#i sipped on facts my dudes

[fictionalmenxyn]

hi can you write rafe x wife. Happily married and have 3 teen kids. Sons friends comes over and talks about mom as milf( idk maybe something else up to u) and Rafe and his wife hear it! Then Rafe f*cks her

of course I can!!

•———•

ఌ𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧ఌ

Pairing: husband!rafe x wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, p in v, fingering, no mentions of protection (be safe, wrap it before u tap it!), breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive/jealous Rafe.

Feel free to send more reqs! Thinking of doing dad!Rafe so send me things you’d like to see! Or more husband!rafe idm! Anything!

🝮🝮🝮

Just getting home from work, you got out of your Range Rover. Collecting your handbag, laptop and some papers from the back seat.

You headed into yours and Rafe’s estate. Walking through the front door. You already knew your three sons had friends over. Your eldest, Cody had asked you over text. You slip your heels off by the door and walk through the large foyer and over to the spacious living room. You smiled as you saw your boys Cody (17), Morgan (16) and Ollie (14 1/2). You spoke “hey boys, you all having fun?” They all said their “heys” and “yeah, thanks”.

You subtly noticed the way their friends eyed you up. Teenage boys never really cared if you saw them checking woman out. Well, these lot didn’t. You looked over to the attached large kitchen, smiling as you see Rafe.

You walked over, putting your things onto the counter. Rafe was leaning forward. His elbows on the counter as he watched the tv from the kitchen as your sons and their friends had soccer on. You walked over to Rafe. Smiling as you put your hand on his back. “Hey, love, you ok?” He turns his head to look at you. His famous grin plastered on his face. “Yeah, all good, how’s work?” He pulls you by the waist. Giving you a soft but firm kiss, showing you how much he missed you since you left this morning. You pull away to answer “good, made some great photos today, all I have to do is change the lighting and tone..” he smiled and pecked your lips “good, can I watch it while you do it?”

Rafe loved what you did. You were a photographer for models, perfume/jewellery commercials or fashion designers. You took the photos and edited them to put on magazines or advertisements. He loved how much you enjoyed your job to.

You nodded “of course, Rafey” he smiled “good girl..” you pecked his cheek.

You sat at the island counter, going through the photos on your laptop. As Rafe leaned against the counter, arms crossed, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

You both overheard Cody and his friend talk. His friend, Jack, asked “dude, is that your older sister or something?” Cody asked “who?” Jack replied “the one that’s in the kitchen with your dad.” Cody shook his head “nah man, that’s my mom.” Jack replied “no fucking way?? She’s so hot, dude, your mom is such a milf, no joke.”

Rafe practically chocked on his drink, as your eyes widen and press your hand to your forehead. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. What did Jack just say? You couldn’t be going mad, Rafe heard the same thing.

Cody spoke “shut up! Don’t say that!” Jack shrugged nonchalantly “dude, I’m just saying, I’d tap that if I could.”

Your eyes widen, Rafe’s jaw clenched. Rafe didn’t need to be and wasn’t jealous… not exactly… he just didn’t like the fact that a seventeen year old friend of your sons had just said that about you… his wife, the mother of his children, his childhood friend, his lover…

Through the rest of the day, Rafe stuck to your side. You’d changed into some sweats and a crop top. Once you were done you both sat on the couch; Rafe next to you. He had his arm around you the whole time. Occasionally kissing your cheek or temple. Showing the boys, your his. He’s the one that put that beautiful diamond ring on your finger. He’s the one that put three beautiful and handsome boys in you. He helped you create life. He’s the one that gives you happiness.

🝮🝮🝮

Soon after, the sun started to set. Your three sons had asked both Rafe and yourself if they could stay the night at one of the boys house. Rafe agreed and told them to be safe and have fun.

As soon as he had shut that front door. You were in for a real treat tonight. Rafe walked back over to the couch. He put his one knee on the seat and he placed a hand on the side of your neck. His cold metal of his rings and watch press gently into your warm neck. He crashes his lips into yours like a starved man. His tongue quick to be shoved into your mouth. You knew what he was up to. You could tell it from the exact moment Cody’s friend said what he said about you.

You knew Rafe since day one, knew him better than he knew himself. So you knew what he was doing. And you were definitely not complaining.

Rafe placed one hand one your thigh and guided you so you laid back on the couch. While he stayed on top of you. He groaned against your lips. He mumbled “‘m gonna make you feel so good, baby” you gasped softly when you feel Rafe’s hips press against yours. He puts his free hand from your thigh, moving it to the waistband of your sweats.

Putting his hand down your sweats he could feel the material of your panties and your soft, wet skin. He groaned “you wearing the black lace ones?” You nodded. He grinned “all f’me…mine” you mumbled “yes, Rafey…”

His fingers slowly move up and down against your heat. You moaned softly. You gasp when you felt his middle finger slip in. He tilted his head and started to kiss along your neck. He groaned, his finger slowly pulling in and out. As he inhaled the sent of your vanilla perfume, he groaned once again. He mumbled against your soft skin “feel so good on my finger, want another, babe?” You nodded. He replied “words. y/n.” You whispered “another, please, Rafe” he slipped his ring finger in. Causing you to gasp softly.

After a few more seconds he pulled his fingers out. You whimpered, he grinned “oh we aren’t done, just wanna take you upstairs… prefer the bed.” Your mouth practically waters as you watch him move his fingers to his mouth. Cleaning you off his digits.

He picks you up, over his shoulder. Taking you upstairs and not wasting anymore time.

Placing you down on the bed, he was quick to take your clothes off. All piece of clothing on the floor. While he starts to take his off, you watched in awe. Your reaction to him will always be the same. It’s like looking at him for the first time, over and over. You never got tired of him. Never have and never will.

You watched as he was swift to remove his boxers. His huge length springing free. He moved onto the bed. His lips go to yours as his hand moves to his length. Pumping it a few times, then lining up with your entrance. You gasp as he started to push in. Once he was all the way in he leaned over you. His chain dangles by your chin. His hands either side of your shoulders. His biceps flex as he looks down at you.

“You’re so pretty under me, sweetheart.” You moaned softly as he slowly started to move in and out. He chuckled lowly “you know, what the boys said… was right..” he groaned. “You are a milf… my milf… such a hot momma, baby… I know you want another… want me to give you one?” You moaned as he picked up the pace a little more. “Words, sweetheart.” You nodded “yes, fuck! Want another…”

He moaned hearing your words, “fuck Y/n, I’ll give you another… I’ll fill you up, make your baby bump come back. Love you baby bumps… every one of them…” you moaned. His one hand moves to your lower stomach, pushing on the bulge on your lower abdomen. Causing you to moan, as he goes deeper.

He picks up his pace, he moaned “fuck, gonna make you pregnant again. Wanna see you with my baby in you again.” He goes harder. “Fuck can feel you round me, that make you excited, baby? Thinking of me getting you pregnant again?”

You nodded, grabbing onto his bicep. Nails digging into his tan skin. He groans at the feeling. He spoke “gonna give ya a girl this time, I wanna girl, so I can spoil you both, yeah? Let you two have the world.” You moan “oh Rafey!” He grinned. “Yeah? Like that?” You nodded. He leaned back. Grabbing your hips, guiding you against him as he thrusts into you.

He can feel your close, “gonna come f’me? Let me have it, sweetheart. You do that f’me and I’ll do it for ya..” you placed your hand on his chest. Then holding his chain. Wanting him closer, he knew you well. He knew that meant you were about to finish. He leaned down. You moaned “fuck, gonna-” “do it, finish over my cock f’me, love…” those words hit you like a brick wall. Every. God. Damn. Time.

And he knew it too.

You moaned one last time, then finishing. Causing you to tighten around him. He chased his realise and finished inside you.

He moaned as he slowed his pace. Still thrusting, just slowing down. Chasing both of your climaxes. Once he came to a spot. You had you usual ‘thank you’. He kissed both cheeks, then your forehead, temples, chin, nose and then your lips. He mumbled against your lips “you ok? Feel good, baby? You did so good..” You nodded “so good.”

He gently pulled out, causing you both to inhale sharply. He gently picked you up. Going ahead and doing your aftercare. For all the time you both knew each other. And past Rafe, with his many hook ups. Not once did he do aftercare. But for you? His childhood friend to girlfriend to fiancée to wife to mother of his children?

He’d give you the world, he’d kill for you. Protect you. Die for you, live for you. He’d do anything for you. Even if it’s as simple as aftercare. He loves you. You love him.

🝮🝮🝮

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[misctf]

Trouble at the Bachelor Party

“Dude! This is sick!”

“Bro, you’re telling me.” Liam replied, as him and his two friends explored the penthouse.

It was fully decked out. A massive flatscreen in the living room, a fully stocked bar, a beautiful view of the beach. It was everything Liam could’ve wanted. Initially, when his soon to be father-in-law offered his penthouse for the bachelor party, Liam was shocked. Mr. Reynolds often used phrases like “irresponsible”, “waste of time”, and “not good enough for my daughter” when talking about Liam. And he wasn’t afraid to let Liam know too.

