#dude needs a shoulder massage

[thechildofmythal]

The Lakeside

Another new part of the slowburn Cullen x Lavellan series!

“Ellana,” he sighed against her lips, still with his eyes closed. “You are one of a kind.” She leaned back enough to look at his face, and cradled his chiselled jaw in her hands. “Ella,” she said softly. “My family calls me Ella. You can call me Ella, too.” Cullen’s heart filled with warmth as he looked at her beautiful blue eyes. She made him feel included, like he suddenly belonged to something. Something else than work and duty. Now he was part of a small club, mostly consisting of her family, with the exclusive privilege of her nickname. Cullen pulled her back closer to him and pressed his stubbled face against her cheek.  “Ella,” he repeated, trying out the shorter name. It felt good.

In this chapter of the series:

Ellana doesn't get Cullen's feeble attempts at getting private time with her, and her friends are there to make fun of her.

Cullen tries again, and manages to whisk her away for a day to a lakeside in Ferelden.

Includes the lakeside scene with Cullen's lucky coin. Canon-compliant but extended.

Lots of sexual tension, fluff, making out, also sex talk, and non-sexual intimacy.

Read here in AO3 (only for registered users)

or you know, enjoy the sexual tension under the cut.

The Lakeside

Words: 7 986. Rating: Teen

Cullen Rutherford leaned forward, grabbed a black pawn piece with his gloved fingers, and moved it three squares forward on the chess board.

“Hmmh,” Ellana Lavellan reacted on the other side of the table. “You’re going to win this one, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Cullen said, looking insufferably smug.

“If I didn’t like your confident smile so much I would find a way to wipe it off your face.”

“I’m glad my win works for both of us.”

Ellana sighed and moved a white tower piece in a feeble attempt to protect the King.

“Go on then,” she leaned back in her chair, and watched Cullen move a piece.

“Checkmate,” he said, and leaned back with a self-satisfied smile. 

“Remind me again, why do I keep playing with you?”

“You just said you like me,” Cullen pointed out, the scar on his lip moving with his lopsided smirk.

“I said I like your smile,” Ellana pointed out, matching his smirk.

“Oh, you keep me around only for my looks then?”

“Like we haven’t been spending hours and hours just talking within the last couple of weeks? Are you going to get cocky because of the attention you got in Empress Celene’s ball?” 

“You were the shining star of the evening, my dear, not I,” Cullen retorted, his amber eyes betraying his affection. 

Ellana felt her insides melt into a warm goo when he called her my dear . It wasn’t long since he had insisted on only calling her Inquisitor , after all. 

“But you have still received more letters from Orlesian admirers!” she couldn’t help but giggle. 

“They would make excellent kindling if it wasn’t for the scented paper. The smell makes my headaches worse. Nothing good comes from that country,” Cullen mumbled, making Ellana laugh harder.

Cullen’s grumbling was playful, however, and Ellana saw the smile around his eyes. They sat in their chairs facing each other, looking at each other for a while in silence.

Finally Cullen cleared his throat. “Thank you for the game, Ellana. Now I wonder how you are with the second book in the Empire series?”

“I’m almost done! I’ll need the final book of the trilogy very soon,” Ellana replied excitedly. 

Cullen swallowed and leaned forward again, placing his elbows on his knees. He seemed to place his words very carefully, speaking in a lower voice. “Do you have some time tonight? I could come and visit you and bring the book to you.”

Ellana waved her hand dismissively. “Oh there’s no hurry, it will take me a couple of days to finish the second part. Besides, I promised to join Bull and some of the others at the Herald’s Rest tonight for a few drinks. Apparently they need an honest tavern night after Halamshiral.”

Cullen’s face fell almost unperceivably. “Ah, I see.”

“But you can bring the book tomorrow to the War Room meeting.”

“Certainly,” Cullen said and they both stood. “Have fun tonight, Inquisitor.”

*

Later in the evening the tavern door opened, and Cremisius Aclassi walked in. It was easy to spot the group he was looking for - his employer Iron Bull kind of stood out from the crowd. The Inquisitor and Dorian Pavus sat at the table too - the two of them had goblets of wine, Iron Bull a big tankard of ale.

“There you are, Krem! What took you so long?” Iron Bull said loudly as Krem joined them. 

“Somebody needed to face Ser Morris and explain our requisitions to him so he won’t think we’re joking next time,” Krem said gruffly. He got the attention of the maid and ordered a tankard of ale.

“Ser Morris is a stuck up, but requisition officers need to be stiff as flag poles,” Iron Bull said. “Otherwise the Inquisition would be bankrupt already.”

“Speaking of stuck ups, the Commander sure seems like a driven guy,” Krem changed the subject.

The Inquisitor cocked her eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“I saw him at the training grounds alone when I was coming this way. Giving a good beat down to a training dummy,” he explained, and took a good gulp of his ale.

Iron Bull nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like a good way to let off some steam. Maybe he has a night off, for once.”

Ellana suddenly froze and blood escaped from her face. “Oh.”

“Lavellan?” Dorian asked, noticing something was wrong.

“Nothing. I just realised something,” she said, staring at her wine goblet.

“Something to do with your dear Commander?” Dorian asked, and all three men around her leaned in with curiosity.

“Well, uh. Maybe.”

“Weeeell?” Dorian prodded her with his elbow. 

Lavellan looked up at the three of them with desperation on her face. “I just realised he maybe offered to spend some time with me today, but I blew him off.”

Iron Bull, Krem and Dorian looked at each other, and then back at the woman.

“How did you only realise this now? What kind of circles do you talk around each other?” Iron Bull wondered.

“You haven’t heard those two? It would be painful if it wasn’t so endearing,” Dorian quipped.

“What did the Commander say?” Krem asked.

“We were playing chess after lunch and he offered to come to my room tonight to bring me a book we had been talking about,” Ellana explained.

“And what did you say?” Iron Bull asked next.

“What does it look like I said? I told him I was going drinking with you guys and he could bring me the book tomorrow to the War room meeting,” Ellana said, exasperated with herself.

The three men sat in tense silence around her, until they all suddenly exploded into laughter. 

“Oh come on!” she groaned, holding her face in her hands in the middle of her laughing friends.

“Oh sweet Maker,” Dorian wiped the corners of his eyes, still laughing. “You… did you really think he actually wanted to come to your private room because of a book ?”

“Well not anymore I don’t,” they heard her mumbled reply through her hands.

Dorian almost fell from his chair from another fit of laughter.

Iron Bull tried to steady his breathing and gestured at the door. “He’s right there in the training grounds. You could go and ask him about the book!”

The Inquisitor lifted her wine goblet “No I can’t! I’ve had way too many drinks for that!”

“My dear, just think about it,” Dorian painted a picture, “you could have the Commander reading a book out loud to you right about now.”

“In your bed,” Iron Bull snickered like a teenager, “naked.”

“I’m so stupid,” Ellana wailed, burying her face in her hands again. “Believe me, I would have skipped this so easily if I had known what he really meant.”

“What I don’t understand is why you have to make it so difficult? You want him, he clearly wants you. Why couldn’t he just ask if you’re free tonight because he’d like to come to your room and make sweet love to you?” Iron Bull wondered out loud.

“I think it’s so precious that you were playing chess and he used lending you a book as an excuse to see you,” Dorian sighed.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Inquisitor,” Krem said, “but you two are made for each other.”

The Inquisitor blinked at Krem. “Why, uh, thank you Krem, I guess.”

Krem huffed into his ale. “You’re both complete nerds .”

**

In the morning the Inquisitor felt surprisingly good. She hadn’t stayed for long after her embarrassing realisation, and went to her room nursing a feeble hope of still receiving a handsome visitor. The Commander had not appeared, but at least Ellana had a decent night’s sleep and avoided a hangover.

After breakfast Ellana topped up her tea and carried the mug with her to the War Room. She was a bit early, but she spent the time alone going through her notes for the meeting.

Soon enough the door opened again, and in came Commander Cullen with his long strides and a straight back.

“Good morning,” he said and placed the papers from his hands on the War Table. “Did you have a nice evening?”

“Hmmh. I don’t think it was worth it,” Ellana mumbled.

Cullen smirked at her. “A headache?”

“Thankfully no,” Ellana shook her head and then lowered the teacup from her hands to the table. “About the book…”

“What book?” He seemed oblivious.

“The book you wanted to lend me last night? That I asked you to bring today instead?”

“Oh that book,” Cullen said nonchalantly. “I’m afraid I don’t have it with me now, my apologies.”

“Mmh,” Ellana squinted her eyes at him. “You didn’t actually want to come to see me over a book, did you?”

Cullen paused and looked at her. His amber eyes practically sparkled, and his lips stretched to a lopsided smirk. The look he gave her both infuriated her and made her stomach flutter.

“No,” he admitted.

Ellana groaned and covered her face with her hand.

His mellow laughter only made her regret spending the evening at the tavern rather than with him even more. “When did you figure it out?”

“After a few too many drinks,” she said and let both of her arms hang by her sides, looking at him with a pout. “You could have been a little more clear, you know. I would have happily told the guys to enjoy the evening without me.”

“That is encouraging to hear, but you know very well I’m out of my depth,” Cullen said defensively, but still smiling gently. “I need my excuses.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ellana mumbled just as the door opened again, and Leliana and Josephine came in to start the morning’s meeting.

*

Later in the afternoon, Ellana did her usual rounds around Skyhold, and winded up at the door of Cullen’s office, as she did every day.  The doors were open, and the man was sitting at his desk, writing something. 

“Ma vhenan,” Ellana said in a low, soft tone from the door, and stepped in. 

“There you are!” Cullen looked up at her and stood up immediately.

Ellana stopped in the middle of his office, horrified that she had forgotten something. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes - I mean no,” Cullen stammered.

Ellana took the few steps remaining to the side of his desk, and looked at him in confusion. “Which is it?”

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he finally said, and looked around to see if someone else was entering the revolving door that was his office. 

Ellana also looked around, and seeing as no one else was around, she sat on the corner of his desk. 

“We have some dealings in Ferelden. I was hoping you might accompany me,” Cullen explained.

“Is something wrong? You didn’t mention this in the meeting today,” Ellana said worriedly, thinking that it must be something big if both the Commander and the Inquisitor were needed. 

“What? No! It’s nothing to concern Leliana or Josephine with. I would rather explain there, if you wish to go,” Cullen said. He seemed a bit antsy, and Ellana wondered if it was his endearing bumbling around her and their relationship, or if she should be worried. 

“When should we go?”

“Is tomorrow alright? I can arrange it on any day that suits you. We would need to leave in the morning, but we’d be back in Skyhold in the evening,” Cullen said.

Ellana squinted at him with suspicion. “Tomorrow is fine, but what is this about? Come on, tell me.” She reached for his cloak and tugged on the fabric needily. 

Cullen took her wrist and shook his head, chucking at her. “No. You’ll have to wait. I’ll make the necessary arrangements so we can leave tomorrow morning.” He placed a kiss on her knuckles, looking at her from under his brow before letting her hand go. It made Ellana melt and give up. He was learning to handle her too well, she thought. 

“Fine. Tomorrow morning then. What about tonight?” 

“What about tonight?” Cullen asked as he returned to his seat at the desk. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Ellana spelled it out for him. 

“Ah, I’m afraid I have to work late tonight so we can ride out for the entire day tomorrow,” he said apologetically.

“Oh alright then. Be like that,” Ellana said, stood up and stepped to his side to lean over and press a kiss on his temple. “Remember to eat.”

“I will,” Cullen said obediently. 

Ellana’s fingers ran through his hair at his neck as she walked past him to leave, and she looked over her shoulder at him with a cheeky smile as she walked out of the door. Cullen picked up the pen to resume work, but a warm smile played on his lips for a long time after she was gone. Nothing felt quite as good as receiving Ellana’s small shows of affection.

*

“Where are you going and why am I not coming with you?” Dorian asked sharply as he approached Inquisitor Lavellan who was pulling on her coat outside the Stables of Skyhold.

“Well good morning to you too, grumpy face,” Ellana told him in an amused voice. 

A young stable hand brought out her horse and made sure the saddle and the bags were fastened properly. 

“I am grumpy because you’re leaving me behind,” Dorian said and pouted. “Where are you going?”

“I have no idea, to be honest,” Ellana said, pulling on her gloves. “Apparently a day trip to somewhere in Ferelden. We’ll be back in the evening.”

“We? Who’s we?” Dorian asked.

Right on cue, Commander Cullen appeared from the stairs from the battlements while discussing with Captain Clark, a young but very promising officer the Inquisitor recognised. 

“I’ll take point, Commander, and Lieutenant Kern will secure the rear. You and the Inquisitor will ride in the middle until our destination, where we’ll scout and secure the area before splitting up,” the young Captain was saying.

“Very good, Captain. Let’s get going so as not to waste daylight,” Cullen said.

“Inquisitor, Master Pavus,” the Captain greeted stiffly before walking off to get his men in order.

“Good morning,” Cullen greeted Dorian and Ellana, and asked the latter, “Are you ready to go?”

Ellana felt like giving him a kiss as a greeting, but stopped herself just in time. She had come to feel quite at home with him, but realised they weren’t yet at that kind of public relationship status. “Ready for anything, Commander.”

Dorian, however, looked from one to the other. “What’s going on?”

“I’m riding out with the Inquisitor for a change,” Cullen said, sounding rather pleased with himself. A stable hand brought out his horse as well. He took the reins and patted the horse on its neck.

“I see. Are you going to take her to meet your mother?” Dorian asked, his irritable voice turning a bit amused now as he crossed his arms on his chest.

“Not quite,” Cullen said, and added to Ellana, “don’t worry.”

“Fine. Go then, you crazy kids. But treat her well! And bring her back home before dark,” Dorian adopted a fatherly voice.

Laughing, Ellana kissed Dorian on the cheek as a goodbye. 

Cullen and Ellana both got up in their saddles, and the Inquisition soldiers who were accompanying them also mounted their rides and they all rode out.

*

They spent the entire morning on horseback making good pace riding east. Ellana still had no idea where they were going and for what, but she had noticed a couple of things on the way. 

First of all Cullen seemed to be in a good mood and quite talkative. While riding side by side, they talked about the obvious: Halamshiral, since they had returned from there only a couple of days ago. But their comfortable discussions ranged all kinds of subjects, and made Ellana feel warm and happy in Cullen’s company. 

Secondly Cullen did not seem to be in charge, despite outranking all the other Inquisition soldiers quite obviously. It looked like Captain Clark was in charge. For something as standard as riding somewhere for an apparently routine operation the Commander of the Inquisition was not needed at all, so it certainly made Ellana wonder, but it was nice to see him relax and enjoy the outdoors. 

Eventually Captain Clark motioned for them to halt, and for his team to ride forward. Cullen and Ellana halted and dismounted their horses.

“Let’s wait for a moment. This is good training for the new recruits that we have with us today,” Cullen said, standing by his horse and holding its reins in his gloved hand.

“Where are we?” Ellana asked, looking around for clues.

“We’ve arrived, but the men will make sure there are no nasty surprises. Our scout reports from the area have stated that there should be no rifts here.”

Ellana’s keen eyes followed the Inquisition soldiers closely. Everyone else seemed to know exactly what was going on and what to do, but she had no clue. 

“Clear!” came the shout from somewhere they did not see. It was followed by a few others of the same kind, and soon Captain Clark rode back to meet them.

“Commander, the area is secure as expected. With your permission, ser, we’ll ride on and rendezvous later in this same spot.”

“Very good, Captain. Good luck. The Mayor of the village will be pleased to see you. Rendezvous in four hours,” Cullen told the Captain.

“Yes ser. Enjoy your afternoon, ser,” the Captain said with the first smile Ellana had seen from the young man all day, and he rode off.

The Inquisition soldiers mounted their horses and left, continuing along the same road they had arrived. Ellana turned to look at Cullen with raised eyebrows, and the man gestured to her to follow. 

They walked their horses along a path under the hanging branches of old willow trees. The trees soon gave way to a clearing that opened to a lake. There was a small shack and in front of it a fire pit. There was a shelter that held a few logs that could be made into firewood, and the lake had an old pier but no boat. 

“It’s beautiful here,” Ellana said out loud after she had taken it in. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Cullen said as he led his horse to drink from the lake. Ellana followed his example. 

They left the horses and Cullen took Ellana to the pier on the lake. 

“Where are we?” she asked again hoping to actually get an answer this time.

Cullen walked a few steps in front of her and finally stopped at the end of the pier. The lake was calm save for a few birds flying off. Water lilies floated on the surface of the lake that reflected the cumulus clouds in the sky. It was overcast, but it didn’t look like it would rain.

“I saw how heavily the Winter Palace weighed on you, and how exhausted you were when we could finally leave,” Cullen said. “You walk into danger every day. I wanted to take you away from that, if only for an afternoon.”

“Oh Cullen,” Ellana said softly, touched by his sentiment. “Up until a moment ago I thought there was some work for us to do. But you really arranged some actual time off for us.”

“I did. I hope it’s alright,” Cullen said quietly. 

“More than alright. Thank you. It really does feel good to be out in nature.”

Cullen looked pleased and his shoulders visibly relaxed. He leaned against the tall post at the end of the pier and crossed his ankles. When he spoke, he too sounded like he truly enjoyed the peaceful lake. 

“I grew up not far from here. This place was always quiet.”

“Did you come here often?”

“I loved my siblings but they were very loud,” he said, his eyes glazing over for a moment as he was taken by childhood memories. “I would come here to clear my head. Of course they always found me eventually.”

Ellana watched Cullen’s face. He looked peaceful, with a smile not on his lips but around his eyes. “You were happy here.”

“I was,” he admitted and turned to look at her. “I still am.”

Encouraged by his affectionate look, Ellana took a step closer, close enough to brush her arm against his. “While we’re here, you have me all to yourself.”

This time the smile reached his lips, too, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. “The thought may have crossed my mind.” 

He pushed himself off the post enough to wrap one arm around her lower back and give her a gentle kiss. She melted into his touch and into the kiss. When it broke they pulled away slowly, looking into each other's eyes with soft smiles. 

After a moment of enjoying the peace and quiet, and each other’s company, Cullen continued reminiscing. 

“The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training. My brother gave me this,” he said and took out a small silver coin with Andraste’s symbol minted on it. “It just happened to be in his pocket but he said it was for luck. Templars are not supposed to carry such things, our faith should see us through.”

Ellana looked at the coin on his palm, and imagined Cullen treasuring it as his only secret possession, all through his teenage years to a young man to the seasoned veteran and General of an army standing next to her now. She knew that despite leaving the Templar Order, Cullen still owned very little of his own.

“A little luck can’t hurt every now and then,” she said.

“I suppose not. I should have died during the Blight, or at Kirkwall, or Haven, take your pick. And yet I made it back here.” Cullen picked up the coin between his index finger and thumb.

“Humor me,” he said, took her hand and placed the coin into her palm. “We don’t know what you’ll face before the end. This can’t hurt.”

Ellana looked down at the coin. She felt her heart palpitate. He was giving his most treasured keepsake to her? This means a lot to him , she realised, and closed her hand around the coin. I mean a lot to him.

“I’ll keep it safe,” she said and looked up into his eyes. 

