#but yeah no he definitely digs the thought of doing the rest of his shift with a lil limp and your handprint around his throat

[carnivorousyandeere]

Nggg fucking Ace in his work clothes tho👅

I hate the smell of motor oil but there is just something about mechanics...

See that’s exactly how he gets you…

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: very suggestive but not full smut, risky, unsafe, mild exhibitionism/mentions of it, getting cockblocked 😔

Info: top darling, gn darling, darling is actually kinda shy in this one but not-so-secretly longs to Dom

The mental image of him bending over to get a better look under the hood of a truck, his formerly-white tank top covered in grease and sweat stains, another bead of sweat traveling from his hairline to his neck, muscles straining as he works to loosen a bolt with an old wrench, cursing in frustration at the stripped metal sliding over each other uselessly.

It’d be so easy to strip him too.

Just reach around, untie the coveralls around his waist and drag it down with his boxers— oooh, or panties, lacy and impractical and digging into the soft skin of his hips— Ace curses again, head whipping around, but sags in relief seeing it’s you.

He shivers at the feeling of your hips against his ass, you pressing against his unprepared hole. Your fingers dig into his hips. Ace hisses quietly at the feeling.

“Hurry up, will ya? Break’s almost over, they’re gonna come back soon.”

You hum thoughtfully, running your hands up Ace’s back and dragging your nails down slowly. “I bet they’d appreciate the show.”

Ace takes a deep breath, turning and leaning back against the truck he’s working on, pretending to be surprised to see you. Teasingly asking, “What brings you over on this side of town, doll?”

His eyes are dark, hungry, almost like he knows what you’ve been thinking about.

“I— I brought you some lunch.” You timidly hold up the bag, with sandwiches and cut strawberries.

“Thanks, hon,” Ace grins wolfishly, stealing the bag with one hand and gripping your wrist with the other, tugging you in between his legs. “But maybe I’m craving something else sweet right now?”

“Yo, Ace!” One of his coworkers yells from across the lot.

Ace scowls, yelling back, “Fuck you want? I’m on break, make it quick.”

He grabs a rag and walks over, but not before pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips and promising he’ll give you a proper thank-you for the meal when he gets home.

[spicyspiders]

something that never existed

Francis Mosses x male reader smut

1.4k words

This is really dark. Francis gives the reader a bottle of milk that makes him feel funny, follows him home, and then takes care of him.

It hits you during the middle of your shift. You aren’t sure of what, but the feeling of it has grown more intense each hour since it began. Pushing through the double doors is harder than when you did it this morning, your arms feeling heavy. 

The cool evening air against your skin nearly has you moaning. Your skin burns, and the refreshing air makes you want to tear off your clothes. Each step against the pavement feels heavy as you slug your way to your home. If you were a passerby, you would probably be annoyed hearing the loud sound of your shoes against the sidewalk, but even though the noise filled your ears again and again, you could also hear the quieter steps of someone behind you. 

Someone fucking drugged you. Or maybe something made it through the slot in your workstation. Or maybe–

You didn’t fucking know. All you knew was that because of it, you were half-hard by the time you made it to your front door. 

“Are you following me?” You asked loudly as you leaned your sweaty forehead against your door. You panted against the door as you waited for a response. You laughed to yourself as you stuck your hand into your pocket to get your keys. Great, alongside the lust, you were also going crazy. 

“You looked like you needed help. So yes, I followed you,” a voice said from behind you. 

Your eyebrows drew together, trying to recognize the voice. It only took a few moments to pinpoint where you knew it from. You heard nearly a hundred voices a day at your job, but there was something about the man’s voice that was different and made it memorable. 

You just couldn’t remember his name though. Frank? Fraser? Frederick? You didn’t really care to try and remember his name. You had more pressing matters, like picking up the keys you had finally pulled from your pocket and then dropped on the fucking ground. 

“Let me,” Frank, Fraser, or Frederick says, his voice much closer behind you. “Here,” he says, now beside you. 

You hold your hand out to accept the cold metal into your palm. You hope the man will just leave as you close your fingers around the keys and the sharp metal digs into your palm, but the man stays. 

“I’m fine,” you say to the man, sticking the key into the knob with your shaky hands. 

“Let me at least help you get inside,” the man responds, one of his hands moves to your shoulder, while the other goes to your waist to hold you upright.  

“Fuck,” you whisper. Where he touches you somehow feels warmer than the rest of your body feels, even over your clothes. His voice brings you back to earlier in the day when he showed up to the window to be let in. You thought it was pretty weird for a milkman to deliver to his own apartment building, but it definitely wasn’t the weirdest thing you saw during your shift. 

“Let me in?” He had asked you earlier that day. Through the window, you could see his carrier full of milk bottles, but you could also see an extra bottle in his other hand. 

“Making an extra delivery for today?” You asked as you looked over the papers he gave you. 

The man didn’t answer. He must not have heard you, you thought. He nodded in appreciation when you gave his papers back and pressed the button to unlock the door. You thought that was going to be that, but the man got your attention again after you had started going through other papers on your desk. 

“This is for you, actually,” he said as he held the bottle up. One corner of his mouth twitched up, making it look like for once, he wasn’t miserable. 

“Oh,” you said in surprise. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to accept gifts, but took the bottle anyway through the slot under the window. 

“You must get thirsty back there.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled lightly, “my mouth can get dry with all of the talking I do.”

He left after that, but you swore his eyes had flicked down to your lips before he walked through the door. 

“Did you put something in that milk?” You asked, pulling the key from the knob. 

Francis. You remembered as his hand went over yours on the knob. You could see the document in your head, as you tried to remember if the man with you now was the same from earlier in the day. 

“Did you like it?” He asked, “I made it just for you,” he said into your ear, his warm breath puffing across your ear. 

With strength you didn’t know you still had, you sent your elbow backward into the man’s chest. You thought that would be enough, but found yourself on the other side of the door with Francis on your back. 

“What’d you do to me?” You moaned against the door. His weight on your back was heavy as he held you against the door. This close, you could feel the length of his cock digging into your lower back. 

You let out another moan, but this time, Francis lets out one that matches yours when he grinds his hard cock into your back. His hands go to your hips to maneuver you around so he can grind his cock into the meat of your ass. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Francis says, laying his body along the length of your back so he can say the words directly into your ear. 

Enough to drug you, you guessed. Whatever he gave you was enough to turn your brain to mush, and the only control you had was dedicated to pushing your ass back into his cock. 

“Please,” you whined, “it hurts.” Francis lets you fall slowly to the floor and makes his way to hold himself tightly against your back. What hurts is your hard cock, but of course, Francis knows that the relief you need comes in the form of his hands between your legs. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Francis whispers. His fingers skillfully get your pants open, and then his fingers– the same ones you saw earlier today hand you his papers, wrap around your cock. 

You immediately fuck your hips into his fist, much closer than you expected. You hoped that with your release, Francis would be leaving along with it. Maybe you had fallen asleep at your station and this was some fucked up dream you were having. Letting your head fall forward to thunk into your door didn’t wake you up, so it’s likely that this was real. 

“You’re so wet here,” Francis says in amazement as his fingers collect the precum from the head of your cock and what had already leaked down the shaft. He hooks his chin on your shoulder before he pulls his hand from your cock, and up to his mouth. 

He groans into your neck when he gets the taste on your tongue, “Francis,” you whisper, hoping that saying his name would be enough. You didn’t want to beg, after all, your hard cock should be evidence enough of what you needed. 

“I’m sorry,” Francis says, kissing his apology into the soft skin of your neck. Though it wasn’t on your lips, the press felt electric. “I just needed a taste.”

His words go straight to your cock and you feel another bead of precum drip from the head, just in time for Francis’ fingers as they wrap around the base. 

You cum to Francis’ long fingers around your cock and to the feel of his cock digging into your back. With his chest pressed to your back, the groan he lets out as you come undone under his hands travels through your body. It almost feels as if he’s so close that he’s a part of you and the noise comes from your mouth. It makes you feel crazy. What makes you feel even crazier though is how much you moan for the man as your orgasm courses through your body.    

Francis holds your body up with an arm wrapped around your stomach as you pant against the door and come down from the orgasm that just shot through your body. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” Francis says, his voice full of promise, “it’s been a long day.”

It must be the drugs, you thought as you let him pull you up from the floor. Your soft cock gives a twitch from where it hangs between your legs. You weren’t even sure if it was worth buttoning your pants back up. 

Francis was right, it had been a long day, but you had a feeling that you also had a long night ahead of you. 

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi love!! I would love an Eddie request of him with inexperienced reader but it's not smut it's like the convo leading up to it like May be they start making out and it's getting steamy and she tells him she's a virgin and she's terrified bc what if she's bad at sex and then it's not good for him? What if he sees her naked and thinks she's not pretty?? And it's just Eddie comforting her and reassuring her

Oh, I would most definitely need Eddie to reassure me of these things, too. I hope you like what I've come up with 💕

Words: 1.3k

The old springs in Eddie’s mattress dig into your back, an occasional squeak emanating from them whenever your boyfriend shifts his weight on top of you. His tongue dances with yours, breath colliding and teeth grazing. Eddie encompasses all your senses, surrounding you wholly and leaving no room to think about anything else but him–if your brain can even manage to think at all with strong, calloused hands running over your body. 

His warm fingers trail up the outside of your leg, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The moment Eddie’s hand slips up your shorts on the front of your thigh though, your body goes from pure ecstasy to adrenaline-pumping nerves in an instant.

An involuntary jump of your body against his alerts Eddie that something’s wrong and he immediately pulls away to gaze down at you in concern.

“Are you okay?”

Though it’s clearly not the truth, you nod your head. Slowly, you scoot yourself out from beneath his body and sit up against the cheap mahogany headboard that’s caused a multitude of scratches against the dully painted trailer wall. 

“C-Can we talk for a second though?”

There’s worry in Eddie’s eyes. He’s terrified that he’s done something wrong or has hurt you in some way. Taking care to give you some space, your boyfriend situates himself to sit next to you on his bed, back also resting against the chipped and scuffed headboard.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “What’s going on?”

Tentatively, Eddie offers you his hand, resting it between the two of you. He’s leaving the decision up to you if you want to touch him right now or not. There’s no hesitation though, you eagerly lace your fingers with his. 

You give him a nervous smile, a million thoughts running through your head at once. It’ll be a miracle if you can speak coherently with the rate at which your mind is moving. Deciding to just bite the bullet and get it all out there, you take a deep breath.

“Um, I’m—I’m a virgin, Eddie.”

Whatever reaction you were planning on Eddie to have, he doesn’t give it to you. He seems completely unfazed by your admission. All you get is a nod of his head and a gentle squeeze of your hand. 

“Okay,” he says casually, as if your entire body isn’t running on nervous energy at the moment. “We can go as slow as you want, yeah?”

You know your body should feel relief, but the worry in your head tells you that you’ve only gotten through part of what you need to tell him. Might as well push through to the end.