“Dude! There’s a flatscreen in each bedroom too!” Chris shouted from down the hall, “Fuck, you were right. This guy’s loaded!”

It was true. Liam was marrying the heiress of a massive tech company. And Mr. Reynonds was certainly loaded. But despite his reassurances that he loved Susie, not their money, the older man viewed him suspiciously. Liam came from a pretty humble background and the world of upper class living wasn’t something he was used to. But perhaps letting them use his penthouse was Mr. Reynolds’s way of showing acceptance.

“Okay boys.” Liam said, “We have a few days here. Let’s make ‘em count.” He tossed Jeremy and Chris each a beer. After a quick toast to what was going to be the most incredible bachelor party on Earth, they downed their beers.

________________

“Lookin’ good.” Liam chuckled as he inspected himself in the mirror, “Can’t believe you’re actually getting hitched.” He flexed his bicep, “Sorry ladies, I’m off the market. Oof, I’ll have to practice that line a bit.” He grinned.

Leaving the bathroom, he found Jeremy sipping a beer on the couch. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks. His dark brown hair was well styled, and his face clean shaven. He had that boy-next- door look that caused the ladies to swoon.

“Yo Jeremy, what’s up?”

“Not much, just texting Sarah.” He replied, “I forgot to let her know I got here safe and she’s pissed.”

“Oh shit dude.” Liam patted his friend on the back, “I feel for you.” Sarah could be scary when she was angry, but otherwise she was a solid 10. Liam looked forward to the day Jeremy proposed.

“All good.” Jeremy sighed, “Where the fuck is Chris?” Liam shrugged, “He kept me up all fucking night. Fucker must’ve been horny. I’ve never heard anyone moan so loud in my life.”

“Not even Sarah?” Jeremy didn’t seem amused.

“Seriously, we need to get him a girlfriend or something.”

Liam chuckled, “I guess I slept through it.”

“Lucky you.” The door to Chris's room suddenly opened and both men turned.

“Hey boys, sorry to keep you waiting!” The sing songy voice threw them both off, and Liam’s jaw dropped when he saw Chris. His muscles were proudly on display as always. But it was the tight speedo showing off his impressive bulge that shocked him, “Oh, is something wrong?” His voice carried a breathy sultriness, which was unusual for their bro.  

“Dude, I’m not one to judge, but don’t you think that’s a bit risqué?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow, “What would Jesus say?” It was well known Chris was religious. In fact, Liam and Chris had met at their college’s church.

Chris shrugged and ran a hand through his curly light brown hair, “Oh this? You like?” He grinned and did a quick pose, “Come on boys, we’re burning daylight!” He said, sauntering towards the door.

________________

The walk to the beach was uncomfortable. Chris walked ahead of his two buddies at an unusually fast pace, his firm ass jiggling with each step. Liam didn’t even know where to begin. What the fuck had gotten into Chris? Usually they’d have to drag him to parties and give him pep talks to boost his confidence. But now? He was certainly turning heads.

“Wait, guys! Did you see that?” Chris asked, turning to his friends and waving excitedly, “That guy over there was totally checking me out!”

“Um, so what?” Jeremy asked, “Why do you care?”

“Do you think I should go after him? He was totally cute. And that ass- just wow.” Liam and Jeremy’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Are you gay?” Liam asked bluntly.

Chris placed a hand to his chin and shrugged, “Like totally! Since like forever probably.”

“Makes sense.” Jeremy said, “Repressed religious guys. It’s a thing.” But Liam was still having a somewhat hard time believing it. Was all their prior bro talk really a lie?

“Oh! He’s getting away!” Chris whined, “I’ll catch up with you later!” He blew them each a kiss and briskly walked over to the man from earlier, leaving Liam shook.

________________

Hours went by without hearing from Chris, and Liam’s mood tanked. Jeremy tried to cheer him up back at the penthouse. Beers and the big game on a flatscreen. Should’ve been perfect. But it wasn’t. Liam knew that Chris being gay shouldn’t matter. Good for him, right?

“Oh my god, that was incredible.” Chris said, gasping as he entered the penthouse, “How are my two besties doing?”

“Would’ve liked you around.” Liam replied, “It’s my bachelor party after all.”

Chris dramatically placed a hand to his sweaty chest, “Sue me for having fun!” His voice cracked and he headed towards his room, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”

Liam didn’t reply. Sure, Chris is gay. Fine. But acting like a stereotypically fruity drama queen? That didn’t make sense to him. He turned to Jeremy.

“Look, its late and I’m tired. The game sucks anyway.” He said, “I’m off to bed.”

“Same bro. Gotta be up early for our tee time anyway.”

They went to their respective bedrooms. Once there, Jeremy sighed. He hated seeing his friend like this, but what could he do? Talk to Chris maybe? He'd try to salvage this party. But when he finally got comfortable in bed, the TV suddenly turned on. He was greeted by static.

“Weird.” He mumbled. He tried to turn it off with the remote, but failed. Sighing, he got out of bed to turn it off. But as he got closer, he could hear a voice. It was soft, but forceful.

“You are a gay slut. You like to fuck men.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck?” He whispered. But the voice only got louder.

“You are a gay slut. Your dick only gets hard for men.” Jeremy felt woozy as the voice reverberated in his head.

“No, I’m straight... I like...” He moaned loudly as the voice drowned out his thoughts. At this point, the screen was flashing various scenes of gay porn and Jeremy’s dick started to swell, “No... fuck...” He breathed out, “I-I... ughhh.” He tried to imagine tits and his nights with Sarah. But these thoughts were instead swapped out with images of juicy, jiggling bubble butts and twerking men.   

“You are a dominant top. You only fuck men.”

“I-I’m a gay slut?” Jeremy questioned, “I only like to fuck men?” That didn't sound right. Right? He never...

"You are a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride your dick."

His eyes became half lidded and vacant as the words carved his new reality.

“I’m a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride this cock." He said confidently, "I am a gay slut.”

Soon, the room filled with his pleasure-filled moans, his new reality taking hold over him.

________________

When Liam entered the living room the next morning, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jeremy was aggressively caressing Chris’s face, as the two made out on the couch with their erect dicks on full display.

“What the fuck?” Liam gasped as the two men turned towards him.

“Oh Liam! Good morning!” Chris sang, ending his kiss with Jeremy.

“Fuck, just who we were waiting for.” Jeremy commented in a lower, more gravelly voice, “We have something for you.”

“No, this is fucked. What the fuck?” Liam fumed, “What about Sarah? What were you thinking?”

Jeremy shrugged, “I only like fucking men.”

Liam shook his head, “No way, fuck that.” He replied, taking a step back.

“Oh goodness, you’re upset!” Chris whined, “No Liam baby, its okay. Here, watch this.”

Before Liam could say anything, Chris turned on the TV. Static filled his field of vision. But then he heard it. Faint at first, but present nonetheless.

“You are a gay slut.” It said, and Liam grabbed his head.

“What the fuck?” He cursed, stumbling slightly.

The voice was echoing from within his head. Desperately, he moved towards the TV, wanting to shut it off. But Jeremy grabbed his arm firmly and forced him to sit between them. Liam tried to fight back, to get away from his two friends, but he felt so disoriented. The voice continued.

“You are a gay slut. You like taking cock.” It said.

Liam yelped as a needle entered his skin. He looked down to see Chris dump the contents of a syringe into his arm.

“Wh-what was that?” Liam slurred.

“Don’t worry, cutie. Just listen to the voice.” He giggled.

Liam groaned as the voice got louder and louder, “You are a gay slut. A slutty bottom. You love taking cock.”

Liam looked down and watched as his body hair started to disappear. Gone was his light dusting of chest and belly hairs, leaving him smooth. At the same time, the scruff framing his face vanished. He looked over to Jeremy, who smirked at this new development.

“Oh look at that! It’s totally working!” Chris giggled.

“No shit. Reynolds must’ve given us the good stuff.” Jeremy remarked, slowly massaging his cock.

“The good stuff?” Liam slurred, his voice cracking, “Like, what are you talking about?”

“Good because I was getting bored.” Chris sighed, “I mean, Jeremy baby, you’re an expert kisser, but like, I need a hole.” Jeremy nodded in agreement.

“A hole?” Liam whispered.

He let out a pained moan as his body temperature suddenly spiked. Sweat poured from him as his musculature dwindled away. His hard earned muscles atrophied before his terrified eyes. His bulging biceps and triceps became thin and lean, while his juicy pecs rapidly deflated. In a matter of minutes, years of workouts and optimal dieting were undone, leaving Liam slim and fragile.

“Wow, he’s so light now.” Jeremy chuckled as he man-handled his friend onto his lap. Liam yelped at the sensation of Jeremy’s erect cock grinding against his hole.

“Oh and he’s gotten shorter too! What a cutie.” Chris cooed.

“Ah, ass is still bony though.” Jeremy commented, giving it a firm squeeze.