“Good,” he said in a low voice and moved to embrace her. He pulled her close to him and placed a kiss on her hairline. “I know it’s foolish but I’m glad,” he mumbled into her hair.

Ellana made sure to carefully put the coin into a pocket and then reached her hands up over the fur mantle up to his neck. She nuzzled her nose against his hard jawline, then his stubbled cheek. Their lips met for a slow kiss before they continued nuzzling their noses together, and finally Ellana buried her face against the side of his neck in a close embrace.

They had gotten to know each other slowly, and they had been through a lot already, but they had not been more intimate together than this. But she knew that this was her man. Her partner. Her loved one. For the rest of her days - be it ten days or a hundred years. With unspoken love aching her heart, she inhaled his scent and enjoyed his proximity.

Once Cullen and Ellana returned to shore from the pier, Cullen proceeded to remove his fur mantle and the coat that covered his steel cuirass.

“Now? Are we going to go for it now?” Ellana said with a grin and mimed urgently opening the clasps of her coat.

“No, Andraste’s mercy, no,” Cullen said with a reddening face, throwing his hands up. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to, it’s just that I was only going to…”

“It’s fine, I’m just teasing you! You’re an easy target, sometimes, I’m sorry,” Ellana said laughing, leaving her coat on.

“I’m sorry, I really… I would, but… not what I had in mind right now,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 

Ellana came to him and touched his arms gently. “What did you have in mind?”

“I was going to take my armour off, yes, because I’d like to chop some firewood,” he explained. “I happen to enjoy chopping firewood, but it’s not very comfortable with full armour on.”

“I understand. Can I help you?” Ellana offered, and turned his hand around in hers, searching for the clasps for his gauntlets and pauldrons. 

Cullen smiled at her softly with relief washing over him as she was once again so patient with him. “You can, if you like. You don’t wear heavy armour yourself and I suppose your people don't use anything as clunky as this?”

“No. It’s noisy and it slows us down. I can’t understand how you can move so naturally wearing this, it must weigh dozens of pounds,” she said and managed to get both of his gauntlets off.

“I’ve been wearing heavier armour than this for almost fifteen years. The pauldrons are attached here,” Cullen pointed to the correct place, and let the curious woman find out for herself. He enjoyed having her so close, watching her beautiful features bunch up in concentration. 

Cullen felt a sting of conscience. They had been in a relationship for a long time now, but they still hadn’t slept together, despite the obvious attraction. Ellana hadn’t shown signs of being frustrated, but that’s the way she was. Understanding, patient, kind. And now she had been joking about it… This would be an opportune time for them to enjoy each other. They had the afternoon to themselves and it was very unlikely they would be interrupted. 

He wanted her. He yearned for her. He had for weeks -  for months, if he was honest. But somehow he couldn’t make himself go to her room in the evenings in Skyhold. Somehow he couldn’t ask her to come to his. He was afraid. He had never been in a relationship before, and now that he finally could have one, he was too afraid to make it happen. He came to realise, with Ellana only inches away from him, her fingers working on his body taking off the pauldrons one at a time, that he was afraid to love her because he was afraid to lose her. He had been hurting for so long. Now he had something beautiful in his life - something that eased the pain, and made him look forward to the future. The pain he would feel if he lost her would finally kill him, one way or another. He was certain. 

“Joking aside,” Ellana said as she placed the pauldrons down to the ground and straightened up to continue with his cuirass. “If you don’t mind me asking… Let me, shoo,” she swatted Cullen’s hands away and found the next buckles by his sides and underneath his armpits. 

“About why I am so slow with you?” Cullen voiced the thoughts in both of their minds with a weary sigh, and spread his arms to his sides to give her room to work. Better to face the question together, he decided.

“Well, um, yes. I don’t mind, but I thought if there was something I should know…” Ellana looked up at him after she had undone his left side. 

“No, not really. Nothing to worry about,” Cullen soothed her fears away, and gently stroked the tops of her arms with his hands. “I’m just a slow, broken man. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, Cullen,” she said and moved to work on the right side of the cuirass. “It just occurred to me that there might be a religious reason, but you did say you haven’t taken any vows like that. Or if you haven’t, you know… before…”

“Maker’s breath, I’m not inexperienced,” Cullen said quickly, desperate not to have her think him a virgin of all things. “But I can see why you would think that. I am inexperienced in relationships, I’ll admit that much. I’ve never been in a relationship with anyone.”

“Not until now,” Ellana grinned up at him, and Cullen felt a wave of warmth wash over him. It left him smiling at her, and was happy to receive a quick kiss on the lips when she got the buckles of his cuirass open. “Is that it? Does this go over your head?”

“Yes, watch out,” Cullen said, grabbed the front of the cuirass, and lifted it over his head. Underneath he wore a black jerkin, which he also took off, leaving him wearing his boots, black trousers and a white loose undershirt. He set everything aside in a neat pile.

“So how does that work? Being a Templar you can’t really have a relationship but sharing bunks still happens?” Ellana asked with honest curiosity. 

She looked him over - she still hadn’t seen him without his uniform and armour very often. He was a handsome sight - broad shouldered, trim waisted, his arms thick with muscle. His shirt was tucked into his trousers, so it gave her a great view of his powerful legs, his delightful behind and also his… front. Which was also a delightful thought to Ellana, especially given the subject they were discussing.

“Something like that,” Cullen said. “Relations between mages and Templars are prohibited. A Templar's actions can’t be clouded by personal feelings if the worst happens. Fraternising within the Order is frowned upon, so whatever happens, happens in secret. In, um, training camps in the woods. Or relieving watch duties in more ways than one,” he listed, and Ellana saw his neck turn a dark shade of pink. “Or there might be, um, opportunities with outsiders. Brothels or simply personal encounters. Some people seem to really like a uniform,” he added. By the way he was flustering and avoiding her eyes, Ellana realised he was likely listing his own experiences.

“It didn’t happen a lot, but it did happen,” Cullen shrugged. 

“I think I understand,” Ellana said softly, and thought it might be fair to hint at her own experience. “It all sounds a lot more complicated than frolicking out in the woods. I never, um, sampled among my own clan, so to speak. The boys in my clan felt like brothers to me. But I’ve had my opportunities outside my clan.” 

Cullen nodded slowly, but did not dare to ask for more details. It was enough for him to know that she, too, had experience but he couldn’t bring himself to think of her with anyone else.

Ellana thought Cullen had been uncomfortable long enough. “I’m sorry. Perhaps not the best subject of discussion for today.”

“No, I’m glad you brought this up,” Cullen said quickly. “I can’t imagine what strange signals I’ve been giving you.”

“At least the signals have all been confirming that this is a thing. Us. We’re a thing,” Ellana said, pointing at the two of them.

“Very much a thing,” he agreed, but then he took a breath and changed the subject. “It’s time for me to confess something.”

Ellana froze in place - what had she missed? “Oh? Is something wrong?”

“No, not exactly. I thought I’d chop firewood and build a fire so we can have lunch together. But I have to confess - I can’t cook to save my life.”

Ellana stared at the man for a heart beat before she suddenly burst into laughter. She placed a hand on Cullen’s chest as she leaned forward laughing. “Cullen! I thought you were continuing with the same subject!”

Cullen chuckled, took her hand and placed his other hand on her hip, almost like a dancing position. “What did you think I was going to confess? That I’m a eunuch now?”

“No! I don’t know!” Ellana laughed, feeling comfortable and happy being held by him. The discussion had cleared the air and eased her mind. 

“I assure you, my lady, I’m very much not a eunuch,” he said in a low, rumbling voice and kissed the ear of the giggling woman in her arms.

Ellana, trying to squirm away from the tickling kisses, suddenly realised this was the first time she felt him without his armour on - and the man was pressing against her purposefully to make his point. Creators , his body felt incredible - warm like a steel cuirass could never be, hard with muscle, his shape unfamiliar to her after all those times spent sharing kisses with him always wearing the blasted armour. Ellana’s giggles quickly turned into a muffled low moan against the side of his neck as she ran her hands up his sides and then down his back, feeling his broad shape that narrowed from his shoulders to his waist. He pressed against her, his arms surrounding her like they never had before. Now only warm flesh and muscle and cloth, no steel or leather or fur between them. She felt his body flush against hers, and she felt his groin against her hip. No eunuch indeed. If Ellana had wanted him before, now her insides burned with desire for him.

Cullen breathed in her scent, feeling her silky hair against his cheek as he held her as close as he could. Closer than he ever had. He had been dreaming of feeling the feminine shape of her body against his for a long time now. He knew the curve of her waist from earlier embraces, but the sudden intimacy of only being separated by a couple of layers of cloth was overwhelming. His breath hitched in his throat and his heart pounded in his chest desperately, and he wrapped his arms around her tighter, like he never wanted to let her go. She was so warm, and so soft. Her hands exploring his body felt incredible. 

Cullen couldn’t help but search for her lips and cover her mouth in a ravenous kiss that had her let out yet another muffled moan. He felt her melt in his arms, he felt her push herself against himself. She wanted him. And Maker, he wanted her. It would be so easy to just take his shirt off, lay her on the grass beyond the firepit, kiss every inch of her skin as he stripped her one piece of clothing at a time, and make love to her right here.

He certainly made the point of his joke of not being a eunuch. When he finally caught himself, he was already fully erect in his trousers, and she had certainly felt it against her hip.

“What I was going to say was…” Cullen broke the kiss and panted against her lips. 

“Are you going to talk about cooking now?” Ellana groaned. Quickly she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck and made him duck down for more heated kissing. Her tongue swiped at his lips and slid against his tongue as she kept her body pressed against his.

Cullen was inches from losing control. His hands came down to grab her ass, and Maker, what a fine ass it was, he thought. He lifted her up in the air to carry her without breaking the kiss. He immediately regretted the move, because Ellana promptly, and very naturally, wrapped her legs around his thighs. He almost growled into the kiss, trying to resist her temptation. Blindly he walked forward slowly carrying her, their bodies wrapped around each other, until he reached the side of the firepit. Cullen carefully leaned forward and set the woman sitting on the fallen log next to the firepit. 

“There,” Cullen said as the hungry kiss finally broke. Both of them were breathing hard and their lips were pink and swollen from the suckling kisses. He took a step back before he could change his mind, leaving Ellana sitting there with a stupefied look on her face. 

“I’m going to make firewood,” he said, catching his breath. “And you, beautiful, are going to find out what the Skyhold kitchens have packed us for lunch. Because as I said, I can’t cook to save my life.”

“Creators, you have the discipline of an entire army of Templars,” Ellana sighed as he turned to walk away to pick up an axe. She saw - and had felt - the bulge in his trousers as he turned away. 

Ellana sat where Cullen had left her, following the man with her eyes. He was so handsome. No, Ellana thought, not only handsome. He was hot as embers. The black leather boots and the black trousers were a snug fit, and watching him go did nothing ease the desire in Ellana’s stomach. 

“So, food,” Ellana’s brain fogged with lust finally caught up.

With the axe Cullen walked back across the lakeside, smiling and shaking his head at Ellana.

“I believe the saddlebags on your horse should be packed with our lunch,” Cullen said helpfully. He struck the axe into a piece of wood and began carrying sawed off pieces of tree trunks to be chopped into kindling and firewood.

Ellana watched him work for a short while. Cullen was impressive and very strong, and his thick biceps hard at work showed through the loose sleeves of the shirt. Finally Ellana felt like her legs could carry her, and she stood to search the saddlebags. 

*

Cullen judged the time and decided to add one more log to the fire. They still had some time left before they needed to head back. Ellana sat next to him near the fire on the picnic rug she had found in one of the saddlebags. She was packing away the leftovers from their lunch - and it was no wonder. The Skyhold kitchens had packed enough food for at least four people, and the two of them were stuffed. 

Cullen watched her work, much the same way he had watched her take off his armour. With loving eyes, drinking in the sight of her when she was concentrating on something else. Ellana was humming some tune he was unfamiliar with. The Inquisitor had developed a crease between her eyebrows, but now it was gone. The woman next to him looked relaxed and content, humming away as she wrapped the rest of the cheese and the Orlesian levain bread into brown paper. The domestic normality of what they were doing warmed Cullen’s heart, and made him very happy that he had managed to pull this off.

“You’re staring at me,” Ellana said, and only then lifted her eyes to look at him.

“I can’t help it,” Cullen said unapologetically, and leaned back against the tree trunk that served as seating around the firepit. “You look lovely.”

“I thought I had cheese on my face. The Orlesian one was runny, and too strong,” Ellana said, scrunching her nose. Cullen thought it made her look even cuter.

“I agree. The Fereldan smoked ham, however,” he said and closed his eyes, touching his thumb and fingers together in a gesture of appreciation. 

“I knew this wasn’t just for me,” Ellana laughed, “this was also about my grumpy Fereldan Commander escaping the Orlesian court.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Cullen complained, grumpily.

“Uhhuh. Not grumpy at all, vhenan,” Ellana smirked at him. “Now excuse me a moment.”

Cullen watched her get up, then swatted her hand away as she ruffled his hair - but his hair had come undone anyway when he had been chopping firewood - and watched her walk away to the woods. 

While she was relieving herself, Cullen lounged by the fire with his fingers crossed on his stomach, his back against the log and his legs long towards the fire. He was warm, and content, and happy. His thoughts were racing forward, thinking of how they would arrive back to Skyhold late in the evening. Perhaps he would help Ellana dismount from her horse. Perhaps he would keep holding her hand and walk her to his office, lock the doors and embrace her like he had embraced her earlier today. Only this time he wouldn’t break it off. This time he would ask her to stay the night.

He was startled from his thoughts by shapely thighs suddenly surrounding his head as Ellana sat on the log behind him.

“Where did you come from?!” he demanded, leaning forward and looking at her over his shoulder.

“I’m… sorry? Did I scare you?” Ellana asked, stifling a laughter.

“You did. I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t make a sound moving in nature,” Cullen breathed with his hand on his chest. 

“It’s second nature. I don’t want to startle the wildlife or attract the attention of shemlen. Except you,” Ellana said, and touched his shoulders with her hands. “You I do want to attract.”

Ellana pulled him back to lean against the log, to sit between her legs. 

“Like a moth to a fire,” Cullen sighed and settled back to a comfortable seat. 

“Or a bee to a flower. A much less sinister metaphor,” Ellana suggested, and began to knead his shoulders with her palms.

“No, you don’t need to, hmmmm,” Cullen tried to tell her she didn’t need to feel like she needed to do him a favour, but his words melted away. 

“How come I’m not surprised your shoulders are tight as bow strings,” Ellana said in a low voice.

Cullen couldn’t reply, his eyes had already drooped shut as Ellana used her palms to warm the tense muscles of his shoulders and neck. She pulled a little on the neckline of his shirt to reveal more skin. She noticed that there was a nasty looking but healed slash scar on his right collarbone and magical burn scarring on his left shoulder. She had a feeling he had many other scars hidden underneath his clothes. Someday soon she would kiss his scars, she decided. Every one of them.

Cullen didn’t remember that anyone would have ever rubbed his shoulders before, at least not like this. Ellana first warmed his muscles and skin enough to loosen his tendons a little, and now seemed to change tactics. She began using a bit more force. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed between his teeth.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he heard Ellana’s voice, but he shook his head wordlessly and let her continue.

Cullen felt like he melted under her hands, and his head lolled forward, drooping down. Her hands were surprisingly powerful and firm and warm, and she seemed to know exactly what she was doing. Cullen realised he must have lost sense of time, and he caught himself groaning as her hands felt particularly good on the sides of his neck. 

“Maker,” he breathed. “Where have you learned this?”

He felt Ellana lean closer to him, and press a kiss into his hair. “My mother. She’s been helping the clan’s midwife and healer, and is pretty good with things like this. Does it feel good?”

“It feels incredible,” Cullen mumbled, quite unable to open his eyes yet. 

But he didn’t need to. Ellana’s fingers moved from his shoulders to his neck and then to his scalp. She ran her fingers through his hair, stroking the unruly waves gently. She then placed her fingertips more firmly against his scalp and began to massage his head, slowly and deliberately.

Cullen’s body had relaxed with the neck rub, and his heart had melted with her stroking his hair. How stupidly good something as simple as that felt. He had been alone for a long, long time. 

But this, her rubbing his scalp? This was almost orgasmic. He let himself lean against her, his head against her chest, his arm slung around her leg. He had never experienced intimacy like this. It was an overwhelming feeling to be able to let his guard down and relax. He felt safe, and he felt cared for. He felt… loved? He wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but his own heart certainly was full of affection and, Maker help him, love for the woman taking such good care of him. This kind of closeness and intimacy was better than sex. Then again, he had never made love to her. Not yet. Perhaps that would be better than this. It remained to be seen.

After a while, Ellana’s fingers slowed and eased to stroking his hair again. Cullen kept his eyes closed and head leaned back against her chest. He felt her soft kisses all over his face, and he murmured something unintelligible. 

“Hmm?” Ellana’s question was a soft sound he felt against his brow from her lips. 

“Come here,” he mumbled, and reached back to pull her down. 

Laughing a little, Ellana let him pull her off the log she was sitting on, and into his lap so that she sat sideways between his thighs, her legs to one side. Cullen didn’t wait at all, but covered her mouth with a languid kiss as soft as his whole body felt like. 

“Ellana,” he sighed against her lips, still with his eyes closed. “You are one of a kind.”

She leaned back enough to look at his face, and cradled his chiselled jaw in her hands. “Ella,” she said softly. “My family calls me Ella. You can call me Ella, too.”

Cullen’s heart filled with warmth as he looked at her beautiful blue eyes. She made him feel included, like he suddenly belonged to something. Something else than work and duty. Now he was part of a small club, mostly consisting of her family, with the exclusive privilege of her nickname. Cullen pulled her back closer to him and pressed his stubbled face against her cheek. 

“Ella,” he repeated, trying out the shorter name. It felt good.

*

All too soon the lovers had to untangle from each other, put out the fire, put on Cullen’s heavy armour again and pack away their things to the saddlebags. They met with the Inquisition soldiers and Captain Clark, who told them that their routine mission had gone well and the Inquisition had another foothold in Ferelden. 

They arrived back to Skyhold at dusk, and Cullen, with his heart full, did exactly as he had planned. He dismounted from his horse first, strode to the Inquisitor’s horse and helped her down. 

As the stablehands took their horses and the Inquisition soldiers went through their routines around them, Cullen held Ellana’s gaze and her hand. “Walk with me?”

Ellana, who was molten wax in his hands, smiled and nodded. 

Cullen tucked her hand around his arm and walked with her towards the stairs that lead up to the battlements. They talked together in low voices about sweet nothings as they strolled towards his office, just as he had planned. 

As they neared his tower, a messenger and an Inquisition Lieutenant ran up to him from his office - and Cullen knew immediately his chance was gone. He let go of Ellana’s hand as they halted to a stand in the battlements.

“Commander! You’re back!” the Lieutenant blurted.

“There has been an incident in the Western Approach!” the messenger said urgently and handed him a missive. 

“And there has been a confrontation between some mages and a Templar in the barracks,” the Lieutenant added. 

Cullen turned to Ellana. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“I know. Go,” Ellana said softly, and touched his arm affectionately. “Thank you for the day, Cullen.”

