didn’t realize he’d taken the time to read it over. His smile grows when he notices the blush forming on my face. 

“... It’s going to be good for you to do what you love. You care about the community and helping people in need. I can’t wait to see you flourish.”

I look at my husband and feel so grateful that he’s telling me this. That he’s accepting me for who I am. For the first time since arriving here I felt comfortable enough to be myself. Looking in his eyes, I can tell he wants to say something else, but when he goes to speak a loud, feverish knock on the door interrupts him. The person behind the door doesn’t wait for a response, instead, they open the door. 

“Colby…” 

Sam’s voice rasps. I can tell by the sound of his voice that something is wrong and Colby knows it too. Sam is breathing breathlessly, sweat on his forehead. Colby immediately lets go of me and pushes me behind him as he looks at Sam. His body is tense but when Sam speaks next, Colby’s body seems to go completely stiff. 

“... A package was delivered and when I checked it…” Sam pauses, his face seeming to whiten at the mental recollection of what he’d seen. Whatever he’d seen, it was bad. 

“... I found a severed ear…” This time when Sam pauses he looks at me, sympathy finding its place on his face. It’s then that I feel my stomach turn. I know instantly that the ear must’ve belonged to my father. I can see it on Sam’s face, the fear of having to tell me. The fear of hurting me by telling me that my only surviving blood relative was hurt. 

“... It’s your dad’s ear, Emilia. There was a note attached to the ear, addressed to both of you from our parents. They’re giving you one month to get off your birth control, so your body can have the time it needs to adjust before you and Colby have children. You have one month to do this and get a doctor’s note for proof before Mom and Dad send another part of your dad.” 

Colby looks back at me, actual fear in his eyes as he studies me. I don’t speak as a silent tear goes down my cheek. I knew that the family I married into were awful human beings but I had no idea they’d go to this extreme to force my compliance. For a moment I’d forgotten that I was a chess piece, but they’d thoroughly reminded me tonight. 

I was nothing more than a breeding mare for the Brock Family Estate and any potential heirs I could give. 

Nothing more. Nothing less. 

And there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it.

[sixmillionlizards]

Photos taken by Brock Fetch during the shoot of the album cover for A$AP Rocky’s album LIVE.LOVE.A$AP, released in 2011.

[deadthehype]

Flatbush Zombies 'BetterOffDEAD' 10th anniversary photographed by Brock Fetch

[sydney-sharkgirl-oak]