“I’m…scared,” you admit. Shame floods your body, chilling your veins.

“Of me?” Eddie’s eyes widen and the alarm in them is clear.

“No!” You quickly assure him. “No, no, never of you.”

He heaves a sigh of relief, and you cup his hand in both of yours. Out of all the things that make you anxious about having sex with Eddie, Eddie is not one of them. But that means you have to tell him that you’re the problem. If your anxiety has one mortal nemesis in the world it is vulnerability. 

“I’m scared that I’ll be bad at it,” you admit. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What if you don’t like it? What if I mess up?” What if you don’t like how I look beneath my clothes?

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. The crease in his forehead shows his displeasure with the pressure you’re putting on yourself. “First of all, I don��t think you can really mess up sex, sweetheart. As long as you’re here and your clothes are off, I’d say we’re good to go.” He chuckles, but when you don’t join in, he sighs. “Are you honestly worried that I won’t like it?”

Unable to look him in the eye, you nod. His forehead furrows further as Eddie frowns. Usually, you’d rub your thumb over those wrinkles to smooth them out and calm him down. But usually, you’re not the cause of them. 

Gentle fingers grip your chin and tilt your face so you can look at him.

“Princess, it’s you. I love doing everything with you, you really think I won’t like having sex with you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel silly. Heat blooms in your face as embarrassment is scooped on top of the nerves. There are legitimate concerns, though. You’re sure of it. There has to be.

“W-What if you don’t like what my body looks like?” You ask it so quietly in the hope that he misses it.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t by the way his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He reminds you of one of those stress dolls that you squeeze and the small plastic eyes bulge out.

“Not like your body?” Eddie sounds almost incredulous. He pauses for a moment, eyes gazing into yours as he thinks of a reply. It feels like the understatement of the century to say he was unprepared for you to be worried about this; about something that he whole-heartedly knew to be untrue. A smile quirks Eddie’s mouth as his mind goes back to a day before you’d started dating. He licks over his lips before continuing. “Sweetheart, remember the pool party Jeff threw for his birthday last summer? You wore that low-cut, blue one-piece that showed off most of your back?”

Do you remember? You had agonized over what you should wear to that party and what Eddie would think when he saw you. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, voice quivering. 

“Babe,” he says with a shake of his head. “I still get off thinking about that. About how you looked. There was a reason I had to stay in the pool past the point of me freezing half to death in the water.”

Shock colors your face, and despite the gravity of the conversation, it makes Eddie smile wider.

“You…really?”

“Yes,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle. “God, you’re so fucking hot. You’re gorgeous. It bothers me that you don’t see that.”

If there’s one thing you can say about your boyfriend, it’s that he’s very candid about his view on things–just ask anyone who’s had the pleasure of hearing him make a grand speech from atop a lunch table. Which is most of the high school-aged population in Hawkins.

Half of your brain is trying to convince you that now is the time he chooses to lie, that he’s just saying this to make you feel better or to shut you up. Meanwhile, the other half is telling the anxiety to put a sock in it and listen to Eddie.

“What’re you thinking?” Eddie asks quietly. A reminder of how well he knows you.

“Too much,” you say with a soft laugh. 

Eddie lets out a long breath and gently pulls you into his lap. He absentmindedly rests his hands on your thighs and his thumbs rub calming circles on your skin.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” he asks. Needing to show you physically how much he wants to help you, he snakes his arms around your body to hold you snugly against him. Your heart all but melts as he looks up at you with those large, puppy dog eyes.

With a small smile, you lean down and rest your forehead against your boyfriend’s. Sometimes he’s too cute for his own good. 

“You already have,” you say softly.

“What? How?” Eddie’s frowning again, but this time it's in confusion.

“Just by being you,” you tell him with a shrug.

“Well, I am pretty great,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. Your heart feels lighter once the stress lines fade from his beautiful face. 

You chuckle at his ego and sit back up straight.

“There is one more thing you could do for me, though.”

“What’s that, beautiful?”

There’s a hungry gleam in your eyes as you let your gaze trail up and down his lithe body. 

“Take off your shirt.”

[middlepartmatt]

hotshot. . . 𖥔 ݁ ᥫ᭡

❝ you're buried in the pillow, yeah you're so loud... but i'm about to show you, baby, slow down ❞ — slow down, chase atlantic

you and matt have been enemies since you were kids, but one night when you're forced to share a bed with him, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, mainly dom!matt, mainly sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), doggy

"i'm not sleeping in here."

matt rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks from you to the bed, then back again. 

"nick and chris are already asleep," he says. "so unless you wanna go and wake them up, you're stuck with me."

you sigh, looking around the room.

"i'll just sleep on the couch," you decide.

"it's not like we haven't slept together in the same bed before," he reminds you, referring to when you would have sleepovers with the triplets back when you were kids. he pulls off his black tee and climbs into the bed. "so just get in."

your eyes widen, but you obey, climbing in on the other side. you immediately roll over, turning away from matt since you knows he's facing the middle. why does he always have to face the middle? it infuriates you.

to your surprise, matt doesn't say anything else. considering you'd just been having an argument for five minutes about the sleeping situation, you'd expected him to try and get in one last dig at you before you both go to sleep. he's not done that though, instead he's fallen completely silent.

you know he isn't asleep. when matt's asleep, his breathing becomes heavier, a little ragged, but right now he's silent as ever. you shift uncomfortably under the blanket, not sure what to make of the situation. matt's right; you've slept in a bed together before, yet it feels weird now, with his brothers in the room just next door.

but it's not just that.

it also feels weird because of the fact that you feels the need to cross your legs, and that your heart is beating faster than usual. matt's room, which is usually freezing, seems boiling hot right now. you're thinking that it just might have to do with the fact that matt's currently shirtless.

he moves, causing you to be snapped out of your thoughts and jolt at the movement. you inhale sharply, feeling your eyes on her back.

"'s something the matter?" he questions.

"nope," you reply quickly, but your voice betrays you. 

"you sure?" matt hums. "You seem uncomfortable."

"just shut up and go to sleep," you snap. he just chuckles.

"night, angel," he says, using that infuriating nickname he'd given you back in elementary school. angel. It's not supposed to be a compliment, but rather make fun of you for supposedly being a goody-two shoes, which you personally don't think you are.

"night, hotshot," you answer. you started calling him this a few years ago, when he was promoted to main goalie of the lacrosse team, and also when he and his brothers started getting popular on youtube. annoyingly, he doesn't seem to hate the nickname as much as you hate yours.

you closes your eyes but still, your senses pick up on his every breath, every shift of his body in the pitch black darkness. yeah, you're definitely not getting any sleep tonight.

you hear matt moving around, then suddenly feel something cold on your waist. it takes you a moment to realize it's matt's hand, now resting lightly on your hip.

you stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the touch. maybe it's an accident? you think, but there's no way matt would accidentally put his hand on you.

okay, now you are most definitely not getting any sleep tonight. not that you really mind though, to be honest. 

you feels his fingers slide up your stomach, tracing the curve of your hip. you shiver involuntarily, and his hand slides back down, grazing the hem of your tank top.

"is this okay?" he whispers, and you just nod. you're not even sure you'd be able to speak, anyway.

you then feels his hand move upwards again, slowly, deliberately, until it reaches the bottom of your breast. you gasp softly, arching your back slightly, offering him better access. his hand cups your tit, squeezing gently, making you moan softly. his thumb brushes against your nipple, sending a jolt through your body.

you can't help but let out a small whimper. his fingers are still pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you can feel you core starting to throb.

you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip. you can feel his breath on your neck, and you slowly pulls his hand off of you so that you can turn around to face him. you tilt your head up to meet his lips. his tongue slips into your mouth as he kisses you deeply.

after a second you break the kiss, panting. "matt," you say, barely above a whisper. 

"yes, angel?" he replies.

"you shaved," you point out. last you'd noticed, he had a little bit of stubble where he hadn't bothered shaving the last couple of days. 

"thought it would make for a smoother ride," he murmurs in response, and he kisses you again. you feel yourself getting wetter at his words as you kiss him back, your hands roaming over his chest. matt kisses your neck, trailing his tongue along your skin, and you arch your back once again, pressing yourself against him. you can feel him against your front, and just the touch of his dick against you only makes you needier for him.

matt moves his hands down your body, pulling your tank top up over her head. you lift your arms, allowing him to remove it completely. he trails kissed on your collarbone, before moving down your stomach. you lie back, letting him take control. 

you lets out a soft whimper as he reaches your pyjama shorts, toying with the edge of the waistband.

"matt," you whimper. he doesn't reply, pulls them down along with your underwear, exposing you.

"you're so wet," he muses, a grin present on his lips. "is this all for me, angel?"

"obviously," you answer, rolling your eyes. becoming impatient, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull him towards you. his head fits perfectly between your legs, clenched between your thighs.

he licks your slit, tasting you. you moan, arching your hips towards him. his tongue flicks over your clit, making you shudder, before he begins sucking on it gently. you moan louder now, grinding your hips against his face. he licks your clit again, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying out.

matt now pushes two fingers inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. you grab onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin. he slides his fingers in and out of you, making you writhe beneath him. you bite your lip, trying not to make too much noise.

he puts his thumb on your clit, rubbing it slowly. you're slowly coming undone, moaning loudly, but he doesn't stop as he continues to rub your clit while he fingers you. 

"i want your tongue again, hotshot," you say breathlessly, and matt simply grins before obeying, moving forward and licking up your slit once again. you yelp, entire body responding to his action. "keep going," you order, and he does, tipping you over the edge.

"fuck, matt, fuck," you whimper as you cum, legs shaking under matt's touch. 

you collapse onto the mattress, breathing heavily. matt kisses your stomach, moving up to kiss your lips again. you taste yourself on his lips and you moan, reaching out to stroke his cock through his pyjama pants. matt exhales sharply, bucking his hips into you.

you smirk, pulling down both his pyjama pants and boxers, before taking hold of his cock and stroking it gently. he groans as you run your finger over his slit, stroking him faster until you can feel him about to cum. already. 

you stop, and he glares at you. his eyes are dark in this dim lighting, fueled with desire just for you.

"don't tease me, angel," he says quietly.

"what?" you ask sweetly. "i want to taste you."

it looks like it takes all of matt's strength not to cum just at your words. instead he just nods, and so you climb on top of him, straddling him. you crane your body downwards, and he watches as you take his cock into your mouth. you swirl your tongue around the tip, making him groan.

you take more of him into your mouth, beginning to bob your head up and down. he holds your head, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth. you gag, but refuse to pull away. matt grunts, reveling in the vibrations it sends up his length.

"just like that, baby," he tells you, his hand still gripping your hair tightly. "fuck," he whimpers, and you almost come undone at the sound alone. "jesus, angel... yeah... just like that," he mumbles to himself, eyes closed as he throws his head back while you continue to suck him.

you feels him finish, shooting his salty cum into your mouth. you swallow it all, moaning, and he finally pulls you off of him. you sit up, wiping the cum from your mouth. once you've regained focus, you see that he's already half-hard again.