The man stood there looking at her for a few heartbeats, until he clenched his jaw and bowed his head to her. “Inquisitor.”

Then he walked away to his duty, opening the missive in his hands as he did, with the soldier and messenger at his heel.

Ellana remained standing at the battlements for a while, until she turned and walked back to her own tower alone.

[chrisbesitos]

chris accidentally reveals that they're expecting a baby on a twitch live.

"Dude, I'm exhausted." Chris murmured grumpy. He and his brothers were in a Twitch live, even though it's only nine, he's already feeling tired.

"Then say goodnight everyone and go to sleep." Nick said scrolling on his phone.

"I wish, but Y/N is not home yet and I can't sleep without rubbing her pretty belly." Chris said without thinking, he forgot they were in a live and the viewers didn't know about Y/N's pregnancy.

"Chris!" Matt said hitting the back of Chris' head. Then he realized what he said, Chris immediately widened his eyes and his tiredness seems like disappear suddenly.

"Shit, I mean... I mean that I can't sleep without her, because... 'case she's my girlfriend and I love sleep cuddling her." He got lost in his words, Nick was hiding his face with his hands while he laughed about his brother's stupidity.

"Yeah, yeah. Move on." Matt said changing the subject, even though the viewers were asking in the comments section about this.

Eventually, they ended the Twitch live and Chris knew that he was fucked. Y/N would be mad at him for telling in live they're expecting, even though it's was an accident. Later she got home from work and she seems really, really mad.

"Oh man, you're dead." Matt said while he laughed and left for his room, Nick was already on his.

"Baby, you're home!" Chris said trying to change her mood, but she just looked at him with an angry look. Her eyes were so pretty, even when they seemed to catch fire. "I swear I didn't mean, I'm sorry, baby."

"I can't believe you did that, Chris!" Y/N said, she left her purse on the kitchen table and crossed her arms while Chris trie do hug her.

"Maybe they don't catch."

"Chris, they are already asking on my dm and on my comment section if I'm pregnant. Of course they catch." Y/N now seems more upset then angry, she sighed and pull the chair to seat. Chris started to massage his girlfriend's shoulders, knowing that she was needing that now.

"I'm really sorry, you know I didn't want to get you upset." Chris gave her a kiss on the forehead, slowly moving his hands from her shoulders to her belly. "I just love spending the night with my girls and it's really true that I can't sleep without rubbing your belly."

"I know, I just wasn't ready for a soft launch." Y/N relaxed a bit, letting her body being hugged by her boyfriend warm arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to overreact."

"No, no! It's my fault, not yours." Chris said. "I'm gonna run you a bath, seems good? Do you want me to order something for you? I'll do whatever you want."

Y/N just murmured softly, Chris always know how to make her feel better. And she knows he'll be a great father for their baby, even when he talks without thinking, he is still the best.

Lately that night, Chris posted a picture in his Instagram story, now with her consent. His head laying in her beautiful belly and her hand slowly massaging Chris' hair.

join my taglist!

[avocado-writing]

Not sure if this is enough to go off of but I loved the poly!poolverine fic where they rescued the reader. I was wondering if we could get some more of them being protective of the reader 🙏🏻

The bar is pretty crowded tonight. You nurse a rum and coke and hope Logan and Wade are able to find you in the corner booth you managed to snag, because you know the second you go to order another some opportunistic patrons will take your spot - and you’ve been on your feet all day at work so there’s no way in hell you’ll let that happen.

You take a sip. It’s warm now, ice long since melted in the heat of the room. You grimace at the taste as someone slides onto the bench next to you. 

It is not one of your boys. 

“Hey, baby.”

He’s big. Kinda guy who goes to the gym every day big, which isn’t inherently bad - but from the way he uses his size to press up against you there’s a little bit of unease rising in your chest. He puts his elbow on the table so that he can rest his jaw in his hand, biceps flexing in the tight shirt he wears. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” you say, as calmly as you can, hoping this will deter him. It does not. 

“So? We can have a little talk, can’t we? Not hurting anybody.”

His hand goes to cover yours where it rests on the table. You snatch it back. He frowns. 

“Dunno who you’re waiting for, but they probably shouldn’t have left you here alone. Looks like they don’t care about you, honey.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, annoyed, deciding it’s not worth it. He won’t go so you will. You slide out the free side of the booth - but you’re forced to stop when he grabs your wrist. 

“I wasn’t done talking to you yet,” he says. Okay. Now you’re panicking. You manage to shake yourself free of his grasp and quickly push through the throng of people, hoping to lose him in the crowd. No such luck. He knows where you’re heading. 

The air is cold on the street as you speed up; not running, never running, that might incite a chase. He’s on your heels anyway. 

“Hey, are you just gonna keep ignoring me?”

“I told you I’m not interested!”

He grabs you again, harder this time. A grip you can’t break free from. 

“You know, you should learn not to be such a bitch —”

“Oh! Isn’t this fun! Sorry to interrupt this little show of misogyny in action but it’d be great if you could let go of our pookie.”

You’ve never been more relieved to hear Wade’s voice. Suddenly you’ve got someone either side of you: the brick which is Logan on your left, and the snark which is Wade on your right. 

The guy who’s holding you does not drop your arm. He frowns. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“They’re who I was waiting for,” you say quickly, as if this will deter him. The man laughs, loudly, cruelly.

“Sorry, you’re in some kinda threesome with this old fucker and whatever this dude is? Fuck, honey, you really need someone to show you what a real man—”

He does not get a chance to finish. Logan’s fist has collided with his face with such ferocity you can hear his nose break. The man yelps and staggers backwards, you bring your hand to your chest for safety. 

“Should’ve let go, bub,” he mutters, massaging his knuckles. Wade deflates. 

“Aw, I wanted to get the first hit in!” He peers over at where the guy is laid out flat. “Go on, get back up. If I don’t throw a punch it emasculates me, and I’m very sensitive about it.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his sleeve. 

“Let’s just go, guys. I don’t think he’s gonna follow us.”

“One sec.”

Wade strolls over and puts his boot on the guy’s chest, pushing down until he’s wheezing.

“You wanna apologise?”

The guy groans out a sorry, and you give a curt nod when Wade turns to see if you’ve accepted it.

“Don’t do this bullshit again, with anyone, or I’m gonna find you, rip your dick off, then feed it to my adorable, hideous dog.”

They cage in around you as your turn, two loyal hounds at your beck and call. You throw a couple of glances over your shoulder as you leave but it’s as you suspected: the guy remains on the cold concrete. When you’re far enough away to feel safe they slow to a stop. 

“You okay?” Logan asks, lifting your chin with a finger so that he can get a good look at you. You nod. 

“Yeah. Thanks for being there in time.”

“I’m sorry baby, we should have got here earlier, but peanut here tore a guy’s arm off so we had to go and clean up first—”

“Oh god, stop,” you say, pulling a face. You don’t want to know about their line of work, very happy for the business and personal life gulf to be a wide one. “Let’s go get some pizza and head home.”

“Anything you want,” says Logan, squeezing your hand. 

Anything where you’re between them is what you want. Safe and happy, they’ll make sure you’re both. 

[quarterlifekitty]

I love your weaknesses posts🥹✨do you have any thoughts about the guys and massages (full body, shoulders, hands, etc)? could be receiving or giving them

I personally feel like Kyle would be so into them in general, meanwhile Johnny would try to be handsy or silly with them

Machveil I hope you know that I would blow up a fucking building for you if only you would ask me to

Weaknesses part 7: massages

I think Gaz is super into anything relaxing, aromatic, therapeutic. Loves candles, baths with special scented soaps and salts, massages. Anything that inspires slow, tantric intimacy. And also I think he is the king of treating himself and self care. Generally he’s more into giving, but he likes to trade massages too. He always sets the scene for you, lighting the aforementioned candles, putting on music, dimming the lights. And he’s really good at giving them. Because of course he is.

Soap is the fucking naughty masseuse and we all know it ok. He basically gives massages the way they do in porn where it’s just an extended pretense to sex where he can feel you up. Like he does try to give you a real massage for all of 3 minutes (if I’m being generous) before it’s basically just spanking you and reaching between your thighs. And if you decide to return the favor? He’s not going to shut up about getting a happy ending. Not for the entire time.

Ghost isn’t all the comfortable giving massages because he can see the blood on his hands at the edges of his vision all the time, like a cataract born of sin and violence unbridled n stuff. But he loves receiving them! You know he’s tense as fuck back there man. Doesn’t know how to relax himself, needs someone to force him to relax. You sitting straddled on him while you rub his back does it for him.

Price likes both. Plays a little into the housewife kink. Likes you to rub his shoulders after a long day, kneading into him and just trying to help him unwind like a good, sweet, considerate girl. And in return, this man is rubbing your feet and I’m not gonna apologize for saying it. Especially if you’re pregnant. Then it’s happening like every fuckin day.

While Gaz gives very sensual massages, König is gonna give you a massage that hurts like hell but fixes your entire life. Massages are one of the few things I think he’ll actually indulge in and pay for from a professional. Dude has a lot of muscles that go through a lot of grief. I think his height and his age also make him a little more prone to aches and pains. That said, he will love whatever kind of massage you give him, but it’s more of the thought that counts, cause you’re not hardcore enough to break his back the way he usually gets it done. He will literally lay down and let you walk on him.

Nikolai also loves a massage as an act of service. Just shows you’re thinking about him and his comfort, which he finds to be very sweet. He’s partial to a hand massage— he does a lot of work that strains his grip and fine motor muscles, so it feels good to take off the gloves and have you press between his knuckles and knead the meat of his palms. The massages he gives are a bit between therapeutic and foreplay. He uses the opportunity to edge you, is what I’m saying.

[wonderjanga]

I Want My Money.

Billy likes money, he’s said this before, but nearly all the time, money is tight. So, it’s rare when he’ll lend someone a buck or two, and when he lends them a buck, he expects that buck paid back in full.

Marvel: “Ah, Flash! You haven’t paid me back yet. I kinda need my money.” *all kind and nice*

Flash: “Huh? Oh yeah. Don’t worry, man. I got ya.”

Later…

Marvel: *a little more impatiently* “Flash? My twenty? You uh still haven’t gotten it for me.”

Flash: “Yeah dude. I’ll get it to you.”

Even more later…

Marvel: *annoyed* “Flash.” *speaking through grit teeth* “Flash get me my twenty dollars. Now.” *hands on Flash’s shoulders*

Flash: *kinda scared cause he hasn’t seen Marvel ever really show anger* “Dude, I said I’d get it for you.”

Marvel: “Yeah, now. Get it for me now. Please.”

Flash: “I- uh- I’ll be right back.” *zooms off and comes back with a twenty* “Here, man.”

Marvel: *super smiley and normal again* “Thanks, Flash.” *takes the money and walks off like nothing happened*

Flash: “No problem…” *whiplashed at the sudden change*

Wally had like no idea what to make of this interaction. The man was so generous. He didn’t think he’d be this pressed about twenty dollars. Like for example, they found space rock that could’ve been sold for millions apparently and he just gave it all to Wally like it was nothing. (Billy had no idea where to sell it. Bros never heard of eBay, not that he has an electronic device to use it on) But twenty dollars? Wow. Wally didn’t know if Marvel needed his priorities straight or what. All the speedster knew was that he was never gonna cross Marvel about money again. It’s honestly his bad anyways.

Then there was the one time Adam owed him five dollars. Don’t ask him why he lent him the money. Billy now recognizes it was a moment of weakness.

Black Adam and Marvel: *fighting*

Marvel: *stops fighting* “Dude, are you going to pay me back my money?”

Black Adam: *also stops fighting* “What are you talking about? What money?”

Marvel: “My money? Y’know, the five dollars I lent you?”

Black Adam: “Five dollars- I’m not paying you back for that!”

Marvel: “That’s common courtesy, man!”

Black Adam: “I don’t care! I’d rather die than repay you for anything!”

Black Adam didn’t really expect for this to backfire on him. As a result of not paying back a measly five dollars, Adam was met with Marvel appearing in his palace at the ass crack of dawn, demanding his money.

Black Adam: *honestly a little surprised Marvel came to Kahndaq because he’s never really came to the country before* “You do realize you’re breaching my country’s national security-”

Marvel: “I DON’T CARE. Teth, give me my money.”

Black Adam: “You’re willing to risk my country dissolving into war with your country over five dollars?”

Marvel: “Yes? Money. Now.” *makes grabby hands*

Black Adam: “Bumbling idiot…” *massages temples* “I’m not paying you back! How difficult is it to get that through your thick skull?!”

Billy did not like that answer. So now, the Justice League and everyone who had the pleasure of being online the day after this incident were met with a video of Marvel beating on Adam harsher than they, or anyone else for that matter had even seen before.

Marvel: “JUST GIVE ME MY MONEY!”

Black Adam: “NO!”

In the end, Billy still didn’t get his money. And this actually wasn’t because Adam didn’t want to pay, but rather Adam’s country doesn’t use American dollars so he went there, beat up their leader, and basically did it all for nothing. Honestly looking back at it, Billy didn’t really know what he was expecting. Neither his nor Adam suits have pockets, so he kind of doubts that he had a wallet to hold money in the first place. He was honestly just glad Adam, for whatever reason, didn’t follow through on his promise to go to war with America.

So yeah… in conclusion, Billy Batson can, and will crash out over five dollars.

[babyleostuff]

── OLYMPICS MASTERLIST

[🛹] DISCIPLINE: SKATEBOARDING

GENRE: fluff, strangers to lovers(ish), introverted reader, vernon being the greenest flag of them all PAIRING: skateboarder!vernon x athlete!fem reader WARNINGS: explicit language and a couple of sexist comments WORD COUNT: 3.1 k

“not the anti-sex beds again,” katie groaned, like it was the end of the world.   

rolling your eyes, you threw your duffle bags on the bed next to the window. though, as dramatic as she could get sometimes, and as much as you couldn’t wait for the games to begin - you were not looking towards sleeping on the cardboard monstrosities. the amount of massages you had to get four years ago because of them was not something you’d like to go through again.

“it’s not like you’re going to have sex anyway,” sam nudged katie with her shoulder and threw her own stuff on the bed next to yours.

“i’m not talking about myself, stupid,” katie said. “our friend over here,” she put her arms around you and squeezed your shoulders, “needs to get laid. she almost managed to bang that rugby dude the last time, and i can feel it in my bones,” she took a deep breath, ”she’s going to succeed this year.” 

you tried shoving her away, as sam erupted in a loud laugh. 

“hah hah, very funny,” you mumbled, and flicked katie’s forehead. “i’m here to win medals, not to find a hookup.”  

“mhm, sure,” sam said. “we’ll see about that.”

the next morning you stood up with the first rays of sunshine, a lot earlier than most people in the village, with a plan to make the most of your only day off before the eliminations. it’d get crowded quickly, so you figured it’d be nice to soak in the surroundings without hundreds of people bumping into each other. you didn’t bother to wake the girls up - you were eternally grateful you could share this amazing adventure with them, but you needed some time alone. 

besides, there was a 99% probability that sam would skin you alive if you tried cutting her beauty sleep short. 

before leaving the building, you managed, to your delight, to find the gym and the swimming pool, which surely would become really handy in a couple of days. then, you found a small farmacy a couple of blocks away, and a post office where you took a couple of pictures in a photobooth and wrote short letters to your friends at home, before throwing them into the mailbox. 

though the streets were starting to get busier and busier, because well - the athletes, their trainers, the volunteers, staff - everyone wanted to see what this year’s host had to offer, it was still pleasantly peaceful, and you could enjoy your time alone to the fullest. and apart from the cardboard beds, the village was so nice. the purple colours especially. 

just as you turned around the corner of south korea’s apartment complex, you felt and heard your tummy rumble, and thatwas your cue to find the dining hall. fortunately, it didn’t take you long. apart from the big ass signs with “dining hall”written all over them, most people that you passed were walking in one direction, which could only mean one thing.

after a short while, you entered the big room, all purple and pretty, already filled with hundreds of athletes and staff. 

scanning around the huge hall, you tried looking for someone, anyone you knew, but to no avail. most of the tables were already taken, but somehow, to your misfortune, none of them were taken by anyone from your country. you sighed and twisted the pendant hanging around your neck, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you’d be forced to sit at a table with people you did not know. 

there went your peaceful morning. 

without wasting more time, and before you’d completely spiral over the lack of familiar faces, you picked up a plate and cutlery and made your way to the queue for food, standing behind two chinese athletes. 

the line moved slowly, but you didn’t mind. as much as you weren’t particularly overjoyed with the loud noise and chaos, it was nice to do some people-watching. the different races, heights and widths, cultures, languages - all within one building - that had to be one of your favourite things about olympics. 

“isn’t that the chick kyle fucked last time?” suddenly a male voice pulled you out of your thoughts, as if your brain knew that the comment was direct to you. drowning out the noise around you, you tried your best to focus on the people behind you. 

“he didn’t fuck her, she ran away the second he touched her tits,” another guy said. “fucking prude,” he snickered. 

you felt your cheeks heat up - in embarrassment because you were right there, and they knew you could hear them, but also in anger because what they were saying was just not true. 

“i told him to go for the track runner, she had a better ass anyways,” the first guy said, as the other laughed. 

comments like these were nothing new. men like these were nothing new, but it didn’t make the ache in your chest any less painful. worst part was that you’d let them, you wouldn’t stop them - you couldn’t. anytime you tried standing up for yourself you felt at loss for words, your throat closed up, and your mind went blank. 

“excuse me, guys,” a new voice joined in. “the last time i checked this was the olympics, not who has a better ass competition.” 

you didn’t have the nerve to turn around to see who that new voice belonged to. you just clenched and unclenched your fists, trying to control your breathing. 

“also if i may suggest one thing-,” 

“you may not-,” 

“you may want to check out your own ass… or the lack of it,” you could hear the smile in his voice. 

the two guys grumbled something and left the line, but not before one of them bumped into you with too much force for it to be just an accident. muttering a curse under your breath, you massaged your slightly sore arm and prayed to whatever force for the two fuckers not to pass their eliminations. 

“are you okay?” you could feel the guy's breath on your neck. 

fuck, now you had no other choice but to acknowledge what had just happened. if it was up to you, you’d happily skip breakfast and run back to your room. who would’ve thought that the cardboard bed would be the equivalent of a safe haven. 

“uh,” you took a shaky inhale, “i’m okay.” 

“just turn around, smile politely, thank for the help, and move on,” you thought. but as you did that, your eyes went wide, and your breath hitched in your throat. 

you found a set of hazel brown eyes looking at you with curiosity and a tad of softness as if asking a silent question if you were really okay, a kind smile that managed to calm your pounding heart on its own, and cheeks dusted in a light shade of pink as if he had just finished his morning run. the guy couldn’t be much older than you and was the perfect height. you didn’t have to tilt your head in an uncomfortable way to look him in the eye, and he didn’t have to look down at you as if you were a dwarf. 

his dark brown hair was hidden under a beanie, and despite the oversized shirt and shorts, you could make out his lean build, which made him stand out from the other bulky men around. you quickly figured he was part of the us team by his outfit, but you couldn’t rack your brains around what type of sport he could be doing. 

he looked so… laid back compared to everyone around.  