But Liam barely registered any of this. Instead, his thoughts were filled with the words echoing from the TV. His eyes became half-lidded at this point and his resistance was fading.

“You’re just a bottom, a hole to be used by other men. You are a gay slut.” The words continued, “You like being used by other men. Your only pleasure is from getting fucked.”

“I-I’m straight... I like... I like tits.” He knew his voice sounds more feminine somehow and he cringed, “I’m a straight man.” Jeremy and Chris smirked, “I-I...” images of men getting fucked in all kinds of positions flashed on the TV, “Ohhhh I... I... I’m a...” Liam’s handsome face lost its masculine edge and his hair became lighter in color. At the same time, his cock started to shrink. Inch after inch lost as it retracted back, “Noooooo.... not my cock...” He moaned, tears now stinging at his eyes. His manhood, his masculinity. It was being stolen from him. And he was unable to stop it.

“Your only pleasure comes from your ass.”

Liam moaned again and this time his ass started to fill with jiggly fat. He could feel the extra padding build upon itself, his slim cheeks turning into mounds of soft flesh. And as Jeremy squeezed his ass again, pleasure filled his slim frame.

“Much better.” Jeremy remarked, his fingers massaging Liam’s hole, “Fuck, this is gonna feel so good.”

“Mhmm.” Chris replied, grabbing his own fistful of Liam’s juicy ass.

“Ohhhhhhhh yesssssss.” Liam slurred.

“So, what are you?” Jeremy asked.

“I-I’m...” Part of him didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it. But as his lips plumped up into gorgeous cock suckers, and Jeremy’s teasing fingers penetrated him deeper, Liam was drowning in too much pleasure to care, “I...I...” The voice was so loud. It egged him on, beckoned him to admit his new truth. He wanted- no needed- to be like the men on the screen. To be fucked and used by other men. Who was he kidding? He knew what he was, “I’m like a total gay slut! I love cock.” He turned his head to look at Jeremy, then Chris, “Please daddies, use me! I need your cocks!” He begged.

And his new lovers were happy to oblige.

________________

In the afterglow of sex, the three men sat panting heavily on the couch. Liam was curled up between his two lovers, still rubbing their dicks. Despite draining them each multiple times over, he needed more. But his horny thoughts were interrupted by a video call. He grabbed his phone and smiled.

“Hey Mr. Reynolds!” Liam slurred, “Like, we love your penthouse.”

Mr. Reynolds grinned, “I can tell.” His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, “Look at you Liam. My god. You turned out better than expected. The boys at the lab earned their salaries with this one.” Liam nodded along, not really understanding the implication, “How do you feel?”

“Like a total gay slut.” He grinned, “And I love it, like so much, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Well I’m glad to hear.” he chuckled, “And are your friends treating you well?” Liam adjusted the phone so the older man could see his two lovers, who were both fast asleep, “Well looks like you have two very satisfied customers.”

Liam grinned, “Like totally.” A sense of satisfaction filling him, “Oh! Like, can you let Susie know the wedding is off? I’m like, so sorry.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure. She’ll understand.” Mr. Reynolds replied- mission accomplished, “Now, get back to your party. Enjoy the penthouse for as long as you want.”

Liam’s eyes lit up, “OMG thank you!” The call ended, “Did you hear that?” Liam asked, his two lovers stirring awake.

And so their party continued- and it would for days. Their lives forever changed, and them none the wiser to it. But if their pleasure filled moans were anything to judge by, they certainly weren’t complaining.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Cart girl || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: you meet Rafe during one of your shifts as a beverage cart girl.

Warnings: swearing idk what else

Word count: 797

A/n: beverage cart girls kept popping up on my fyp and I thought I might aswell 😂

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

“She new?” Rafe cocks his head towards your direction before swinging his club. Kelce and Topper both look to where Rafe was referring to, spotting you surrounded by a few other golfers.

“The beverage cart girl?” Topper questions as Rafe hums. “Can’t say I’ve seen her around before,” Topper says as the three boys watch you from afar. “Shit, she’s coming our way,” Kelce comments turning around to hide the fact the fact that he was watching as Topper looks away briefly.

“Hey, you guys want anything to drink or snack on?” you ask with a bright smile, lifting your hand to shield your eyes from the glaring afternoon sun. The three boys look up from their conversation, momentarily taken aback by your friendly demeanor.

“Yeah—uh, you guys want anything?” Rafe repeats the question to Kelce and Topper, who both nod enthusiastically. “Three Westbrooks, thanks,” Rafe says, his voice casual but with a hint of curiosity as his eyes linger on you.

“Sure,” you reply, stepping out of your cart. Rafe’s gaze follows your movements intently, his eyes raking over you in a way that doesn’t go unnoticed. He exchanges a smirk with Kelce and Topper, who try to conceal their grins, clearly amused by Rafe’s reaction.

“How’s your guys’ day been?” you ask sweetly, your voice filled with genuine interest as you reach for the three cans of Westbrook. “Yeah, yeah, good,” Rafe responds quickly, almost too quickly. “You new around here?” he adds, scratching the back of his neck, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Uh, not really. I usually do morning shifts, but I’ve switched to afternoons,” you explain, handing them each a can, your fingers brushing Rafe’s briefly. “Cool,” Rafe nods, his eyes never leaving yours, the smirk still playing on his lips.

“Cash or card?” you ask, holding a small notepad ready to jot down their payment details. “Just put it on my tab. It’s Cameron,” Rafe replies confidently, his smirk widening as he notices the moment of recognition in your eyes. “Cameron?” you repeat, locking eyes with him, the name ringing a bell.

Your eyes rake over his features, taking in his confident smirk and the way he holds himself. Tilting your head the tiniest bit, you say, “Well, have a good rest of your day, guys.” You offer a warm smile before turning around and climbing back into your cart.

As you start the engine and drive away, you hear Kelce exclaim, “Fuck, she’s hot, dude,” while slapping Rafe’s chest. Rafe chuckles, his eyes fixed on your cart as it disappears into the distance.

“Yeah, she definitely is,” Rafe murmurs, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he watches you leave. Topper shakes his head, laughing softly, trying to hide his amusement. “Think she’ll be around for the afternoon shifts more often?” Topper asks, glancing at Rafe. “Hope so,” Rafe replies, eyes still lingering on you.

~

“Y’know, the craziest thing happened to me yesterday afternoon,” you say absentmindedly, sipping on your fruity drink as you watch him line up his shot. His focus on the golf ball is intense, but he pauses for a moment, intrigued by your comment.

“Hmm? What happened, baby?” he replies, turning to make his way towards you. He presses a quick kiss on your lips before reaching over you to grab another club from the bag.

“I met your son,” you say, swirling the straw in your drink with your finger. Ward looks at you, his expression curious. “You saw Rafe?” he repeats, his tone carrying a mix of surprise and interest. “Yeah,” you hum in confirmation. “He’s quite good-looking, takes after his father,” you add with a smirk, watching as Ward chuckles and throws his head back in laughter.

“He’s a coke addict, baby. Best you don’t involve yourself with him, he’s trouble,” Ward warns, his thumb rubbing gently against your bottom lip. His touch is tender, but his words are firm. You stare up at him, undeterred. “He was nice to me,” you shrug, recalling the encounter.

“That’s because you’re a good-looking girl,” Ward says, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and admiration “You think so?” you ask, your smirk growing. Ward chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek. “I know so.”

As Ward returns to his game, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to Rafe. There was something about him that intrigued you and you couldn’t help but purposely run into him around the course.

[rene-darling]

WHEN- reader uses her boobies as a place holder

You use your boobies to hold something. Ft genshin men.

I was inspired to do this from a memory of my dead grandmother, and I saw my mom do something like that a few days ago..

cuz, ya girl don't got the assets to do that...art credits [mixed snack]

...Xiao...itto...alhaitham...

Drinking a glass of water to quench your thirst. It's nothing out of the ordinary. Mortals are susceptible to dying easily of dehydration your lover claims, so to keep him happy and yourself healthy, you're drinking some water,

And in between sips, you occasionally get tired of holding the glass, so you place it on the best naturally built in stand that you have- your honkers

Xiao

He's...not quite sure on what he's walked in on..

At first, he watches closely, as your chest rises up and down with each breath, so do his eyes. Watching keenly as he focuses in on the water sloshing around in the cup.

Is this...another one of those mortal rituals...?

He takes a big gulp and- leaves before you notice.

He takes to asking ganyu what it means to place a cup on your boobies while he's training her but she just messes up her shot when he asks her.

"is it...a mortal tradition to place something on your chest and fall asleep?"

"h-...huh! Adeptus Xiao???...n-no? Not that I'm aware of..." Looking down ganyu wonders if she can do that too...she can

Itto

"...do you think I could do that too..???" Genuine question. Itto's a real one always asking the real questions.

Startles you causing the drink to fall,

Once you get yourself cleaned up it's on!!

"welcome beetle dudes and dudettes to the first ever boob off champion shippp!!! Who can stack the most cups on their boobies!!! "

He can. He won.