"want me to fuck you?" he asks nonchalantly like he wasn't just whimpering for you moments before. you just nod, moving up and kneeling on the mattress. matt gets behind you, rubbing his cock against your opening. without warning, he slides it inside of you, making you gasp.

he begins fucking you, pushing his cock deep inside of you. you moan, pressing your ass further up against him.

"matt," you groan, causing him to thrust faster and harder. "matt," you repeat, and he moans.

"keep doing that, baby," he tells you.

"matt," you breathe. it's all you can say as he continues fucking you, his cock going deeper inside of you with every thrust.

"fuck, angel," he mutters. "you have no idea what you're doing to me."

he continues to fuck you, making you scream out in pleasure. he pulls your hair, and you groan at the harshness of his touch. you arch further into him, noticing how it makes his hips buck harder into you.

"matt," you whisper, hearing the way he moans loudly as his name leaves your lips.

"angel, oh my god..."

"you there yet, hotshot?"

matt shakes his head, refusing to fall for your teasing. he pulls out, causing your mouth to fall open in shock, before he rubs his tip against your clit. you moan loudly, wanting nothing more than for him to continue fucking you as he was before.

he slides his cock back inside of you, and you whimper in pleasure. he thrusts harder into you, making you cry out. he starts fucking you faster, making you moan even louder. on a high, you reach between her legs, playing with your clit.

"am i not good enough for you, baby?" he questions, laughing dryly.

"help me out here," you answer. "i'm almost there, fuck!"

he reaches down, grabbing your hand. matt makes you keep playing with yourself, all while he fucks you harder, making you moan louder. he pulls your hand away, and you cry out.

"i'm cumming, matt," you whimper, and he unravels at the sound of his name leaving your lips, thrusting harder as his orgasm bursts through him. you finish too, letting out a loud moan as you shudder, the feeling coursing through your body.

matt pulls out, and both of you immediately roll over and lie back down on the bed. you lay in silence, apart from their ragged breathing. a moment later, he turns to face you.

"still not wanna sleep in here?" he asks smugly. you roll your eyes.

"i said sleep, not fuck," you scoff. "now shut up or i'm gonna be showering alone."

matt does in fact shut up.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. . . hi LOL ??? i never know what to say in author's notes it's always so awkward but anyway... feel free to request anything you wanna see: matt, chris, or both!

[leonfucker3000]

under the mistletoe

married!Leon S Kennedy x engaged!fem!reader

Warnings: 16+, cheating, sex with feelings, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving),bathroom sex, mirror sex, modern au but not really because I know their dumbasses don’t have enough friends for a Christmas party, reader has morals until she doesn’t

wc: 2.5k

Yap: I wrote this last year for smutmas LMFAO, posting it here so I’m not forgotten, IM WORKING ON STUFF I SWEAR !! The ending is rushed and bad, and Leon says some corny fucking shit

not proofread, sorry chat

Arm-in-arm with Chris, you make your way up the snowy steps of the brown-bricked house. From the front patio, you could hear the faint sounds of Christmas music and bottles popping.

“I thought you said this was gonna be small.” a faint murmur comes from your lips, disappointment clear in your face from the lie your fiancé told you to get you here. You told him before you weren’t interested in anything noisy or busy or crowded , even told him to visit his friends alone and that you’d be fine waiting for him to get back.

“That’s what they told me too, we can head back—”

“It’s fine. Not gonna keep you from your friends.” Just don’t expect me to be social, you want to add on, but don’t due to the small smile on his face. He’s sweet. Ignorant, but sweet. In his own way, you suppose. 

You’re hit with overpowering peppermint and alcohol scent when you walk through the door, christmas spirit aside, the inside looks nice. Warm, inviting, homey, where you should be with Chris but he’s – he presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering a small I’ll be back as he goes to find his buddies – gone. 

A price to pay for future happiness.

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

You try to distract yourself, pleasantries to mutual friends and others you definitely (do not) remember. If you had more sleep the night before, maybe you’d be up for drinks and dancing and actual conversation rather than this. Whatever this is. “Don’t look too happy to be here either.” A gruff voice from behind you snaps you out of your trance. 

“Weren’t you the one that invited us, Leon?” You click your tongue as you turn around to face him, he looks tired but prettily so. Fucker.  

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “Not one for these, thought you knew me better. Just thought that I’d enjoy it more with people…” he looks you up and down for a fleeting moment, “...like me.”

“Like you in what sense? Alcoholic or asshole?” 

“Both, either, neither. Just wanted to see some friends, that’s all.”

You hum and motion with your head, “Chris is over there. Not here.”

“I know.”

The both of you are silent, no matter what you say, you’re sure Leon has a counter. A quip, a joke, something that’s definitely going to get the both of you in trouble. “Guess we’re going with Alcoholic You, then. Drinks?”

“And you say we’re not friends. Let’s go.” He says with a hand sliding to the small of your back, resting right above your ass – too close, too risky for a married man and an engaged woman, too stupid. You bite your tongue and let him lead you to the host’s makeshift bar, saying anything is a reaction and a reaction is what he wants, at least you assume so.

“We’re not. You know this, I know this, maybe even God if we dig deep enough.”

“Okay, well, it’s not that deep so let’s just have a nice night as friends, yeah?”

A sigh leaves you for the nth time that night, “Sure.”

Moving through the seemingly never-ending crowd of drunk couples, you’re soon to realize your mistake of keeping quiet when he stops and looks up, then back at you. Eyebrows furrowed and mood shifted, you follow his eyes up and – “Absolutely not.” a fucking mistletoe. You saw other people under the mistletoe who were most definitely in committed relationships kiss others but that’s not you . You thought it wasn’t him either from the way he looked at Ada. Another terrible assumption.

Leon scoffs and rolls his eyes, “It’s tradition. ‘S just a kiss, doesn’t need to mean anything.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything if we were both single, but we’re very much fucking not, so–”

“No one’s looking, just us. Chris won’t mind, Ada…won’t either.” A weak excuse, both the mistletoe and his pathetic they don’t need to know . “Friends kiss.”

“Right, you mean unmarried ones. On the cheek. Platonically.”

“Will you just–” He groans as he cups your face in his hands and pulls you to meet his lips, sloppily and messily kissing you and licking the seam of your lips. You stumble and he pushes you against the kitchen archway, guests too unbothered to realize what’s going on in front of them. For a moment, you kiss back, hands tugging on his hair – girlfriend, fiancée, wife – you pull away with a sharp gasp, heavy worry and guilt.  

Now you really need that fucking drink.

You blink up at him, “Wish I could’ve done more.” He speaks, fighting himself for being weak but also not regretting a thing because it’s you and he definitely wants you. “Looking real pretty tonight and Chris is an idiot for leaving his soon-to-be-wife alone. So really, this is his fault.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” 

“For you.”

You hate him for going against your wishes, hate him for making a joke about it, hate the fact that despite everything, you liked it . Whore, Slut, Hoe, all of the above and definitely not the loyal fiancée you promised you’d be. “This can’t–can’t happen again.”

“Right.” He whispers, soft and hushed, had you not known any better, you might’ve thought he was sorry.

You turn to leave and avoid him for the rest of the night, suddenly feeling confident enough to be social after all to get your mind off what the fuck just happened. But nothing works. Not drinks or jokes or even Chris himself. Ironically, he points out the mistletoe and drags you under it to kiss you. 

It’s firm, possessive and used to make you feel giddy but all you feel right now is unadulterated shame. All that’s swirling through your mind isn’t the loops of red and green christmas streamers and tinsel – it’s Leon. You two didn’t even talk much, don’t know how you caught his eye or why he’d want you when he has a pretty wife of 2 years with him.

You pull away and Chris gives you another quick peck, “Know you don’t like stuff like this, I appreciate it, really.” he whispers, and you feel like a bitch again. He’s so – he’s too good for you. “When we get back, ‘ll make sure to make it up to you.” 

You smile, all weary and shy, too bad while he’s fucking you, you’ll be imagining someone else. “Can’t wait.” Before you can even be pulled away by Chris again, a hand slides up your back and another on Chris’ shoulder. 

Fuck fuck fuck. Someone saw you and is going to tell Chris. Say goodbye to stability and long-lasted love and–  

“Get a room, will you?” Leon says as he pats Chris’ shoulder, a little more forceful than needed, but if Chris noticed, he didn’t let it show. “Had Ada rolling her eyes at the two of you more than usual. A new record.”

You force a tight smile while Chris is at ease, “Of course you two have the most shit to say.” he chuckles.

“Mhm, yeah, so, mind if I borrow you for a minute?” Leon’s hand falls from Chris’ shoulder as he looks at you.

“Um.” Chris was a patient man, really was, but if you’re uncomfortable, he’s uncomfortable, and right now–

“Sure, just make it quick.” You mutter, glancing at Chris with a nervous smile, “I’ll be back.” 

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

How you ended up in a half-bathroom with Leon, perched up onto the sink counter with your legs wrapped around his waist will always be beyond you. He kissed you like he did before, almost holding no rhythm as he did it like it’d be the last time. “Fucking–” he groaned, “beautiful.” He pulled away briefly to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and shoulder. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Shouldn’t be admitting that, it's– oh –not okay.” It’s definitely not okay that you’re here with him, and it’s definitely not okay that him biting you is enough to make you shudder. How the fuck are you going to explain this to Chris? Leon bit me to test out my skin durability? 

“I know, just can’t help it when it’s you. Sweet girl, always on my mind.” He tried, really did. Tried being happy when Chris introduced you, tried ignoring how sweet you looked, tried ignoring you and the image of eating you out that kept him warm on many lonely nights. Couldn’t even do it with Ada without your face popping up in his head when he came. “Would ask if you thought of me, too, but I guess we both know the answer to that.” 

He knew, knew that as much as he wanted you, up until now it was Chris. The hopeful part of him convinces himself you just buried it deep down like him and that’s why he can finally be between your pretty legs, pressed up against your pretty body and soon enough, pretty pussy. You make him feel dizzy.

“Leon–” 

“Yeah, just keep sayin’ my name and that’ll make it better.” He kisses you for good measure, thinks that if you say anything other than his name or oh god, he’ll lose it. You tug on his hair again and he groans, “Let me eat you out, needa give that pretty pussy just as much kisses.”

He doesn’t give you time to retaliate or even think about what he said before pushing your dress up and dropping to his knees, kissing up your thighs and removing your panties. He makes sure to put your legs over his shoulders, tongue delving right onto your pussy. Your fingers latch onto his hair and he gives you a muffled groan.

Your plush thighs push against his face and, fuck, it’s better than anything he’s ever had, he won’t need alcohol after this because you’re just as addicting, if not more, as he drinks in your pussy like he’s parched. “ Fuckk ,” he groans into you, all muffled and slurred “ tastes so fucking good.” 