“are you sure?” he asked, his gaze still attentive to you and you only. 

you nodded your head. “sorry you had to listen to that,” you said. 

“i’m sorry you had to listen to that,” the guy muttered. “you know those dudes are total douchebags, right?” annoyance flashed across his face for a second, “people like them shouldn’t even be here and-,”

“it’s okay, really,” you said with a stern voice, cutting him short. grateful - that’s what you were - and it was really nice of him to stand up for you, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that he saw you as nothing more than a weakling that couldn’t even stand up for herself. and that had to be more embarrassing than the comments.  

he must’ve noticed your sour expression, because he quickly said, “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“you didn’t, i… i’m sorry for snapping at you,” god, you really messed this up. this gorgeous boy just saved your ass from getting harassed, and you were acting like an ungrateful bitch. “i’m just not the best at dealing with… whatever that was,” you cleared your throat. “but thank you, it was really kind of you, and you didn’t really have to say anything, but-,” 

“but i would’ve been the biggest asshole if i hadn’t said anything,” he chuckled, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “i couldn’t just let those two fuckers say those things about you. about anyone for that matter. what kind of person would that make me?” 

you nodded, though if you had to be real - you were too distracted by his eyes to focus on what he was saying.

“okay, that sounded so pretentious,” he said, frowning, as if cringing at his own words. you couldn’t help but giggle at his expression. he looked really adorable despite his disgusted look. 

and that didn’t mean anything good. you knew yourself, and you knew how easily it was for you to fall for a person that showed you an ounce of kindness, even if they did it just because they were a good person. and that was probably what was happening now - he saw you getting harassed, he stepped in, said a couple of words, and that would be it. 

but you. you’d think about this for the rest of the olympics. about his teasing voice, the slightly curly hair coming out of his beanie, the fact that you’d never know what kind of athlete he was. the freaking hazel eyes. 

“i’m vernon, by the way,” he, or vernon, extended his hand. 

you cringed at the thought of your sweaty palms, still closed in fists. and it wasn’t like you could wipe them right in front of him. now that would just send you straight into a coma. but you took it anyway, it couldn’t get worse than the comments about your flat ass, you figured. and if he noticed he didn’t say anything, just smiled and nodded when you told him your name. 

“so, do you have any plans for today?” he asked, letting go of your hand way too soon for your liking. 

“i was planning on eating breakfast, but…,” you shrugged. 

“well, i might have an idea then,” he said, a proud smile on his face. “have you ever tried skateboarding?” 

…

you did not think this through. 

trying to skate on a wooden board with four wheels sounded kind of appealing at the moment, but now - now that you were about to actually stand on it? huh yeah, you’d rather stick to keeping your own two feet on the ground.

“it’s not going to kill you, you know?” vernon laughed, as you looked at the board in front of you with pure horror. there was no way anyone could survive skating on that thing, let alone doing tricks and flips or whatever they did with that torture device.  

“just,” he pulled the board closer to you with his foot, “lean your weight on me first and i’m going to hold you, just so you can get comfortable standing on it,” he said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. 

would he think you were a complete loser if you ran away? maybe you could blame it on a sudden stomach bug or something. 

“mhm, yeah,” you breathed, grabbing his extended hand. “easy peasy.” 

luckly for you, the skatepark was still relatively empty since most of the village was trying to fight others in the queue for food, so the chance of you skating into someone by accident was almost non existent. but that did not change the fact that you were on the verge of a panic attack. why did you say yes to this? why did you step out of your comfort zone so easily? comfort zone was good - you loved your comfort zone. that was what kept you safe from agreeing to skateboarding on a whim. 

but it was so easy to say yes when vernon looked at you with so much kindness. you just weren’t able to decline - there was something about him that put you at ease, whether it was his voice or mannerisms - he oozed with so much calmness that even your erratic heart was screaming “say yes!” 

“put your right foot in front of the left one,” he said, still grasping your hand tightly. “and keep your knees bent, it’ll help with keeping your balance.” 

you watched him as he showed you how you were supposed to stand correctly, and tried to mirror his stance the best you could. 

“that’s perfect,” vernon said with a bright smile, as if you just won the gold medal for not falling off the board on the first occasion. “told you you’d do a great job.” 

“this is ridiculous,” you muttered, as your legs wobbled. “i’m looking worse than a baby trying to walk.” 

he rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, making you giggle. “i love your form of self motivation. now,” still holding onto you, vernon walked around the board, “uh, is it okay if i put my hand on your waist?” he asked, and your heart skipped a beat.

usually, you’d immediately say no, but… there was nothing usual about vernon as it turned out. if this was your day of breaking your walls then so be it. you nodded in agreement. “try to put your left foot on the ground and push yourself forward,” he said. 

your thin t-shirt did nothing to conceal the warmth coming from vernon’s hand, but somehow, instead of making you more nervous, it only calmed your wobbling feet and shaking hands, grounding you on the board, making it less scary by the second. you’d never met anyone before who had been so gentle with you, so patient and understanding so quickly. 

“like this?” you took your left foot off the skateboard, but before it could reach the ground you wobbled backwards. “vernon!” you shrieked, ready to fall ass first on the asphalt, but that never happened. your back met his solid chest before you could move more than an inch. 

“‘s okay,” he said, gripping your waist tighter. “i’m right here.” 

you breathed a sigh of relief. “i don’t think this is a good idea,” you looked over your shoulder at him. “what if i break your board?” 

“i have ten others,” he stated as a matter of fact, not bothered at all even if you actually broke his board. “try again, i’ve got you.” 

the next try went a little bit better, at least you managed to put your foot down without bumping into him again.

“okay, now push yourself forward.” 

“just… don’t let go, okay?” 

“i won’t,” vernon said. you could feel him so close to you, his breath creeping down your neck. “i won’t.” 

you never thought you’d feel so accomplished by such a simple thing, you were a gold winning athlete for god’s sake, but when you finally moved, when the board skated forward and you were still standing on it - you felt a flicker of pride settle in your chest.  

“that’s it,” vernon said, giving your hand a squeeze. “you’re doing great. try doing that again.” 

and so you did just that. you pushed yourself forward, again and again, until your feet weren’t wobbling at all, and your moves were getting more confident.

“i’m doing it, i’m…,” you laughed, “vernon, i’m skateboarding,” you said, pushing once more. 

“yes, you are!” 

wait. why was his voice so distant? 

that’s when you realised you couldn’t feel his hand on your waist anymore, nor were your fingers intertwined with his. 

“vernon?” you asked, alarmed. 

“just don’t turn around-,” 

but it was too late. you took a look behind you to see vernon standing a couple of metres behind you, and that was enough to lose all of the balance, all of the control. 

“shit,” you heard him scream, right before you closed your eyes shut, readying yourself for the impact. 

the board flew forward as you slipped backwards, your hands flying to your slides trying to hold onto something. but there was nothing, just air. 

but then - the strong grip, the warm embrace, the hands that you trusted so much - you could feel him all around you. no pain, no broken bones - just vernon. 

“shit, i’m so sorry,” he said, still holding onto you. “i shouldn’t have let you go.” 

gently, he helped you sit on the ground, his eyes scanning all over your body, looking for any injuries. 

“it’s fine, i just panicked,” you said, and put your hand on his shoulder, pulling his gaze back to your eyes. “seriously, it was actually quite fun.” 

at that, vernon’s expression softened a bit, and after a second he even flashed you a smile. 

“that’s good, that’s…,” he exhaled. “that’s a lot for one morning i think.” 

you laughed, and shook your head. “yeah, i think you’re right. but you know,” you looked over at the board that was still rolling on its own. “i think i’ll stick to watching you skate. i don’t think i’m built for this.” 

his body shook with a silent giggle. “i’m still proud of you.”

“thank you,” you said quietly. and you truly meant it - not only for catching you, or trying to teach you how to skate - but for standing up for you when he could just ignore it and move on with his day, for pulling you out of your little safe bubble. that thank you meant a lot of things and you hoped that vernon knew that. 

“were you serious, though?” 

you frowned, not really sure what he ment. 

“that you want to watch me skate?”. 

any other day you’d say no, but… 

“yes. i’d really love to.” 

a beautiful smile bloomed on vernon’s face, and you knew right there and then that the feeling of gratitude was forming into something more than just that. 

“my eliminations are in two days, uh and maybe, only if you want, you could come?” 

you nodded eagerly. at this point you weren’t sure you were able to tell this man no at all. 

and you couldn’t wait to see where that would get you. 

[misctf]

Hey I've always been a pudgy and geeky type of guy and now at 50 I wish I had done things different. Could you change reality so I've always been a bear or daddy or age regress me so I'm a jock or himbo?

Are you sure you want this? I mean, I appreciate where you’re coming from. Really, I do. But are you sure? There’re risks and.... Okay I’ll spare you the details. You seem pretty set on this.

Cracks fingers.

Where to start... 50 years old, a tad pudgy, and I can tell that Star Wars shirt you’re wearing hasn’t been washed in a while. Not to worry!

Snaps fingers. The cold air now caressing your naked body.

Much better! Now I can see what I’m working with. Stay still please.

You feel my hands run along your pudgy, hairy gut. You wince as I give it a squeeze. You watch as I saunter behind you and yelp when I tug at the back hair that wraps up and around your shoulders. And as my hand runs along the thinning hair on your head, you gasp as a pressure emanates from within your brain.

Ah...Interesting... I can see it. Who you want to be... Okay, okay. This is gonna be tough, but just take a deep breath. And before I begin, you should know I set my clients up for success, which means... So... right... You’re full steam ahead. Sounds good!

You wince when I firmly grab your flabby chest and start massaging. A groan escapes your lips and you watch as the fat melts from your chest, leaving it flat. But with another squeeze, you watch as my hands begin to fill again. This time with your new muscle tit flesh. Bigger and bigger, until my hands can’t contain them. Firm and bounceable. Simultaneously, your skin heats up as your chest and back hair vanish, leaving you clean shaven. You watch as I give your nipples a squeeze and... the pleasure nearly knocks you off your feet. You moan as I pinch them between my fingers.

Like that? Yeah I can tell. I made them extra sensitive. Like so sensitive that the fabric of a shirt might make you cum. Oh don’t give me that look. Trust me, you’ll want to show off what I’m giving you. Okay... let’s...

My hands run along your abdomen and you feel like the wind is knocked out of you. The pudgy gut you sported before is starting to melt. Painful at first, but when you see the six pack you’re now sporting, you grin. But it’s short lived. You feel my hands firmly grip your ass. And this time, you moan as you feel your flabby ass firm up, filling with firm, bouncy fat and muscle. An ass that’ll always turn heads. And when I give your bubble butt a gentle slap, you moan loudly.

Yeah... what can I say? I want you to really enjoy your new body. Yeah... okay... I get you’re horny. Like hornier than you’ve ever been. But you’re turning out so well. We can’t stop now! Oh! Look at that! Your skin is starting to tan! See? We just need to get started and the rest follows. It’s like your body knows what its destined to become. But we’re missing something...

I run my hands up and down your arms, filling each of them with muscle. And then more. And then even more. They feel heavier to you. Bulging as if you’d just done curls for days. My hands don’t even come close to being able to wrap around them. And your shoulders... you’d never thought the whole ‘shoulders like boulders’ would ever apply to you. Now you’re a shining example.

Yeah, I know. Damn, dude. And I should ask... what’s your skin care routine? I jest, I jest. You’re 21, of course you have great skin! Haha you look so happy! Beats being 50, right? Oh! Before I forget...

You watch as I pull out a baseball cap and slap it on your head. Beneath it, you feel a burning sensation as your thinning hair grows in rapidly. And a few blond curls poke out from beneath your new hat.

So, what do you think? Of course, of course. I told you I’d help. And god, I gotta say you turned out hot. Now, I did tell you earlier that I set my clients up for success. And right now, you might have the body, but do you have the mindset? Okay, calm down... I did say there were risks, right? And I can’t let you ruin my work. Just stay still and...

You feel my hand on your head. And another around your growing cock.

Right... how does computer science fit into the new you? Or comic books? Okay, let’s get rid of that... and let’s move this here... and... Hey you good? You’re drooling all over yourself.

I give your cock a few tugs. A moan escapes your lips.

Phew! We’re still here. Right... okay let’s get rid of that... definitely get rid of this... Perfect! It’ll take a bit of space for all the knowledge to maintain this look. You’ll need most of your brain dedicated to workouts and diet. And since I doubt academics is your ticket to success, I might as well give you the knowledge to set up a successful OnlyFans account. Have any problems with that? I didn’t think so.  

I tug again on your cock, the pleasure somehow even more intense and your eyes roll back into your head.

Alright, but deep down you’re still that geeky guy. But with a body like this, it would be a waste not to have the right mindset for it. So, you get the idea? Shirtless, cocky, alpha douchebag. No more quiet geeky nerd. Yeah... look at that smirk. You’re getting it, now.

You flex in the mirror, the smirk never leaving your face. And then you turn back to me, gesturing toward your raging erection.

Well, what can I say. I.... Oh... Well, I mean if you insist. Might as well finish what I started. On my knees? Oh, okay... You want me to stop talking? Alright I.......

And as your cock meets the back of my throat and your moans fill the room, I couldn’t help but wonder if adding another douchey alpha bro to the world was worth it.

[azzibuckets]

pazzi tennis fic when 🤔 jkjk I just love your writing 🤗

doubles [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: the us open fic all of u were begging me for….i didn’t rly know what to write about so i combined a bunch of ur requests

masterlist

“Dude, your story looks ass.”

Paige’s thumb immediately swiped back to the Instagram app. Clicking on her profile picture, she studied the photo with a frown. “It looks exactly like yours,” she said, baffled.

Azzi shoved her own phone in Paige’s face. “Definitely not,” she mused as she compared the two screens side by side. “You’re just not good at taking pictures.”

Paige scowled. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about bro, they look exactly the same.”

“It’s okay.” Azzi leaned in and pinched Paige’s cheek, a mocking smile on her lips. “Not everyone can be good at everything like me.”

“Man, shut up.” Paige laughed, flicking Azzi’s hands away from her face. Her attention fell back to Azzi’s knee where it was propped up against the seat in front of them. “How’s it feeling?”

Azzi looked down and grimaced. “It’s still flaring up.” Her thumbs creased over her knee, trying to massage away the throbbing ache, but to no avail. Paige’s heartstrings tugged a little as she watched Azzi stare at her knee. It had been hell when she’d tore her own ACL, both physically and mentally, and she hated the idea of her girlfriend having to go through it a second time.

“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself so hard in practice yesterday,” Paige reproached, gently pushing Azzi’s hands aside to replace them with her own. She gently kneaded the tissue with her fingers, eyes fixed on Azzi’s face for any signs of pain.

Azzi tipped her head back and slowly exhaled. She was tired from all of this shit, tired from having to watch from the sidelines as all the other girls participated in the intense drills. She missed that feeling of sweat running down her back, muscles aching and lungs pumping as she ran up and down the court. What was worse was the pitying looks all her teammates sent her way, all the pats on her back that were supposed to make her feel better but only made her feel like shit. It wasn’t their fault, and Azzi loved her teammates for trying, but she was so goddamn sick of it. “I already have Geno and CD and all the trainers breathing down my back, I don’t need you to coddle me too,” Azzi responded, her tone coming out harsher than she meant for it to.

Paige’s movements halted. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she said. “The last thing I want is for you to tear your ACL again.”

Azzi rubbed her temple. “Yeah, I know, I know.”

Paige fell silent, continuing to work Azzi’s knee with her fingers, but she didn’t look at her, instead focusing instead on Coco as she flew across the court.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi said finally. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tired of being treated like I’m fragile. It’s like everyone thinks I’m weak.”

Paige dipped her head against Azzi’s ear, lips gently brushing her earlobe. “No one thinks you’re weak.” She twisted her bracelet against her wrist, making sure Azzi could see the letters spelled out across the beads. “Resilient, remember? You’re the toughest person in the whole fucking world.”

Azzi dropped her head against Paige’s shoulder. “Thank you, Paige.”

Paige hummed, continuing to rub her thumb in soothing circles around Azzi’s knee. “You tired?”

Azzi stifled a yawn. “So tired.”

“If your knee’s still bothering you, we can go home,” Paige offered.

“No, I wanna meet Coco and I know you do too. It’s fine.”

Paige gently tapped Azzi’s leg. “Are you sure? There’s still a few hours.”

Azzi waved her off. “I’ll pop some painkillers. But I hope you know you’re paying for my ice cream after this.”

Paige shook her head. “You only reminded me about a few thousand times on the way here.”

Soon after, Azzi moved a seat over so that she could fully stretch out her leg. She looked around the stadium, taking in the buzzing atmosphere and lively crowds before turning her gaze back to Paige, who was frowning so hard that there were wrinkles between her brows. “Are you seriously pouting right now?” Azzi laughed.

“You didn’t have to move,” Paige insisted. “There’s already plenty of space.”

“Tell that to my fucked up knee.”

Paige got up to take the seat next to Azzi, but Azzi reached over and pushed her back down. “You seriously have attachment issues,” Azzi teased, but loving every second of it.

“I can’t even kiss you and shit and now you’re saying I can’t sit next to my own girlfriend?” Paige grumbled, shaking her head in annoyance.

Azzi grinned, knowing exactly what would tick Paige off even more. She loved seeing the blonde all riled up, especially for her. “It’s getting kinda hot,” she said casually, slowly taking off her sweater and balling it up.

Paige’s eyes immediately fell down, gaze tracing the slope of Azzi’s neck to the jut of her collarbone, and finally down to the dip in her tank top across her chest, where it stayed until Azzi threw her sweater at the blonde. “You’re such a whore,” Azzi smirked.

Paige blinked rapidly, trying to get ahold of herself. “And you’re such a fucking tease,” she complained, stuffing the sweater under her arms.

Azzi leaned over the seat between them. She wrapped one of Paige’s slut strands around her finger, biting her bottom lip as she looked up at the older girl through her lashes. “What were you saying?”

Paige’s mouth opened and closed in a stutter, suddenly finding herself unable to speak.

Azzi giggled and leaned back, snapping Paige out of her trance again. “So fucking whipped.”

Paige’s glare burned into the side of Azzi’s face. “You know what? You can go and pay for your own damn ice cream.”

Azzi was already scrolling on her phone, nails tapping against her screen. “Don’t even try and start. We both know you’re gonna end up paying anyways.”

“Fuck you.”

[princessbrunette]

if i may revisit the roadtrip au with jj x reader x john b…

you feel totally content.

with a belly full of icecream, your skin warm with the glitter hibiscus temporary tattoo flaking off your arm from natures gentle exfoliation made of sand, and the sparkling blue abyss that was the ocean— you wondered why the three of you didn’t just live like this.

overheated and lethargic, you drag your boyfriends to the cool water, immersing yourself to the shoulders with a wince before squealing as john b grabs you closer with a splash, easing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

you relax against his hot body in the water, gloopy eyelashes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek to his shoulder, listening to the sound of the tide crashing against the shore and jj splashing about not too far from you, catching up to the two of you.

“you happy?” john b hums, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“love you.” it comes muffled against his toned, tanned skin— and you feel his chest vibrate with a chuckle.