You're almost hurt by this, having been beaten by a man at your own game, but you're far too impressed to think about that now

Brags to anyone who will listen, ayato, ayaka his gang that he won a boob off!! Never lets it go,

If you're in a deep argument nearing a break up he brings up the fact that "you won't ever find a man with my typa boobies, who can beat you at a boob off.." you can't

Alhaitham

"..."

"..."

"..well, that's an efficient way of- placing something, though, it'll probably tip since it's unbalanced."

"are you...saying my boobies are uneven..."

You're gonna take it the wrong way, he can't help but be critical.

"n-no, but there's nothing wrong with having uneven...breasts, many women have them they are completely normal-" "what do you mean many women have them, whose boobies are you looking at besides mine-??"

"N-no!"

He needs to make it up to you for being so rude!

"..." "..." "Can I move now-" "no." You said, picking up the the drink you left on your new place holder taking a sip and putting it back.

Your plan back fires when you realize he still has much more space in the titties left then you do, totally unfair, he needs to make up for that too! By letting you suck on them

[sainns]

LIKE OR LIKE LIKE.

𝓢. ㅤㅤthis is the the first time you've ever gotten drunk and of course you go and confess to your best friend.

SJYㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀femreader⠀) . . . best friends to lovers (kind of, they don't explicitly start dating), fluff, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk, not proofread.ㅤ1428 words

“i’ve never seen her drunk before,” sunghoon points to where you’re leaning against the wall.

jake turns to look at you, watching as you talk to chaewon. you’re continously taking sips of your drink, a sleepy smile on your face as you listen to your friend’s (most likely) drunk ramblings. he can tell you’re tipsy, at the very least; your body is swaying, it seems like you’re having a hard time staying upright.

“yeah.. i’m gonna go lay her down before it gets worse. i don’t want her to wake up sick,”

sunghoon gives jake a knowing look, shrugging as he takes a sip of his own drink, “predictable,”

“what?”

“nothing,”

sunghoon grins, patting jake on the head before walking away to—jake assumes—bother his girlfriend. the older boy shakes his head, running a hand through his already messy hair, turning around once more to watch you.

this is the first time you’ve ever gotten drunk, he thinks. you’ve mentioned before that it’s because you’re scared of how you’ll act, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of them. he’s glad that you’re more comfortable now, and at least you’re only here with them, your friends, and not at some party full of strangers and weirdos.

he watches as chaewon pats your back, albeit a little forcefully, before she leaves to find someone new to bother. he also watches you attempt to follow her but give up halfway through your first step. he smiles to himself, heading over to where you’re standing—or leaning.

“oookay, no more for you. you can’t even stand straight, dude,” jake takes the red solo cup away and out of your reach, giving you an amused smile. you pout but you don’t put up a fight—you can’t, not fully anyways. if you could, though, you would tell him that he’s being dramatic; six shots and half a cup of jungle juice is hardly anything.

“c’mon, you can go lay down in my room, you look tired,”

“okay,”

you make a move to walk by yourself but jake steps behind you, placing his hands on your waist so that he can guide you away from your friends. it feels like your senses are heightened to a dangerous level because why do you get goosebumps the moment he touches you? you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your heart to calm down.

somehow you make it to his bedroom without stumbling a whole lot (this is 100% thanks to jake; you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to do it yourself), and he taps your side, signaling for you to sit down on his bed, which you do.

he kneels down and pulls your shoes off, setting them on the floor. he pats your thigh, leaving yet another wake of goosebumps on your skin, “stay here, ‘kay? i’m gonna go get you some water,”

“i don’t want any,” you whine, “i’m tired, not thirsty,”

“yeah, well, you’ll be thirsty in a little bit,”

“no, i won’t,”

“yes, you will. you’re drunk,”

you huff, throwing yourself back on the bed, “am not. also you’re so annoying. i don’t want water, i always drink water,”

jake snorts at your antics, tucking his head away as he tries to keep from laughing too loudly. after a few seconds, he calms down and looks back at your figure, smiling fondly. you can’t see him, your eyes closed as you hum some random song that he hasn’t heard since he was ten years old.

you look so serene, he doesn’t want to disturb you. he figures he can just tell sunghoon or someone to come bring some water or he can wait for you to fall asleep.

“i’m sad,” you huff, sitting up slowly.

“why are you sad, hm?” he rests his head against your knee.

you frown at him. his words felt slightly condescending. not that you really cared, in fact it kind of made you feel dizzy. wow, he’s just terrible. looking at you all worried, taking care of you while you’re (not) drunk.

“because of you,”

he sits up at that. he looks like a dog who heard the word ‘snack’ or something. of course, he wasn’t happy. he looked more worried than before, in fact.

“me? what’d i do?”

“you’re just annoying,” you whine, “you know, i like you and it’s kinda funny ‘cause i’m, like, so obvious about it,”

“you like me? like like me?”

“well, actually, i love you,” you pause, “you’re not very smart, now that i think about it. how’d you even graduate? did you cheat? i think everyone knows but you. this is so awful, i can’t believe i had to go and like someone so oblivious. you’re lucky everything else cancels that out,”

“wait, wait, wait. you love me? that’s..” jake asks, his face flushed, completely disregarding everything you said after your confession, “yn, you’re.. you know, you’re drunk,”

“oh, okay,” you push his head away, “look, i’ll tell you tomorrow, ‘cos i really mean it and you’re so annoying and it’s, like, oh my god,” you say something else after that but he can’t tell what. not with you speaking as fast as humanly possible paired with drunken slurring.

he nods slowly, processing your words, “yeah.. okay. you can’t forget, alright?”

you grin, poking his cheek, “duh, i have an amazing memory,”

your amazing memory may be your downfall. surely, you had drank enough to wake up the next morning with zero memory. isn’t that what usually happens when someone gets so drunk they tell their best friend that they like them? not even like, you said you loved him.

and now you’re laying in his bed, face pressed into his pillow, absolutely mortified at your past self’s actions.

you’re never going to speak to him again. you’re going to get up, put your shoes on, and sneak out. yeah, it’ll seem like you’re doing the walk of shame, god forbid anyone catches you, but that’d be less embarrassing than having to talk to jake.

you don’t get the chance to attempt to escape, though, because jake walks in right as you’re weighing your options.

“hey, are you awake? it’s two in the afternoon,” you hear him place a glass on the nightstand as he sits next to you.

you could pretend that you forgot.

you feel his hand rubbing your back, “i heard you groaning, get up,”

“i don’t want to,” you mumble into the pillow, pressing your face into it harder.

“i can’t hear you, you know,”

you groan loudly, picking your head up, “i don’t want to get up,”

“why? are you embarrassed?”

“i didn’t do anything embarrassing,” yes you did.

he nods, “nah, you didn’t. i was just checking, you get embarrassed easily,”

you’re quiet for a moment after that. his hand is still rubbing your back and you can feel your heat beating against your chest. you want to pretend that you forgot about last night but for some reason you can’t. you want to bring it up despite feeling nauseous at the thought of being rejected.

“i like you,”

he smiles, “yesterday you said you love me,”

you gape at him and he laughs loudly. you want to kill both him and yourself.

“i’m sorry—i’m kidding.. i like you too,” he hums, tilting his head, “no, actually, i love you,”

you frown, “you’re embarrassing me,”

he laughs again which makes you want to both laugh and hide away from him, “god, you’re so cute. i kinda wanna kiss you, is that okay?”

you almost say yes before you remember that you just woke up not even twenty minutes ago and you are not going to kiss him with bad breath. especially not when you were drinking the night before.

“i just woke up,”

he leans forward, close enough that you can just barely lift your head and you’ll be able to kiss him, “so?”

“no,” it pains you to do so but you turn your head away from him. you know he won’t kiss you if you don’t want him to but you’d probably fold and kiss him if he kept staring at you like that, “you can.. uh, later. after i brush my teeth,”

he turns you over onto your back, smiling above you brightly. you gasp at the sudden movement, your heart racing yet again (you should go to the hospital), “promise? i really wanna kiss you right now,”

you laugh, reaching your hand up to move his hair out of his face, “yeah, i promise. i really wanna kiss you too.”

[wonderjanga]

Small Tokens of Favor

The gods favor Billy Batson. It’s only natural after all. The boy is the Champion of Magic. Though, it isn’t just limited to the Greek pantheon. It stretches to most of them. If there’s a pantheon, at least one God favors him.

Marvel and the Green Lanterns: *playing monopoly*

Guy Gardner: “THIS IS BULLSHIT! HOW DO YOU HAVE ALMOST ALL THE PROPERTIES?!”

Marvel: *shrugs* “Does that matter? Just give me my money, Guy.” *makes grabby hands for the money*

Guy: “No, because you’re obviously cheating!”

Marvel *gasp* “I am not cheating!”

John Stewart: “Guy, just give him the money.”

Guy: “Hell no. And don’t think I don’t know you guys are working together because how do you have a decent amount of properties while me and Hal have like two? And Hal’s in jail!”