Your legs are shaking and thank-fucking-god you’re sitting on the sink counter, music blasts from outside as you pant and moan while his tongue flicks with fucking talent. His mouth makes you feel dizzy, even more so when he plunges two fingers inside your cunt, his eyebrows furrow when you pull particularly hard – heaven is what he thinks.

He concentrates his lips and tongue on your clit as you rock against his face, “ Leon,” you gasp, nearly crying out above him and yes, his imagination didn’t do you any justice because his name falling from your lips is a wet dream. 

He taps your thigh, voice all hoarse and strained, “Gotta keep quiet, can’t have them seeing you like this – this is for me .” He’s so hard it hurts but he’ll endure anything just so you’ll come on his fingers and tongue.

You whine, biting your lip to keep in your sounds and he feels your body trembling , the pressure of his tongue was insistent and your body twitched when his fingers aligned with the rhythm of his tongue, “oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck,’ you cover your mouth as you let out a muffled cry, legs wrapping around his head so tight he can barely breathe but holy shit does he not care.

You come, blissed out and shaking – he thinks you’re pretty. He’s an idiot for this, he really doesn’t care. 

He presses a small kiss to your thigh, getting up off his knees as his thumb rubs small circles on your skin, “You okay?” he whispers, mouth sore and dick straining against his pants makes his voice low. 

“Mmhmm,” you reply dumbly and slurred, “never better.”

He feels pride swell up in his chest when you say that, he made you feel good – better than Chris keeps replaying in his mind. “Not done with you yet, can you stand?”

“Maybe in 5 minutes.” He doesn’t have 5 minutes, you don't have 5 minutes – he needs it now. He helps you off the counter and pushes you forward, bending you over the sink. You faintly hear the sound of fabric and metal before feeling him slide between your folds and nudge against your entrance. “Leon–”

“Need it, honey. Gonna give it to me, yeah?”

Fuck it, you’ve made it this far. “Yeah.” you say breathlessly. 

You can’t mutter out another word when he doesn’t wait a second more to slide into you, his nails dimpling spots on your hips when he grips tighter. You cry out when he pulls out and shoves himself to the hilt, his left hand covering your mouth, “ Quiet.” he hisses, groaning when he snaps his hips again, not stopping until his rhythm is relentless. 

Whines and moans are faded against his hand, he’s panting and groaning against your ear, “Feels –fuckk – so much fucking better than I imagined.” he pulls his hand and your head back a little so you’re looking in the mirror. Fuck explaining a bite mark to Chris – you’re a mess. Sweat dripping from your forehead and eyes glossy as you look blissed out and absolutely fucked . “See that?” he shudders, “That’s us, you don’t take your fucking eyes off it.” 

You nod quickly against his hand as the room fills with the sound of skin against skin and choked back moans and panting. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look in the mirror, Leon’s face is flushed and his hair is wet with sweat as he fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. 

He watches your face as you take all of him, all pretty and teary-eyed, you’ve ruined him for everyone else. “I'm gonna come again,” your voice is faint against his hand, barely able to even get out any words because he has you teetering on the edge as his balls slap against your clit. You feel yourself tightening around his cock and his hips stutter.

“Shit–that right?” You nod eagerly as you keep your eyes on him, “atta girl, ‘m gonna get at least 3 out of you.”

“I c’nt–” 

“Yes you can,” he slurs, “for me, you fucking can.”

Your walls clamp down on him hard, spasming from your second orgasm, and he moans. He bites his lip as he pulls out, warm come spurting on your ass as he holds onto the counter in front of you for balance, chest pressed against your back. ‘ Fuck. ” he moans.

Your eyelids flutter when he licks his lips and presses a small kiss onto your shoulder. “Jesus Christ, leon. I dunno if I can…do another.” you pant.

“Don’t have a choice, honey, just need you ontop of me.”

You open your mouth to speak but a sharp knock hits against the bathroom door, “Can you hurry the fuck up? I gotta piss n – oh okay.” footsteps retreat and you look at Leon, huffing out a small laugh.

“Gonna have to wait.”

“A real shame.’

You straighten yourself on shaky legs and look in the mirror, “oh my fucking–”

“I’ll get you an Uber and tell Chris you started feeling sick.” he offers. Right. Chris. Fiancé, love of your life Chris. Shit. “It was worth it.” he breaks your train of thought, “Good thing we didn’t break tradition.”

You swallow. “Right.”

He kisses you, slower this time.

Happy-fucking-holidays to you.

[btsugarush]

GANGSTA | myg [teaser]

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni

word count: 931

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you walked the empty streets alone. You were glad to have picked a restaurant that wasn’t too far from your apartment because nothing was scarier than Daegu at night. It didn’t matter if you lived in the suburbs or not. The freaks tend to come out at night.

Bright headlights suddenly beam behind you, flashing on and off as though the driver was trying to catch your attention. “Hey, Y/N!” A familiar voice called out to you.

You stop walking, watching as a black SUV pulls up beside you. Nam-Joon sticks his head out the window, smirking down at you from the truck. You notice in the car with him are three other guys that you recognize from Yoongi’s gang. You suddenly got this uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What a coincidence finding you out here, doll,” His eyes raked up and down your body. “You shouldn’t be walking alone at this time of night, especially dressed like that. A lot of suspicious characters roam around this time,”

‘Yeah, and you’re one of them.’ You thought.

“Hop in. We’ll take you home.” He offers, but for some reason it felt backhanded. “No thanks,” you decline. “I’m not far from home, I can handle walking.” You turn on your heels, carrying on with your walk. Nam-Joon slowly follows you in the SUV, not taking no for an answer. “Oh c’mon, I’m just tryna do something nice,” He remained persistent. “At least I’m not leaving you high and dry like your boy Jungkook.”

You come to a complete stop upon hearing Jungkook’s name. How did he know you were meeting Kookie tonight? Better yet– how did he know that Jungkook was a no show? You turn to him, your suspicions heightened. “How did you know I was supposed to be meeting Jungkook?” Joon shrugs his shoulders, a sly grin on his face. “Just an estimated guess. I mean, isn’t he the reason you broke it off with the boss?” The question comes off hostile, almost bitter-like.

You swallowed the lump that sat still in the back of your throat, the atmosphere becoming more ominous by the minute. “So, you gettin’ in?” You shook your head. “I-I’m good...” You move forward, picking up your speed away from the SUV. If he and those other men tried anything you were definitely outnumbered by a long shot. You could hear Joon casually whistling in the distance, and as you peer back at the car you see he’s still sitting where you left him.

Relief washes over you as you turn back to see your apartment come into view. You quickly enter the building, practically sprinting down the hall to your unit. You dig through your purse in search of your key, shifting the clutter of makeup around, but had no luck finding the tiny piece of metal.

The sound of whistling swiftly echoes through the hallway, and your heart begins to pound heavily against your chest in a panic. “Come on, come on, come on...” Your voice quivered in fear. “Where the fuck is it?”

Fed up, you flip your purse upside down and shake out all of its contents; a bunch of makeup, your wallet, and pepper spray all drop to the floor. You continue to shake the bag until finally your key falls out with a loud clunk. You snatch it from the floor, shoving it into the keyway so viciously that you thought the end might snap off. You hastily push open the door before slamming it shut, and locking it behind you.

Your head rests against the doorframe as you try to calm yourself down. You were trembling. Who knows what would have happened if Joon got ahold of you, or if you were moronic enough to get inside that car. You’ve seen firsthand what he’s capable of, and that whole encounter was very minacious. There’s a reason he’s Yoongi’s right hand man.

You check out your peephole, making sure he wasn’t standing outside of your unit. It would take nothing for him to simply kick down this door, but at least the ruckus would catch the neighbor's attention. They could possibly call the police, or at least identify him if they witnessed the ordeal.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Yoongi was behind this. He had to have set this whole thing up. You were stupid to believe he would so willingly let you just end your relationship with him, no matter how cool he played it off. You knew what kind of twisted man he was, you’ve seen him coldly take the lives of others without even a blink or afterthought.

You kicked your heels from your feet, before you shuffled to your bedroom. You debated on calling Kookie again to make sure he was okay. You were beginning to get a really bad feeling that something happened to him.

You pull open the sliding door, switching on your bedroom light as it was pitch black. When the room lights up, you freeze in place, as you’re met with a pair of sinister eyes glaring at you. “Did you enjoy your little date?”

“Y-Yoongi…” Your voice hitches in your throat. The raven haired man is sitting on the end of your mattress, his arms rested on his knees. His hair is hanging in his face, almost covering his eyes. The sight made him look even more feral. “H-how did you get into my apartment?” You questioned timidly.

“I’m a fucking criminal, Princess. Did you forget that?”

[tiredmamaissy]

thinking about size kink/belly bulge with neteyam :D

– 🪅

🔞mdni; adult!nete - continuation of this blurb

this is the only blurb i'll be posting tonight guys, sorry <3 working on the loak fic tonight :) but thought i'd serve some bfast/lunch/dinner

--

"oh, fuck. he definitely did." you curse under your breath, watching in awe as neteyam's hung cock springs from his thigh to slap his belly all on it's own.

it rests on his stomach, fat tip oozing a bead of clear, glossy precum right below his cross shaped ribs. he's watching, too - witnessing the bead of precum slowly trickle down into the dip of his belly button. his head snaps up, predatory, irate gaze boring directly into yours. if he didn't have his hands tied behind his back, you would have actually been a bit frightened.

"untie me." he growls deep in his chest, attempting to lunge forward only to be tugged backward by his restraints. "eywa, woman."

you open your legs wider as a response, scooting towards him as your two fingers spread your folds for him - exposing your glistening pussy. now he's the one staring in awe, gaze softening into something of wanton. the look on his face gives it away, the relaxed brows, his slightly parted lips - the way his chest heaves. wrapping your dainty fingers around his throbbing cock, your thumb grazes over his cockhead before you quickly put it in your mouth to have a taste.

"mmm. still don't get how it's so sweet." you hum, tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

neteyam's arousal is undeniable, especially now that you've done that. seeing you taste him so eagerly just made his cock throb even more, his heart thump even harder. his blood rushes not only to his cock but to his face, staining his cheeks a faint shade of pink.

"wouldn't mind if i borrowed him for a bit, right? you pant, slowly brushing your fingers against his firm balls and up his entire length, before grasping his cock once more.

what could he say? no? all he wanted to do was break free, pin you down and sink his cock inside you. but here you are, asking permission to do just that. maybe being tied up isn't as bad as he thought. it didn't matter what he said, though. you were having your way with him regardless, lining up his mushroomy tip with your dripping slit. so, he opts to stay quiet and watch the show unfold.

you smile, feeling like you were in control for once in this relationship. unbeknownst to you, he's loosening the flimsy knot on the rope restraining his wrists behind his back.

"i'll take that... as a yes." you huff, lifting your hips to slowly sink his cock inside your cunt. "oh fuck, fuck, fuck." you moan breathily, as you both watch every inch of him disappear inside you, pelvises meeting one another.

he peers up at your screwed face through furrowed brows, breathing loudly as your cunt stretches out to accommodate his sheer size. he grits his teeth, willing himself to remain silent as you use him like a fucktoy, sliding up and down on his cock. his eyes slam shut, heavy breaths quickly morphing into low groans.

