#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.”

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XVII. — MASTURBATION

cw: Masturbation, Delusional Thoughts / Behaviors, Allusions to Stalking, Yandere, Obsessive Thoughts / Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Gender-Neutral Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: Oh, how I adore you, virgin Overhaul. Yes, I definitely think he is voluntarily celibate. So imagine what happens when he falls madly in love. Also, yeah, I did the stereotypical didn't develop hives thing—what about it? I love fiction. Anyhow—I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.6k words.

A sharp gasp tears through his mouth. Kai winces, squinting his eyes so hard until they sting, prickles of salt and saline tickling their rims. His teeth grit, and Kai tries to catch his breath. Both eyes slowly reopen, bleary and foggy, and he stares down. 

His cock is resting loosely in his cupped hand, fingers not even fully curled around his shaft. Kai feels ridiculous the longer he stares down at himself, but he doesn’t feel ridiculous enough to tuck his cock away. He’s throbbing, painfully so, and he can feel the heartbeat of his blood thrumming against his skin. Kai shifts awkwardly, and the toilet seat squeaks in protest. The sound is a bullet, and Kai flinches before he sighs in frustration and carefully leans back until he lays against the tank. The crown of his head digs into the wall. Unbelievable. Kai can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s never done anything like this before. It’s filthy. It’s gross. It’s—

Kai swipes his thumb across his phone, unlocking it. He’s deft, tapping away until he pulls up his photos and locates a very specific album. There’s hundred of photos there. Hundreds. But he knows which one he wants. He knows exactly where it is. He wants this photo right now. 

There.

A photo of you fills the screen, blurry and almost pixelated. It’s not the best quality because of how close it’s zoomed in, but Kai doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t even really need to look at this photo, but it helps the illusion. Kai remembers this day, this hour, this moment. He can still clearly see it in his mind—everything, Kai remembers every little detail. It’s one of his favorite photos of you. That beautiful smile, the way your face scrunches up, the outfit you’re wearing, that cute litte pose, the way it seems like the whole world revolves around you—the center of Kai’s universe. This photo may be lost in the hundreds of you in this album, but Kai can’t stop thinking about it. He always comes back to this one. 

And the longer he stares at the photo, the heavier his cock feels in his palm. Kai shifts again, sitting up a little straighter before he slowly curls his fingers fully around his shaft. Another quick gasp leaves him, but Kai exhales noisily and bites the inside of his cheek to prevent any premature noises from escaping. Even though he’s never done this before, Kai doesn’t want to feel like an amateur. Whenever Kai has you, he’ll have to do more than this, right? He needs to practice now. He needs to make you feel good. He makes sure his grip is firm enough before he caaaaaaaarefully drags his fist down. Intensity shoots from his cock all the way to his brain, an explosion that sends his eyes rolling back into his skull and his head thrashing against the wall. Kai’s eyes blow out of his brain, and he pauses, fist resting at the base of his shaft. 

He can do this. It’s all for you—all for the pretty cashier who accidentally brushed his wrist, the one who touched him so softly; the one who didn’t send blistering hives across his flesh, bubbling. You’d touched him—touched him, and it was something he’d never forget. Even now, months later, the skin underneath your fingertips still burned like a fever. He was on fire, insane, and it was that memory that spurred his hand on. Kai gasps again, and he momentarily pauses whenever his fingers slide his foreskin over his cockhead but quickly continues. Your smile, those teeth, and Kai’s rolling his wrist down again. Each little gyration of his hand is quicksilver in his body, silver and lead poisoning, something spreading like a wildfire. His chest is tight, he feels tight, Kai is lightheaded and it’s only been three pumps. 

He’s been stalking you for so long. Kai sheathes his teeth through the inside wall of his cheek so that he can force himself to keep going. He’s rubbing himself as best as he can, groaning and moaning behind melded teeth. Up and down, but his thighs are shaking. His whole body is shaking. He’s imagining your touch, imagining how it would feel for you to wrap your fingers around his cock and slowly work him off. How much longer does he need to stalk you? Kai’s right hand shoots to his face, and the phone escapes his grasp and falls onto the floor, clattering embarrassingly loud, just to slap his mouth before it covers his eyes, massages into his brow line before it lids his mouth again. His cock is like a war drum, harder and harder, louder and louder, and Kai feels like he’s about to implode, about to plaster out, guts and grits and dregs splattered across the bathroom. He doesn’t want to wait any longer. 

His hips meet each pump of his hand now—it’s like clockwork, he can't control it. He’s panting, mewling for breath, and tears are brimming to life in his eyes. A few loose ones start trickling down the apples of his face, boiling, and Kai is whimpering behind his palm. The smiles of his nails slice the skin around his mouth, but it doesn’t ground him. Kai knows almost everything about you. There’s the strange pressure building up underneath his belly, and it’s almost too much for Kai to take. He can’t breathe now, he’s holding his breath, but he doesn’t even know why he’s doing that. There’s disease in his lungs, but Kai doesn’t care. Smoke, ash, and candle wicks, and it doesn’t stop the twisting, the cottonmouth in his belly coiling itself, pink mouth exposed. You probably don’t even remember that Kai exists. When he glances to the floor to see his phone, a few fat rivulets of tears drip onto its screen, fogging up the already mystical photo. Kai’s  stare is imploring whenever he starts to focus on it again. 

How would you have sex? Would you want to be on top or would you want him to be on top? Would you submit to him? Would he have to use toys on you? What sort of fetishes do you have? What about kinks? What places would be the most sensitive to touch? What places would make you moan the loudest? 

Kai’s cock is wailing now, banging its desolate body against the walls of its cage, and his fist is hammering himself in. That pushing, that tourniquet, soggy and dry, is spinning and spinning, and Kai’s starting to feel so dizzy and weightless. His fist is a mile a minute, aching and tense. 

Would you touch him until time ended? Would you never take your eyes off of him? Would you dedicate yourself to him like he would you? Would you beg him to hide you away from the rest of this disease-ridden world for your own safety? Would you only look at him until you died? 

Airy and whiny moans are tumbling out of his mouth, spilling over the edge and splashing to the floor. Kai feels so close, he doesn’t even know what close is, but he feels something, it’s imminent and impending, it won’t last much longer. 

Would you love him? Kai loves you, loves you, and only you. You have to love him back. He’ll make you. You’ll have to see what you do to him. You’d like his collection of you. You need to love him back. Kai wants to know what it’ll be like to have sex with you. He wants to know what it’ll be like to be inside of you for the rest of your lives. Kai needs it. Needs it. He’ll die without it. 

Kai needs you so bad that he can taste the desire on his tongue, and it only takes one sparing glance at that image of you, and only a tiny tug at his cock, and Kai is yelling. Everything in him fulminates, mushrooming out of control, and tremors seize his body. He’s cumming, Kai is cumming. And he’s whimpering, crying so hard and dipping his head down until his chin almost touches his collar bones. He’s trembling, white plumes squirting out of his cock uselessly, making a disgusting mess on the linoleum, but he can't concentrate on that. He’s staring at that image of you. He’s sitting there naked on a toilet in a bathroom, but you’re out there not with him. You’re not with him. You’re not here. He’s by himself, pleasuring himself, hidden away in a bathroom. 

Throes of passion and pleasure are melting through him, pillowing him in things he’s never felt before, but his reality remains true. 

You’re not his. 

Kai’s cock throbs again, desperate. 

You’re not his. 

Kai feels like his head is turning circles, on a carousel that won’t stop, quicker and faster, and it’s keeping his body suctioned to its agony. His fist never unfurls from his cock, and he starts pumping again. Harder. And his teeth make this terrible sound whenever they slide together, but Kai is staring at his phone and he bends forward so he can quickly snatch it back up, and his thumb begins madly flicking through the hundreds of images of you. He doesn’t even have a destination in mind—just you. 

You’re not his. 

Yet. 

[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.

--

[machveil]

I would love to hear about your cod x pokemon thoughts 👀👀👀 do you have pokemon teams for any other characters??

nemjun, marry me💍✨ I have so much to say— also, happy Spooky Month, this actually took so long to write. I thought this was going out, like, Sept 28th lol

[note: I think having a full team is overrated, no need for filler when you can just give them Pokémon that feel right, yeah?]