John: “We’re not, but even then, why do you care? You and Hal are working together and aren’t even trying to hide it.”

Hal: “We’re working together because we clearly need an edge over this guy.” *juts a thumb at Marvel as he sips some apple juice*

Marvel: “So am I getting my money or…?”

By the way, John and Billy were totally working together. And the reason Billy was rich in this game? A god of prosperity aided him. He made a some offerings to them later in thanks.

Marvel: “Uno.”

JL members: *groans of annoyance*

Flash: “Dude, you’ve won six rounds in a row. Supes is he cheating?”

Supes: “I don’t believe so.”

Flash: “Then how do you keep winning??”

Marvel: *shrugs* “Lady Luck is on my side.”

She was in fact literally on his side. He made sure the thank her profusely since the Clark wagered some of Ma Kent’s leftover cooking. Billy and Mary ate good that night.

Marvel and Supes: *playing just dance and hitting every move perfectly*

Supes: “I keep messing up on the yeahs.”

Marvel: “Huh. Weird.”

It was in fact, not weird to him. Reason being is that he knew a god of dance was tripping Kal up. Oh well, he and Clark bet more of Ma Kent’s cooking on this, he isn’t going to say anything.

[antiquarianfics]

Shoot Me

Bucky swears he doesn’t like Y/N. In fact, he’s so confident he’ll challenge this: If he likes Y/N, shoot him.

a/n: dude, idk wtf this is. it’s like that one that 70s show scene, but it’s really just a crack fic. idk. this isn’t proofed. it’s late. it’s fluffy. i made you some content. enjoy.

warnings: mentions of gun violence (super minor), not proofread at all

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

“I don’t like, Y/N,” Bucky says, voice adamant. The man is stoic, glaring at his friend who only shakes his head and laughs.

“Yeah, sure you don’t, Bucky,” Sam replies, tone laced in disbelief. After all, anyone with functioning eyeballs could look at Bucky and see that he liked Y/N. His harsh demeanor always softened around her: he smiled more, laughed more, glared less.

Bucky groaned, kicking off of the wall he’d been leaning against when Sam stands from the table he’d been sat at messing with Redwing.

“I don’t like Y/N,” Bucky reiterated as Sam only shook his head again, walking over to a tool box in the corner of the garage and beginning to rummage through it. “If I like her, shoot me.”

Right as Bucky lets the challenge slip through his lips, Sam turns on his heel to face Bucky, raising his hand in a finger gun and pointing at his friend.

“Pow.”

Bucky just stares at Sam, then his finger gun, then Sam again.

“C’mon, man. Real mature.”

Sam turns back to the toolbox and continues to rummage around for the tool he needs.

“I’m the one not being mature? You’re the one with a schoolboy crush who can’t admit he likes a girl.”

“I do not have a schoolboy crush”

“Right. You have a big macho man crush.”

Bucky scoffs, irritation growing. “Sam,” he warns.

Say lifts up the tool he evidently needs, inspects it, and returns to his seat at the table where he left Redwing and begins to fiddle with the wiring.

“Dude, just suck it up and tell her,” Sam says, ignoring Bucky’s aggression as he always does. “It’s not one sided, I can tell you that.”

Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise and he quickly—too quickly for his own liking and too quickly for someone who does not like you—sits down at the table in the seat beside Sam. Sam just smirks.

“Did she tell you that?”

“No,” Sam says and Bucky rolls his eyes, immediately standing back up and going to resume is original position leaning against the wall. “But,” Sam continues, “unlike you, I’m not stupid. I can tell.”

Bucky ignores the jab, dismissing Sam altogether. There’s no way Sam’s right.

“I don’t know, you’re pretty stupid,” a new voice cuts through the air, a teasing lilt in tone. The two men’s heads turn to the garage’s entrance to see you walking in holding a brown takeout bag and a drink carrier.

Bucky’s lips upturn slightly at your jab at Sam and his eyes soften slightly as they fall on you. Sam notices and rolls his eyes.

“Ha. Ha.” Sam says to you, but he offers you an affectionate smile which you return. “You bring lunch.” You nod and hold it up for them to see before setting it down on the table.

“I love you,” Sam says dramatically, immediately reaching for something to eat. “We’ve been out here all day.”

You laugh at his being over the top but return the sentiment. “So, what’ve you guys been talking about?” You sit down at the table and pull your drink from the drink carrier to take a sip.

Sam chuckles through a bite of hamburger: Bucky (who hasn’t yet moved) looks away. You raise your eyebrows.

“What? Did I miss something?”

Sam swallows his food and washes it down with his drink before answering.

“I shot him.”

Your eyes dart between the two.

“You what?”

“He didn’t actually,” Bucky clarified, amused and endeared by your concern.

“I fake shot him,” Sam clarifies, mimicking the handgun motion.

You scrunch your eyebrows as you attempt to make sense of this picture they’re painting. You turn to Bucky.

“You’re mad because he fake shot you?” You turn back to Sam. “Why did you fake shoot him?”

Sam is grinning like an evil mastermind at this point, Bucky is getting overly acquainted with his shoes.

“He told me to.”

“He told you to?”

“He told me to.”

“Why?” You look between the two of them.

“He said, ‘If I like her, shoot me.’ So I shot him.”

Your eyes widen at the revelation. Bucky likes someone? Who?

“Bucky likes someone?” You turn around completely to face Bucky. “Bucky, you like someone?”

Bucky closed his eyes and look up at the roof of the garage, clearly wanting to disappear from the current situation he found himself in. He ignores the question.

“Bucky, c’mon! If you like someone, you can tell me. Maybe I can help you get a date, or something.” You cringe a little at the suggestion, but you really want to know who he likes. Sure, it will absolutely devastate you if it turns out he doesn’t like you, but you just want him to be happy.

“Yeah, Bucky, maybe she can help you get a date!” Sam teases, innuendo heavy in his words. Both you and Bucky give him a look—Bucky’s warning, yours questioning.

“Just drop it, both of you,” Bucky says dejectedly.

“Just tell her, man. I’m tired of dealing with your moping,” Sam argues.

“Sam,” you say cautiously, eyeing Bucky’s uncomfortable demeanor.

“No, I’m tired of this. He,” Sam points to Bucky, “talks about you,” he points to you, “when you’re not around, and you,” he circles his finger around your face, “talk about him,” he points to Bucky, “when he’s not around. Incessantly. Now, I am going to take the rest of my lunch outside while you two figure this out. I’ll be back for Redwing later.”

You and Bucky stare helplessly as you watch Sam storm out of the garage. Once he turns the corner and is out of sight, the two of you turn to each other. He’s still leaned against the wall, you’re still uncomfortably turned around in your chair facing him.

“So, that girl you like…” You start but trail off, hoping maybe Bucky will confirm the suspicion Sam has planted in your mind but he continues to avoid looking at you. “Sam made it kind of seem like maybe she’s… me?” Your voice sounds so shy and uncertain as you ask the question. You can’t help but cringe a little.

Bucky finally looks up at you, searching your face and attempting to gauge how you might feel. He sees you cringe, though, and he sighs, looking back down at his boots. Of course, there’s no way you could ever like him like that. You notice Bucky pulling away and you start to panic.

“It’s totally okay if she is me, but it’s okay if she’s not. I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it’s me if you don’t actually have any feelings for me, but Sam did kind of make it seem that way. I mean, if you did have feelings for me, though, that wouldn’t be bad.” You’re rambling, full of nerves, but the nervous rambling does pull Bucky’s attention back to you.

“He wasn’t wrong,” Bucky finally admits quietly.

Your eyes shoot up to meet his. “He wasn’t?”

“No.”

“You like me?” You clarify, a grin overtaking your face.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth upturns in a smile. “Only if you like me.”

You stand up from your seat and take a few steps towards him whilst he takes a couple towards you. The two of you find yourselves toe to toe and staring at each other.

“Maybe I do.” Your eyes glance down at his lips and back to his eyes.

Bucky’s grinning now and he hums in response as he gazes down at you. The two of you feel yourself being pulled towards one another like there is some sort of magnetic force you can’t break, and, then, before you know it, your lips are on his. He kisses you softly as if he fears it isn’t real. You attempt to pour months of pent up adoration for him into the kiss. Your lips only part when you both finally need some amount of air; Bucky pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. It’s momentarily silent except for your breathing.

“You really told Sam to shoot you?” You teasingly ask, pulling away just enough to look into Bucky’s eyes.

“Only if I liked you,” he defends. He attempts to sound serious, but he can’t help the smile pulling at his lips. You nod as you briefly consider his response. Then, you make a finger gun and:

“Pow.”

[runninriot]

missed wiggly wednesday again, so here's a Smutty Steddie Songfic September snippet instead 😇

“I’m telling you, Stevie! That guy had no shame whatsoever. Didn’t even hesitate to pull blank in front of me to show off that ridiculous tattoo right above his dick. It was horrendous! I even offered to cover it up for free but he declined, said the ladies dig it.”