"yeah? that feel good? tell me, nete." you pant, grip tightening around his ankles while you use them as leverage to fuck his cock faster.

his eyes fly open, staring directly into yours, just as he rams his cock so deep inside you that your body has nowhere to go but up. "holy fuck, neteyam!" you cry out, feeling his tip threaten drill its way into your cervix. he holds his position, heels of his feet digging into the ground beneath him.

"you tell me. does that feel good? hm?" he growls, gaze dropping to the bulge in your abdomen. "look at me inside you, so fucking deep." he say breathily, hands slipping through the rope just in time to grab your hips to shove you further down on his cock. a loud, piercing whimper evades your flushed lips, as the bulge in your belly only protrudes more.

"i said, look at me inside you!" he shifts his hips, jamming his tip into your gummy walls.

your head snaps down, breath hitching as you take in the sight of the bulge jutting out of your belly. "oh shit." you let out a soft mewl.

--

[bitchlessdino]

joshua hard thots

cockwarming him after rounds of fucking because he can't get enough of feeling your pussy wrapped around his cock

Pairing: Bf!joshua x gn!reader

Genre: tender smut, drabble

Word count: 1.0k+

tags: established relationship, yearning, love, cockwarming, assumed unprotected sex

author note: this probably wasn't what you were looking for anon but i was in such a soft sexy mood I wrote this and have no regrets. this felt like therapy and i love writing again.

You thought there were better things to do than be in bed all day, but Joshua thought otherwise. These free days weren’t rare but definitely getting sparse, placing more significance on quality time, even indoors. The thought vanishes thin into the air when your boyfriend develops the mood physically, wasting no time–in his words anyway–and captures your naked body in his, dipping his hips into you to create friction that he knew drove you crazy.

He could never get sick of you moaning his name. It was like the butter to his perfectly toasted slice of bread, a simple symphony of goodness that in no way could be replicated.

The supple skin that you spent minutes of an hour moisturizing wouldn’t go to waste, tasting as sweet on his tongue as good as it smelled. He was in love with every texture and bump, ingraining into every wrinkle of his brain for keepsake. He could never have enough and he’d prove it too.

“Mmh, yeah…taking me like that…that good?”

There isn’t a moment in time his cock inside your core isn’t pure heaven pushing in and out of you. He’s careful not to hurt you, caressing your hips, and cushioning your posterior in his large hands, while he’s rearranging your insides and with only thoughts of what would please you more. The matter that his dick doing a swell job of ebbing every twitch to your hips only boosts up his ego a smidge, he claims, knowing damn well it was quite the understatement.

“Josh…squeeze me harder…fuck me deeper…”

He also likes how you knew the things to say, ordering him around, teaching him, gratifying him with the heightened volumes of your whines, your screams, his name on your tongue, again. It’d go on for hours–days if he could–and it’s never enough, but god did it feel good to try.

At this point, it’s in the middle of the afternoon and the only reason either one of you had gotten up was to go to the restroom or fetch snacks and water. Neither of you were hungry, thirsty, or felt the need for a different kind of release, so you stayed back together in bed. Joshua has made his point of being the man for you by having you climax in his presence countless times in countless methods and for countless hours. It was time for rest, you both concluded. For now.

You’d nuzzle into his bare chest, feeling the sweat radiate off his incredulously toned body, while his arms–bulging and rippled in from arm day for three times a week every week–shifts around your frame, tugging you close to him. His soft smile lets out a satisfied hum, puckered lips meeting your eyebrows. “You look so tired.”

“Whose fault is that?” you tease with your eyes.

His laughter reminds you of cotton candy, sweet and plush if ever materialized. It brought you back to how addicted you were to such a treat as a child. Now its been replaced with its personified self, Joshua Jisoo Hong. He melted in your mouth better than any confectioners sugar.

“I should feel guilty but,” he shrugs his shoulders to make a show of it, “I don’t. As long as you keep moaning my name or look at me with those eyes–”

You bubble up in laughter, “What eyes–”

“I’ll never stop. Love me the way you do and I’ll make every opportunity together a core memory.”

You light-heartedly scoff, your canine digging at your bottom lip when your eyes fixate on him, feeding into every word, every look, every breathing pattern. Your hand comes up to cup his face and you reach his lips, slowly but surely proving to him you’d do the same. While he was best with words, you were best with action, which proved the physicality of the situation more significant.

When you first met, he was brave enough to be honest in confessing he had little plans to be ‘active’ in a romantic relationship, a sign saying turn away now before you fall into an endless pit of a sexless relationship with no soft landing. He was proven otherwise with you, someone beyond pure imagination. You were a breathing fantasy to him. He was willing to give up everything for you.

Now in the present, his tongue dances against yours, your naked body clutching him, and finally his easily replenished cock tickling against your thigh. He pushed his hand up against your lower back into his torso and your warmth hovers on top of the head of the length, your moisture sliding against the sensitivity and you whine until Joshua feels it in his throat. “Put your dick in me…”

“You just admitted to being tired,” he lightly retorts, already twitching and heart bouncing at the thought.

“I’ll just…keep it warm…please, my love…”

You are sounds of bliss no matter what the words are, but in this case, he couldn’t imagine loving you anymore with the need in your rasp and the ache between your legs. 

“Alright,” he relinquishes, hands finding balls of your flesh and guiding you to hug his girth with your fluttering walls that knew no rest. His arms bring you closer–somehow possible–and knead into your skin, feeling the soothing touch on the tips of his digits until he’s plunging the trimmed nails until his DNA is a part of you. 

“Mmh, yes,” you mewl, returning your attention to admire his beautiful face, looking at you and only you.

You may have made the request but he was relieved to enjoy it, having already missed the contracting squeeze of your walls pulsating around his needy cock. He always feared that if he had a taste of the best vessel for his cock he would have, he’d refuse to let it go–now wishing, hoping, praying you’re never pried away from his hands.

You grind down to the base of his cock, his full-length home inside you and you share a groan, giggles following after when you lock eyes. Both of you were stupidly besotted with one another, even cherishing the sweet tenderness of languid movement of both your hips not on the journey for the climax, but rather appreciating each other wordlessly, as you’ve always done.

Arousal never leaves either of you while together, finding euphoria even in the smallest things such as doing laundry together or dishes together. The thought of a moment like this replays in both of your minds. Hardly sentences, hardly words, just how you fit like a puzzle, metaphorically and literally.

[rr311]

╭﹐ఌ﹕ Stuck Together ﹒〣 ﹕‹𝟹 － 𝖬𝖨𝖦𝖴𝖤𝖫 𝖮.

cw/tw. riding, praising, AGGRESSIVE MIGUEL 😋😻, choking, top!miguel, bottom!reader, black!reader

an. It’s been awhile since the last post but over the weeks i’ve made over 4 drafts! So you guys are definitely getting spoiled this summer. For this story i decided to be a little tease 🤭 but to make it up for it i made a drawing of Miguel in my art style ♡´･ᴗ･`♡.

summary. - you’re stuck in a closet with Miguel.

“Stop moving.” He growled as he felt you shift for the 5th time during the hour, you groaned mumbling a sorry still trying to get comfortable on top of his lap. It was so cramped in here you couldn’t get comfortable. You kept moving on top of him trying to at least get comfortable but when you felt the claws of his suit grip into your hips you tensed up feeling your breath hitch at the feeling of the sharpness. Again he snarled, “I said stop moving.” You scoffed starting to feel irritated, you lifted up your hand to rip off your mask glaring at him, “Well sorry that i’m trying to get comfortable, Miguel!” You whispered yelled feeling his grip tighten, “We wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t get us stuck in here.” He answered back, you rolled your eyes crossing them over your chest as leaned against the wall behind you, “At least we’re safe, you should be thankful.” You squinted looking away from him. Miguel rolled his eyes un masking himself looking anywhere but where you were.

It was quiet for a good awhile as you guys were cramped together, you’re playing with parts of your suit as his hands twitched around your waist. And in all honesty you were starting to feel hot, you’ve never been this close with him ever. I mean yeah you guys been on plenty of missions around the spider verse but never have you guys been this close with each other. You’re actually enjoying being close to him but of course you gotta keep up that act to not make yourself obvious. You huffed as you were digging deep into thought as Miguel wasn’t any better, he started to feel his body warm up feeling your ass directly on his crotch. He thanked the heavens that you stopped moving because if you kept up any longer it his little friend would’ve been joining you two as well, he fought the urge to slide his hands towards your thighs to rest them there but he didn’t wanna make a move…but damn your thighs in your suit made them look more pretty they were sitting pretty on top of him but he had to resist.

Fuck. You’re his co worker! His crime partner at that, he didn’t wanna ruin that chance of ruining that work relationship with you both because he’s letting his hormones get the best of him. He breathed heavy as the silence was still lingering, he was in his thoughts and you were in your thoughts. You hummed lowly dazed deep into your mind not realizing you were starting to squirm, fuck your were letting your hormones get the best of you but could you blame yourself? You were in a closet with a hot big dude sitting on his lap, and to make things worse your little crush on him was riling back up. You cussed mentally being disappointed in yourself for thinking about these thoughts, you were so far deep you accidentally grinded against his core with yours letting a small moan slip. Your eyes widened at the slip up looking anywhere but him…but when you felt his hands trail down your thighs gripping them you shot to look at him.

You almost came at the sight.

He was glaring into your eyes as you stared at him with a “supposedly” calm face. He didn’t say anything but leaned forward towards your ear pushing you more against his chest, “You’re making this real difficult for me, Cariño.” He said deeply, you couldn’t help but squirm humming in response, “Then do something about this.” You said almost in a begging voice gripping onto his shoulder, he grumbled leaning his head towards your jaw pecking it all the way towards your covered neck, he hummed trailing his hand to your back pulling off your suit exposing your chest. You shivered from the sudden air hitting your back but gasped feeling his lips onto your bare neck starting to suck and bite against it. You hummed lifting up your hips starting to move against him trying to pleasure your aching pussy, you moaned quietly feeling his fangs brush up against your neck as he trailed his hands to your flopped suit trying to tug them all the way off.

He growled in frustration, making you grin at how he was struggling to pull your suit down. You lifted your hips all the way up so he could pull them down towards you calf’s exposing your plumped ass. You jolted forward feeling him squeeze your ass harshly, you almost let a moan slip out but was quickly silenced by him placing his lips on top of your own drowning your sounds with his groans. You closed your eyes leaning more into his lips gripping his shoulders for support, you groaned feeling him slide your panties to the side before removing his hologram suit using his free hand to line himself up with your hole. He grunted feeling how tight you were as you gripped harder digging your nails into his shoulder. “F-Fuck.” You whined in between his lips pulling back to lean your head against his shoulder adjusting to his size, “You’re so big..” You panted biting hard onto his shoulder holding back tears from the mix of pain and pleasure, Miguel grinned holding your hips in place letting you get used to it,

He caressed his thumb on your waist pecking the side of your head, “You okay Cariño?” He asked in your ear, nodding your head. “Uh huh..” When you felt as if you were adjusted right you started to slowly move your hip grinding against him to get used to it more, he sucked in a deep breath leaning his head back against the wall letting his eyes close furrowing his eye brows, “Fuck..you’re doing so good.” He praised gripping your waist tighter, you smiled at the praise feeling you clench around him starting to lift your hips up and down riding him.