CoD Headcanon: Pokémon Teams

to set up each part I’ll talk about each character minimally, list their teams, and then any amendments based on lore/skins/personal thoughts. characters include: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, Captain John Price, Phillip Graves, König, and Sebastian Krueger

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

character analysis - as a Pokémon trainer, Simon already has some good motifs going on in his design. like any good trainer, we’re going off details and vibes. Simon gives me Dark and Ghost type Pokémon vibes, more so given by his skull balaclava and skeleton patterned gloves, not to mention his usually black colored clothes. thematically, I like to think a handful of his Pokémon know Destiny Bond - if Simon’s going down he’s taking you with him

Pokémon team

Dusknoir (caught as a Duskull when he first joins the army) - his ace Pokémon! honestly, Dusknoir is purely chosen off vibes, this man screams owning one. Dusknoir has been with Simon since the beginning of his military life, and subsequently is his first Pokémon. Simon trusts this spirit eating Pokémon with his life. I think it’s move set would be Destiny Bond/Mean Look/Payback/Shadow Ball with the ability Pressure

Polteageist (Phony) - it’s not just because he’s British… it’s also a Ghost type. it’s mostly to be funny, but I have a headcanon reason! I think Simon is a big tea drinker, loves a good cuppa, but he specifically likes black tea. from Pokémon Shield, “Leaving leftover black tea unattended is asking for this Pokémon to come along and pour itself into it, turning the tea into a new Polteageist.” - Simon leaving his tea unattended to get something only to come back to a Pokémon? he caught it while grumbling. I think it’s move set would be Strength Sap/Withdraw/Shell Smash/Shadow Ball with the Weak Armor ability

Gengar - the classic Pokémon fan in me wants Simon to own a Gengar, so he will. thematically, it’s not too bad. Gengar is the Shadow Pokémon, Simon gives off ‘moving around in shadows’ vibes. Simon “dad jokes” Riley is a dry comedy king - stay with me, Gengar usually lurk in shadows laughing… please imagine Simon cracking terrible jokes that his Gengar finds funny. the move set would be Destiny Bond/Night Shade/Spite/Dark Pulse and the ability Cursed Body

Houndstone - I was debating on this being in his team or an amendment Pokémon, but I think the skeletal vibes are too good to not be a main party member. fits Ghost’s vibe, that’s about it haha. from Pokémon Scarlet, “Houndstone spends most of its time sleeping in graveyards. Among all the dog Pokémon, this one is the most loyal to its master.”, and now we all ‘aww’, a loyal dog? give that to Simon right now! has the ability Fluffy and knows Rest/Dig/Destiny Bond(Egg Move)/Phantom Force

team amendments

Alone/Cerberus!Ghost would definitely have a Hydreigon, are you kidding me? looking past the obvious three heads, Hydreigon is the Brutal Pokémon! from Pókemon Shield, “The three heads take turns sinking their teeth into the opponent. Their attacks won’t slow down until their target goes down.” - does that sound familiar? I think it’s move set would be Scary Face/Work Up/Outrage/Body Slam, ability Levitate

Ghost Punk skin - Ghost would definitely own a Toxtricity (Low Key). we’re talking punk Simon Riley here, maybe Rockstar!Simon? the organ on it’s chest sounds like the strumming of a bass guitar, now just imagine Simon singing punk rock/metal. move set would be Scary Face/Overdrive/Boomburst/Shift Gear with the ability Punk Rock

John “Soap” MacTavish:

character analysis - we’re going purely off John’s personality and vibes with his Pokémon! John strikes me as a loyal, energetic man - his team should reflect that. Electric Pokémon would be up his alley, but Pokémon that are generally described as energetic would work too

Pokémon team

Boltund - off the bat, the first Pokémon that came to mind when I thought about Johnny. in my humble opinion, the perfect ace for Johnny! I headcanon Soap going on morning runs and - from the Sword Pokédex - Boltund can run for three full days nonstop, aka it can keep up with John during his morning runs. move set wise, I’m thinking Electric Terrain/Charge/Wild Charge/Crunch with the ability Competitive

Luxray - while it sleeps for long periods of time, his Luxray would be helpful on deployments. from Pokémon Sword, “Luxray can see through solid objects. It will instantly spot prey trying to hide behind walls, even if the walls are thick.”, and, while it mostly sees field time, I think a Luxray would balance Johnny out. while his other Pokémon are amped up, he can take a break with his more relaxed companion. I could see the move set being Thunder Wave/Scary Face/Roar/Volt Switch - I’d imagine his Luxray being a pivot/set up Pokémon, used for status conditions. Luxray’s ability would be Intimidate

Jolteon - are we sensing a pattern with dog-esk Pokémon? anyways, Jolteon is purely me wanting Johnny to have one - that’s it haha, I look at that man and go ‘hmmm, Jolteon’. move set would be Agility/Thunder Fang/Thunder/Last Resort with the ability Quick Feet

team amendments

I don’t particularly have any team amendments for Johnny

John Price:

analysis - this man gives me the vibe that he hunts game as a hobby. rather than focusing on his career, I’m focusing on that headcanon aspect. I think Price would have a lot of Normal type Pokémon, he just seems like an average Joe sort of guy off duty. Price strikes me as the type to always have a plan B, so a handful of his Pokémon know Last Resort

Pokémon team

Stoutland - Price owning a Stoutland just feels right, you know? definitely his ace, and as a partner for hunting game, if Price were to hunt in the winter… from Pokémon Y, “Being wrapped in its long fur is so comfortable that a person would be fine even overnight on a wintry mountain.”, it’s also a rescue Pokémon, so if someone needed help then Price could send Stoutland out. also, Stoutland just looks like it was made for Price, anyways, move set! Work Up/Retaliate/Reversal/Last Resort and the ability Intimidate

Unfezant (female) - back on the hunting theme, I think Price found a wounded Tranquill while he was out. after it healed up, it wouldn’t leave Price alone/return to the wild so he caught it. I think a female one would be better because, compared to the male, they can fly better. Price lets his Unfezant scout the area from above for any dangerous wild Pokémon (Ursaring, Trevenant, Bewear, etc). move set would be Tailwind/Roost/Steel Wing(TM)/Sky Attack and the ability Big Pecks

Dubwool (Shiny) - I like the shiny better, sue me. anyways, this is another one that just feels right. I look at Dubwool and go ‘hmmm, give it to Price’, if anything, maybe Retired!Price lives on a ranch with his fluffy friend. move set, I’m thinking Cotton Guard/Defense Curl/Double Kick/Last Resort, ability Steadfast

Skwovet - I think Price needs a critter, just a little guy. a low level, tiny pal - maybe Price just got attached to this fella that wouldn’t leave him alone, cue them bonding and Price feeding Skwovet some berries. move set would be Tail Whip/Bite/Stockpile/Swallow with the Cheek Pouch ability

amendments

I don’t really have any amendments for Price’s team, I just want the man to have some Normal type buddies to relax with

Phillip Graves:

analysis - Graves actually started this thought process for me because I thought it would be funny if he owned a Braviary lol, so here we are. for Graves I’m going off vibes and the rule of cool - I’m picking based on Pokémon I think he’d have in my opinion. also, I think Graves, out of everyone, would teach his Pokémon TMs the most

…don’t think too much about the move sets and abilities I gave his Pokémon

Pokémon team

Braviary - American king, give this man the fucking eagle Pokémon lmao. that’s it, that was my thought process, it’s his ace. move set would be Hone Claws/Aerial Ace/Rest(TM)/Shadow Ball(TM), yes, I’m giving it Shadow Ball purely for the Shadow Company, his entire team is a joke to me I’m sorry. anyways, ability is Defiant

Rotom - I feel like the tech aspect of Rotom being able to take over devices/appliances would be helpful to Graves? maybe not, but I also like the vibe Rotom gives off and my gut says to give it to Graves. move set would be Trick/Substitute/Eerie Impulse(TM)/Poltergeist(TM) with the Levitate ability

Drakloak - my brain says to give this man Drakloak (that will eventually evolve into Dragapult). I feel like, out of a handful of CoD characters, Graves would own a pseudo legendary. move set would be Lock On/Dragon Dance/Dragon Rush/Phantom Force and the ability Infiltrator

Mightyena - look! an actual headcannon! I feel like, if this were in the Pokémon universe, the Shadow Company would make for a good ‘evil team’. with that in mind, maybe it’s just Team Magma bouncing around inside my head, but I feel like Mightyena would be a good pick for Price. not just with the color scheme and general vibe from Mightyena, but when I think of evil teams in Pokémon Maxie’s Mightyena always comes to mind first. I’m thinking Moxie for the ability and Yawn/Roar/Double-Edge(TM)/Shadow Ball(TM) for the move set

team amendments

purely because it’s the Shadow Pokémon… maybe a Gengar? it’s only because of the Shadow Company connection, but I think it’d be funny. move set would be Spite/Shadow Ball/Shadow Punch/Imprison(TM) with the Cursed Body ability

König:

analysis - are we ready for some König bias? I am! sweet boy, I think he’d be a Ghost and Grass type trainer. I headcanon him being super into nature - hikes, camping, ect. also, he has a ghillie suit skin so… Grass type methinks. the Ghost type is also a little forest-y, haunted woods where he finds himself at home among the Grass and Ghost type critters. maybe he can empathize with the Ghost types because people deem them scary and not approachable? hmmm?