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. The things you have to put up with sometimes in his field of work never ceases to amaze him.

   “But hey, can’t say I didn’t like the overall view. A feast for my imagination. I’ll definitely use it the next time I’m ‘feeling lonely’.”

He uses his fingers to sign quotation marks and wiggles his eyebrows, delighted at the blush creeping up Steve’s cheeks when he realises what Eddie means by that.

Steve’s always been a little shy when it comes to talking about these things but they’ve been friends long enough for him to have gotten used to Eddie’s big, unfiltered mouth.

Eddie loves to rile him up, just a little, never so much that it makes him truly uneasy but enough to get a little kick out of it himself.

Steve’s cute when he blushes.

He’s damn fucking pretty, always, is the thing.

So what if Eddie stares a little too obvious? It’s not his fault Steve is so-

Nevermind.

He averts his gaze, takes a sip from his drink to cool off, giving Steve the chance to change the subject to something else.

  "Sometimes I fuck you in my head."

Eddie splutters his mouthful of beer half over himself, half over the table, can't believe he heard Steve right.

No. That must be a mistake because he can't possibly have said that.

Right?

   "I don't know why, it's just- sometimes when I touch myself, I think of you, you know?"

Eddie does, in fact, not know. Because what?

   "Steve, dude, look at me. Did you take something? Without me?"

He must've. There's no way he'd talk that much bullshit if he was sober. But they've only been here for ten minutes, fifteen max, both still on their first beer and there is no way in hell Steve is already that drunk.

So this must be something else.

Because it is absolutely impossible that his straight best friend would ever fantasize about anything other than boobies and soft lips and long lashes and, hell, maybe even a tight juicy ass – a woman’s ass – to get him going.

Steve Harrington does not think about guys when he touches himself. And most certainly not about Eddie.

He’s messing with him, that must be it. A little revenge for Eddie being insufferable.

   “Hah, that was good, Harrington. For a moment I really thought you’d lost your mind,” Eddie laughs half-heartedly in a weak attempt to cover up the slight tremble in his voice.

    For a second you got me thinking my pining ass died and went to heaven, is the thought he keeps to himself.

Another second goes by and Eddie is still waiting for Steve to laugh, to maybe swat his arm and tell him ‘Ha! Got’cha! You should see your stupid face.’ but that doesn’t happen. Instead, the air thickens and the tension between them makes Eddie nervous.

Then, finally, after what feels like an eternity, Steve opens his mouth.

But somehow, that only makes it worse.

   “Is- is that bad?”

(click here for more)

or here for the whole fic 😇

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[hcsiqs]

Kate being drunk and getting all shy w reader until its time for them to go home and she finds out that reader is her gf and just gets starstruck☹️

| my girl

• pairing: drunk!kate martin x fem! reader

• summary: ^^

• warnings: alcohol lol

i’m obsessed with this idea omg

The entire Iowa team was out celebrating after their win against LSU, over the moon about beating them in Elite Eight.

Kate was had just finished another drink, no one having an idea what number she was at now because of how many she had thrown back. You had kept an eye on her the entire time, but were letting her enjoy herself with her teammates as you stood off to the side talking to Caitlin’s girlfriend for most of the night.

But what you hadn’t realized is how absolutely drunk the blonde was. She had barely came up to you the entire night, which was different from her usual clingy and touchy drunk self. And every time she did come up to you she was shy and her cheeks were bright red.

As you were sat down sipping on a fruity drink while talking to Caitlin’s girlfriend about whatever it was, the Iowa team was encouraging Kate to go talk to you. Most of them dead about the fact that she had seemed to forgotten that y’all were dating and that she had already been through the whole ‘crush’ phase with you.

“Just go!” Jada encouraged with a slight shove as giggles left her lips. Your back was still turned away from the team, not seeing the interaction go down.

“No!” Kate argued back, terrified of your rejection. Plus she knew that she would completely shut down just due to your absolute beauty.

“Dude!” Jada dragged the word out before giving a final shove, making the blonde end up right behind you.

But then you felt someone tap on your shoulder, causing you to turn around. You were relieved when it was just your beautiful girlfriend standing there, but you noticed her avoiding eye contact, something she was usually good with unless she was nervous.

“Hi,” she smiled giving a small wave, “I’m Kate,” she introduced herself to you. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re really pretty,” her words slurred together as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

“Thank you,” you let out a small laugh, “Don’t know how my girlfriend would feel about you saying that though,” you smiled playing along with her drunken forgetfulness.

“Oh!” her face turned as red as a tomato in that moment, “I’m sorry, so sorry!” she apologized quickly. You could tell she was now completely taken over by nerves as she still stayed looking at you. After a couple of seconds your girlfriend walked back, seeming as though she had been defeated because you were already taken but then only a minute or two later Gabbie and Jada were using all their body strength to push the blonde back over to you.

“Hi,” you smiled at the girl in front of you, taking in her flushed appearance.

“Hi,” she tucked her hair behind her ears, as her eyes found a home looking down at her shoes. You hoped up from your seat so that were now standing in front of her.

“I’m ready to go back to the hotel baby,” you wrapped your arms around the girls torso, bringing her into a hug. Kates arms didn’t wrap around you though. They only ghosted your back, unsure how to respond in this situation.

“Shouldn’t you go back with your girlfriend?” she asked, utter confusion in her voice. And that’s when you realized this wasn’t a joke and she was so drunk she had forgot you two were together and wanted ti flirt but was too shy.

“Kate you are my girlfriend,” you laughed, placing your chin against her chest so you could look up at her.

“What?” her jaw practically dropped. Her blue eyes searching your entire face in all its perfection. “‘m so lucky,” her lips formed into the brightest smile.

“Come on let’s go back to the room,” you pulled out of the hug and reached for her hand. You said bye to everyone, but Kate was solely focused on you and the way you moved. Her large hands had now found their familiar place on your hips as you guided her out the bar.

Once the cold air hit the two of you she placed a kiss on your forehead, her earlier shyness disappearing. “I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend! Like—you’re dating me? That’s so crazy!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she was so excited to be yours.

“You’re just so pretty. I can’t believe it,” her words were slurred, but that didn’t make it mean any less.

“You’re pretty,” you smiled back at her before going on your toes to leave a simple kiss on her temple.

“You’re my girlfriend,” she giggled and then continued repeating the word ‘girlfriend’ over and over again, never getting enough of it.

allies corner

i hope this lived up to ur expectations!! but this plot is so cutie patootie eeeeee

[rookiesbookies]

“so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honor what else was I supposed to do”

With my boys (141+Konig+Keegan)

Price

Price is not a man to bring violence into his domestic life. He just refuses to. He has the gun under the couch and the hand gun in his bedside table, and that’s all the violence at home he needs.

HOWEVER.

The night you both had gone on a nice date and decided to end the night at a pub he was just having a good time. He didn’t want to be bothered. He was having a nice time.

When he watched the guy come up behind the two of you slurring, he was already set on edge. When the man grabbed your ass? There was zero hesitation.

Punch landed square between the poor guys eyes, John took a long sip of his drink and left a $100 on the table to cover any problems and the two drinks you both had, before taking you by the hand and leaving.

The man had a thick skull and Price honestly just ignored the fact that he had clearly probably broken a bone in his hand because the head you were giving him made it all so worth it.

Soap

Surprisingly, it was not a random person he punched.

He and Gaz had gotten into a petty argument. It shouldn’t have started, really.

Apparently Gaz made some snarky comment about Soap’s girl. It was before Gaz and his girlfriend had started dating so he didn’t have a woman to put him in his place over the shitty comment.

Johnny, however, was happy to oblige.

It took both Ghost and Price to pull him off Gaz, who was luck Soap only got a few good hits in. Soap was sent home like a kid from school and John stapled a note to his shirt explaining what had happened.

What Captain John Price didn’t expect, however, was for you to reward this behavior.

Little kitten licks and fluttering kisses up and down his length, tell him how proud you were he defended you before giving him the sloppiest of his life.

He brain melted, Soap had half the mind to punch Gaz for it again next time he saw him just to see if she would reward him again.

Ghost

Oh, he had considered strangling your ex more than once. But he caught him at your doorstep when he had just gotten back from a mission.

He wasn’t Simon yet. He was still Ghost.

So when the fucker was banging on your door, he was happy he had insisted on getting you a better front door lock. He could see you running to your bedroom, probably to get the handgun he kept under the dresser.

He almost wanted to call you and tell you not to bother.

He tore the man away from the door and just went ham. It wasn’t until you returned and looked out the window to see what had happened that Simon held up the man bloody and bruised and passed out.

Simon shoved the dude in whatever car he came in before driving to the middle of nowhere and leaving an only mildly threatening note, before having you pick him up.

When you went from kissing the splits and blood from his knuckles ot undoing his belt, he was so grateful his old square body had a bench seat.

The death grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping him sane. Almost pulling over to cum in your mouth but he had pulled into yalls shared driveway before he even realized. He had probably been doing felony speeds.