There was nothing but wet, heavy breaths and skin slapping filling the closet room. You tried to keep yourself quiet as Miguel was digged into the crook of your neck muffling his grunts and groans. You kept riding him feeling his dick push in and out of you hearing small bits of broken Spanish being mumbled, you kept moving on top of him but after a few seconds your eyes widened feeling his nails dig into you thrusting up aggressively, “O-Oh!-“ You gasped eyes rolling back as your g-spot got abused over and over again. “Wait! Miguel-“ You called but got caught off by his hand covering your mouth glaring at you with red eyes, “Shh..we don’t wanna get caught now do we?“ Your eyes fluttered feeling his other hand rub your clit mumbling a weak shakily “No,” He grinned pulling your body closer to his before whispering

“Then be a good girl for me and be quiet.”

Tag: @malxoxo

[iamthecomet]

Hmmm, thoughts on Dew cockwarming Rain while he's in chastity?

YUP. I definitely have THOUGHTS.

Dew's trying to be good. Trying not to dig his nails to hard into his own thighs. Trying not to whine. Trying to breathe normally, stay steady. He's trying. But it hurts. He aches everywhere. His knees. His jaw. His cock. His head is resting against Rain's thigh. The dark denim rugh beneath Dew's cheek. Rain's hand scratches idly between Dew's horns. As Dew tries to keep his jaw lax, his tongue still.

There's drool dripping down his chin, his throat, pooling in the hollow of his clavicle. They've been like this long enough that Rain's only half hard against Dew's tongue.

Rain rubs his thumb over the base of Dew's horn. Dew holes back a whine as his cock twitches feebly against the bars of its cage. Trying valiantly to harden. There isn't any blood left in Dew's brain but he doesn't know where it is. He just knows he can't think. He's gone fuzzy. His brain is quiet. Filled only with insistent needs he can't fulfill. He wants so badly to move. To touch himself. To make Rain cum. To be allowed to cum himself. But Rain couldn't be paying less attention to him. The hand stroking through his hair feels automatic, not intentional. Rain's eyes are glued to the common room television. There's some documentary on deep ocean life on. Dew tried to listen in the beginning--Rain told him to. But he's since tuned it out, background noise to his own stuttering breath. Rain shifting drags him back to the surface, lidded eyes darting up to look at Rain as the hand in his hair stills, and Rain shifts forward, head tipping down to look at Dew. "How did you like the movie, Dew?" Dew realizes, a little too late that the documentary is over. There's silence behind him. He looks up at Rain, his mouth is full, and he doesn't dare back off without instruction. So he just nods. "Tell me something you learned," Rain prompts. Dew whines, and Rain tightens his grip on Dew's hair and pulls him off of his cock. "You weren't paying attention. That means we have to watch it again." Dew jolts, eyes refocus on Rain's face. Something like panic slices through the haze he's in. Rain must see it all over his face because he laughs softly. Slipping off of the couch to kneel between Dew's spread knees. Reaching down to cup Dew's caged cock in his palm. "You can be good for just a little longer, can't you? You can take it." "Rainy, I don't know, please," Dew babbles, voice tipping higher, cheeks flushing. "But it looks so pretty like this. Tiny," Rain drags a nail down the length of the cage, the blunt edge catching on Dew's cock, making him twitch, and whine. Hips canting toward stimulation even though it doesn't get him anywhere. "I'm not done admiring it yet." It. Not Dew. The objectification makes Dew wince. His flush deepens, spreads down his throat to his chest. Rain presses through the bars of the cage to ghost his fingers over the soft sticky head of Dew's cock. "Does it hurt?" Rain asks. Dew nods. "Y-yeah. Please, Rainy. Please you gotta--" "I gotta?" Rain raises an eyebrow, and Dew realizes his mistake a second too late. He shakes his head. "No. No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean---I just--hurts--Rainy. I want--" "It's not about what you want." Rain takes his hand away, and pushes himself back up onto the couch. He drags Dew's head back into his crotch. He's fully hard now, shiny at the head with spit and precum. Rain drags the sticky tip over Dew's cheek before he presses it against his lips. Dew swallows, then opens his mouth again. Jaw sore. Eyes watering. Rain pulls Dew down onto his cock, the head of it bumping against the back of his throat. He sinks back into it with ease, tasting the heady musk of Rain's pre. The weight of his cock on his tongue. Despite the pain, despite the desperate ache in his groin, he could do this all night. He wants to. With his free hand, Rain reaches for the remote. Dew hears the documentary start over. He sags against Rain's leg again. "Stay still and listen," Rain orders. "If you're good this time I'll let you suck me off." Dew wants to ask about the cage, about his aching balls. But he doesn't have to, Rain reads the desperation in the furrowed line of his brow with ease. "Oh Firefly, don't worry. The cage isn't coming off until morning." Dew swallows hard around Rain's pulsing cock, and sobs.

[vellaphoria]

hello! 2, 5, or 6 for the ask meme? : D

Thanks for the ask, anon! (questions are from this ask meme) 2. Will you participate in any fandom exchanges or fic challenges, etc?  I really really really want to, but I always seem to either miss the signups for them or forget that they're happening... 6. Which yet-to-be-started fic is first on your list?

It's 100% a DickTim witcher au >:3c further details in another answer (here)

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

Definitely the Tim comes back wrong fic, now with vampirism XD

The fic is currently 21k long, so this counts as an excerpt, right? right

Forty-two minutes after Tim’s alarm went off, Dick watches him shuffle past the kitchen’s bar counter. It’s five minutes longer than it took him yesterday morning and nine minutes longer than the one before that.

There’s a dull, flat-sounding whump that is almost certainly Tim collapsing onto nearby couch.

Dick gives himself the space of two inhales before he puts aside the peppers he’d been chopping, wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

The area just outside of the kitchen is a moderately large, well-appointed living room. Couches form three sides of a square, with the fourth side being closed off by an unnecessarily large flatscreen.

As he approaches the nearest couch, he sees several of the throw pillows scattered across the floor. Peering over the back of it, he sees Tim lying prone with his face buried in a pillow. There’s a faint groaning sound coming from him.

“How did you sleep?” Dick asks, trying not to sound as hesitant as he feels.

Another groan.

“That well, huh?”

Tim shifts, flopping over onto his back with all the grace of a fish left on the shore. His eyes are still closed, and that makes it harder to ignore how the skin beneath them seems almost translucent, highlighting the veins in his lower eyelids.

“I’m not sure I did,” Tim mutters. “Not for lack of trying…”

His eyes blink open. Today they’re a deep, nearly-luminescent green. The color’s full in a way that the rest of Tim isn’t. Each day, his skin seems a little more pale and his cheeks seem a little more gaunt.

The urge to reach down and stroke the too-defined line of his cheekbone makes itself known in the back of Dick’s mind. But he quashes the thought before it can gain any traction.

“Do you want tea?” he asks. “Coffee? Something else?”

“Breakfast?” Tim asks, sounding hopeful.

“Sure. It’ll be a few minutes though.”

Right on cue, Tim’s stomach rumbles. He rests his hand on it delicately, his expression screwing up a bit.

“Did I hear a delivery person come by earlier?” he asks before Dick can voice the concern that he’s certain is bleeding through his expression.

“Uh, yeah. I sweet-talked Tam into having some more groceries put on the company’s discretionary spending budget.”

How, exactly, Tim heard that from upstairs is anyone’s guess. When Dick had checked in on him before coming down to the kitchen, he’d been sleeping so deeply that he seemed dead to the world.

“Anything good?” Tim asks him, looking hopeful.

“Depends on what you think is good. My current plan is making a mountain of bacon and maybe some toast.”

Tim’s hand finds the back of the couch, curling around it as his fingers dig in hard enough to look nearly bloodless. He uses that grip, plus a hand on the cushions beneath him, to push himself up until he’s sitting.

When he wobbles a little at the top of his arc, Dick puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

Tim narrows his eyes a bit, shaking off the assistance. Stubbornly, he starts to stand. A tremor runs through the muscles of his legs and back. He circles around the couch, walking to the kitchen. He even manages to make it most of the way there before his legs start to give out on him.

Dick rushes to catch him, getting an arm around his back and looping one of Tim’s over his shoulder. The maneuver thankfully keeps Tim from crumpling onto the floor. Its also ends with Tim pressed up against him, his hands flat on Dick’s chest.

His body trembles where it’s pressed against Dick. When he shifts, his breath is warm against Dick’s neck.

Dick’s skin tingles with the feeling of it. Even more so when he feels what might be Tim’s lips brush against him - before Tim is pulling back out of his arms, doing his best to stand on his own.

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Sweet and Spicy

On the fourth day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A sweet (buh-dum, chsshh) little fluffy fic about baking with fiance!Danny!

Christmas Song Pairing: “Christmas Cookies" by George Strait

Trope: Baking Cookies

~~~

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader

Warnings: None!

Words: 951

~~~

“Tell me again why we’re making three different kinds of cookies?” Danny said, hands somehow goopy with batter.

You stared at your fiance, brows furrowed as you tried to figure out how he’d gotten into his little situation in the five minutes you’d been turned around adjusting the chocolate chip cookies in the oven and transferring the finished batch to rest with the sugar ones on a cooling rack. “Did you…try to mix it with your hands? Daniel Wagner, please don’t tell me tried to mix my homemade gingerbread with your hands.”

Danny pursed his lips and shifted his eyes away from yours. “...I definitely did not try to mix it with my hands,” he said, lie evident in his voice. 

“Oh honey,” you sighed, shaking your head at the mess. “You’ve been spending too much time with the ‘no impulse control’ Kiszkas.”

“It’s my job,” Danny sighed dramatically. “We balance each other out.”

You scoffed, checking the timer and then making your way around the island counter to where Danny was. He was blissfully unguarded; big mistake. “Not anymore, it seems,” you hummed, innocently wrapping your arms around Danny’s midsection, wonderfully muscled with just the right amount of padding. 

Talk about perfection.

“Hi, love,” he hummed, continuing his attempt at kneading the gingerbread batter into a less-lumpy mess. “Sorry about your batter.”

You didn’t acknowledge his apology – the cookies could be saved, you thought, and you had other things on your mind. “Danny, do you love me?”

His attention strayed from the cookies, and you could practically hear the one arched brow when he said, “Yeaahhh…why do you ask?”

Aha. He was catching on.

“I just wanted to make sure the wedding would still be on. You know, in case I decided to… take advantage of your helpless state,” you cackled quickly, digging your fingertips up and down his sides, where he was the most ticklish. 