For the heck of it, here's a list of all the fanfics I'm currently reading

~~~~~

Broker

By: thebroker

This one's really good, super heros and villians and a manic pixie dream girl mc with progressive DID

Path of dragons

By: nrsearcy

A cancer ridden marine biologist who half-assed his research turned worlds most powerful and socially defunct druid

MEOW: Magical emporium of wares

By: tonibinns

Adorable magical slice of life with a depressed cat and a bookworm baby dragon addicted to bacon

Chaotic craftsman worships the cube

By: probablyaturnip

Love this one, 700+ chapters currently about a guy who crafts answers to all his problems to the point his brain explodes no less than 10 times, terrifying all the gods watching him and giving his half succubus healer gf a migraine constantly healing him, develops a strict code of exacting overwhelming ironic revenge on those who try to kill him, which is a lot

Memoirs of your local small time villainess

By: flameruner

Not to bad, kind of your basic issekai into a game world story, weak mc but with overwhelming world knowledge

Ruinous Return

By: serasStreams

Really like this one, issekai-ed mc kills the bad guy, dies from the battle, gets issekai-ed back to earth only to reverse issekai herself back to the magic world with the powers of the demonic dragon she died killing, only to find her friends erased her existence from history and took credit for her kill, she is very angry

Amelia Thornheart

By: Keene

Adorable lesbians, they're just so cute. The love interest takes one look at the mc and thinks "oh no she's hot, why do I want to shoot her in the face"?

And everyone asks her, why do you have your, 'I want to shoot you in the face' look?

Super supportive

By: sleyca

Not sure how to describe this one, but it's good and detailed and even has been in the top 10 on royal road for months now. Mc has a lot of struggles and trauma

Phantom star

By: seras

Space mechanic who can hear the songs of machines and prays to Garrus Vakarian, the patron saint of weapon calibrations

Ivil Antagonist

By: ravensdagger

The government's names for undercover operatives are all hilariously terrible puns. Mc who is so immensely powerful, gravity obeys her instead of the otherwise around

Hard Enough

By: Viva01

A fantastic pokemon fanfic featuring Brock where he has memories of the pokemon franchise and abuses it to hell and becomes not only insanely rich but powerful too. Is dating Sabrina and they're so disgustingly adorable together. Highly recommend

Pokemon trainer vicky

By: seras

Another pokemon fanfic, battle hungry mc who gets insulted by lance, and she proceeds to make her entire existence his problem, chiefly by calling him a flying type master, rather than dragon (all his pokemon have flying types, haha)

A (not so) simple fetch quest

By: cathfach

For the insane amount of sexual trauma in this story, it's fun and adorable. But I cannot overstate the obscene amount of trauma here, mc gets stuck in a dungeon and grinds grinds and grinds and grinds in order to get stronger

But how do you grind your poison resist? You find a spider that wraps you up in silk that's way to comfy and let it eat you

Everything becomes the mc's kink, she even survives an attack from a spider queen because she had an orgasm while the queen was injecting her with poison and acid

Great stuff, covers every kink imaginable

[thepartyresponsible]

back with more febuwhump, and there’s even whump in this one. i’m really getting my shit together these days.

@drgrlfriend asked for touch starved, so here’s a hockey au about frank castle, bucky barnes, and an alarming amount of yearning. warnings for references to unhealthy former relationships and also for an ambiguous, kinda sad ending.

- - -

Bucky’s not surprised he’s still a little out of breath when he hears the shower shut off. He’s a professional athlete, sure. They both are. But he’s not superhuman. And it always seems like Frank’s got something to prove, like he wants Bucky’s body to remember him for a while.

“Fuck’s sake,” Bucky says, when Frank leans his head into the room just to stare at him, hip against the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest. When he smiles, it’s mostly with his eyes, the delicate skin at the corners crinkling up and then smoothing out again.

“Want some water before I go?” His tone tips like he’s asking a question, but he’s assigning himself the task before Bucky answers, meandering around the hotel room, grabbing his clothes, collecting a cup, and then heading back toward the bathroom.

The dichotomy of it does something to Bucky, not altogether pleasant. Fetching water like Bucky’s something he cares about, throwing out before I go? like it’s nothing, like he’s easy to leave.

He probably is.

Frank could have this in every city in the country, if he wanted. Bucky’s the only one marking his calendar for each specific game.

He shoves the sheets down to his waist and sits up. Now that he’s looking, he spots a series of marks darkening along his collarbone, feels his face flush a similar shade at the memory, the desperate way he clung to Frank, the noises he made.

Jesus. Maybe those marks will fade by gametime, but optional skate’s in six hours, and someday the team’s going to put together the timeline.

It’s optional, he reminds himself. He could skip it.

He hasn’t skipped in two years, though. They’d suspect something. But a vague suspicion is better than showing up with the clear proof on his skin.

He’s going to skip, he realizes. He thinks he accepted that when Frank’s teeth scrapped across his skin, tongue following after.

“Fuck,” Bucky says, mostly to himself, wondering at the fact of it. “I think I’d let you do anything to me.”

There’s a sudden, sharp silence from Frank. The water in the bathroom cuts off, and all his quiet movements go still. When Bucky looks his way, he can only see half of him between the wall and the open door. Hips to shoulders, mostly. He watches the way Frank’s hands slowly curl around the lip of the sink.