Pokémon team

Shuppet - Shuppet physically reminds me of König’s sniper hood. it’s why I originally was like ‘yup, give it to him’. from Pokémon Violet, “It feeds on the dark emotions of sadness and hatred, which make it grow steadily stronger.”, Pokémon Scarlet expands on that by saying ‘envy and malice’, I think König holds a lot of negative emotions from how he was treated in his childhood by his peers - fellow students making fun of him and generally tormenting him. I think Shuppet tries to cheer him up even though it’s primarily feeding off those emotions, it’s still his companion Pokémon, and one that recognizes the hurt he’s gone through. move set would be Curse/Spite/Shadow Sneak/Shadow Ball with the Cursed Body ability

Mimikyu - speaking of unapproachable, Mimikyu! König feels for the poor thing, trying to be liked by fitting in as a beloved Pokémon. they just get each other, maybe he found the little thing stalking the halls of KorTac (how’d it get in? who knows). while not his ace, König is very attached to his Mimikyu. move set would be Charm/Hone Claws/Shadow Claw/Play Rough with the ability Disguise

Eevee (will evolve into a Sylveon) - give this man comically small animals, please. he loves this Eevee, it will evolve into a Sylveon and he will pamper it even more if that’s possible. I just think that, if anyone gets a mascot Pokémon - let alone Eevee, it should be König. is it generically cute and fluffy? yes, and he eats that up. it’s move set would be Baby-Doll Eyes/Copycat/Bite/Yawn(Egg Move) with the Adaptability ability

Sawsbuck (caught as a Deerling) - please give the big man a deer!! he loves them - they’re dainty, extremely agile, the opposite of his towering build. a go-to hiking buddy for König, not that he doesn’t hike with other party members, but Sawsbuck really likes walking with him. move set would be Sunny Day(TM)/Horn Leech/Solar Beam/Zen Headbutt and the ability Chlorophyll

Trevenant - gut feeling, I just want König to have the big tree. he’s a big man, he can totally rock owning a big tree. anyways, another ‘König likes the forest’ Pokémon, and it’s a Grass and Ghost type, perfect. it would have the Natural Cure ability and know Forest’s Curse/Sunny Day/Burning Jealousy(TM)/Phantom Force

Decidueye - saved his ace for last. Decidueye is basically a sniper, you feel me? it has the bow and arrow situation going on, it’s Hidden Ability is Long Reach - sniper shit, it doesn’t make physical contact with any move. Grass/Ghost type? A+, perfect, astounding. you need to read both it’s Sun and Moon Pokédex entries because they read as ‘it’s a sniper’ and ‘it’s König’. from Sun, “It fires arrow quills from its wings with such precision, they can pierce a pebble at distances over a hundred yards.”, and from Moon, “Although basically cool and cautious, when it’s caught by surprise, it’s seized by panic.”, I rest my case. plus, plus, it’s literally a hooded Pokémon, it pulls on the ‘drawstrings’ of its hood to focus. literally made for König, I’m telling you it’s perfect. it’s move set would be Synthesis/Shadow Sneak/Spirit Shackle/Leaf Blade with the ability Long Reach

team amendments

during his time as an Insertion Specialist, I could see König having a Bewear. I feel like having it be a permanent member of his team wouldn’t fit - not because it doesn’t match him, it does. I just think Bewear would be… I don’t know, specifically for field work? it’s move set would definitely cater to busting tough stuff down, so, Strength/Thrash/Superpower/Double-Edge with the Fluffy ability

I think that, as a child, there was a stray Glameow in König’s neighborhood. not that he caught it, but I think he definitely hung out with it a lot CatDad!König bias. at some point, during his teens, it stopped coming around though. he still thinks about it, I think that it was decently low leveled so it’s move pool would be Scratch/Growl with the Own Tempo ability

Sebastian Krueger:

analysis - I feel like he’d be a Dragon and Grass type user, just me? I just look at his base design and see a Dragon and Grass trainer - you can fight me over it, I’d also except Bug or Poison type Krueger

Pokémon team

Tangrowth - I’m right end of discussion. give this man the big wad of sentient vines, it feels right in my soul. Krueger already uses that camouflage veil and dresses is greens, might as well give him some mobile cover too. Stun Spore/Poison Powder/Grassy Terrain/Power Whip with the Regenerator

Gloom - let me preface by saying all his team members are gut feelings and going with vibes because Gloom? Gloom just feels like a Krueger Pokémon. it’s a stunner/poisoner, I feel like Krueger can match Glooms energy, fucking people up— and other Pokémon, but like… fucking people up mostly. it would have Sunny Day(TM)/Sleep Powder/Petal Dance/Moonlight with the Chlorophyll ability

Carnivine - do I just want Krueger to have some James and Jesse type shenanigans with a Carnivine? …yeah. yeah, I do. but it also matches his vibe in my heart, a freaky little plant for a freaky little man. move set would be Leech Seed(Egg Move)/Leaf Tornado/Power Whip/Crunch with the Levitate ability

Haxorus - okay. tell me I’m wrong. do it, you can’t - Haxorus was made by Nintendo for Krueger. an armored dragon with axes made for… axing things down? perfect for Krueger, destruction buddies. has the ability Rivalry and knows Iron Tail(Egg Move)/Dragon Dance/Guillotine/Outrage

team amendments

Druddigon is another dragon that screams Krueger. it’s all rough n’ tough, a little cave dweller for the man? methinks it’s be an okay match. has the move set Glare(Egg Move)/Iron Head/Dragon Claw/Outrage with the ability Rough Skin

does Goodra necessarily have Krueger written all over it? no, but I want the man to have a gooey guy. Krueger is so freaky and aggressive and Goodra is so friend shaped, this is a classic duo if I’ve ever seen one. has the ability Hydration and knows Life Dew(Egg Move)/Rain Dance/Muddy Water/Power Whip

follow up thoughts:

I’m not sure if this would take place in the Pokémon world or if it’s just Call of Duty… but Pokémon exist. I’m not going to think too hard about that because it feels like opening a can of worms lol

these were just fun, I’ve been thinking about CoD x Pokémon for a couple weeks and it was nice putting this out here

I have my own Pokémon OC (Beatrice) and it was wild thinking of how she’d interact with them if this were in the Pokémon world

[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.

[smiley-mcdoggington]

Omega Stan omega stan omega stan

THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO WRITE TW STANCEST TW MPREG TW DUBIOUS MEDICAL PROCEDURES KINDA TW MENTIONED SA TW A/B/O

It was absolutely no fair that Stan still had to do the heat thing when he couldn't even give himself a reach-around. He was sweating like hell, his teeth were chattering as if it weren't 100-something degrees and Ford was still out on his fucking nerd quest to write about mushrooms for another 16 hours.

At least he didn't have to build a nest all at once while he had the physique of a boiled egg. He'd been slowly building it up for the past two months and yeah Ford had bitched he was running out of slacks but Stan would like to see him try resisting the urge to nest when he had two future boxers dukeing it out in his guts and keeping him from being comfortable for weeks.

He used the side of the bed to help him get on his knees before crawling to the nest on the floor - his belly button grazed the floor with his pathetic maneuver but if he fell when Ford wasn't home it would probably turn into a flipped turtle situation and he liked to pretend he still had dignity.