“so, i take that as a yes.”

two cold hands slide around your waist and you squirm against john b— now in hindsight perhaps grinding up against him a little too much, because the feeling of being touched from both sides had somehow trained your body in a pavlovian manner to feel arousal each time.

“y’know once upon a time i would’a saw this kinda PDA at the beach and been like… ew, gross.” jj mutters with a smirk, hands massaging your ass cheeks beneath the water.

“theres like, no one here dude.” john b shrugs, raising his eyebrows when he feels you trying to grind back against jj. “oh, uh — easy tiger. might not be many people around but we’re still in public. remember that talk we had?” his deep rumbly voice reprimanding you does nothing to soothe the growing need for the two of them.

“no one can see.” you mewl in complain, the water splashing a little as you try and hump him beneath the water.

“i’on know, pooch. s’a little undignified, even for you.” jj cares less, but wants to tease you about it nonetheless as his frayed blonde hair tickles your neck, his lips brushing your ear. “got ourselves a lil sandwich action right now.”

“please…” you huff, and you feel john b crane his head around to check the perimeter.

“look— i saw a guy over there like five minutes ago. who’s to say he’s not gonna return and report us to like… the ocean… police, or something.” the brunette stresses, but with the crease between his eyebrows he only looks more and more handsome — with big brown eyes that catch in the sunlight and practically glow orange, and wet curls falling perfectly around his face.

“why you actin’ like you’re scared of the cops all of a sudden? besides didn’t you just say there’s like no one here?” jj scoffs out a laugh, hands that were groping your ass now moved more central— a middle finger rubbing somewhat soothing circles around your asshole through your bikini bottoms. you groan against john b’s shoulder, on the verge of tears.

“please johm’bee, can just pull ‘em to the side. no one has to know!” you whimper, bucking against him and he audibly sighs. how can he resist when you’re talking like that? as if reading his mind, jj speaks up with a know-it-all tick of his head.

“cant say no t’that, right?”

next, you feel a set of thick fingers yanking your bikini bottoms to the side.

“and when we’re done here, we’re gonna talk about self discipline.” john b lectures, sliding his fingers through your folds experimentally — but you can tell he doesn’t really mind.

[imfinereallyy]

“Steve, it’s an emergency. I need to kiss you. Actually, I need you to kiss me. But I can’t just do it without asking because what if you don’t want me to, and I practically attack you? So yes or no? I swear it’s for a good cause.” Eddie comes running up to Steve in the bar, panting so hard Steve can see the chest movements.

They have taken Robin to a bar out in Indy to get her laid finally. Or at least a tongue in her mouth. The girl is pent up. And it’s Steve’s job as best friend to make that happen (Robin has told him to stop saying that, ‘it is gross’). Eddie is the only other queer person they know and, luckily, has made quite a few trips to Indy to know which bars were the good ones. He tells Steve that, like Robin, he is desperate to get laid, so this is the perfect opportunity.

Steve does his best to try and ignore the burning jealousy he feels at that. Eddie doesn’t know about his feelings (hell about his sexuality), and Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn’t see him that way.

“Huh?” Asks confused, his brain struggling to process.

“Okay, I see you’re stuck on how to answer, but Steve—“ Eddie grips Steve’s shoulder, and Steve tries not to swoon. “—my ex, the extra shitty one, is here, and if he sees me alone I’ll either a) go home with him tonight and—“

Steve cuts Eddie off with a searing kiss. The thought of Eddie going home with someone else was enough for Steve’s brain to catch up to speed. Steve presses Eddie against the bar. The loud bass of the music suddenly becomes a light thrum in the background. All that he feels is the delightful pressure of their lips together. Eddie’s hands slide up into Steve’s hair as he gets pressed harder into the bar. Steve’s hands' grip Eddie’s waist and give them a tight squeeze. The idea of bruises being left behind, a mark of what they are doing here, makes Steve deepen the kiss. His tongue used to massage Eddie’s, tasting the menthol and rum on his breath. Eddie moans loud and heavy, vibrating Steve’s entire body.

“Eddie?” A voice interrupts them. Steve feels his anger spark back slightly but wills it down because the interruption is probably needed. They are very close to getting kicked out for public indecency.

“Oh hey, Ryan.” Eddie looks the blonde man up and down. He’s cute, Steve notes, but he lacked personality in his appearance. He isn’t what Steve expects from an ex of Eddie’s. He isn’t naive enough to think Eddie dates exclusively metal heads, but he expects someone to match Eddie’s energy. This guy—Ryan apparently—looks like every other guy you’d find on a Sunday in Supermart. Boring and lacking imagination.

“Who’s this?” Ryan looks at Steve pissed.

“Steve?” Eddie wraps an arm around his waist, bringing Steve close up against him. “This is my boyfriend.”

“This dude’s your boyfriend?” Ryan snorts. “C'mon baby, I know you can do better.”

Steve feels his anger finally pop. “He is not your baby. Yea, he can do better than both of us combine, but I’m lucky enough to get him. Now, you interrupted our time together, and we both know you saw what we’re up to, so don’t act like it wasn’t on purpose.”

Ryan startles backwards, “I—“

“Sorry, maybe I wasn’t clear. I meant leave the fuck right now.” Steve grits out, some of his Upside Down protection mode popping out. Ryan scatters quickly.

“Jesus, Steve, that was amazing. I’m sorry I had to make you uncomfortable with that.” Eddie’s eyes find his and cuts Steve off before he can protest and explain no, he really did like that “—and you never even let me explain reason b, by the way! Reason b is b) he would probably humiliate me in the middle of the club.”

Steve nods at Eddie but has one track mind at this point. He grabs Eddie by the face this time before crashing their lips together once again. This time Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth as they both get lost in the kiss.

Steve pulls back ever so slightly and talks directly into Eddie’s mouth, “Sorry. I think he’s still staring. Needed to do more.”

Eddie, with swollen lips and a kissed-out face, looks around the bar to find nothing. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

Steve smirks and pulls Eddie by his belt loops so they are flushed together. Steve leans into Eddie’s ear and nibbles at his lobe. “Hmmm, you’re right. I think he’s actually in the bathroom. Maybe we should kiss in front of him there.” Steve whispers hotly.

Eddie’s brain, which has short-circuited much like Steve only minutes ago, finally catches up. Eddie groans, his face collapsing into Steve’s neck. He licks a stripe up Steve’s neck all the way to his mouth. “Fuck. Yea, baby, I think I saw him too. Think kissing, though, won’t be enough. We might need to up our game.”

Steve nips at Eddie’s lips, “I was hoping you would say that. Guess I just know how much you love your games, Eds.”

They meet each other for one last searing kiss before rushing to the bathrooms to share a very tight, very heated stall.

[tenjikufag]

dude im a cornball and a hornball at thr same time and i found out when i saw jiyans slutty ahh WAIST 😍 SO i humbly request for jiyan x top male reader smut 😭 maybe after a td outbreak hes all tired n stuff so reader takes care of him the whole night <33

Reward.

Jiyan x Top!Male Reader

-SMUT!, fluffy, sub(?) Jiyan etc it’s smut there’s nothing more to it ?

-THANK YOU FOR THE REQ!! I adore this man. Going from story line though ah hope that’s okay.

Jiyan groaned, his body and mind tired from the TD outbreak and having to attend the summer games almost directly afterwards. Rover was a nice change of pace to have around, made his own life easier and eased a lot of social tension present from attending while being.. well him. He’s the general, and anyone under him would feel a certain way about having him in their party.

But, none of that mattered because he wanted nothing more than to return home to you- you’d been one of the resonators to stay back to protect the city borders and while you were absolutely fine and unscathed.. he couldn’t keep you out of his thoughts the whole time.

His body craved to feel you after it all, with everything being so crazy since Rover had woken and almost seemingly set off every catalyst to the impending outbreak.. you weren’t around nearly enough for his liking.

—

Jiyan felt his feet start to drag, his ankles almost jelly when the home the two of you shared came into view. A soft smile teased his lips when he finally reached the front door.

“Ji? Is that you?”

Your voice released the tension he held in his jaw and shoulders; quickly he followed your voice, without a single second wasted his arms wrapped around your torso.

“It’s nice to see you too, love. Go get washed up and I’ll have your clothes and blankets ready on the bed..”

“Just let me hold you for a moment longer..”

Smiling, you let him squeeze you. You could feel how tense his joints were, his new scratches and bruises would surely appear within the next hours but you’d tend to them when he was clean. The male finally, but reluctantly, let go and made his way to the bathroom to shower.

You were relieved to know he was relatively okay, obviously exhausted but okay nonetheless. It was time to prep his reward, a massage!

It was routine.

—

Setting his things out on the bed, the water shut off and he slinked out of the bathroom, followed by the steam.

“Lay down, I have everything ready. Just relax.”

His long damp hair cascaded down his body, swaying with every step he took to lay down on the bed- stomach down and he cuddled into the pillows.

Squirting a bit of lotion into your hands, you warmed it up and started from his legs up.

Your partner had no real reaction aside from sighs of relief but when you started his thighs, he started to moan.

“Right there, ugh.. press deeper..”

Chuckling, you complied. The higher you went, more he moaned and whined.

His waist and back were the most sensitive.

And you loved teasing him..

Digging your thumbs into his hips, he whined and arched his back. You circled around the flesh, relishing in his shaky breathes and the way he gripped the sheets.

“Don’t get too excited Jiyan, we aren’t even half way..”

Leaning up to his ear, you whispered to him and gave him light praises.

“You did such a good job, general.. I’m so glad I get to make you feel so good~”

Gliding your thumbs up his sides, you rubbed inwards to his tacet mark.

Not many non resonators knew, but a tacet mark is incredibly sensitive. Despite needing to be exposed to be used, the marking was sensitive to the touch.

Jiyan adored when you touched it, making his body flush with arousal at the tender care you took with each pass you made at it.

The male laid huffing under you, blush evident from his ears.

“So lewd, general. I almost think you’d want something else, Hm?”

You brought your hand towards his glutes and massaged deeply into the plush flesh. Earning a breathy moan from him.

“I want my reward.. please..”

“Oh? What’s that? What does my sweet boy want?”

“It’s my reward, please.. stop messing around..”

Smiling softly, you complied. Getting off the bed and grabbing oils. Returning to the bed you kneeled behind him, his legs straddled under your own.

“I apologize, you’re right. You did so well, such a good job, and still managed to come back to me~ how lucky am I?”

Massaging the oil onto his ass, you slowly made you ways towards his entrance- lightly separating his cheeks and letting oil drip onto his hole.

The male was already moaning freely under you, twitching slightly every time you ghosted over his entrance.

“Are you ready?”

He groaned out a “yes please” and that would have to suffice for now.

Scooping more oil into your hand, you toyed around the rim and slipped a finger in. His ass clenched around your finger before relaxing, allowing you to move around.

It wasn’t long until you slipped two in, then three.

Jiyan raised his hips, almost chasing after your hand every time you pulled out.

“Such a good boy. So good for me.”

Reaching your hand around, you grabbed his hard dick- it was throbbing in your hand and all of his precum made it easy to start jerking him off.

He moved his head to the side to peak at you behind him, mouth open and gasping.

“More. Give me more.”

Pulling away your hands, you wiped them off on the towel beside your partner.

You undressed, far too slow for your partners liking. He flipped to lay on his back and raised his legs for you.

His face was flushed, a faint dribble of drool on the corner of his lips.. he was a sight to behold, truly.

You loomed over him, tip barely poking into him as you looked into his glazed eyes. Leaning down, you caught his lips and he eagerly accepted- letting your tongue explore his mouth and bite his lips.

He whimpered when you pulled away, only to quickly clasp a hand over his mouth when you finally slid into him.

“You gotta relax Ji.. your squeezin’ too hard..”

Hissing, his ass almost painfully gripped you and sucked you in deeper. You leaned down again and kissed his neck to ease his tightness. The more he moaned, the less pressure you felt around you.

When he was finally relaxed, you started thrusting into his at an even, mild, pace. Just like he liked.

This was a reward after all, he needed to be pampered and cared for.

With every thrust, he gasped and tried to grab something. Whether it was the sheets, his own hair, your arms, anything. His need to grab something always led to him pulling you close and scratching your back out of desperation.

His nails dug into your skin as he cried in pleasure. You hissed with every pass his nails made, running over the same spots over and over.

“I’m gonna..”

He came all over his stomach, eyes tightly held shut. His body tensed, letting go of you and breathing heavily.

Smiling, you licked your lips and pecked his cheek before leaning up and placing your hands on his tiny waist.

Circling your thumbs on the soft flesh, you picked up the pace. Making him gasp, putting his hands up to pull at his own hair and arching his back. He bit his lips the faster you went, abuse on his prostate made his vision hazy and almost let him choke on his drool.

The heat in your abdomen built, your own gasping mixing with the gasps from the male under you.

“Alright love, quickly.. fuck.. in or out..”

“In. Don’t you dare pull out.”

He glared up at you, as if you’d asked him the dumbest question ever before going back to being a gasping moaning mess.

Nodding, you kept up the pace and the burning became a wave of warmth as you came inside him.

Jiyan twitched under you, his last orgasm riding out with your load inside him.

He laid there, trying to catch his breathe. You smiled softly at him, giving him another kiss and peppering soft pecks around his face.

“Good boy, you did a great job. I’m proud of you.”

He only groaned, making you laugh lightly.

[macfrog]

you shook me all night long sex on fire chapter one

requested by @whore-4-pedro (hope u enjoy lovely)

lived all my succession fantasies out writing this one icl. enjoy 🖤 check out my masterlist for more joel fun ‼️

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: as joel miller's assistant, you're expected to meet all his needs. some are a little more personal than others

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) creepy dude at the beginning, lotta teasing and touching, mentions of female masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, daddy kink, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), alcohol and drug use, cursing, low-key inappropriate work relationship (if bad then why sexy?)

word count: 7.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more. You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin. “I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?” “Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

It’s Friday night.

You only got home from work an hour and a half ago. Tired, hungry, sore eyes from staring at a screen all night, sore back from sitting hunched over all day. Dumped your bags at the door, ripped your clothes off by your bed, dove straight into the shower. You’d picked an outfit, curled your hair in record time, and even done your makeup before Deb called to say she was out front.

It was a ten-minute drive from your place to the hotel – it’s only a couple blocks from work. The cab driver made light conversation, talked about his daughter and her new puppy, and you both nodded and uhuhed in all the breaks in his sentences. Deb made some comment about it being easier if you’d just stayed at the office until the party, and you’d hummed in agreement, looking out the window at the regal hotel.

Truth be told, you’d rather be doing anything other than attending a work function. You’ve had a long week. A lot of meetings, paperwork, emails to be answered, and most of all, running around after your boss. It’s not all fun and games being Joel Miller’s assistant, regardless of the pay, or the view from your desk over to his.

Your head’s elsewhere when you waltz through the revolving door, heels clicking along the marble floor. The elevator – gold, by the way – slides open and you both step inside, hitting the highest button before you’re swept up twenty floors to the penthouse.

“Did you send those documents over to us yet?” Deb asks.

“Nope,” you reply, slipping out when the elevator dings. “Had to sit in on a meeting with Joel and take the fucking minutes, spent all night writing them up.”

“He won’t be pissed at you?”

“If he hadn’t insisted I was in there with him, you’d have your reports, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs, agreeing.

“Anyway,” you continue, “I can take angry Joel. He doesn’t scare me.”

Deb chuckles as you shoulder the doors to the penthouse open.

It’s a moody dull, lit only by the lights lining the bar and small lamps decorating mahogany tables, sat next to deep green velvet couches. There are clusters of people everywhere you look; stood near shelves filled with leather-bound books, examining the view from the floor to ceiling windows, sprawled out over luxurious chairs with champagne flutes in their hands. There’s a tree in the middle of the room, branches decorated in blinking string lights reaching to a glass dome in the ceiling.

It's, like, sickeningly pretentious. You know it. Hell, you all know it. Still, in your little black dress, you strut over and take a champagne of your own, sipping on the fizzing drink with one elbow resting on the wooden bar.

“There’s my girl,” his voice coos over your shoulder. “Been watchin’ for you all night, took your time.”

You lean back, bored expression on your face.

Joel’s broad chest pulls on the white shirt he’s wearing, same one you just saw him in little over three hours ago, only without a tie; the top couple of buttons are undone to reveal his chest hair peeking through. You try not to let your eyes linger on him too long.

“You look fuckin’ ecstatic to be here.”

He leans against the bar next to you, arms crossed. When you don’t reply, he nudges you. Your champagne jolts in its glass.

“I always look like this. I’m always ecstatic to be everywhere.”

He smiles. “Why aren’t you mingling?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“’s a work event. That’s the whole point.”

“Then why are you over here talkin’ to me?”

His eyes flash across your lips, and you swear they drop for a nanosecond to your chest.

“Come on,” he says, taking your wrist in his huge hand, “some people you oughta meet.”

Joel ignores your sigh and leads you over onto a plush rug, sidling between knees to sit you down on the soft couch between himself and some bald dude in a jet blue suit, whose shirt is also undone, though much further than Joel’s. He has a chest like a hairless cat.

Cue Ball snakes an arm over the back of the couch; his fingers dance across your back. You shimmy a little closer to Joel and he notices instantly, jaw turning slowly to glance over. When he sees your knees angled toward him, seeking protection, he leans back and wraps his left arm around your shoulders, his right coming down to cup your knee.

“This,” he shakes your leg, left arm pulling you tighter against him, “is my wonderful assistant. My right-hand lady. Couldn’t do anything without her, could I?”

“Could wipe your own ass, that’s about it,” you mumble into your glass, and a roar of laughter sounds from your audience.

Joel, still leaning back, pulls his arm from you but keeps his shoulder firmly behind yours, making sure whatever the creep on your left tries, he’ll feel first. Your elbow rests in the crook of his, and you keep it there, quietly enjoying the intimacy of his body caging yours.

His left hand is settled on your thigh. You realize it after a swig of champagne, and start counting in your head how many seconds his fingers stay gripped on your skin.

He talks with his hands – always has. Walks around his office, ranting and raving sometimes, arms swinging around in the air while you take notes, or file your nails, or just watch until he’s done. For the next half hour, though, he only talks with his right hand. Only sips his beer with his right hand. Only scratches his beard, or pulls his phone from his pocket, or reaches up and passes you a second drink, and then a third, with his right hand.

You stay rigid, legs unmoving, eyes barely leaving his knuckles, locked tight around your thigh. There’s heat from his touch siphoning from his palm down through your skin, rippling like waves all through your body and pooling somewhere south of your belly button. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake it. Can’t stop thinking about it. You barely notice when Cue Ball’s hand ghosts across your back a second time.

But Joel notices, straight away. He flashes the guy a look, and you swear he’s baring his teeth. Eyes locked on the blue suit like it’s a target, never blinking. He doesn’t say anything when his prey excuses himself to the bathroom, and you don’t turn to watch him go, but you do notice three other sharp-suited pricks stand and wander off in that direction after him.

Probably not a coincidence.

Joel still has a hold on your leg. Your flute is empty, and you lean forward to place it on the wooden table at your knees, beginning to stand.

His grip loosens, but he looks up at you as you tower over him.