He took off his mask for the first time since he got home and planted soft kisses on your face. He mumbled something about not needing to reward Ghost for his usual behaviors between pecks.

Konig

Being the big bad colonel’s sweet little wife had its perks. Walking around the base with no problems, getting to spend all day chilling in his lap, never having to be far from him.

The worst time of year was when Konig had to deal with new recruits, who were already older gentlemen but clearly weren’t raised right and who didn’t understand how things worked in his base.

So when one of the recruits was pushing you around, getting too close and touchy, Konig didn’t hesitate.

One big swing, but that wasn’t enough. Konig was going to make an example of him.

Drug him out to the front of the base and gathered all of the recruits and made a scene. He made an example.

Dude got pummeled by Konig.

You honestly didn’t need to give him head, the satisfaction of putting that man in the med bay was enough. But when the idea left your sweet lips he would never refuse.

His bloody knuckles lovingly rubbing your face and massaging your hair as you struggle to fit it in your mouth, giving him big doe eyes? Its his favorite.

Keegan

Also punched a teammate. You had been brought on base for a celebration, everyone was in all their formal uniforms and outfits.

He had stayed sober, unlike most of his teammates.

Most of them didn’t have any women of their own.

Keegan just found out why.

It was a random Sargent from a different group, clearly hadn’t let you get a word out and just kept talking. Too drunk to realize that if you were here you were probably a spouse.

Keegan just gave him a nice smack to the gut, which ended up making the guy projectile vomit in the middle of the festivity room.

Someone definitely over-served by this dude.

But the way you kissed away the littlest bits of blood from Keegan’s had since his dry knuckle had caught on one of the guys pins and tore open. Made his heart melt.

I guess it melted into his dick because he knew EXACTLY what was happening when you pulled him away and down an empty and dark hall.

Oh he loved the way your lips kissed around him, living lipstick in their wake, before leaving a nice colored ring of it around his shaft.

Oh he’d wear it too proudly. Makes jokes about never washing his dick again.

Gaz

You and Gaz were in a booth on a double date with Soap and his girl. Simple date, just chilling. Soap was making jokes about how Kyle totally had a glow up now that he’s met his girl and about how Kyle probably understands why Johnny punched him for the comment a couple months back. (See Soap’s for an explanation)

However, that story just reminded Gaz, and gave him a good idea.

He mumbled something about still needing to get back at Soap for it. Also mumbling about how his nose still isn't right and his jaw still pops

One swift punch, Kyle was back how he was sitting before like it never even happened.

However the head he got in the family bathroom for that punch being hot while Soap and his girl thought Kyle had an emergency bathroom trip while his girl was changing her pad was crazy.

He almost broke the changing table off the wall with how he was gripping it.

Truly life changing.

Almost hit Soap again when they got back to the table.

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always and requests are open.

[literaila]

i always think of this whenever i’m abt to sleep

imagine yuji and nobara going over to megumis house during summer break (it’s rlly gojos house cuz yk) and imagine reader sitting on the couch with baby gojo and theyre so shocked gojo has another child😭

“no, satoru, i already told you not to—“

“it doesn’t even make sense,” he’s saying, rolling his eyes like he’s the child here. “why am i supposed to drink water, but she can’t?”

“first of all, you don’t drink water even when i force it down your throat—“

“i am beyond biology—“

“and second of all, because she’s a baby.”

he pouts. “won’t she get thirsty?”

“you literally just gave her a bottle. you stole it from my hands.”

“because i’m bonding.”

even as you bicker, the two of you are staring down at the little baby, watching as her eyes flicker in sleep, her nose scrunching up like she wants you to squeeze her.

and even as you fight, the smile on your face matches satoru’s—adoring, mesmerized by this tiny little thing in his arms.

so mesmerized, in fact, that you don’t even notice when the front door opens. or when three teenagers—stomping, like teenagers do—trail into the house.

megumi walks into the kitchen to grab something, but both yuji and nobara stop when they notice you and satoru on the couch. neither of them says a thing as they listen to your hissing voices—quiet enough not to wake the baby.

megumi walks back into the room, sipping from a glass, and raises a brow at both of his “friends.” they’ve been here before, they know where his room is.

“uh, are we supposed to just ignore them?” nobara asks, giving megumi a weird look.

he looks over—obviously not having noticed this scene—and then rolls his eyes. “yes.”

he turns to walk to his room, mind on textbooks and avoiding his very annoying parents, when yuji grabs his arm.

“but, fushiguro,” the voice says, voice soft and somehow whining. “there’s a baby.”

“and?”

yuji is too busy staring at the bundle in satoru’s arms to answer, and he carefully tiptoes over to the couch, wide smile on his face.

already cooing, of course.

you look up, grinning. “oh, hi, yuji.”

yuji tilts his head, watching as satoru traces tiny circles on baby soft skin.

satoru looks up. “i’m not letting you hold her,” he tells the boy, “it’s still my turn.”

you sigh. “satoru—“

“oh, no, i don’t—i mean, i don’t even know how. i just wanted to…” yuji is staring at the child like she’s an alien, but it took all of three seconds for him to become just as mesmerized as the two of you. “is she… yours?”

yuji’s eyes widen, and he looks perturbed back at megumi. was he not even going to mention his baby sister—

“seriously, dude?” nobara says for the two of them, punching megumi’s arm. “what else are you keeping from us?”

yuji looks back to the two of you, satoru nodding vigorously.

you pull his hair. “no, she’s not ours. we’re just babysitting for a friend.”

satoru coughs and says something that sounds suspiciously like “for now,” under his breath.

you pull at his hair a little harder, grinning at him when he can’t push you away.

“she’s adorable.”

nobara nears the three—four?—of you as well, looking at the baby. “are you sure you can trust him with her?” she asks you, giving satoru a wary eye.

you laugh and satoru pouts.

“it’s just a baby,” megumi says, groaning from behind both of his friends. “what’s the big deal? we have to study.”

“she’s cute,” nobara tells him, “that’s the big deal.”

“don’t listen to him,” you whisper, “he was all over her before he left.”

yuji laughs back at him and nobara huffs.

megumi just rolls his eyes again. “are you two coming?”

you smile at the two of them, then back at megumi. really, he’s sweet. really. “if you’re still here when she wakes up again, you can feed her.”

yuji grins. “really?”

“sure.”

“um,” satoru cough, eyeing you, very disturbed. “that’s my job.”

“you need to share.”

“i’m not sharing my own child—“

“not ours,” you sing, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“but she could be. i recently learned how babies are made, and i think we could pull it off—“

you laugh and megumi groans again. “i’m leaving,” he says, turning and storming down the hall.

“i’ll come and tell you if she’s hungry,” you say to the other two, ruffing yuji’s hair.

“okay!”

nobara gives the baby one last look, and then she’s following megumi out of the room, yuji taking just a moment longer—frowning—but eventually following along.

“i’m serious, you know,” satoru whispers, resuming his circles on her unblemished face.

“yeah, i know.”

“why not?”

“because you’re still a child, and megumi’s just started school—“

“megumi wants a baby more than i do.”

you roll your eyes.

“we’d make a good baby,” satoru says to you, “even cuter than her.”

you sigh, moving even closer to him, your side pressed up against his. “yeah.”

“i’ll wait,” satoru says, “but i know you’re lying.”

“i’m not lying—“

“you almost started crying when she sneezed earlier—“

“no, i did not—“

[bigwishes]

Hey man, my workout bro gave me a new pre-workout shake to try and it's really been helping me bulk up, but I always feel really — UUUUURRP — fuck man, I'm always really bloated after drinking them. Fuck though, they taste so good, and I've been putting on mass like crazy... I've also put on a little pudge as well, but I should be able to work that off, right?

You've been chugging that down like it's water haven't you dude, well that's fine. It was your choice to drink all of it even when the product was designed for a guy to take one serving in his whole life.

The product you took was designed to mutate the metabolism to help guys who are serious about lifting be able to absorb and process more food without it technically putting them through a bulk.

However you decided to drink a lot more than what one guy needs and its caused you to develop a lot of side effects. The first of which you've already noticed, belching non stop and always being bloated but that's just the easy stuff. Soon you'll begin to sweat like a pig and not just whilst you work out, your body will generate so much extra heat whilst it tries to turn anything you eat into size that it'll cause you to be a walking sauna, heat radiating out of your body and a cloud of steam coming off you at all times, but that steam isn't just an aesthetic, it'll reek, you might even find guys gagging from the terrible smell as you walk past. Of course making your body redirect so much nutrients isn't without its consequences, you'll probably start to notice your dick is getting smaller each day and pretty soon you won't even notice when you have a hard on, but don't worry, your pants will still be getting tighter as not only your thighs are getting bigger but the muscles in your ass are being pumped full of size getting big and swollen making it difficult to put on things like jeans.

and of course the pudge, drinking so much is causing your body to just now throw on size however it can, you'll still be mostly muscle but you'll always have a slightly jiggly layer over the top.

but lets talk about what's really going to start happening. That last sip this morning was the thing that will push you over the edge, you've fucked yourself now. You'll always be hungry, never full again. There will always be room for one more bite or one more sip of a protein shake and 100% of what you eat will be converted straight into muscle and size. There is no need for you to work out anymore, in fact its probably a waste of time to try and work out you'll gain more size by just stuffing your face.