His palms sank into pillows and he pressed his face onto a small wall of Ford's soft sweaters over slacks and once again thought about that portable lightning rod Ford had in his study. Yes, it was lab equipment and he would probably get shocked straight to hell but the ribs on it. The way it kinda shook when it was powered on. The solid 10 inches. But Ford would kill him for cramming any of his stuff in the ol' prison wallet even for sex reasons, so he refrained. (also because he didn't wanna crawl that far and he refused to be bipedal again until his body stopped trying to boil both him and the future rugrats)

And the cruelest fate. He couldn't reach his dick. It was hard as a rock, digging into his overlarge stomach and he couldn't reach it. He could put his fingers on it, kinda, but jacking off and dusting off were so painfully different and he blamed Ford. Ford who left him alone to take care of himself when he didn't even remember what his feet looked like. Ford who was off crouching and standing up unassisted, getting another 20000 spore samples, then touching his toes just because he could. Ford was definitely doing that. Toe-toucher.

Then the front door opened - the door opening could be heard from the whole house, Ford had spent good American dollars on worse hinges specifically for it. Stan moaned loudly and pathetically because Ford should feel bad for making him egg-shaped.

Ford's boots thunked up the stairs hurriedly, and then the door was flung open. "Stanley?!"

Stan gave him a sour look. "Why do I even have heats - I already got the gold, stop making me run the race." He bitched. "And you! I can't touch my dick because of you!"

Stan made the effort to shift himself just enough to see Ford's expression.

That man was laughing in his hand. That dickhead. That jerk. That fucker. Why did every insult have to relate to sex, Stanley would be clawing at the walls if they would just get closer. "Stanford." He said.

His brother walked closer - he hadn't been wearing those fucking scent pads since they got the house, now that cocksucker just had to go around in his loose button up making the whole house smell like Stan was about to get lucky. That fucker. That cunt. That asshole. "What do you need, Stanley?" Ford asked like he wasn't fully fucking aware, little smile on his lips and rolling his sleeves up like something was gonna get messy. He really fucking hoped it was him.

Stan heaved himself onto his back, head resting in Ford's dirty sweaters, buck naked because he gave up on the idea of getting his tent-sized pajamas on the second he realized his heats didn't stop for anything, not even when he was about to pop. Ford was looking down at him expectantly, and Stan would have probably squirmed under that look if he wasn't so exhausted.

Stanley was practically panting. "Would'ja just get on with it?" He grouched, because Ford wasn't an idiot and Stanley wasn't being subtle.

Stanford stepped into the nest, Stan didn't know if he'd kicked off his boots first, he probably didn't because he was a dick. A cock. A fat cock. Stan was going insane. Then Stanford took a knee, one wide, cool plam resting on the stomach currently cockblocking him. He really needed to stop thinking about cocks. Ford leaned forward just a little, his voice smooth and quiet. "Do you want me to take care of you--?"

"Yes!" Stanley barked, because he would probably say yes even if Ford tried calling it 'Fornication' again even though he'd sworn he would never. He was cold and he was sweating and all his stupid soupy pregnant brain could focus on was tracing the outline of exactly where the six fingers on his stomach laid.

His brother snorted, leaning forward until his own stupid tiny stomach laid against Stan's beach ball and their noses were just barely touching. Stan didn't want a kiss, he wanted Ford to get to business. But then their lips met and Ford's cool hand was brushing the sweaty hair off his forehead and they were breathing the same musty air and Stan felt himself relax for the first time in hours. The kiss was soft, because Ford had learned quickly that if he started too fast and got the kids kicking it would ruin the mood because Stan would start hurting and Ford would start looking at his body less like an unstoppable sex machine and more like an ant farm.

Stan hummed, both hands on Ford's shoulders both for support and possible pushing-down leverage while Ford started sucking on his bottom lip. He really needed Ford to get his head in the game, the teasing was cute when they were nineteen in the back seat after Ford got a power boner from glaring down some fucking scuzz trying to get to second base with Stan in the showers - but that was four years ago, when Stan was sexy and topheavy and way too patient. Stan pushed Ford away just slightly. "D-Didn't you say you was gon-na take care of me?" He murmured.

Ford hummed. "There is something I read recently," He said, but Stan didn't care because Ford's hand was sliding lower. "About this." He said measuredly, and his hand skipped Stan's dick (Stan was gonna start throwing shit) to run his thumb over the slit between it and his hole, his newest source of aching to go with everything else because Stan couldn't catch a break.

Stan sighed. Ford was in one of his moods. No quick jerk for Stan, the man carrying his children, oh no, that would be too easy. The only reason Stan didn't kick Ford out of his nest and start riding that portable lightning rod until he got turned into a frankenstein was because he was weak and Ford's hands were giving him that stupid drunk giggly feeling and that was the most energy he'd had all morning. God he missed being drunk, he felt so hot when he was drunk, not like a boiled egg at all.

Ford was still talking about something. Stan was no longer paying attention. The thumb on his slit was slowly rubbing up and down and it wasn't really doing much for him but also Ford was so close to his leaking hole, or his leaking dick, he just had to fixate on the one dry part of his body.

"Stanley?" He prompted. He had probably asked Stan something.

Stan huffed. "Sure, Six." He said and Ford started moving. "Could you just hurry up and touch me where it-- counts--" His sentiment was lost when his throat tightened until he was whining - Ford's tongue was on his slit and it was weird but Stan would take weird, weird was almost like getting his ass eaten, weird was so close to good, close enough to good for him. His hips rocked down and sounds kept slipping out of his tight throat that made him sound like a teenager.

Ford looked up at him - which took some effort on account of mount everest - silently asking for approval, which was even weirder. "Whats'a matter?" Stan asked.

"Tell me if it starts hurting, okay?" He said, a little undercurrent of anxiety leeking through. Stan probably should have been paying attention to whatever Ford was planning on doing down there but it was too late and Stan was not in the mood to prolong sex things. He nodded and Ford sank back down.

Then Ford's tongue was on the least fun part of his genitals again, slowly lapping at the space, pressure just enough to sooth the ache he hadn't noticed the severity of until it was gone. One hand on his inner thigh, thumb rubbing circles into his skin. Then there was a hand around his dick and he yelped - he couldn't see a thing going on down there, Ford could have brought a book and if he still had a hand around Stan he really wouldn't care.

Then his tongue slipped inside and Stan cursed, immediately having to jerk his legs open to keep from boxing Ford 'round the ears. Ford's tongue wasn't as warm as his insides and the lack of moisture just made it feel so wet and weird and then Ford' s hand started moving and suddenly he didn't mind the feeling like there was a tiny cold tentacle in the nebulous space under his dick as long as Ford kept up the pace. Ford was always doing odd shit, at least for this one Stan didn't have to piss on some newspapers.

Ford was kinda kneeding more than jerking, hand tightening and loosening around his dick and Stan was reminded of how Ford would open and close his hands over and over when he was focused. One time he was doing it while talking to Cathy Crenshaw and she thought he was making the 'honk' gesture and smacked him. As if she even had anything to honk. Ford usually got a little too focused when he was in one of his weird sex moods but Stan didn't really get why this of all things was setting off his nerd brain. Yeah it was odd, but more like in a 'it's not you it's me' kinda way than anything.

Stan started lightly rolling into Ford's hand, and Ford took that as an invitation to completely take it, and his tongue, away, because he was mean and awful and cruel to his poor poor brother.

Ford poked his head up again, and Stan thought this might be the most Ford has ever consulted Stan on sex stuff ever. Ford's lips were bright red and hanging slightly open, spit shining on his cleanly shaven chin and panting just a little. He was gorgeous, Stan wanted nothing more than to get up and make Ford look even more fucked-out, but Stan could barely lean up on his elbows.

Ford swallowed thickly. "Yours-s or mine?" He asked, eyes continuing to dart between Stan's face and that new part of him that just fascinated Ford so much.

"Your what?" Stan asked, tracking every twitch of those bruised lips.

"Male omegan pseudo-vulvas don't self-lubricate with arousal." He huffed, ever the nerd. Ford's gaze burned into him. "Who's slick are we using?"

"Yours." Stan said immediately, even though he was probably making a puddle in his nest just from existing in heat, he didn't care. He wanted Ford's.