“Ah! Ah, shit, no– stop it!” he yelped, fighting against your weight as you pushed him into the edge of the counter to keep him there and trying to squirm away from you. But he was still bigger than you, and still stronger, so after a couple of seconds frantically trying to find a towel to wipe his batter-hands on, said, “I love you, Y/N, but you brought this on yourself!

You were a little too focused on your attack to register his words in time, so there was no saving yourself when Danny snapped around and put his sloppy molasses hands on your cheeks, pushing you away gently just as you reeled back yourself. Your mouth hung open and you let out a deep gasp, slowly bringing one finger to swipe through the goo. “Daniel Robert Wagner,” you said slowly, deliberately. “You are dead meat when I get this off my face.”

“You started it!” Danny exclaimed, rushing to the sink first to clean his hands in competition with you.

You stomped up right after him, quickly cupping water in your hands and wiping what you could off. “Yeah, and I’m gonna finish it, too. Oh god,” you bemoaned, feeling the oil stick to your face, “I’m gonna have a face full of acne for our Christmas card pictures. Danny!”

You heard him lope up the stairs. Coward. Probably going to hide somewhere to escape your wrath. But before you finished wiping your face dry, his footsteps came again, back to the first floor. He came around the corner holding your face wash, a slightly guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t even think about that.”

It wasn’t as if you were actually angry; there were always consequences for tickling. And if Danny didn’t have the impulse control not to mix the batter with his hands, then you were quite foolish to believe that he wouldn’t use them as weapons, as well. He hadn’t been in a helpless state – he’d been in a protected one, and that was on you for not seeing.

So, you sighed and took the wash, catching his wrist as you did, and pressed a small kiss to his hand to show him that you weren’t angry. “It’s okay. The wedding is still on, I guess.”

“Whew!” Danny said with a big smile, swiping his hand across his forehead “What a relief. I can’t believe I almost wasted the one good thing I have in my life.” His dramatics were punctuated by the return of the back of his hand slapping to his forehead once again, this time paired with a woeful expression on his face.

“Yeah…definitely too much time around the Kiszkas,” you teased, poking him in the stomach before turning around to wash your face again. 

Danny wrapped his arms around you, kissing the back of your neck before you bent down to the stream of water. You loved that he was so attentive, and he always made you feel warm and gooey inside, just like a big cookie yourself.

“At least I learned not to mix cookie dough with my hands,” he mused out loud. You hoped he didn’t expect an answer, because the wash was just beginning to foam on your face when he spoke and the timer for the next batch of cookies went off – a small, insistent beeping ringing through the kitchen. “We can always buy the little gingerbread house kits. Or the molasses cookies my parents used to buy! Those were fantastic.” 

And ringing. And ringing.

“Dghsndcookwnr,” you said through a faceful of soap. 

Danny put his hand on your lower back. “Huh?”

With just enough water to wipe your mouth, you kicked him lightly with a small laugh. Attentive to you, perhaps. “Danny, the cookies!”