“Cocktail,” you tell him with a sweet smile, and he nods, letting you go.

You know he’s watching you as you slink away. Is it the alcohol in your system, or something darker, that makes you sway your hips a little more for his benefit?

Deb’s over at the bar with Martha, another of Joel’s assistants. She’s around his age, worked for him much longer than you have, but when he hired you, you took on most of the groundwork. Following Joel’s orders– sorry, requests, organizing meetings, filing paperwork for him. Martha sits at a desk outside Joel’s office, answers the phone and directs anyone who happens to wander up to the top floor of the building.

Did I say directs? I meant strikes coldblooded fear within them and sends them back running the way they came, with just one look and a nod in the opposite direction.

Unless they’re there for a meeting with Joel, that is. And if they are, that’s where you come in. Good morning, Mr. Salazar, Mr. Miller will be right with you. This way, he’s just finishing up a call.

Martha’s a tough nut. But she likes you enough, so she smiles warmly as you approach.

“I’m hearing all about your note-taking this afternoon,” she hums when you hop up onto a barstool, catching the bartender’s eye. He trots over.

You sigh to Martha, eyes wide. “I didn’t leave until, like, eight. What the fuck’s that about? Can I just get a cosmopolitan, please?” you ask, and the bartender nods. He looks about fifteen.

Martha shakes her head, laughing. “He did it to me when I was first startin’ out, too. Told him to stick his minutes where the sun don’t shine.”

“I’ve been here three years,” you mutter, and Deb snorts.

“You’d think Joel would’ve changed his ways in the, what, seven decades since you started, Martha?”

It earns her a slap across the shoulder. You stifle your laugh behind your glass, thanking the teenager who served you it with a nod.

“Twenty years next March, actually,” Martha says.

“That so? D’you think he’ll get you anything for it?”

“If I’m lucky,” she sighs, eyes travelling up to the ceiling in thought, “a lunch break where he doesn’t bother me once.”

“Knowing Joel, that means a lunch break where he bothers you twice.”

You smile, glancing past the pretentious tree to where Joel is, and notice he’s already staring right back. A swarm of butterflies flutter around your stomach, dancing over the heat his handprint left within you. They only grow more violent when he stands and walks over, broad shoulders swaying, eyes flitting up and down your body.

You lean back, sitting up straight, eyeing him right back as he joins the three of you.

“Speak of the devil,” Martha says, and Joel chuckles in response, but his eyes never leave you.

“We were just talkin’ about Martha’s twenty years,” says Deb, winking.

He finally turns to answer her. “Oh, yeah? When’s that, then, old-timer?”

“Dirtball!” Martha yells, and Joel smirks. It goes straight to your core.

“How many Manhattans tonight, then, Deb?”

Deb holds her glass up. “I am on my second, and I will not be exceeding three. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.”

“Aw,” Joel complains, tutting, “I liked hammered Deb.”

“That’s ‘cause you didn’t have to deal with hungover Deb,” you mutter, and she shoots you a look.

Joel smiles at you, takes a step closer as Deb and Martha begin comparing past hangovers. He leans forward, waves the fifteen-year-old down, and asks for a beer. As he leans back, you notice the weight of his wrist on your right hip. Nicely done.

“You know there are four guys in the bathroom doing coke?”

“I hope to God that’s all they’re doin’. I don’t need another orgyhappenin’ at one of these things.”

You giggle like a fucking schoolgirl. He looks pleased with himself, and you instantly regret it. You try to play it off by lifting your glass back to your lips.

Joel’s studying you, though, mapping every inch of your face. Watching your mouth as it curves around the shape of the glass, your tongue licking your lips after your sip. He tracks the glass as you set it back down on the bar, then his eyes trail along your arm to your dress, and your stomach leaps.

He looks so fucking good, it sends another wave of energy through your body. Dark hair lined with grey, beard much the same. Strong jaw, lips wetting with every sip of beer he takes, dark eyes flitting across yours, holding your stare long enough to melt you a little, and then dipping just before you can read the thoughts behind them.

His skin a little tanned, his neck thick with muscle. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, you’re so close. Close enough that you could lean up, part your lips and sink your teeth under his ear, suck a mark there, taste him on your tongue.

Your head cocks after a few minutes silence, just the two of you enjoying the fucking look of each other. You lean a little against his arm, steady around your back.

“I hate work parties,” you sigh.

Joel scoffs. “Free alcohol, nice penthouse. Cocaine, if you want it. What’s not to like?”

You narrow your eyes and he laughs for real.

“I hate ‘em, too, baby. Gotta keep up appearances, though, don’t we?”

Baby. This fucker.

“Do we?” you squeak, after a few seconds dazed.

He shrugs. “’s what I hear.”

He’s so close you can smell the beer on his tongue. It makes your heart quicken, your body hum with energy. That could just be the alcohol in your system, though, right?

Who are you kidding? It’s fucking Joel doing it to you.

You have no idea how long he was here before you arrived. He left the office around six, and you presumed he’d come straight here to check everything was in order before guests started arriving. How many beers has he had? Is he just drunk, feeling up on you with liquid courage?

You’re mulling over the thought when a pair of hands clamp down on Joel’s shoulders and his hold on your waist loosens. He mumbles an apology as he’s dragged away by a couple of loose-collared, baggy-suit drunks. You shake your head in response, trying to be cool – It’s all good, man. I’m good. I’m not totally fawning over you right now, no way.

Deb swings her barstool around when she notices you’re on your own, inviting you back into their conversation. Thirty seconds into talking about childhood pets, you’re wishing Joel was back around you, igniting your skin and peaking your adrenaline. Max the Pomeranian is a nice picture; Joel’s nicer.

Martha says something with a hand motion, and Deb nods, elbow knocking into yours.

“What?”

She nods toward the balcony. “We’re headin’ out for a smoke, you comin’?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll save your seats.”

They nod and wander off between a crowd, swallowed up by bodies in the direction of the open sliding doors, the blinking lights of the skyline ahead.

You’re twirling the base of your empty glass around on its napkin when you feel that same heat behind you again, and a hand rests on the small of your back.

“Coat,” Joel mutters, pulling his suit jacket on.

“Huh?”

“Get your coat. Everyone’s headin’ across the street.”

“Why is everyone heading across the street?”

He shrugs. “Afterparty, I guess.”

“It’s a work function. It’s like–” you check your phone, “–oh, fuck, it’s almost midnight.” You screw your face up, watching as the small crowd slowly melts away through the suite doors.

“I know. I throw a good party, right?”

“So good, people are leaving it.”

He tuts. “Coat. Now.”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“You told me the party was here. I didn’t think we’d be walking all over town.”

“’s not all over town, baby,” Joel murmurs with a sigh. “Here.”

He peels the jacket off his shoulders and you hold a hand out to stop him.

“Joel, it’s fine, it’s–”

“Quit moanin’,” he groans as he throws it over your shoulders. He scoops your hair and pulls it softly out from under the collar. “Alright? C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you past some stragglers down the hall toward the elevator, where a group are waiting for the doors to open.

“Tight squeeze, Miller,” some dude chuckles as you follow Joel in, his hand still gripping yours.

He turns, backing into the corner, pulling you with him until your back is flush against his chest.

His hands drop to your hips. You swallow back a scream.

One of the accountants is stood in front of your – Harriet? Helen? Something beginning with H – anyway, she keeps knocking back into you, pushed by the sway of the packed elevator. It means you knock a little into Joel, and feel his chin on the crown of your head.

You turn ever so slightly to mumble an apology to him, but when you feel his breath on the shell of your ear, your words die in your throat.

“Hazel?” – That’s her fucking name – Joel reaches around you to tap her shoulder, and her bobbed haircut swings when she turns. “Did you get those balance sheets yet?”

“Not yet, Joel,” she tells him, and your face prickles with heat.

“No? That’s weird.” Joel’s grip tightens on your hips, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. In a low whisper, only to you, he says, “Thought I asked to have ‘em sent over by this afternoon.”

You muster up the courage to reply with a deep breath. From the corner of your mouth, through gritted teeth, you tell him, “That was before you forced me to sit in on a buyers’ meeting.”

You feel his chest rumble between your shoulder blades as he laughs. The elevator shudders to a stop and the doors slide open; the crowd spills out.

You step forward, ahead of Joel, and make it maybe three steps before he’s back on you, an arm draped over your shoulders. You reach up and take his hand, leaning against his strong torso to let him guide you toward the exit.

No idea what makes you do it. Maybe you’re drunk. Maybe not only on alcohol.

You’re the last of the pack, stumbling over air across the gleaming floor toward the revolving door, which Joel pushes open for you. The cool night breeze hits you as you slip out.

The crowd ahead are rushing across the street, yelling and whooping as they go. It’s juvenile, a little cringe. A bunch of rich corporates skipping across the street toward cheap alcohol and peanuts. You’d care more about the way it looks if you were sober.

Joel’s hand finds yours again and he’s leading you down the steps, cutting between parked cars toward the dive bar. You link your other arm around his elbow and he glances down, noting it. You wish the walk was longer.

A flickering fluorescent light drowns you both in a red glow, and Joel pushes the doors open. The place is flooded with half of your party, drowning booths, leaning against the bar, dancing in any open floorspace.

The floor is sticky, the bar dim. Joel takes you over to the same crowd he introduced you to earlier, and makes space for you to sit. You slide along the booth to the wall and he follows, squeezing up to you to let two more in after him.

“Beers?” a guy with a loose tie asks, to a chorus of yeses and a show of thumbs up. Mitch? Mark?

You tug Joel’s jacket from your shoulders – the movement nudges him and he turns to lift it from your back and tuck it behind you, brushing the hair off your shoulders. You smile in thanks, and his hand falls back onto your leg.

It takes you a few minutes to notice it this time. The gentle squeeze of his fingers around your thigh, the way it slowly bumps up each time he adjusts in his seat or shifts to allow space for someone else to join the booth.

His hand moves slowly, dangerously close to pulling your skirt up with it. Mitch or Mark returns with your beers and you take a massive swig, nerves and anticipation and fucking need for Joel to keep doing what he’s doing, taking over.

Under lights blurred by the alcohol in your system, the table buzzes with energy and chatter and laughter. There are posters and stickers all over the walls, graffiti of names and initials, numbers and dates scored into the walls. Joel traces them with his finger and you laugh at some of the messages.

“Lydia and Jack,” you mumble, “12-24-19. Wonder what happened then.”

“Bathroom sex,” Joel replies, eyes scanning the wall.

You scoff, beer to your lips. “On Christmas Eve?”

He nods, like it’s obvious. “Magical time ‘n all.”

You look past him with a smile to the opposite side of the bar where, through silhouetted bodies, you notice a jukebox.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your eyes widen, your mouth agape.

Joel follows your eyeline and then twists back around. “C’mon,” he says, taking your hand and motioning for the others to let you by. He drags you over to the machine, lighting your faces up in yellow light, and your drunk eyes scan the screen.

“Nope." You swipe Joel’s hand away right before he can pick some Pet Shop Boys song.

“Really?”

“Good, but not the vibe,” you tell him, and budge him out of the way with your hip. He sways off, laughing, and leans a palm against the jukebox, his chest on your back for the second time tonight. As your tired eyes scan the songs, Joel’s chin rests on your shoulder.

He’s judging every fucking song you linger on. “Queen? Little before your time.”

“Dick.”

“Fleetwood Mac. Definitely before your time.”

“The entire fucking jukebox is before my time, dude. Shut up. These are good songs.”

You settle on a track and turn to face him. He has you almost fucking pressed against the box.

“Change, please.”

“Oh, I’m payin’, am I?”

“Mhm. Your work party, your wallet.”

He sighs and pushes a fist into his pocket for coins, tossing a quarter into your outstretched palm. You turn back and select your song, put the money in, and the old machine barks out the intro.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. “AC/DC? That’s your thing?”

“It’s not yours?” You’re taking him by the hand between bodies, swaying as you go.

He’s laughing, following you until you’re in the middle of the cramped bar, chest to chest, moving together. His hands find your waist again and this time you don’t even flinch; your fingers trail up his shirt, across his chest, settle on his collar.

You fucking swear he’s leaning in, each beat of the song drawing his jaw closer to yours. If you weren’t in a room full of co-workers, you’d probably let him kiss you.

I mean, what you’re doing right now is hardly innocent anyway. His hands are splayed on your lower back, your hips flat against his, rubbing, dancing. Your head rolls back and your lips are under his chin, smiling up at him and singing along. Joel sings the words straight back, your breath meeting and mingling in the tiny gap between your lips.

As the song ends, it fades into another. And another, and another. It’s two in the morning before your group of partiers begin to call taxis. You stumble out of the sweaty bar with an arm linked through Deb’s, still singing along to Whitney as you catch your breath.

She staggers off to a quieter part of the street to call a cab, and you hang around under the red light waiting for her. Joel’s stood at the curb; the back door of his sleek black Rolls-Royce open.

“Where you goin’?” he asks.

“Deb’s callin’ a cab,” you reply, arms folded, shoulders hunched.

Joel shakes his head. “Get in.”

“It’s cool, I’m jumping in with those guys. Thanks, though–”

“Baby,” Joel holds a hand out, “get in.”

Your eyes trace from his palm all the way up his sleeve, to his tired, handsome face. You’re sobering up. He looks clearer. Maybe that’s just the streetlights.

“Get you home in five minutes. C’mon.”

You swivel around to look for Martha and Deb, but they’re nowhere to be seen. The cab will come, they’ll assume you’re staying a while, and get in. No big deal, right?

Well. Stepping into your boss’s car after a night of highly inappropriate touching is kind of a big fucking deal.

That’s why you do it. Waddle over to him, take his hand, let him guide you to the car. You swing a leg in and slip across the seats, admiring the ceiling dotted with hundreds of tiny white lights, like you’re staring straight up at the night sky.

They blur through your drunken gaze, which doesn’t pull from them until you feel the weight of Joel on your right and hear the door slam shut.

“Mind puttin’ the partition up, Rand?” Joel’s voice says, though you mostly hear the vibrations through his chest, where your head is lying. His arm slips around your back, pulling you closer into him as the two of you are granted privacy by the quiet whir of the screen closing.

“Good night?” Joel asks, lips on your hair.

You nod. “You?”

“Mhm.”

His fingers are drawing shapes on your left hip. His right hand intertwines with yours. Your left hand starts to wander.

You liked his hand on you. Liked feeling his grip there. Wanted him to keep moving it up, wanted to see how far he’d take it. So, you put your own hand on the inside of his thigh, just like he did. Starting at the knee, and slowly sliding north. Joel’s breath tightens, his chest lifts, his jaw ticks.

The movement knocks you sober for a couple seconds. You realize what you’re doing. You draw your hand back.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

He unlinks your hands and places a steady palm over your withdrawn fist.

“’s okay, baby. You can do that if you want to.”

The drawl of his voice makes your eyes roll back, your heart leap. Your fucking legs clench.

You let him replace your hand where it was, and his legs widen a little. His crotch more available. You’re watching what you’re doing like you’re not even in your own body; watching it how Joel must be, thinking Higher, higher, keep going, keep doing that.

You lift your heavy head, resting it on his shoulder, and look up into his brown eyes. He’s framed by the starlit ceiling of the car. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, face lined with his expression.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Tired.”

Just then his hand takes yours again and shifts it softly, stopping what was probably about to happen but still holding onto you, still wanting your fingers locked in his. Not halting the train, just switching tracks.

It’s not a long journey, certainly not as long as you’d like, until you’re parked on your street. Rand lowers the partition to call back, and Joel thanks him.

“You okay gettin’ to your apartment?”

“Yup,” you groan, hoisting yourself out of the comfortable car.

“Sure? I can walk you up if you want.”

You bend down, one arm on the roof of the car. “I’m good, thanks. Thanks for the ride, Miller.”

“Be safe, baby.”

“You be safe, too. Bye.”

You throw the door closed and meander off up the steps toward your building. Joel’s car doesn’t roll off until your elevator arrives and you disappear inside.

You spend all weekend in bed, recovering not only from the party but from the week of work you’d endured. You keep yourself busy, though. There’s a Desperate Housewives marathon on TV. And when you’re not watching that, your hand is stuffed down your pants, Joel on your mind.

All. Fucking. Weekend.

In the shower, you’re picturing him on his knees in front of you, lapping you up. Hands gripping your thighs, draped over his shoulders. Your hand plants firmly against the wet tile when you cum, your orgasm threatening to collapse you in a heap.

In bed, you’re on top of him, knees either side of his waist, letting him buck his hips up until you’re screaming, covering him in your wet. Your vibrator battery dies by Saturday night.

Monday morning, you’re getting ready to leave for the office, and need to take ten minutes out to relieve the ache between your legs again. This time, he has you pressed against your bedroom wall, fucking you quick and messy, cumming deep inside you before he’ll let you head out.

It’s just a crush, right? It’s just because of how touchy you guys were on Friday. When you were drunk. And in a cramped, dark dive bar. Everybody gets crushes. And who wouldn’t, on a six-foot-whatever man with a jawline that could cut glass, hands that take a grip of you with minimal effort, a cock probably the size of…

No. Nope. That’s enough. Cut that the fuck out.

It’s just a crush. That’s what you keep telling yourself in the elevator, lights counting down the floors until you’re going to see Joel again. Is the sparkling feeling in your chest fear, anticipation, or excitement?

And is your cunt beginning to throb again?

You give a curt nod to Martha as you arrive, hauling your bag a little further up your shoulder and adjusting the folders in your arms on your hips.

“Where’d you go?” she asks, eyes still on the computer in front of her. Her chin propped on her elbow, face inches from the screen, reading something intently.

“Huh?”

“On Friday. We couldn’t find you when the cab arrived.”

“Oh, I, uh,” you clear your throat, “Joel gave me a ride. Yeah.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Generous of ‘im.”

“Yup.”

“He’s in the conference room waitin’ for you.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You hover for a few seconds, then take your cue to leave. You hurry over to the conference room door, knocking twice before pushing it open.

Joel’s sat at the top of the table, leant back in his chair, feet up on the wood in front of him. You feel like you could collapse.

“Mornin’,” he says, over the dull droning from the phone. Your eyes flit down to it, a question, and he answers, “weekend update.”

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head, leaning forward to hit the unmute button, affirm whatever the hell the other dude had been saying, say his goodbyes, and then hang up.

“Feelin’ fresh?” he asks when he’s sat back.

You take a deep breath and wobble your head as an answer, laying files and folders out on the table in preparation for the meeting Joel has this morning.

“That bad, huh?”

“I was fine by Saturday afternoon. How were you?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t that drunk.”

Yeah. Sure, Joel. Your fingers took the brunt of the alcohol.

He stands up, wanders around the table to join you. Your fingers begin to tremble at the thought of him so close. Your thighs heat.

“This all of it?” he asks. He’s closer than you thought.

“Y-yep. Some copies there, too, if anyone needs a spare.”

His hand slips up between your shoulder blades, patting you gently at the base of your neck.

“Good job, baby.”

You almost fucking shudder. Your stomach jolts, your chest tightens. The ache between your legs pangs, reminding you it’s there, even though you can’t fucking do anything about it.

You spin around, settling back against the table, ankles crossed. Tense.