Ford nodded, undoing his belt. Stan strained to see over his own stomach, and Ford, the most beautiful, amazing, wonderful person in the world, stood up. He was looking smug, because of course he was when he slowly, slowly pulled his belt out of the loops of his slacks (he kept buying more, he had to be, no man had that many pairs of the same dark gray pants) turning around to put his belt on the dresser and giving Stan a full view of why he needed those pants in his nest. Ford had been doing a lot of filling out since they got the house, and slacks that used to fit him like any good dweeb now stretched obscenely over his rear and Ford fucking knew it. It was almost as bad as when he started wearing a pair of Stan's old green middleschool gym shorts in college, before they somehow went missing.

Ford bent low to get at the laces of his hiking boots, and Stan groaned. He was doing it on purpose, torturing the man carrying his children for his own sick kicks. From the new angle Stan could see a little dark spot where Ford was leaking. Stan needed those pants for his nest.

Ford stood back up, stepping out of his boots and turning back around, he still looked like the smug bastard he was but he was still flushed down his neck at the attention. "How the hell'd a fox like you manage to come from the same stuff as me?" Stan muttered, just to see Ford chuff a little.

"I suppose it's hard to miss, what with you being so perfect." Ford said back, unbuttoning his shirt smoothly, his fingers hypnotic as they worked down, revealing more and more chest hair.

Perfect, though. That was a word Ford always used for him. When they were little, Ford used to say that "Perfect is impossible, improvements can always be made" whenever Stanley tried using the word. But now he used it for Stanley, and Stanley's never been perfect at nothing, not even really good, either, and Ford had to know that, he was always correcting Stan. But then he called him perfect anyway. It turned Stan's heart inside-out.

"Its definitely you that's the perfect one, Sixer." He murmured, and Ford's smug smirk melted into a serene smile.

He walked back into the nest, in those fucking pants but nothing else, and straddled Stan right where his stomach ended, that little wet spot on his pants directly against Stan's dick. "Of course I am." He said as if Stan even remembered the conversation over Ford On His Dick. Ford laid his hands on Stan's stomach. "I'm the only one for you, that makes me perfect." He said, no doubt at all in his tone. "That's also why you're perfect, Stanley." His voice dropped, leaning forward until his lips were brushing Stan's baby bump. "You're mine."

Stan felt dizzy, fingers digging into Ford's cable knit sweater behind him and feeling Ford slowly grind into him. Ford was making these short hums every time he rolled his hips just right, and Stan was huffing through noises he couldn't help at this point.

Ford started going faster, his little hums speeding up to match were music to Stan's ears as he slowly got them both closer and closer, brows pinched together, mouth flexing into a tense little frown, hands beginning to tense and loosen against Stan's skin, Stan rocking back as much as he could. Stan could feel himself start to tense - he was so close, but Ford was in one of his moods and he really didn't want him to stop for whatever kind of edging-related kink testing he was up to today. "C-cah--" He had to ask, Ford usually let him when he asked. "S-Sixer can I? Can-n I?"

Ford's eyes snapped open with a short gasp the moment he comprehended the question, looking right at Stan when his body started trembling over Stan's, a thin wail leaving his open mouth as he nodded frantically just in time for Stan to snap, fingers burying into and possibly through the sweater behind him, riding out the shocks with Ford until they finally stopped to catch their breath.

Ford kissed Stan's baby bump again before easing himself off of Stan, the wet patch in his pants now so much bigger and more steal-able. He quickly undid his pants, shucking them without his earlier flare and kicking them away and just in Stan's reach, who snapped them up and started clinging to them like a kid clung to a toy because dignity was for losers anyway.

Ford was wearing his little space-themed briefs with little cartoon stars and planets and rocket ships that Stan got him as a gag gift two years ago. Stan's stupid mushy pregnant brain tried to make him cry over how cute it was, but then Ford got rid of those, too, leaving them out of snatching range.

Ford sat back down on the nest's floor of soft blankets, hands on Stan's knees. "Are you ready to continue?" He asked, and Stan had nearly forgotten his fixation on Stan's new hole.

Stan nodded. "Go nuts - but don't touch my dick yet, gimme a minute for that." He said, opening his legs for the love of his life who was way too interested in what was really just the temporary baby hole.

He could hear Ford wetting his fingers with his own slick, his eyelids drooping in a way Stan would recognize before his own name. Then he shifted, and cold, wet fingers were against his slit. A finger slipped in like nothing at all, then two with only a slight burn. Ford peeked up at him and Stan just nodded, not sure what to say. The burn was familiar, a little duller at the VIP access than at general admissions, but similar enough that he started warming up again.

Then Ford hooked his fingers, and Stan's whole body tensed up. If his prostate was like rubbing the inside of his dick, this was like a good scratch to his urethra - it was sharper, and very, very weird. His mouth was hanging open a little and Ford was looking worried again - seriously, it was unlike him. "Stanley, are you still okay?"

"Are you?" Stan huffed. "You're acting like your defusing a bomb here, Six, we can stop whenever you want."

Ford's brows furrowed. "I already explained exactly why I'm being cautious, Stanley." He snipped - and he probably did, right around that time Stan stopped paying attention. "Apologies if it's inconvenienced you." He said harshly, shoving a third finger in with the first two, the anger and the pain doing things to Stanley he refused to admit.

Ford was thrusting shallowly with his fingers when he crooked them again, and Stan gasped. The feeling wasn't really absolutely good the way his prostate being hit was, but it was intense, making Stan feel the flush on his forehead and his shoulders as Ford tapped the spot again, and again. Maybe the only reason it was good was because Stan was already getting worked up. Soon the fingers were moving freely and quickly.

Then Ford was touching himself again, he knew without seeing it, and then Ford's wet off hand was spreading slick next to his fingers. And a fourth finger was pushed in. Stan keened at it, hips rolling down to prolong the burn, stomach tense just to bring that weird spot closer, make sure Ford couldn't stop brushing against it. He felt a dribble of slick roll down onto the bed but he kept going, humping his brother's hand as much as he could.

Then Ford was touching himself again and touching Stan again and was he planning on adding a fifth? Stan has never taken five before, Ford only went to four on special occasions, three was always enough. Stan couldn't even panic about the thought, too busy feeling like someone put a pipe cleaner in his dick in a good way (somehow).

Then the fifth pushed in, and Ford started slow again, gently pushing and pulling, but it didn't matter because he could feel his prostate. From the wrong side. Pressure was still on the weird spot but now it was on his prostate too and Stan could feel them both. At the same time. Stan's mouth was perminantly hanging open, but then Ford's fucking knuckles pushed into him and Stan couldn't help the loud, pathetic noise he made, one hand onto his newly stolen pants and one hand in his own hair, rolling down on Ford's fingers like it was his last day on earth - with the way he was heaving, it actually might be.

Then Ford kissed the side of his knee. "You're doing perfectly, Stanley." He muttered, and the only sound that could come out of Stan's tight throat was a whine. "Just one more, Stanley." He said and it sounded fonder than any nickname.

Stan started rolling faster, making the kids kick but he could barely notice at that point. Ford's thumb started burrowing in with the other five and That was his whole hand holy fucking shit--

Ford kissed his knee again. "Good. Now you asked earlier, ask again." He said and Stan didn't have the time to consider telling Ford to fuck off before his mouth started trying to make syllables.

"Stan-n-ford I gotta - can-can I? Plea-se-"

"Go ahead, Stanley. Come for me." He said, and Stan's whole body erupted in static, his vision blurring out while his front spot and his back spot got milked by Ford's entire fucking hand, he could have been gone for an hour and he wouldn't'a noticed.

When he finally came back down, he was still in his nest, but now he was propped up on his side with pillows supporting his mass, and Ford was at his back, nose on his shoulder, one hand on Stan's stomach like the kids might disappear without him there.

Stanley turned his head a little. "That was great - dunno what you were even worryin' about, Sixer." He murmured.

Ford hummed. "Well sue me for being cautious, I didn't want to force labor a week before you're due."

Stan's body went cold, and he heaved himself into a sit. "You was risking making me labor early, Stanford Pines?!"

Ford looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "You said it was fine."

"You Almost Made Me Labor!"

He was leaving him for the lightning rod.

[ierr]

╭﹐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.