“Oh!”

~~~

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Taglist request form here

[911-on-abc]

Hi, first of all, thanks for writing the NFL AU!

For scenes: Maybe how Buck and Eddie or Buck and Chris met? Or what happened after Eddie found out. Some Buck whump and Eddie taking care of him is also always great :)

No pressure, though. Thanks again!

hi!!! thank you so much for the prompt!! ☺️ I decided to write what happened directly after Buck gets injured on the field and Eddie finds out that he's the QB. However, Buck first time meeting Eddie (and Chris!) is definitely coming next!!

Enjoy :)

-

Hen clears Buck and they lead him off the field towards the team’s medical facilities to do a closer examination. Buck's legs aren’t injured and he shows no sign of a concussion, so there’s truly no reason for Eddie to wrap his arm around his waist and guide him through the tunnels, but he can’t make himself let go. He can’t make himself look at Buck either. 

Eddie’s thoughts are all over the place, racing and impossible to pin down. He feels… Well, he doesn’t know what he feels. 

Part of him is worried, but also relieved that Buck isn’t more injured. Another part of him feels confused and hurt and almost like he was the one that got slammed into by a 300 pound lineman, not Buck. 

A smaller part of him feels angry. Angry that Buck didn’t trust him. Angry that he let Buck into his life, all the while Buck was hiding a huge part of his. He doesn’t give a shit about football, Buck knew that. It wasn’t like he was going to treat him any differently or going running to the tabloids. 

What would he even tell them? That Buck cries while watching Pixar movies and knows way too much about tree frogs? That he makes amazing pancakes, but is terrible at cooking scrambled eggs? That Buck is one of the few people in Christopher’s life that treats him like any other kid. That he is Eddie’s best friend?

“Are you able to take off your jersey?” Eddie asks after seating Buck on the exam table. 

“Eddie…” Buck says softly, but Eddie continues on with his examination. 

“Can you lift up your arms?” 

“Wait. Can we–” Eddie turns to face Chimney, effectively cutting Buck off. 

“I need shears to cut his clothes off.” Chimney hesitates, looking between Eddie and Buck, but he digs through his medical bag anyway. Once they are in his hands, Eddie starts cutting through the layers of fabric. The bruise from the impact of the hit has only just started to form, but it looks nasty already.

Next, he starts to unclip Buck’s shoulder pads and protective gear. Buck is a big guy, even without his football gear, but sitting on the exam table, he looks smaller than ever. Eddie places his hands on Buck’s ribs and he hisses from the touch. 

“They’re going to do an x-ray, but I need to check for any fractures or breaks first.” Buck nods in understanding and Eddie presses down, feeling around his chest. Eddie has done this hundreds of times, both as a medic and as a firefighter, but with Buck every wince and hiss of pain reverberates through his body. 

Stripping off his gloves, he turns to Hen, Chimney, and the rest of the medical team. “I don’t feel any broken bones or cartilage, but it’s possible that there are a few fractures. They are bruised, but that’s all I can tell you from a physical examination.”

“That’s good news,” one of the team doctors says. “Not great news, obviously, but bruised is better than broken.”

Eddie stays with his back to Buck as the medical team leads him out of the room to get x-rayed. Once the door shuts, Eddie deflates, all of the air rushing out of his lungs. The adrenaline has worn off and he is hit with a wave of exhaustion. The only ones left in the room now are Chimney and Hen, who shift closer towards him.

“You guys knew, didn’t you?” Eddie says as he rubs his hands over his face.

In any other circumstance, Hen and Chimney would be teasing him right now, making jokes about how Eddie didn’t know that his best friend is one of the biggest players in the league, but the weight of Buck’s injury rests heavily on all of them. 

“Yeah, yeah we did,” Hen says sympathetically and squeezes Eddie’s arm. “I’m sorry you found out this way. What are you going to do now?”

Eddie sighs. “I don’t know.” 

Chimney puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “It will be alright, man,” he says. “Buck’s a fighter. He has a good team of doctors around him and he has you.” All Eddie can do is nod. He doesn’t know where he and Buck stand anymore. But, yeah, he has him.

“Now let’s get back out there. Maybe if we’re lucky someone else will get hurt and you’ll get to rub your hands all over another hot football player.”

“Chim,” Hen playfully shoves him, “shut up.”

Chimney cackles and they head back out to the field.

please let me know if you liked this!! If any of y'all have a specific part you want to see next or an idea send me an ask or write them in the tags!!

my nfl au tag <3

[jaxteller87]

thankful part 1

Jax’s POV

“You know Halloween’s come and gone, right?” I said with a grin as I flopped onto the sofa next to Amber. We were both on Thanksgiving break, enjoying some well-deserved downtime.

Amber giggled, her eyes sparkling, “Yes, I do. It was the end of Casper.”

I leaned in closer, planting a playful kiss on her hand. “Well then, Amber, ask your silly question.”

With a twinkle in her eye, she asked, “Can I keep you?”

I burst into laughter, unable to contain myself, “Of course you can, as long as I can keep you too.” I smirked down at her and planted a sweet kiss on her forehead.

Amber shifted a bit, snuggling closer to me. “Deal.”

“So, I swung by to invite you and your parents to Thanksgiving dinner at the clubhouse. Gemma told me I should invite the whole family, which I was going to do, but you know me—always waitin’ til the last minute for things.”

A warm smile spread across her face. “I’ll definitely do that,” she replied, resting her head on my lap as we watched the end of the movie.

She couldn’t resist teasing, “So, I’ve got to ask, do the boys think I’ve stolen you away this week?”

I chuckled, gently running my finger over her cheek. “No, they haven’t.” One thing I loved about Amber was her understanding that I had a life outside of our relationship. She wasn’t the type to be possessive or jealous, and I admired that.

Amber’s POV

It was finally turkey day, and Gemma had prepared a feast with all the fixins’. It didn’t take long for everyone to be seated around the huge table. There was Bobby, Tig, Piney, and Opie. Opie mentioned that Donna would be joining us later since her family was in town.

“Alright, here’s the lowdown, folks. We’ve got turkey, the star of the show, cooked to perfection by Gemma. Then, there’s creamy mashed potatoes, stuffing that’s to die for, a medley of roasted veggies, and don’t forget the cranberry sauce –“

“Mm. Cranberry sauce,” Tig drolled a little, “ I like it cuz’ it’s sweet and tangy, like us.”

 “And to top it off, we’ve got pies, pumpkin, and pecan because why settle for one when you can have both?” I added.

“I 100 percent agree with that logic, son,” Piney joked. I could see the reflection of the pie in his eyes.

“Alright, gang, dig in, and let’s celebrate this day the only way we know how – with good food and great company.”

“Is there anything I can help you with, Mrs. Teller?” my mom asked, wearing a warm smile.

Gemma laughed, “Please, call me Gemma. And no, sweetie, you just sit back and enjoy the food.”

Piney raised his glass in a toast, his gruff voice cutting through the chatter.

“To family, friends, a damn fine turkey, and both kinds of pie,” he declared, and everyone clinked their glasses.

Laughter filled the room again as they dug into their Thanksgiving feast and in the midst of their brotherly banter,

I couldn’t help but smile as Jax grabbed my hand under the table.

“This food is wonderful, Gemma; thank you,” my parents said, smiling.

“Yeah, Mom, you did good with the turkey,” Jax chimed in, his mouth full.

“I know, but thank you, baby,” she replied with a snarky grin.

Many years later

I couldn’t help but giggle as I watched Thomas, our little troublemaker, attempt to steal some turkey off Jax’s plate. Despite Jax not being part of the club anymore, we still came together for Thanksgiving.

“Tell Daddy, say ‘turkey,’” I coaxed, a mischievous smile on my face.

“Key,” he beamed at his daddy.

“Turkey,” Jax smiled, slowly repeating it back to him and piling more meat onto our son’s plate.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, buddy,” Jax smiled, leaning in to kiss our son’s head.

I turned my attention to Mary, our sweet girl, and asked, “How are you doing lovebug? Need anything?” I leaned over the table to see her.

“I’m good, Mama,” she replied, grinning through a mouthful of food.

Nero and Clay were sitting at the same table, something I never thought I’d see.

“Here’s to family,” Nero announced, holding his glass above his head.

“A dysfunctional family,” Clay added.

“Hey, a dysfunctional family is still a family,” Jax quipped.

Clay nodded and smirked, “This is true.”

“Daddy, what does ‘dysfunctional’ mean?” Mary asked, her curious blue eyes looking up at him.

“Yeah, Daddy, what does ‘dysfunctional’ mean?” Tig chimed in with a chuckle.

Jax paused and flashed a nervous glance around the room, but all eyes were on him. “Well, um—kiddo, a dysfunctional family is like a bag of mixed nuts. Some of them are a little nutty, some are a bit cracked, and a few are just plain nuts, but when you put ’em all together, you get one crazy, unforgettable bunch of nuts that love each other no matter what.”

“Oh,” Mary thought for a moment, “So, Uncle Tiggy is one of the nutty ones?”

Everyone laughed, even Tig. “Yeah, that’s a fair assumption,” he added.

Later that night, we all snuggled up in bed after a little smoke and sandwich. Jax turned to me, holding me close, and asked, “Humor me.”

I nodded, looking up at him.

“I know your birthday is still a few months away, but it’s your 40th...”

I smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, “As of right now, I’m okay, Jax. I’m not upset, and I promise if I am, I’ll tell you.”

“You better,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. “And the other reason I’m asking is Donna and Ma are already asking what you might want. I told them something small, no need for some big production.”

“Yeah, I—” I paused.

“What is it, babe?” Jax asked.

“What’s bugging me already is my parents being gone. How in the world has it been ten years already?” I sighed.

“I think that’s what made it so bad. I turned 30, still trying to wrap my head around it, and then, bam, I lost not one but both my parents, not even a month later. And you were right there,” I chuckled, “I wasn’t alone. I had you and Gem, but I felt like I was. I had no family all of a sudden, and it was like, ‘How in the hell am I going to take care of myself?’ So I did what I do best, buried it in my gut, and didn’t deal with it until it all caught up with me.”

Jax interjected, “And watching you go through that wasn’t easy either. I felt helpless.”

“This time, it’s different. I know I’m not alone. I have a family, two little ones running around, and I have a job. So turning 40 isn’t going to be as bad as 30 was, I promise,” I reassured him, looking up at my husband.

“Babe, I promise that the minute I feel my depression start to creep up on me, you’ll be the first to know.”

Jax nodded, “We’ve got this, babe. We’re in this together, no matter what.”

I smiled, feeling a weight lifted from my shoulders. “And if all else fails, I’ll just start a biker club of retirees and call ourselves ‘The Sons of Arthritis.’ You can be my Vice President.”

Jax burst into laughter, “Sons of Arthritis? You might be onto something there. But only if we get matching golden leather jackets.”

“I was thinking pink with glitter,” I peered from the corner of my eye, trying to gauge his reaction as if I were legitimately pitching the idea.

“Pink glitter, huh?” He chirped, “As VP, I’m going to have to call that to a vote at the next meeting.”

“Oh, is that so?” I laughed.

“Yeah,” he gave me a humorous stare, “Because if I’m going to have a pink glitter bike, I definitely don’t want my cut clashing with my ride.”

We both laughed, imagining a future where we were still rebels at heart, even in our golden years. No matter what lay ahead, our unbreakable bond would surely guide us through.

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

MerMay Day 9 ; Semi Aquatic

Prompt By: @/mossypidder

“Could you completely live in the ocean?”

The question caught him off guard as he floated aimlessly in the pool beside him. Ignas never really thought about it. Aquatic shifting wasn’t a common trait. He knew of one clan in Spain who could do it, but he’d never met them. 

Ignas floated to the poolside, hoisting himself up slightly so his upper body was on the stones beside Caiden. The man in question leaned down, brushing the aquatic shifter’s light blue hair from his mismatched eyes.

“I don’t think so?” Ignas admitted, leaning into his boyfriend’s warm touch. “One, you wouldn’t be there. Two, I imagine it’d be pretty lonely.” Ignas’ tail moved behind him, the large shark tail disturbed the water around him. Caiden chuckled when he got slightly splashed, leaning back some.

“But if you had to?”

“Oh, I’m semi aquatic, yeah. I could. I just don’t wanna!” He made a face and Caiden outright laughed, cat tail swishing. Ignas let himself slide off the stones, disappearing underneath the water. It wasn’t often he shifted into his full shark form, even then, he didn’t need to in order to live aquatically, the gills on his neck worked just fine.

But for Caiden’s viewing pleasure, he watched the blacktip reef shark swim around the large pool. Surprisingly, his true shark form was smaller than his half form, only six feet compared to the eight he was with his tail. He swam in a circle then rolled, doing tricks for Caiden who clapped.

Caiden yelled out when he jumped out of the water though, human half landing in his lap. “Ignas!” The cat whined, ears and tail now wet with pool water. But he was quickly, immediately, pacified by cold lips against his. Caiden melted, kissing back, his arms hooked around Ignas’ lower back to keep him steady in the awkward position.

Ignas pulled back and grinned at him, hair sticking to his face, cheeks warm and pink. “See what I mean? I can’t get that in the ocean.” And Caiden could only sigh, shaking his head. But the cat was more than pleased by his detailed answer.

“Off, back in the water.”

“Fine~”

Ignas pulled off of him, rolling onto his back once more. He closed his eyes as he let himself float in the water. His peace was quickly disturbed by a heavy weight jumping onto his chest and claws digging into his skin. He choked out, opening his eyes quickly to come face to face with a mismatched eyed black cat.

The cat kneaded his chest a few times before he balled up and laid down. Ignas snickered, leaning his head back into the water. With the afternoon sun still high in the sky, they got to relax and enjoy both the water and the sun together. And that was definitely much preferable to both of them compared to any interests Ignas might otherwise find in the ocean.

Caiden lifted his head, sensitive ears hearing the click of someone’s phone camera. He turned his head to watch Alee quickly dip back into the house, giggling the whole way. He meowed softly, resting his head back against Ignas’ chest.

He was so going to regret it when that photo ended up on the fireplace mantle.

[josjournal]

Permanent Marks (Full Moon Ficlet #509 - Cup)

Written for @fullmoonficlet

Derek sat with a book on his lap. He kept his eyes on the page but ears and mind on the commotion behind him. He knew Stiles was up to something when he saw the door to the storage closet on the second floor open and a trail of glitter leading into the - as he discovered - locked library. Derek had knocked on the door, and Stiles told him to go away.

Shrugging, he’d sat on the floor outside the room with the book he’d already finished reading the night before, hence why he’d been heading into the library. He’d heard a couple of crashes and curses, and the smell of spray adhesive snuck under the door, and Derek’s interest was definitely peaked, but he was not going to give in to his curiosity. He would wait until Stiles came out that door and told him what he was doing.

Derek snorted. Who was he kidding? Rolling over onto his stomach, he pressed his cheek to the floor and tried to see under the door, but all he could make out were shadows that told him nothing. Frowning, he pushed himself to stand, leaving the book on the floor. He walked down the stairs and out the front door.

Walking around the house, he looked at the library window, using a hand to shade his eyes. The curtains were drawn on all the windows. His lips twisted into a grin. Stiles knew him too well. He decided distraction would be better than sitting around waiting, so he stripped down, shifted, and ran off into the woods.

The sun was setting when Derek reached the stream along the property's edge. He lapped at the cool water before turning around to head back toward the house, stopping when he saw Stiles coming through the woods, a bright smile on his face.

“There you are!” Stiles said when he reached him, sitting down on the ground and cupping Derek’s furry face in his hands. “When I found your book on the floor, I had a moment of panic. I thought maybe you’d been spelled and were running around 18th-century London or revolutionary Paris.”

Derek snorted and licked the tip of Stiles’ nose. “Then, as I was opening the curtains in the library, I spotted your clothes and figured you’d come to the stream for a drink.” Stiles moved and cupped his hands, bringing some of the water to his mouth. Derek bumped his hands, making the water spill before he could take a sip. “Yeah, I know, bugs and stuff, but you drink it.”

Derek snarled, showing his teeth. “Yeah, I know, the big bad wolf can’t get sick,” Stiles muttered. “Speaking of the big bad wolf,” he said, pulling out a bag Derek hadn’t noticed before. “Happy birthday!”

Derek’s birthday wasn’t until December, six months away. As he thought about it, exactly six months away. “Well, half-birthday, but you never get to celebrate much, sharing with Christmas and everything.”

Shaking his head, Derek shifted back and took the bag from Stiles. Glitter floated to the ground from where Stiles had covered the sides of the bag in gold glitter hearts. A bunch of it came off on Derek’s fingers, and he knew he’d find glitter in places it shouldn’t be for months to come. If Stiles didn’t look so proud of himself, he’d slap him with the bag.

Digging through the tissue paper, Derek’s hand hit plastic. Derek wrapped his hand around the strange object, and his senses were overwhelmed by spray paint and glue. Sneezing, he pulled out the gift and gaped at the golden…Derek wasn’t sure what he was holding.

“What?” His eyes spotted black block writing on the base that read, World’s Best. Trailing his eyes up, he took in the golden wolf sitting on what appeared to be stacked plastic plates and goblets. Squinting, he recognized the wolf as one Stiles had picked up at the flea market the previous week, but it had been an ungodly orange color then and was now shining gold like the rest of the - “It’s a trophy?” Stiles beamed. “You made this.”

“I sure did. I found some stuff online and thought it would at least make you laugh,” Stiles said. “I know you didn’t want any gifts, but I figured one that made you laugh would be alright.”

“You didn’t finish it,” Derek said, pointing to the writing.

“Well, you are the world’s best.” Derek made a face. “I couldn’t finish it until you answered one question for me."

Derek tilted his head, seeing Stiles’ lips quirk up into a smile, and he could hear the dog joke coming but didn’t try to stop him. Instead, Stiles moved to kneel in front of Derek, bringing their faces level and using one hand to cup his cheek while the other held up a silver and black ring with a howling wolf engraved into it.

“I wasn’t planning to do this while you were naked, but Derek Sebastian Hale, will you agree to put up with me for the rest of our lives and be my husband?”

“You’re an idiot,” Derek said, holding his hand out for the ring.

“So that’s a yes?” Stiles asked, laughing as he slid the ring onto Derek’s finger.

“That’s a write ‘fiancé’ on that cup, and let's go back to the house and celebrate,” Derek said, howling playfully, pulling Stiles to his feet.Stiles pulled a sharpie out of his back pocket, sticking the cap in his teeth and pulling to open it. Derek held the trophy while Stiles wrote fiancé next to the other words. Derek yanked the cap out of Stiles’ mouth and threw it over his shoulder before pulling Stiles into a kiss. He could feel the pen against his skin and didn’t even care. A lifetime with the man he loved was worth a few permanent marks.

Cross-posted to AO3