“How long do you reckon it’ll go on?”

“No idea. Why? Somewhere you gotta be?”

You shake your head. “Just organizing lunch ‘n stuff for you.”

“That can wait until after.”

“I’ll have it ready for you comin’ out. Be easier.”

He steps forward. Your heart stutters.

“You’ll be in here with me.”

You cock your head. “Again? What– Why?”

“I need you in here. To take–”

“–minutes? Yeah, figured as much. You gonna have me up here all night again writing ‘em up?”

He smirks, dimples in his cheeks. There are two options here: either smack him, or jump his bones – he deserves the first and you deserve the latter.

“I like having you in my meetings, darlin’,” he says, as the door handle turns, “stops me wanting to blow my brains out.”

Martha enters and Joel slots in alongside you on the table. She sets a tray with a coffee pot and packets of sugar and milk on the sideboard.

Your head is fucking dizzy. There’s a ringing in your ears. Energy sparkling in waves from the tops of your thighs all through you. Joel’s shoulder brushing against yours, his eyes boring into the side of your face.

You won’t look at him. Won’t take your eyes off of Martha, laying paper coffee cups out in rows, her back to you guys.

Joel lays a palm flat on your thigh, rounding the curve until his hand is firm between your legs, threatening to push your skirt up. You feel his breath hot on your neck, his voice like honey in your ear.

“Makes for a nice view, too.”

You whip around to glare at him. He leans back, chuckling to himself.

Through gritted teeth, you whisper, “Can I talk to you? In private?”

Joel shrugs, excuses you both to Martha, and then follows at your heels out of the conference room and over to his office door. You waltz in without permission, shoving the door open and waiting for him to close it behind himself.

Joel’s office is bright, clean. Giant windows lining three walls, huge desk with an even bigger bookcase behind. Two black leather couches opposite, facing one another with a glass coffee table between. Soft white rugs, obnoxiously huge lampshades, small fern plants dotted here and there. You found and booked the interior designer for him, and not a day’s gone by since that you don’t remind him of how nice a job you did.

Today, though, you break that streak. You round on him as soon as he closes the tall, wooden door behind him.

“Will you fucking quit it?”

“Fucking quit what, baby?” He’s almost laughing, strolling around his desk and settling into his leather chair, leaning back. Casual. Fucking – arrogant.

You stammer, holding up a shaky finger. “Okay, first of all – that. Don’t call me baby, that’s not appropriate. Second – the teasing?”

“I don’t get it, you liked me callin’ you baby on Friday night.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and give him a furious stare. He holds his hands up.

“My mistake.”

You stalk over to the windows separating Joel’s office from the reception area. Martha’s still in the conference room, the door ajar. You haul the shades shut to give yourselves some privacy.

“Stop – fucking with me. Stop it. We were drunk on Friday night. It wasn’t– Stop.”

“’m not fucking with you.” He leans his head to scratch his eyebrow. He repeats it when you turn away, hands flying up in the air. “I’m not.”

“Let’s just forget Friday happened, can we do that?”

Wandering around Joel’s office isn’t doing anything to relieve the weight between your legs. If anything, it’s making it worse. You make your way back to his desk and place your hands down on the wood, leaning over.

“Wh…what’s next on the agenda?” you ask, almost panting, your eyes closing.

You hear Joel’s chair rock when his weight leaves it. His footsteps pad across soft carpet, around the desk. Nearing you. They come to a halt and you feel the air stop short, right behind you.

For someone not trying to fuck with you, he’s doing an awfully good job at it.

You surrender, leaning back, your shoulders making contact with his chest. Then his hands find your hips, light, gentle. No pressure on them, not until your ass presses against his crotch and your head tilts, allowing Joel to hook his chin over your shoulder.

He’s hard, under his pants. Against you. You can feel it, still, steady. Rock solid beneath four layers of clothing.

His hands lift from your waist and glide up your shirt front, your stomach tensing when they brush over it. They come to rest over your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples through your shirt. And you fucking let him; lifting your right arm to hook around his jaw and pull him closer into your neck, where his lips leave soft, wet marks.

It feels like the first gasp of fresh, sea air after being underwater. The first gulp of chilled water after a hike. The first wave of aircon in the car. It’s relief. It’s desperate, borderline orgasmic relief.

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more.

You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin.

“I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?”

“Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” you repeat, and he nods. You take a breath. “S-sounds good.”

Joel’s hands find the hem of your skirt and start to pull it up your legs, painfully slow, revealing more and more of your bare thighs as he goes. He’s rubbing them, massaging until your skirt sits on your hips, little black panties exposed. His hand comes down to cup you, fingers gently applying pressure to your clit through the lace.

You moan, finally being touched by him again, finally feeling his hands on you where you need it most. Already, he’s doing better, making you feel better than you could ever by yourself. Than you did, by yourself. Involuntarily, you breathe out, “Daddy…”

Joel’s fingers pick up the pace. He fucking loves it.

“That feel good, baby? Like it like that? Tell me how it feels.”

“So – fucking – good,” you whisper, legs parting more to grant him better access. He dips his hand lower, thumb staying planted on your lace-covered clit, fingers shifting the fabric under your entrance aside.

He toys with you first, middle finger swaying back and forth through your folds, collecting slick, spreading it around. Then, a second finger, pushing upward, dangerously close to entering you. You’re gasping, leaning into him, letting his strong form keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s whispering into your ear. “You ain’t gotta do nothin’, just enjoy.”

And then he pushes up, two thick, curled fingers entering your cunt in one motion. He has you down to his knuckles, limp against his chest, mouth wide open in a silent gasp. Your head rolls to the side to watch him as he feels you for the first time, and his expression mirrors yours.

“So fuckin’ wet, babygirl,” he whispers, lips on your forehead.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whimper as his fingers press hard inside your soft pussy, starting to pump gently before picking up the pace and fucking you good.

The office is silent, save for your gasps and moans, and the wet sounds of Joel’s fingers in your cunt. He hums into your neck, thumb pressing hard against your clit, drawing tiny circles over the swollen bud.

It doesn’t take fucking long before you’re collapsing, walls clenching, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. It’s all that’s been on your mind for almost three days, all you’ve imagined, dreamt about, thought of.

Joel feels you, knows you’re close.

“Wanna cum all over daddy’s fingers, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you bite back a yelp, “so – close.”

“Know you are, baby. It’s okay, you can cum. Let me feel you.”

That coil, slowly winding since approximately nine-thirty on Friday night, not relieved by your hands, your toys, or your fucking pillows, snaps in one second. The tension breaks across your stomach. Your legs give; Joel’s free hand wraps around your waist to hold you upright.

You throw your head back against his shoulder again, jaw slack with a moan you know you can’t give voice to. Joel fucks you all the way through it, fingers coated in your cum only to dive straight back in, wetter and slicker than before.

There are stars in your vision. You can’t feel between your legs. The office is slowly blinking back into view, but Joel gives you no time to recover.

He pushes you face down onto his desk roughly, hastily, like someone’s about to wander through his door any second. One ear pressed to the cold wood, you hear his belt clink, feel the teeth of his zipper graze your thighs. Hear his deep breaths as he drags his pants and boxershorts down to free his cock.

You’ve never seen him, obviously. You’ve pictured it, dreamt up what it would look like with your fingers deep inside yourself. And from this angle you still don’t see it, but when the weight of it springs against your ass, when Joel lines himself up and his tip dips between your cum-covered folds, you fucking feel it.

His thick head pushing slightly into your entrance, coating him in your slick. He’s big. You moan at the time he’s taking to just shove into you; it’s probably seconds, but it feels like fucking hours.

“I hear ya, I know,” he’s saying, but your hearing’s starting to fade. Blood pumping through your head, white noise rattling against your eardrums.

He pushes in, length separating your clenched walls, entering your wet, warm cunt with a deep growl from Joel’s lips and a gasp from yours. You open up around him, swelling as he pushes deeper and deeper.

“So – fuckin’ – tight for me, baby,” he groans, hands on your hips pulling you back onto his length. “You feel that? Feel how tight you are?”

“Mhm,” you reply, the stretch of his thick cock burning and igniting you in flame. Your eyes screw shut as he keeps pushing, further than you ever thought anyone could, until his tip kisses your cervix and you whine.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, pausing and placing a steady hand on the small of your back. “We don’t need anyone out there knowin’ what we’re doin’.”

“So good, daddy,” you whimper quietly, and he knows. He fucking knows.

He begins to draw back, hips leaving your ass, cock pulling out of your pussy. Your eyes roll closed, missing him the more he withdraws. Before he’s fully gone, he snaps back inside, entering you harder, faster, deeper.

You gasp, knuckles whitening with the grip of your balled fists. You bend one arm, biting into your sleeve to stop your whimpers from slipping under the door.

A couple more thrusts and Joel’s fucking you. Hard. He’s fucking huge, so huge it blurs the edges of your vision every time his cock hits against your cervix. He’s almost fucking whimpering behind you, growling your name with every stroke, groaning each time he bottoms out inside you and your tight hole wraps around his length.

You can feel the edge of the table bruising your pelvis, and it feels so fucking good. Everything about this feels good. Joel’s cock stretching you out, his hands gripping you roughly, your own hands outstretched to hold onto the desk for some sort of stability.

The only thought going through your head, only words your lips can part to utter: daddy daddy daddy.

“Good girl,” Joel hums, your moans like music to his ears. “Good fuckin’ girl. Know how naughty you are for me?”

You smile. “Yeah, daddy.”

This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever fucking done. Sure, you love sex, especially when it’s rough. But nothing you’ve ever done with anyone else, nothing you’ve ever had done to you by anyone else, compares to being bent over your boss’s desk and fucked dumb by him.

Calling him daddy, corporate managers slowly filing into a conference room just outside. Only an unlocked door separating them from you, writhing and throbbing under Joel’s cock, his rough hands on your hips, your name passing his lips in breathy moans.

Is it wrong? Yes. Do you care? Fuck no.

You know he’s close; his thrusts become sloppy, hips start hammering against you.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” he grunts, skin slapping.

You’re on the pill, and if you answered honestly, you’d tell him to finish inside you. But you know that if he wanted to do that, he’d just fucking do it. Wouldn’t ask. And you’re not prepared to waste time arguing.

“My m-mouth.”

“C’mere.” Joel slips out of you with no effort, you’re so fucking soaked for him, and spins you around. A gentle hand on your shoulder, he pushes you onto your knees, free hand jacking his cock over you.

It’s the first time you see him, fist tugging up and down a thick, veiny shaft; swollen, reddened tip spilling precum which his thumb collects and drags down his length, gleaming with your wet.

On instinct, you push forward, one hand coming to rest on his thigh, the other taking over from his on his dick. You pump him a few times, and then open your mouth wide enough to take him all the way until he’s brushing the back of your throat.

With a choke, you begin bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollow, breathing deep through your nose. Joel moans, head rolling back, hand coming to hold your hair in a fist. He drags you back and forth a few times before he begins to shudder and you draw back, holding him steady on your swollen bottom lip.

He looks down at you and your eyes lock as he cums all over your tongue. You moan as your mouth fills with his warm, salty load. When his cock stills and he stops spilling all over you, you lean back and close your mouth, licking your lips and swallowing him.

“Aw, babygirl,” he coos, stroking your hair. “Good job. Such a good girl for me.”

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Joel’s hands hook under your arms and he pulls you back up, letting you lean against his desk.

Still in a daze, you feel him tug your skirt back down, fix your shirt. Tuck your hair behind your ears, wipe either saliva or cum from your lips.

“Good?” he asks, and you lace your fingers in his.

Your breath is still shaky, but through a sigh, you say, “Good.”

He nods. “Can hear Ken out front, must all be arrivin’.” He pulls you over to the door.

His fingers wrap around the handle, free hand coming up to cup your cheek. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You open your mouth and let his tongue past, moaning into the wet, messy kiss.

Something in you almost wants to laugh, thinking about the fact you let him fuck you before you’d even kissed him.

When he pulls away, your hands take hold of his jaw, keeping him at your height.

“Have a good meeting,” you whisper, pecking him on the lips, “text me what you want for lunch.”

He growls, yanking the door open and passing by you, granting your wish to sit this one out. Something in you tells you not to wander far, though.

He’ll probably want to blow off some steam when he’s done.

----------

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[bobardo]

how would carmy react if he ever accidentally hurt his girl…like not in a fun sexy way but in a real way…whether it’s genuinely fucking/spanking her too hard or saying something rather mean during sex

oh god i feel like he'd literally burst a blood vessel 😭

tw!! carm hurts his cub (emotionally). allusions to domestic ab*se (carm is a healing boy, all right?) happy ending.

i can see this happening after carmy loses for the first time. like, it sucks to lose for anyone, but this is carmen we’re talking about—the definition of a loser; a boy small and quiet enough to frighten into a corner, terrorize into a blank mind (poor, bruised boy. built a name for himself out of hollow self-confidence and false healing, a persona that crumbles with one (hundred) too many punches).

he walks through the tunnels with his head hung low, eddie’s hand massaging his right shoulder and benny’s soothing his left; nacho in front, his larger form shielding carm’s blotchy face from the inconsiderate paparazzi. y/n trails timidly beside her bear—hurting and erratic.

the locker room is stock-still silent as they file inside. usually, there's hollering and chanting in celebration as soon as they step through the threshold, and after congratulations and hugs (and kisses from his sweet cub), carm heads for the shower to wash away the grime of his brutal victory.

this time, though, there are no congrats to be given.

everyone seems to be walking on powder eggshells, overly tentative and precautionary as they tend to him. any questions they have for him are low and prudent, and any answers he has to offer them are clipped, and slightly cruel—finds it difficult to show kindness when their own is unwarranted, he lost. he failed (and failing does not call for sympathizing but for reprimanding, punishment; not consolation but condemnation).

"jus' fuck off, dude," carmen huffs, shrugging benny's hand of his shoulder. he sighs, drops his palm from figure and turns on his heal to walk out, anxiously twirling his toothpick along his tongue.

he steps next to y/n, where she waits, pretty in pink, like always, with her hands folded in front of her legs, eyes to the floor. he bumps his boney shoulder to hers, "think he needs you." her eyes flit up to meet his, and he gives her a small smile, and look of encouragement. "go get him, tiger," he whispers gently.

famous last words.

everyone silently gets the message and leaves the locker room to give carmen his space; all except his girl, his sweet cub.

"carmy," she utters softly, stepping toward him.

he throws her a look over his shoulder, "not now, cub, i'm... not now."

she frowns—presses still.

"carm," she tries again, sliding a supple palm up the curve of his back.

he jerks away from her touch, "not fuckin' now, y/n!" he keeps his back to her and starts toward the medical bed, blood dripping from his fingertips.

she bristles, but doesn't let him see it. takes a defesive step back, kicks up her chin, and swallows the lump in her throat (she hated it when he yelled, when he bunched himself up and tucked himself away in that corner of his mind, away from everyone, even her, but his protector. she couldn't help him there, couldn't pry him from the clutches of claws).

"please don't speak to me like that, carmen," she says, soft but firm. "i'm your girlfriend, not on payroll."

he snorts as he rips a white towel off the overhead shelf and starts soaking up the blood from his various wounds. he's rough as he scrapes it up and down his battered body, hurtful. y/n longs to reach out and do it for him—delicate and caring, the way he deserves—but keeps her twitching hands at her sides.

"fuckin' act like it," he mutters under his breath.

her eyebrows rise with indignation, "excuse me?"

"i said y'fuckin' act like you're on my payroll, shit!"

y/n's spent a long time trying to learn how to not be sensitive. she came from a household of men—four brothers, all boxers, thanks to her father—but just because she was constantly surrounded by their brutality doesn't mean she ever fully adapted to it. she inherited their tough skin—took the chipped pieces on the gym floor and melded them to her flesh herself, thicker, harder to pierce—but she couldn't bury her very being, no matter how hard she tried; she would always be a sensitive soul.

she exhales a shaky breath, her fingers curling into her palms, nails digging. he didn't mean it, he was just upset with himself.

"watch your damn tone, carmen."

"or what?" he scoffs, whipping around to face her, tossing the bloodied towel to the side. it's the first good look she's gotten at his face since the start of the fight, and it makes her want to scream.

he's got a swollen, bruised left eye and a crooked nose, a swelling jaw and busted lips; battered and bloodied, from his collarbone, scattered all across his torso.

her throat threatens to close up, and carmy's taking a looming step closer to her too fast for her to combat it.

"what the fuck are you gonna do? fuckin' bitch at me like you always do, huh?" she flinches as he gets in her face, stumbling back. "carmy this and carmy that, but s'never fucking good enough, is it? you just get to sit there and look pretty—live in my house, use my fuckin' money—and god fuckin' forbid i ever ask anything of you!" he throws his arms up, exasperated, huffs out a laugh, though it's certainly humorless. "i'd screw those precious fuckin' feelings a'yours, get y'cryin' like the fuckin' crybaby y'are..."

his voice trails off, the fiery blaze in his eye faltering—like he knows he's fucked up—but his face hardens again before she has the chance to decipher it.

there's part of her that wants to hurt him the way he's just hurt her, put up a fuckin' fight and scream at him the way they're both so used it. another part, though—a much stronger part—is too hurt to hurt him; too sad that her bear would take violence and cruelty over the kindness of others because he'd never been taught how.

she looks at him with a broken furrow between her brow—a bitter smile on her lips. her voice is watery as she starts, "i never asked you for any of that. you offered, and i accepted. and my sincerest fucking apologies for being a human, with emotions." she scoffs, let's out her own humorless laugh. she bites her lips to try and stop the river of tears at bay, looks to the side so he won't notice as a tear slips down her red cheek.

carmen exhales a long breath—he went too far. "cub—"

she lifts a dismissive hand, "no, y'know what? it's fine," she sniffs harshly, rubs underneath her eyes to stop the stray tears from slipping. "i'm— i'm gonna give you some space," she utters, turning to find her purse and coat. carmy watches her gathering her things uselessly, stuck. "seems like y'could use it."

she doesn't look back at him as she rushes to the door, and only stops when she feels a large paw grazing the exposed skin of her back.

"y/n," he whispers, wavering, unsure.

she brushes his hand from her figure.

"i'll be at your house," she mumbles, and slips out of the door.

when it slams shut, carmy can't help the chocked sob that works its way up his sore throat. he stumbles backward, trips over his feet and crumbles to his knees. he curls into himself (like the boy in his mind, tucked safely in the corner), wraps his aching arms around his bent legs a cries like the crybaby he'd just accused his girlfriend of being.

his sweet cub.

god, he fucked up. they fight, so much—too much. he knows her mannerisms, has studied the inclinations of her sadness, frustration, irritation, and anger. he can't ever recall being faced with her disappointment, however, her utter hurt.

he fucked up, bad. but he's gonna fix it (has to, or the boy in the corner will never stop shaking with fear, sobbing, wailing—waiting for his protector to return with his cub).