[niallerspayno]

Between the Lines - Chapter Two

Masterist

Series Masterlist

…

The hotel room is quiet, the distant hum of city life outside barely audible through the thick windows. You sit cross-legged on the plush bed, your notebook balanced on your lap and a pen twirling between your fingers. The day’s events play on a loop in your mind—the roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, the boys’ infectious energy.

You’ve written pages already, but your thoughts refuse to settle. Instead, you find yourself staring at the half-empty page in front of you, your pen hovering over the paper.

What’s it like to live at the center of so much noise? you scribble, then cross it out. It feels too heavy, too abstract. You let out a frustrated sigh and toss the pen onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

A soft knock at the door startles you, and you glance at the clock. It’s well past midnight. You pad over to the door and open it to find Niall standing there, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair a little messy.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, holding up a bag of snacks like a peace offering.

You smile, stepping aside to let him in. “Join the club.”

Niall drops the bag on the bed and sits down, looking around the room. “Nice digs. Bit posh for us, though, don’t you think?”

You laugh, settling back onto the bed beside him. “I’m not complaining. But you’re right—definitely a step up from your mum’s couch.”

He grins at the memory. “Hey, that couch was top-tier comfort.”

You both fall into an easy rhythm, reminiscing about old times as you share a bag of crisps. The conversation ebbs and flows, and soon you’re lying side by side on the bed, the notebook forgotten at the foot.

Niall glances at you, his expression soft. “You’ve been writing nonstop, haven’t you?”

You nod, staring up at the ceiling. “I just… I want to get it right, you know? This whole world, this life you’ve built—it’s bigger than anything I’ve ever known. I don’t want to miss a single detail.”

“You won’t,” he says firmly. “You’ve always had a way with words.”

His voice carries a warmth that makes your chest ache. You turn your head to look at him, smiling. “Thanks, Ni. I needed that.”

He smiles back, but there’s something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place. Before you can think too much about it, he shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

You hesitate for a moment, but the answer comes easily. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Niall doesn’t move to the couch or grab extra blankets. Instead, he climbs under the covers beside you, as natural as breathing. This isn’t the first time the two of you have shared a bed—there were countless sleepovers growing up, late-night talks that stretched into early mornings. But there’s a comfort in it that feels different now, more grounding than ever.

You rest your head against his shoulder, your eyes growing heavy as his familiar warmth surrounds you. “Thanks for being here, Ni,” you murmur, your voice thick with exhaustion.

“Always,” he whispers, his arm draping over your waist in a way that feels protective and safe.

For you, it’s the reassurance you need to finally drift off, your mind no longer racing with unfinished thoughts. For Niall, it’s something else entirely—a moment he knows he’ll hold onto, even if it means nothing more to you than an old habit.

As your breathing evens out, Niall presses a light kiss to the top of your head, his heart full but aching all the same.

...

The sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains pulls you from sleep. You stretch lazily, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar room. Then you feel the steady warmth beside you and remember—Niall.

You turn your head to find him still asleep, one arm slung over his stomach, the other resting just inches away from yours. His face is peaceful, soft in the morning light, and for a moment, you simply watch him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Niall,” you whisper, gently nudging his arm.

He groans, his eyes fluttering open. “Mornin’,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “We’ve got a big day today. Soundcheck, remember?”

Niall stretches, groaning as his joints crack. “Already? Feels like we just landed.”

“You didn’t have to keep me company last night, you know,” you say, giving him a grateful smile.

He sits up, tousling his hair. “Didn’t have to. Wanted to.”

The look in his eyes is so earnest it makes your chest tighten, but you don’t let yourself dwell on it. Instead, you swing your legs out of bed and grab your notebook from the nightstand.

“Let’s get moving. I need to capture every bit of chaos this band throws at me today,” you say with a grin.

Niall laughs, following your lead. “You won’t be disappointed.”

...

After breakfast, the group piles into the van heading to the venue. You sit sandwiched between Niall and Louis, your notebook open as you jot down the energy buzzing around you.

Louis peers over your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. “What’s the verdict so far? Best boy band ever, or just the funniest?”

You smirk, tapping your pen against the page. “Still deciding.”

“Better make up your mind, love,” he teases, leaning back in his seat. “But don’t forget to mention my dance moves. Showstoppers, they are.”

“You? Dancing?” Niall scoffs, rolling his eyes. “That’s a stretch, even for fiction.”

Louis gasps, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Really, Niall? I expected more loyalty from you.”

The back-and-forth banter has you grinning, your pen flying across the page to capture every witty quip and exaggerated gesture. You can’t help but notice the way Louis leans into your space, his charm effortlessly drawing you in, while Niall’s presence beside you remains steady and grounding.

...

The venue is colossal, the kind of place you’ve only ever seen on TV. The sheer size of it sends a shiver of awe down your spine as you step inside. Your eyes sweep over the rows of empty seats stretching endlessly into the shadows, the towering stage already illuminated by an array of lights that flicker and dance as technicians adjust them. The air hums with energy, an electric anticipation that clings to every surface.

Crew members bustle around like cogs in a well-oiled machine, shouting instructions, hoisting equipment, and darting across the stage with purpose. It’s organized chaos, and you can’t help but feel like a small cog dropped into this massive engine.

Your steps falter as you take it all in, clutching your notebook tightly against your chest. This is their reality—something the boys must see nearly every day. To you, it feels like stepping onto a movie set. It’s larger than life, and for a moment, you feel an odd pang of detachment, like you’re intruding on a world that’s not yours.

The boys, on the other hand, move with the ease of people who belong. Liam’s already deep in conversation with someone near the soundboard, Zayn hangs back watching the crew work, and Harry grins as he saunters toward the stage, cracking a joke to a passing tech.

“Overwhelmed?”

The familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Niall’s beside you, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, his expression soft and knowing.

“A little,” you admit, exhaling as you glance back toward the stage. “It’s just… a lot.”

He smiles, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It is. But you’ll get used to it.” His gaze follows yours toward the stage, and for a moment, you both stand in companionable silence.

“Come on,” he says, breaking the quiet and gesturing toward the stage. “You can sit with me during soundcheck. Best seat in the house.”

He starts to guide you toward a cluster of seats near the front, but before you can settle in, a familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Actually,” Louis calls out, sauntering over with his trademark grin, “I was going to show her the ropes. You know, give her a proper introduction to how things work.”

Niall halts, his expression shifting ever so slightly. His jaw tightens, and his grip on your arm loosens. “She’s good, mate. She’s with me.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, his grin only widening as if he’s enjoying every bit of the exchange. “Relax, Horan. Just trying to be helpful.”

The tension between them is subtle but palpable, an unspoken standoff playing out in the glint of Louis’s eyes and the set of Niall’s jaw. It’s almost enough to make you uncomfortable—almost.

Before the moment can stretch too far, you step in, forcing a smile. “I’m fine with either of you showing me around. Just point me in the direction of the chaos.”

Louis chuckles, his grin transforming into something warmer as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “See? She gets it.”

Niall mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but he doesn’t push the matter. Instead, he trails behind as Louis steers you toward the stage, his protective presence lingering even as Louis takes over.

“So,” Louis says, his voice animated as he gestures toward the towering speakers and rows of equipment cases, “this is where the magic happens. Well, most of it. The rest is just us being devastatingly good-looking.”

You laugh, the earlier tension melting away as you fall into his rhythm. “Devastatingly good-looking? I’ll have to see the reviews before I write that down.”

Louis gasps in mock offense. “Are you doubting my charm? You wound me, love.”

You shake your head, biting back a grin as you glance back toward Niall. He’s a step behind, watching quietly, his eyes flickering between you and Louis. There’s something guarded in his expression, something that makes your chest tighten.

“Don’t mind Niall,” Louis whispers conspiratorially, leaning in close. “He gets a bit territorial, doesn’t he?”

You glance at him, startled, but he’s already pulling away, his grin as mischievous as ever.

“Come on, let’s get you a closer look at the chaos,” he says, gesturing grandly toward the stage.

Niall catches up then, his hand brushing yours as he falls into step beside you. He doesn’t say anything, but the quiet tension between him and Louis lingers, an undercurrent you can’t quite ignore.

As the three of you approach the stage, you feel caught in the pull of something you can’t fully name—Louis’s playful energy on one side, Niall’s steady warmth on the other. Both of them seem to orbit around you in their own ways, and it’s both thrilling and unsettling.