“We do something you didn’t like?” he asks. He asks it the same way he asks everything, that quiet, even rumble, so it’s hard to pinpoint why it feels different.

Maybe it’s the way Frank’s hands are holding onto the sink, or the long breath Bucky watches him take, the stretch of his chest, the defensive set of his shoulders.

“No,” Bucky says. And then, “Jesus, I think it’s pretty clear I liked it. I think half the people on this floor know I liked it.”

Frank straightens up, grabs the cup of water. When he comes back into the room, his expression is flat and careful. “You’ve got this idea you’re loud,” he says. “You’re not.”

Bucky drops his eyes, rubs at his face. “Okay,” he says, because he’s not going to argue about it.

“And,” Frank says, “sometimes people change their minds. Liked it during, wouldn’t do it again. It’s fine. But you should tell me.”

There’s something, Bucky thinks, there at the very end. But you should tell me feels raw. Like, in the past, someone changed their mind about Frank, didn’t tell him until it was over.

Bucky heard about Russo. He’s sure Frank heard about Brock.

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky says. There’s nothing to tell Frank except I like you too much, and I hate when you leave.

He doesn’t know when he got this greedy. Seems like it didn’t bother him so much before. But summer’s coming fast, and, unless they both make it to the conference finals, they won’t see each other again until fall.

When Frank sets the water down on the bedside table, Bucky reaches for it too soon, and their hands brush in midair like Bucky’s trying to hold his Goddamn hand, and he wants to pitch himself directly out the window, wants to evaporate, wants to disappear.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, because he is. Sorry, stupid, embarrassed.

Sad, somehow. Out of nowhere, over nothing.

Steve says he should tell Frank what he wants. And maybe it would be that easy, if he had the first fucking clue what he wanted.

“Hey,” Frank says, and Bucky looks away, chugs the water like hydration is going to save him.

When Frank’s hand touches his face, brushes his hair back and then just stays there, Bucky can’t help the way he leans in, can’t help how his eyes slide closed. Needy, Brock used to say. Fondly, and then not fondly, and then with disgust.

He likes Frank’s hands. Likes how they feel, how he uses them. Some days are bad enough he thinks he’d like anybody’s hands, but Frank’s are best.

“I just meant,” Bucky says, because it’s easier with his eyes shut, “I like everything you do.”

Except leave, he thinks.

You’re never gonna get what you don’t ask for, Steve says. But you get out of practice, and then you can’t remember how it goes.

Frank kisses him, lips pressed against his temple, another one of those soft moments that makes something ache in his chest and kick in the back of his throat.

“You want more water?” Frank asks.

That’s not what Bucky wants. But it’s sixty more seconds of Frank in this hotel room, and he’ll take what he can get. “Yeah,” he says. “Please.”

[withinthebrain]

Fetch on the Beach

Sand squishes between the pads of my paws and clings to the hairs on my legs as it sprays up around me. "Faster. Faster. Faster!" I think to myself as my eyes stay locked on the bright orange ball bouncing down the beach. The air is filled with salt wafting off the ocean. Brock, my master, cheers me on from behind, sitting on a beach chair bundled up against the breeze pushing inland. While the wind blows my ears about, it doesn't bother me.

Closing in on the rubber ball, I lunge. "Careful," I remind myself, worried my back legs might topple over, somersaulting me in the loose sand. Mouth open wide, pupils narrowed, I plunge forward. The ball bounces off my lower teeth into the roof of my mouth before I manage to pin it down with my tongue and snap my jaw closed around my prize. Bits of gritty sand coat my mouth.

I stop and shake before turning to bound back toward Brock, now clapping and calling out to me. "Good girl, Belle!" he calls. "Bring me the ball!" he adds, as I race toward him with excitement. I have to calm myself as I get near so I do not run him over again.

[kingcrossbones]

Brock sensed Loki's slightly stiff posture but didn't pay much attention, needing to take a piss asap. Once he relieved himself, he checked the time. It was around 5am and if he'd stick around, he'll just stare at walls because he wasn't sleepy anymore so he just finished his business and left in silence, without looking at Loki.

First thing, a fuckin shower and a coffee. In precisely that order. Only after he was done, his day could finally begin.

He had spent most of the morning in the Winter Soldier Ops. training area and it would have been a great morning if some agents didn't start commenting on his "pet" as they put it. Although he himself didn't know the extent of the god's power, he was sure that one cannot be named a god for nothing and he also had first hand experience with the little magic Loki was able to access when his arms were shredded not too long ago, still having bandages around his arms for that.

Time flew when he was angry and he fell aware of the time, it was already noon and they had a busy day ahead of them, so he went to fetch the god, thinking it would be about time he'd get some action, maybe loosen up on those drugs for the day, curious if he would catch on and how quickly his magic ability would be restored once the drugs were stopped. If nothing else, this would be a good experiment to have in his report.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart." he grinned as he barged into Loki's cell without knocking.

"They don't know you're awake yet. Stay down."

Loki had briefly started to sit up, but the harshly growled whisper to stay down kept him in his place. He was all for keeping himself alive and safe and if this man's tone was anything to go off of, it would serve him well to listen. His green eyes were focused intensely on the man next to him, "Who is 'they' and why are you helping me?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper to avoid arousing the attention of the other people in the room.

@kingcrossbones