——

it's late when carmen gets home. their home, not his (couldn't call it his, was never his when she's the one who made his house a home). he walks through the door of their penthouse with his hands full—his duffle bag, a bag of take out (from the three michelin star joint down on 39th), a heart-box of chocolates, and a large bouquet of flowers—and his tail tucked between his wobbly legs.

he places her gifts on the kitchen counter when he walks by in passing, groaning in relief as weight is lifted away from his body (he got beat the shit out of—had to if he fuckin' lost).

he walks into their bedroom as quietly as he can, softly kicking the door shut behind him. in their king-sized bed lay his sweet cub, curled up beneath the blankets—chin tucked and knees pulled to her chest—in a baby pink nightie and matching bonnet. he watches the subtle rise and fall of her back, smile fondly.

he shuffles to the foot of the bed and sets his duffle there, then moves around to her side, kneeling before his sleeping beauty.

"cub," he whispers, feather light as he presses stray baby hairs peaking through the band of her bonnet back underneath. "wake up f'me, baby, 've got some grovelin' t'do."

she groans groggily into the sheets as she starts to come to, stretches out like a cat as her tear-clumped, heavy eyes peel open.

"hey, sweet cub," he murmurs. she eyes him blankly through fluttery lashes.

he deserves that.

"i'm sorry, my girl," he sighs heavily, beginning to pet at her blotchy cheek. "i didn't mean it, fuckin' any of it. you don't bitch at me, y'never ask too much of me," he brings his free hand up to cradle her pretty face as tears begin to well in her eyes. "this is your house, your home. my money is yours, more than it's mine—fuckin' spend it all, cub, i don't care," the both huff out a short laugh, his fond, hers snotty. "y'not a crybaby, you're my baby—my girl, my sweet fuckin' cub, and i'm so goddamn sorry i said those things to you, baby."

she sniffles, curls her fingers around his wrists to keep him close. "y'mean it?"

his lips twitch up in a gentle smile, "i mean it, cub; m'so fuckin' sorry, sweetheart."

"good."

she pulls him in by her grip on his wrists, mouth pressing to his.

safe to say he's forgiven (he carries her out to the kitchen—arms clasped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist—and presents her gifts to her for good measure, though. sits her in his lap and feeds her yummy pasta and chocolate with a glass of sangria, one of her go-to drinks, to see that giddy smile.

then eats her out of the kitchen counter, too).

——

a/n: how to make the writing process go faster no glue no borax

not edited/proofread!!

[imagine-notnatural]

More Task force 141 x Janitor Reader

It starts when you offer a neck massage to Rodriguez. They’d just returned from some mission, and all she and the rest of group did was complain about how sore they were. As shes a close friend with Michael, and a good friend of yours too, you decided to offer her relief. A quick massage, just while you had time between tasks and she had her own downtime.

You once done it absentmindedly when you stood behind Michael at a meeting. He sat on the bench in front of you, so you just simply rested your hands on his shoulders. Nothing over the top. However as the meeting progressed, he’d started feeling your hands gently squeeze his shoulders. Michael didn’t react, he didn’t move or give any indication that he felt what was going on; figuring you might stop the pleasant movements of your hands. This continued for another twenty minutes, by the time the meeting ended you’d thoroughly worked out all the kinks in his neck and shoulders, had gently run your hands through his hair enough times where his eyes had to fight to stay open, and left him in a daze.

Ever since, any time he’d feel your hands on his shoulders he’d still, hoping that you were entranced enough with whatever it was Bill(your boss) was talking about that you’d do it again.

“You can say no, Im just offering a service, you don’t have to tell me yes if you’re uncomfortable. Genuinely, I only offer because you seem like you need it” you say, awkwardly turning away from her as she seemed on the fence.

“Marisol, trust me, it’s good. You’ll probably get put to sleep. I call (Name) NyQuil behind their back because they nearly put me to sleep once-“

“Mikey what the fuck-“

Rodríguez laughed, “Sounds good, Thanks (Name) I really appreciate it.” Once she gave you the go ahead, you rounded behind her.

“You still good?”

She gave you a nod.

You started gently kneading the muscles at the base of her neck and worked down from there. The way the three of you were positioned was that Mikey (and you previously) had your backs facing the recreational rooms’ tv, and now you were able to face the tv with Marisol. Some reality tv show had caught your attention, and with time, the sounds from the screen and the show itself distracted you.

By the last comercial break, when you looked down you found Rodriguez was chin-to-chest. Her head rolling over to allow you to gently trace the base of her neck with your nails.

“You still okay?” You asked, chuckling when she grunted happily as her answer.

Just then, more of her squad came bounding in..

“Rodriguez we’ve been looking for you what are- Hey what’re you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” You respond, noting that Marisol had yet to lift her head and her eyes remained shut.

“Aw dude- Me next! My fucking back has been killing me!” Someone from outside the door said, when you turned to look it was another member of their squad.

“You want one? Twenty dollars for however long real housewives of Dubai is on-“ Mikey instantly sat up from the old couch, his arm outstretched and hand open. You instantly shot Michael a glare, while the others looked at him in disbelief.

“Man what-“

“Mikey I didn’t-“

“It’s worth it” Marisol said, loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. She placed a hand over your hand own and gave you a quick thank you. She got up from the folding chair she’d been sat at and riled her shoulders. “It’s fucking worth it. Watch this,”

She made a show of rolling her shoulders and neck.

“Im gonna sleep like a fucking baby tonight. Ten out ten, will recommend ” She smiled and gave you another thank you. You were distracted by her smile, and didn’t hear what Mikey said next.

“So? You heard her, and you know Rodriguez doesn’t lie for shit- what do you say?” Michael smirked, hand still outstretched.The two men looked at each other before they looked back at you.

Still distracted by Rodriguez’s smile, you didn’t notice when the men pulled out their wallets.

“You got change for a fifty?”

“I do”

You turned to see the men exchange bills in front of you before offering you twenty each.

“Im not- I mean- uh-“

You sighed as they gave you a pleading look.

I mean you’re a college student paying out of state tuition fees AND the majority of check went into rent and bills… Having a bit of extra cash is like totally in your best interests…

“Who’s going first?”

And that’s how you became a part time masseuse.

It was a well kept secret. Michael had taking to managing the operation, his payment being on demand head scratches. He’d made it so only people vouched by someone you’d already worked on or by you or Michael personally, would you even consider. It was all kept on the down low so that you wouldn’t end up in some sort of trouble, you accepted payment in cash, goods, and trades of services. And everyone was kept in check by some sort of code of honor they’d established amongst themselves.

Marisol and Michael and taken it up to personally warn (threaten) everyone that if you got caught and didn’t give massages anymore they wouldn’t take it lightly. (Blah blah blah breaking knee caps blah blah blah Marisol is so creative!)

And sure there were physical therapists on base, but for whatever reason you seemed to excel in relaxing people to the point of sleep. That’s what people really came to you for.

One night when you were on graveyard shift, you recieved a text from Michael.

TMNT: Hey, just fyi sgt MacTavish and Garrick r gonna head over to you soon

You: ??

TMNT: The ones w the thiq thighs n fat asses

You: be more specific this is yam city we’re in partner

TMNT: SCOTLAND FOREVAA n the guy w the cap from the 141

You: yOU MEAN KYLE?! ur lYING!! HOW?!

You: who couched ?!

You: vouched*

TMNT: Marisol

You: Ah :o

TMNT: Yeah ;)

You: (ToT)

You: Bye then

TMNT : toodlelu~

You waited nervously for the two sergeants in the rec room. You eased your nerves by scrolling through the streaming services on the TV. Just as you had finally settled on a series, there was a knock of the opened door.

“So yur’ NyQuil?” The Scotsman was the first to enter, an inquisitive eye as he looked over your humble single chair set up. His resting smile, made your stomach do flips as you watched him look you over

“ a wee bit jumpy no?” Soap smiled, getting side eye from his fellow sergeant who was still outside the door.

“Fucking Michael- Yes but no, don’t call me that. It’s (Name), the dipshit trying to get the name to stick is my friend…” you fought to maintain eye contact with those bright blue eyes of his

The Englishmen made his appearance soon after,

“ So it is you! What? Threatenin’ us to keep clean wasn’t enough for you, you’d to start knocking people out?” Kyle walked in with a grin.

“Well, you’re some big hotshot guy so when I couldn’t get to you I had to find an outlet.” You chuckled,

“So Marisol let y’all in on the operation. What’s going on fellas?”

“Near dam dislocated my shoulder when training last week and haven’t been able to sleep it off,” Johnny answered, tentatively rolling said shoulder. You nodded then turned to Kyle,

“Well, truth is I’ve just been tired.” You nodded again,

“Alright then gentlemen, I’ll get started with-“

“Call me John, Bonnie”

“Okay, I start with John and I’ll get to you after.” You gesture for Johnny to sit in the folding chair beside you, “there’s snacks- well the layout is almost the same as your own personal rec. room so you’ll know where snacks are. Kick back on the couch, watch the movie and n’” you turn slightly to see how much more of the movie remained… an hour and forty five minutes.

“Like 45 minutes I’ll have y’all switch.”

The two men looked at each other briefly before stepping to their spots. Gaz on the couch and soap in the chair.

“Oh can I actually get you turned the other way?” You ask, Johnny quickly stands to turn around and sit as you positioned him.

“Okay, now, just let me know if anything hurts in the not good way, okay? I’m going to get started on your neck and then work from there. Sound good?” You asked, placing a bit of scentless lotion on your hands.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” Kyle couldn’t help but turn away from the screen to see you get started on Johnny. As you couldn’t see his face, Johnny scoffed lightly and gave Kyle a small smile at your words. Chin restringing on his arms, Johnny began speaking

“Nah, I’m sure’ve had worse, ‘think I can handle-“

Kyle had the pleasure of seeing his teammate’s face freeze and contort into something between pained and relieved-

“Jesús, Mary, n’ Joseph, the grip on you-“ Johnny grunted, hiding his face in his arms. From his angle, Kyle could see the way your thumbs dug into the base of his neck.

Gaz laughed, “What mate? You good?”

“If it hurts I’ll stop, just say the word,” You said, seemingly unfazed,

“Don’t you bloody dare-“ He muttered, leaning his weight into your hold. He began muttering phrases under his breath, some unfamiliar to you and other indiscernible.

“That good huh?” Kyle smirked,

Johnny, who’s face was buried in his arms only grunted at muttered “-bile your heid” or at least that’s what you managed to understand.

“It’s alright, it’s a compliment to me, yeah?”

Johnny made a noise of agreement

The three of you laughed it off, continuing with light conversation, soon enough you got into your rhythm.

See? nothing to be afraid of! Just passing the time and getting some of that green!

“So how did you find you had this talent of your’s, (Name)?”

“It was just something I did since I was younger. I’d usually only do it for my family but I haven’t..” you paused, thinking of how to continue.

“Ay, dinae stop I paid good money for dis’” Johnny joked sleepily, his breath had begun to steady and his voice sounded more muffled, like his mouth wasn’t moving at all. You chuckled and carried on.

“Relax sergeant, I’m not stopping.” You moved back from his broad shoulders to the base of his neck. You could’ve sworn he’d began purring as your fingers began raking through his hair and working at the junction between his neck and skull.

“But yeah, just something I’ve always done.”

Kyle nodded, taking note of your hesitation but not commenting. You all remained in a comfortable silence afterwards, the movie playing in the background.

Before you knew it, the forty five minutes were up. Your phone buzzed on the counter and you lifted your hands though no without immediate protest.

“Timers’ rigged-“

“No sir. Go ahead and get up, I’ve got to do your friend next before I head out for my actual work. “

“Get out the chair bruv- it’s my turn.”

He only grunted.

Johnny groaned but rose this time, he tentively lifted his arm and rolled it in its socket,

“Braw Job la-“

“Move!”

“Cannae you see I’m going ya jobbie?!”

You laughed, not entirely sure what the Scot was saying but understanding the fact he was pleased with the results. Johnny grumbled annoyed as he laid back on the coach,

“N’ I was falling asleep too!” He complained halfheartedly, placing his feet in the arm of the couch.

“Ay mate but you were cutting into my time.”

“Ah Git Awa’ and Bile Yer Heid,” John huffed, watching as Kyle took his seat in your chair. “Alright same rules, let me know when something’s not working for you or hurts in a bad way, ‘Kay Garrick?”

“Garrick? What happened to Kyle? You cross with me?”

He’d turned his head back slightly, his expression ameused.

“This is a professional setting Mr. Garrick, I’ve got to be professional.” A smug smile pulled at your lips. You placed your hands on his shoulders to begin.

“So this is where you two disappeared to.”

You turned around to trace the source of the unfamiliar voice. You were lead to the doorway- oh hey it’s the grim reaper

“ AH!”

By now both men in the room, had begun stifling their snickers.

“We have to stop meeting like this!I mean you no offense but you’re one scary S-O-B you know that” You swalllowed, raising your head from beside Kyle.

He didn’t respond, but telling from his eyes and the minuscule movement where his mouth would be, you figured he was amused.

“Stalking us’ Lt.? And here we thought yee couldn’ stand us,”

He giant of the group of giants found his place in the corner of the room, he leaned against the counter and allowed for Johnny to yap away.

Meanwhile you’d restarted your timer hesitantly, starting again and hoping that the sound of John’s voice and the tv kept your voice out of earshot.

You leaned over slightly, just enough for Kyle to hear you. ( And for a tingle down his spine n heat reach the tip of his ears)

“He won’t kill me right? He looks the like kinda of guy that could kill me.”

“I mean he could, but he won’t….‘Least I hope…”

“Fuck right off then Garrick, if it wasn’t for the money you paid me I’d leave right now.”

“So you’re telling me you’re only here for money? I thought you liked me?”

“Just because you’re hot doesn’t mean you can’t be insufferable, sergeant. I’ve gotta keep the bills paid somehow.”

“You think I’m hot?” He smirked,

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “- and insufferable, don’t forget that part. It’s key that you understand that’s more important .”

The two of you continued to bicker, not noticing that the Lieutenant and other sergeant had been watching the two of you interact.

“Lively one ye?” Soap turned slightly to get a look at Ghost’s expression. Despite being hiding under that skull themed baklava of his, Johnny felt he’d seen enough and been through enough with the man to get a general feel for him.

Ghost took a moment to take in the scene.

Kyle trying to rile you up while being forced multiple times to keep his head facing forward. A broad smile on his face and the sound of his laugh just slightly louder than the television.

You, who eventually forced him to plant his face into his arms so that the whole ordeal would be over with. A smile tugging on your own lips no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

He then turned back to Johnny, who watched the two of you as well. The look on his face seeming content, his eyes following the way Kyle’s eyes lit up and switching off to the way your lips moved when you smiled and spit back another comeback. There was a heat to it all but.. The whole scene was so… domestic. Ghost quickly turned away, instead focusing on how you decided to torture Gaz, completely giving up on the relaxation part of the massage and instead aiming for as many weak spots as you could find.

Lively indeed.

[thegnomelord]

you have me thinking about pregnant sex with gaz 🥵🫶🏼

Fuuuck dude your Kirby looking ass is unlocking kinks I didn't even know I had

CW:NSFW, MDNI FTM Gaz/domtop Mreader, pregnant sex, quick and rough.

Gaz loves you with all his heart. You're the love of his life, his lighthouse and his anchor, the father of the children growing inside him (yes, children, a healthy pair of twins Gaz feels is the universe's apology for him not getting pregnant the first time)

But by god he's ready to kill you in a hundred different ways.

Ever since his bump started to show you've been treating him like he's made of glass. Which, in of itself, isn't a bad thing — he loves it when you spoil him like he's your king, preening under every praise and leaning into your soft touches, the soft and loving kisses he rewards you with enough for you to continue to feed his gluttonous need for you as you roll your hips to push your cock into him in long even strokes, spooning him from behind so your hands can rub and caress his growing stomach, making love to him like you have all the time in the world.

But he's so god damn horny! There's always a lick of heat burning under his skin and the slow and careful way you fuck him just doesn't scratch his itch. He talks to you about it, but you're still hesitant to be rough with him, especially as he enters his second trimester and his stomach continues to grow to the point he doesn't fit into his pants anymore and Price forces him to desk duty.

It's the lack of action that wears down his quickly dwindling patience. He tries to distract himself with exercise but that's hard to do when there's two tiny humans using his organs as punching bags and making him go to the bathroom every 5 minutes.

So he nearly pounces on you when you return to your shared room in the evening, but you're faster than him, unknowingly calming his nerves with your warm embrace and kisses. "Hello papa." You hum into his neck, your hands naturally falling to massage his bump. "Did you lot miss me?" And that loving look you give him reignites his need.

"Do you even have to ask?" Gaz growls and pulls you down by the collar into a demanding kiss. Using your distraction he pushes you until you tumble down onto the bed, quickly taking his position in your lap. "You-" Kyle grins down at you wolfishly, his hands on your shoulders keeping you laying down, "- are going to let me do this an' anything you say will be used against you."

"Sir," You say, breathless, your eyes just as dark and dilated as his, "I just got really hard."

"Good man." Gaz purrs and kisses you. It doesn't take much to get you two out of your clothes, your sweat slick skins rubbing together as he rides you. The position is a little awkward as he uses your bent knees to balance himself, his stomach pressing against your abdomen as he rides you. He's huffing and puffing like a racehorse, already losing steam even as his cunt flutters around your cock.

"Come on daddy," He moans and rocks his hips, "Put another one in me," He urges you on, and you don't know what comes over you but you grip his hips firmly and thrust up the next time he lowers himself onto your cock, forcing the most beautiful sounds out of his throat.

"Oh- fuck, yes, yes, yes!" He groans, gripping your knees in a white knuckled grip as he bounces on your cock. He looks so handsome like this, eyes closed and mouth open to moan freely as his belly gently bounces with your thrusts. You can't keep your hands off it, something about seeing him heavy with your young has you harder than you've ever been.

Your kiss is just as desperate as his had been when you finally push him into an orgasm, the clenching of his hole pulling you down into your own orgasm. "God, that was so good lovie." He whispers against your lips, his eyes going wide when you don't stop and buck your hips into him again.

"Said you wanted me to put another one in you." Is all you say as you roll your hips, your cock somehow still hard. His cunt flutters around you, wet and sloppy with his slick and your cum mixing between you two.

You really are the love of his life.

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[stuffedgut]

*URRRRRRRRRAAP*

“Ahh, *hic* fuuuuuck dude,” the man moaned as he stroked his massive distended belly. “You really filled me up.”

After swallowing his meal, the pred admired his new girth as his prey squirmed and sloshed in his gut. He was painfully full. His prey, a recent gym buddy of his, was a big dude: broad beefy shoulders, pecs of a god, and thighs like hams. Swallowing him took longer than the man expected, but eventually he slid into his stomach, stretching it farther than he ever attempted before.

Stumbling to the couch, the man tried to carry his heavy belly as he waddled into the living room.

*BUUUUUURRRRRRAAAAAP*

The man let out another massive belch as he collapsed onto the couch, pinned down by the weight of his prey now digesting inside his gut. Slowly massaging the sides of his belly, he moaned in pleasure as his cock swelled under the weight of his gut.

He desperately needed to be huge. Even in this state, he fantasized about being even bigger. Even as his gut sat painfully in his lap, stretched like a drum, his cock twitched in arousal as he admired the crest of his belly.

It won’t be long before he swallows his next victim. Soon, his recent meal will be no more than a layer of fat, his stomach once again empty and desperate to be stuffed to capacity.