For now, though, you push the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the dazzling world unfolding before you. This is what you came here for—to capture the story, no matter where it takes you.

...

After soundcheck, the boys scatter to their dressing rooms, and you take the opportunity to grab your notebook. You’ve spent most of your time so far with Niall and Louis, but there’s an entire band to get to know.

You find Zayn in a quieter corner of the venue, tucked away on a worn leather couch, his sketchpad balanced on his knees. His head is bent in concentration, the pencil in his hand moving with a practiced ease. It’s the first time you’ve really seen him on his own; he tends to hover in the background, quiet but always observant.

Taking a breath, you approach him, your notebook clutched tightly. “Hey, Zayn.”

He looks up, blinking as if pulling himself out of a daydream. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a brief flicker of surprise before he offers a small smile. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d mind if I interviewed you for the book? Just a quick chat about what it’s like being part of this madness.”

He hesitates, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean… if you’re okay with boring answers.”

You laugh, taking a seat on the couch beside him. “I’m sure you’re not as boring as you think. Besides, you’ve got a front-row seat to one of the wildest stories ever told.”

That earns a soft chuckle from him, and he sets his sketchpad aside. “Alright. Fire away.”

Flipping to a fresh page in your notebook, you settle in. “Okay, let’s start simple. What’s been the biggest surprise about all of this—being in the band, touring, the fans?”

He leans back, his gaze drifting upward as he considers the question. “Honestly? How fast it all happened. One minute, I’m this kid auditioning for The X Factor because my mum thought I should, and the next, I’m in a band with four strangers. Then… boom. World tours, screaming fans, no privacy.”

His words are measured, thoughtful, and you can hear the weight behind them. “It must’ve been overwhelming.”

“Still is, sometimes,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “Don’t get me wrong—it’s incredible. But it’s a lot. I think we all have moments where we’re like, ‘Is this really our life?’”

You nod, jotting down notes. “Do you ever miss how things were before?”

“All the time.” His answer is immediate, and there’s a raw honesty in his tone that makes you pause. “But at the same time, I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You can’t really go back, you know? You just… move forward.”

The conversation flows easily after that, Zayn gradually relaxing as you ask him more about life in the band, his creative outlets, and how he stays grounded amidst the chaos. He opens up about his love for art, how sketching helps him clear his head, and the way music has always been his escape.

“You should draw something for the book,” you suggest at one point. “It could be cool to have something visual alongside all the stories.”

He tilts his head, considering it. “Maybe. I’d have to think about it.”

“Think about it,” you echo, smiling. “No pressure.”

As the conversation winds down, you close your notebook and glance at him. “Thanks for doing this, Zayn. I know it’s not easy to talk about all of this sometimes.”

He shrugs, but there’s a warmth in his expression now. “It’s not so bad. You’re good at asking the right questions.”

Standing, you tuck your notebook under your arm. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And if you ever want to talk more—or need a break from the chaos—let me know.”

“Will do,” he says, picking up his sketchpad again. “See you around.”

As you walk away, you feel a quiet sense of accomplishment. Getting Zayn to open up feels like a small victory, a reminder that beneath the fame and chaos, these boys are just people, each with their own stories to tell. And you’re here to capture it all.

...

Soundcheck winds down with the boys finishing their final run-throughs, the crew making adjustments to lights and sound as they wrap up. The venue feels quieter now, the earlier chaos giving way to a calm-before-the-storm kind of energy.

"Alright, lads," Paul’s voice booms as he walks toward the stage. "You’ve got a few hours to rest before we need you back here. Don’t go wandering off too far.”

The boys groan in unison but start to gather their things. You’re hanging back, scribbling last-minute observations in your notebook, when Niall appears at your side.

“Fancy heading back to the hotel for a bit?” he asks, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Could use a break from all this.”

“Yeah, I could use some quiet,” you reply, glancing at the stage one last time before following him.

As the group piles into the van waiting outside, the chatter is light but filled with anticipation for the night ahead. Niall sits beside you, his leg pressed against yours in the cramped space, while Louis occupies the seat on your other side, his energy still buzzing despite the long day.

“Big night ahead,” Louis says, nudging your arm. “First time seeing us perform live. You ready?”

“I think so,” you say, laughing. “Though I’m starting to feel like I should’ve brought earplugs.”

“Good call,” Zayn says from across the van, smirking. “The fans get loud.”

“They’ll love you,” Harry adds with a grin. “Bet they’ve already spotted you in the crowd and decided you’re part of the gang.”

“Or the queen of it,” Louis quips, leaning closer. “Careful—they’ll be writing fanfics about you in no time.”

Niall gives him a playful shove. “Alright, mate, leave her alone.”

Louis raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin unrepentant. “Just saying.”

The hotel is only a short drive away, and before long, you’re stepping into the lobby, where the boys are greeted with knowing smiles from the staff. It’s clear they’ve stayed here before, the ease with which they move through the space a sharp contrast to your own slightly overwhelmed steps.

Back in your room, you drop onto the bed with a sigh, your notebook landing beside you. The adrenaline from the day is wearing off, replaced by a sluggish sort of exhaustion. Still, your mind buzzes with everything you’ve seen, every interaction you’ve had.

You try to rest, but after a few moments of staring at the ceiling, you give up and grab your notebook again. There’s too much to process, too much to write about before the memories blur.

...

Across the hall, Louis knocks on Niall’s door, leaning casually against the frame when it opens. Niall stands there in sweats and a t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled from a failed attempt at a nap.

“Hey,” Louis greets, his grin lazy but his gaze sharp. “Just thought I’d check in on our lovely new travel companion. She settling in alright?”

“She’s fine,” Niall replies, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. His tone is even, but his body language is guarded.

“Good,” Louis says, stepping into the room uninvited and glancing around as if he owns the place. “Wouldn’t want her feeling overwhelmed. That’s our job, yeah?”

“Louis.” Niall’s voice carries a warning now, but Louis either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“What?” Louis says, his grin widening as he sits on the edge of the unmade bed. “She’s fun. Talented. And, you know… cute.”

Niall straightens, his arms dropping to his sides as his expression darkens. “She’s not some fan, mate. She’s not here for your games.”

Louis raises his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk never leaves his face. “Relax, Horan. I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly with you usually means trouble,” Niall shoots back, stepping closer. His voice drops lower, more serious. “Just stay out of her way, alright? She doesn’t need your chaos messing things up.”

Louis tilts his head, as if considering the statement. But instead of backing down, his smirk deepens into something more mischievous. “Why, Nialler? Afraid I might charm her away from you?”

Niall’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring slightly. “I’m serious, Louis. Don’t mess with her.”

“Interesting,” Louis says, drawing the word out like he’s savoring it. He stands, stepping closer until he’s toe-to-toe with Niall. His gaze is light, teasing, but there’s a flicker of something challenging behind it. “Didn’t know you cared so much. Or is there something more you’re not telling me?”

“Just leave her alone,” Niall says firmly, refusing to rise to the bait.

Louis studies him for a moment longer, his grin never faltering. “Alright, mate. If it means that much to you…”

But the glint in his eyes tells a different story, and as Louis saunters back toward the door, he pauses to glance over his shoulder. “You know, Niall, sometimes a little chaos is exactly what someone needs.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving Niall standing in the middle of the room, his fists clenched at his sides and a sinking feeling in his gut. He knows Louis too well to believe he’s really going to back off. If anything, he’s just issued a challenge—and Louis never could resist one of those.

…

Next chapter

[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.

[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.

[oceangirl24]

New Chapter: Recovery

Jonathan Turner, a motorcycle accident, and a hot blonde nurse.

Shawn begins to dig into the depths of the lies Chet told him that drove the wedge between him and Jon. And he learns that the joke Cory told him about Jon and his nurse was no joke at all.

Meanwhile, Audrey's been withholding information from Jon for some time.

"A bath?" Shawn asked. Jon hardly looked like he would be able to manage that.

The nurse smiled pleasantly. "Oh, don't worry, Hun, he won't have to do anything. I'll take care of him."

Jon arched an eyebrow and bit back a grin.

Shawn arched an eyebrow and bit back a growl.

As soon as the nurse left, Jon started to laugh.

There was nothing to laugh at as far as Shawn was concerned. "What's so funny?"

"Oh man," Jon chuckled, finding it hard to talk. He was still exhausted, and laughter took a lot out of him.

After resting for a few minutes, he said, "After my motorcycle accident, Alan stayed with me until Audrey made it in. Alan said not long after she arrived the nurse assigned to me came in and said the same thing about the bath. Audrey did not approve, and accordin' to Alan there was a spectacular showdown between your mom and the nurse over who was gonna 'take care' of me. Guess who won?"

"Mom," Shawn grinned, finally understanding the humor of the nurse's statement. "No one would stand a chance against her, especially if they made her mad."

"Exactly. Man, am I sorry I was still sedated when that went down." Jon looked at Shawn with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Not gonna lie, I'm kinda hopin' for a repeat. I'd like to see that fight."

Shawn started to laugh when the memory of that first hospital stay became clearer.

"Wait," he said suddenly, his countenance darkening with a frown. "Dad, was that nurse a blonde too?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well," he frowned trying to focus on the memory hoping it would fully materialize. "Was she like really pretty, really curvy, and really flirty?"

"Uh-huh," Jon confirmed with a roll of his eyes. "Accordin' to Audrey, Alan, Amy and Eli."

A wave of old anger washed over him. "I remember her."

Jon gave him a curious look. "You do? I barely remember her. Audrey had so many issues with her that she was reassigned within just a couple of days of your mom gettin' here."

Shawn frowned and ran a hand over his beard trying to recall the timeline of his last visit to see Jon. "Yeah, the day Cory told me you were awake I came down to see you."

The superintendent sat up as much as he could in his weakened state and shifted to get a better look at Shawn. "When did you come to see me? There is a lot I don't remember but I know I would've remembered you comin' in."

"I didn't actually make it in," he admitted, embarrassed. "I came down on my own because Cory and Topanga were busy. When I got here, I saw that nurse with you. I, uh, thought she was really inappropriate. She seemed like she was hittin' on you and not doin' her job. Like, I remember seein' her before you woke up and she was dressed like all the other nurses. But that day, she definitely was not. I remember tight white scrubs and a lowcut top."

Jon watched him in silence as he restlessly moved around the room.

"I remember her offerin' to go home with you when you were released to be your private nurse. And she definitely did not just mean the medical stuff either."

Jon shook his head. "I don't remember any of that."

"Yeah, well," Shawn rubbed his hands together as though he was suddenly cold. "I didn't hear you tell her no or anythin' so I kinda thought you were into her. And since I was still upset about you and Mom, I sorta left without seein' you."

A look of sadness washed over Jon's face as he sat back against the elevated bed. "Why would you think I'd be flirtin' with my nurse right after comin' out of a coma?"

Shawn shrugged. His face reddened with humiliation as the reason hit him hard. "Chet told me when he came down to see you, he saw the nurse all over you," he said slowly. "He said he didn't think that kind of thing was allowed in a hospital between a patient and nurse.'

He caught the look of confusion and outrage on Jon's face as he continued, "Chet said the nurse was the same woman he saw you with at the beginnin' of the school year."

"What?!" was all Jon could get out.

Anxiously, he pulled the sleeves of his leather jacket over his palms. Recounting the story brought back all the anger and disgust he felt as a teen toward Jon and his nurse. "He said he saw you guys at the Sunoco gas station at the edge of town. She was all over you and he said you were really into her, that you- "

"Shawn," Jon held up his hand to stop him. "That was no blonde at the Sunoco station- that was Audrey."

Shawn stared at him. "What?"

"Yeah, that was Audrey. She came down a couple of times to see me right at the beginnin' of the school year. We almost got caught by one of the board members, so she stopped comin' down. There was never a blonde, not at the gas station and not at the hospital. And Chet never came to see me."

Shawn stared at Jon for a moment as his words sank in.

Of course, there was no blonde, he thought bitterly. Chet was spinnin' stories around what I was tellin' him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at the floor.

"So you woulda come in to see me if that nurse wasn't there?" Jon's voice was quiet. He sounded almost nervous asking as though he was afraid the answer would be no.

"Yeah," Shawn sighed. "I woulda. He shook his head in despair. "He took what I was tellin' him and turned it into somethin' else."

"What did Chet tell you?"

"That you were datin' a blonde nurse. Actually, what he told me was a lot more vulgar than that," Shawn shook his head in frustration. "He knew how much Mom meant to me. How much you and her together meant to me. He saw her with you, he knew who she was, and he lied to me. He let me believe that you moved on with the blonde nurse from the motorcycle accident."

"And that's why you were so angry when Cory told you I'd married my nurse."

Keep reading:

AO3 FFN WattPad

[kingkatsuki]

cockwarming gamer bakugou. that’s it. that’s the ask.

He’s got your tits pressed straight up against his chest, your thighs on either side of his hips, his arms weaved around you to hold onto the controller as he rests it against the curve of your ass. The buttons like muscle memory has you rest your head on his shoulder, dangerously close to his headset as he takes the opportunity to shout at Denki for fucking up— again.

“How fuckin’ hard is it to hit the target? I could do it with my eyes closed.”

“I’m sorry,” You could hear Denki whining on the other side of Bakugou’s headset, “The last zombie freaked me out and I dodged.”

“Fuckin’ idiot.” Bakugou mumbled beneath his breath and it made his chest rumble, making you shiver against him.

“Come on, man. I’m doing my best.”

“If this is your best I don’t wanna see your fuckin’ worst.”

Every time he raises his voice it has his hips shifting and his cock brushing against your spongy walls as you can’t help but clench around him. His hands tightening around the controller as the plastic digs into your ass. Knowing that if he does want he wants to do and thrusts up into you, you’ll make those pretty noises he loves to hear but everyone on the call will hear them too.

“It’s okay, Denks. We’ll get it next round.” Kirishima sighed with a stretch as the splash screen began to load the level again in the background with all their lives refilled.

“I mean, you could’ve easily made that shot, Dynamight. If you didn’t wanna just be the hero.” A new voice sounded on the other side of the headphones as you tried to decipher who it was. You knew Sero was missing game night this week because of work, and you’d hoped that meant that the entire night was cancelled— hoping to drag Bakugou out yourself as he had the night off work.

“Improve your hero ranking and then you can criticise my gameplay, Grand.” Bakugou almost spat his name as he rolled his eyes.

Shindou Yo was playing?

“Who even invited you anyway? Thought we were supposed to be getting a replacement for Sero?” Bakugou scoffed.

“Yeah, you told me to find someone good-” Kirishima began, the faint sound of button smashing heard in the background.

“And you brought fuckin’ Grand?” Bakugou let out a raspy laugh at this, clearly amused at the situation. But all it did was make the tip of his cock nudge against that spot deep inside you that in turn made you let out a sultry whine.

A noise that didn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou as he let go of the control to give you a playful swat to your ass, his lips pressing against the side of your head as he feels you getting more needy and restless. The bickering now silent on the other side.

“What was that, Bakubro?” Kirishima questioned as you almost froze.

“Sounded like a girl.” Denki continued.

“How the fuck would you know what that sounds like, shithead?” Bakugou scoffed.

“I dunno, man. It sounds like Dynamight’s having some fun on the side, ain’t that right?” Bakugou could’ve killed Grand for how smug he sounded from the discovery, “Hey, Princess-”

“Don’t fuckin’ call her that, asshole.” Bakugou growled, shifting his hips angrily as you had to grip his shoulders to stop yourself from falling, moaning as the veiny length of his cock pressed against the spongy spot inside you.

“Told you,” Shindou scoffed, “While we’re slaving away he’s getting his dick wet.”

And fuck— now they definitely heard as you sat deathly still, feeling your entire body aflame as Bakugou dropped the game controller beside him on the couch.

“Hardly slaving away when you can’t even make the shots.”

“You know what, Dynamight. Maybe you’re right, I’m not very good at this game.” Your ear still pressed against Bakugou’s headset you heard Shindou drop his controller onto the table in front of him, the device clanking as his desk chair squeaked as he settled back.

The sultry tone of his voice had your thighs quivering on either side of Bakugou’s hips as your cunt fluttered around him, his palms now squeezing the fat of your ass as you could feel the warmth radiating through your body. You could tell Bakugou was between deciding whether to disconnect the call to satiate you himself or to entertain the man on the other side of the line.

“But there is something I’m really, really good at.”