After every mouthful you'll find yourself forced to belch, you'll always feel heavy sluggish and bloated. Feeling your mass bounce as you walk. You've earned the nickname Bubbles from your mates as whenever they hang out with you the only thing they can hear is you stomach bubbling away churning food into raw size only ever interrupted as you grumble in discomfort rubbing your tight layered abs as you belch loudly and uncontrollably

Enjoy being a big bloated beast Bubbles...

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … BED CHEM ♡

track seven of the short n’sweet series. pairing: kook!pope x reader. based loosely of the song bed chem by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

you’d heard of love at first sight, but lust at first sight was an experience that hit you like a tonne of bricks in the university library.

the first time you’d had the chance to experience pope heyward in full was when he sat at a booth behind you whilst you were studying. you kind of already knew who he was, and kind of already had always thought he was cute despite knowing very little about him despite the fact he was wealthy and a chemistry major. you’d had the chance to talk to him at a party before, sure — but you didn’t think it was appropriate to bond with a boy with the likes of him whilst you were wearing such a sheer dress. you’d said no more than hi and bye.

“look, dude i’m not sayin’ i’m bad at sex. my girls always cum. all i’m sayin’ is, i feel like i can be better. i don’t know how you do the whole teasing thing. i’m a dude. with dude parts. i get impatient and just wanna go straight to pound town — boom!” his blonde friend rambles, and your ears prick up immediately, tearing your eyes away from your textbook to listen distractedly. it wasn’t your fault— you were ovulating, and plus, popes friend was talking at an alarmingly casual volume. “c’mon bro you take chemistry. don’t you know about the human body n’shit?”

“okay, first of all — what you’re talking about is biology. second of all, i’m trying to study. third of all would you keep your voice down?” you hear him ball something up and toss it in the direction of the blonde and nearly let your giggle slip. you were bored out of your mind and horny, there was no harm in eavesdropping.

“alright alright — but answer me this one thing.” popes pal lowers his voice so naturally you lean back in your booth to listen in. “say i want a girl goin’ crazy. beggin’ for it. what do i gotta do? c’mon pope i know you know.”

“if i give you some pointers will you shut the hell up and let me study?” pope sounds bored, and his nonchalance to the situation makes you flush.

“…yes.”

the darker skinned boy sighs, and you picture him leaning on his elbows, making you work even harder to listen. “okay. put a pillow under her hips. it’s gonna help you hit her gspot a lot easier and she’s gonna be more comfortable which you want. massage her hips when you go down on her and don’t skip out on taking your time down there jj.”

“massage her hips?”

“it opens her up. makes her relax her pelvic floor.”

“alrighty, noted. what else, chief?”

“talk her through it. you know how to do that?”

“damn right i do.” the blonde answers confidently.

“i dread to think what that poor girl has to hear.”

by the end of the conversation, you’re dripping. it’s not your fault — like you said, ovulation can be a real bitch. it gets to the point where you need to get up and walk around before you start humping the study bench, so you decide on strolling over to the water dispenser to refill your bottle that you’d been ravenously sipping down to attempt to quell your growing arousal. you also were feeling curious and wanted to get another look at your crush.

when you walked back with your freshly filled bottle, there he was in all his glory— berating his blonde friend in the hat to simply let him study. god he looked good, expensive. sitting comfortably in the booth in a white jacket, voice smooth and buttery and you couldn’t help but stare, your top set of teeth tugging at your glossy bottom lip. the pair of you lock eyes, but you can’t look away— neither can he. did you look flustered? could he tell you’d been listening? were you clammed up? could he sense the arousal seeping through your panties? you wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow could. he seemed like some sort of sex god.

he was none the wiser, and the rest was history — the boy having secured your phone number before you’d left the library.

after that, the two of you became inseparable. if you weren’t studying together or grabbing food (that he’d refuse to let you pay for) you were on the phone, ranting and raving about the people in your classes or the weird thing your professor said that day. there was chemistry, sure — a bond that you could only see heading towards a relationship. but with all the soft touches, the lingering looks from beneath your lashes, the tension — you were itching to take the next step. you’d desired him carnally from the day you met.

it’s a thursday evening, and pope has an exam the next day. a big one. you’d settled on hanging out via phone call whilst he studied, quickly getting on with your own business instead of getting to be at his side distracting him. it was for the best, and whilst you’d pouted at the promised temporary distance, you knew it was a good idea.

until night falls, and you’re laying on your bed — listening to the scribbling away of his pencil through the line. you sigh, a small smile dusting your face.

“you know, the day we met properly i’d kind of overheard one of your conversations.” he can tell you’re biting back a giggle, and with your joy infectious — he smiles too.

“yeah? did no one ever teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?” he teases and you let the giggle free, rolling back over to stare at the ceiling.

“s’not my fault! jj has a loud mouth.” you accuse lightheartedly and he hums in agreement, still scribbling away.

“that he does…” he finishes up what he’s writing before directing his attention back to the conversation. “so what exactly did you overhear?”

you bite your lip, recalling it. “well, it’s not exactly PG…”

his brows perk up in curiosity as his eyes flicker towards your contact image on his screen. “oh? i hope i didnt embarrass myself.”

“no, no not at all… i was intrigued.”

“well don’t leave me hanging.” he truly had no idea.

“you were giving jj…pointers. for the… bedroom.” you relay shyly, suddenly losing all your confidence. simply the memory of that day left your cunt fluttering, already lubricating itself.

“ah. i remember now.” he sounds tense, like he can’t tell how you feel about it. “not exactly an ideal topic for… the library, you know?”

“mhm… anyway, i was pretty impressed.”

you hear him smile, placing his pencil down all together. bingo.

“okay… and what exactly was it that impressed you might i ask?”

you suck in a shaky breath, hoping you don’t come across like some insane gooner all of a sudden. you’d say you’d done a good job at hiding your arousal for him in all the occasions you’d hung out.

“well… all of it. you seem to really know how to make a… make a girl feel good. probably better than i know how to— whatever.” you say the last part quietly, in disbelief that you were being so open. you were thinking with your pussy, you couldn’t help it.

he pauses, and for a split second you feel a wave of embarrassment. but then he speaks.

“at the risk of not sounding very humble, i’d say i have a good success rate.” he sounds so warm, so fond of you — it makes you feel comfortable enough to continue. “in the past—” he adds quickly. “i don’t… talk to any other girls but you now. don’t… don’t wanna…. touch any girl but you now. just to make that clear. you know.”

the tension is so thick and hot that it’s stifling all of a sudden and you’re not even infront of eachother. your mouth moves without your permission.

“how?” you breathe.

“…how?” he repeats, leaning back in his desk chair in his student apartment. it was times like these he was thankful he didn’t have a roommate. it was times like these you were grateful that yours had gone on vacation.

“how would you… touch me?” you’re so quiet that you’re surprised it picks up on the mic.

“uh, well… any way you’d like it. i think it’s important that sexual partners… communicate, and stuff you know? the guy should never be too proud to ask the girl what she likes. so… what do you like?” he licks his lips, staring straight at the wall.

“i… dont really know. i don’t have much experience. not good experience anyway.”

“thats okay—” he coo’s kindly as your voice overlaps once more with—

“i think i like—”

“— oh, no go ahead. what do you like sweetheart?” sweetheart. you squeeze your legs shut at the casual way it rolls off his tongue.

“…i think i’d like you to take the control… be the dominant one i guess. i like feeling…”

“taken care of?” he answers for you and you nod, before realising he can’t see you.

“mhm. yes.”

“well i am pretty confident that i can be that for you. like, one hundred percent confident. can do it just like you want it, pick you up, pull you down, turn you around… all that good stuff. it makes sense.”

you exhale, practically trembling as your legs fall open slightly, unable to stop yourself from trailing a hand down your stomach into your pyjama shorts.

“mhm?”

“yeah. but that stuff comes later, i literally just wanna focus on learning your body first, you know? how to touch you. every pussy is different, not to be crass or anything. i think to answer your question i’d just lay you down and finger you nice n’ slow, figure out the basics. make you feel nice.” he lists it off so… normally. like it’s obvious to him.

you sigh, spreading your juices through your folds and forget to respond for a moment. that is until he says your name and you open your eyes.

“hm?”

“are you touching yourself? to my voice?”

you feel your face get hot, shame creeping up your neck. all you can squeak out is an “i’m sorry.” and he chuckles.

“you have nothing to apologise for. i’m riling you up and it’s not fair but by all means, continue. god i—” he sighs, and you hear him shuffling. what he’s really doing, is reaching down to palm at his erection through his sweatpants— exam long forgotten about. this has all his attention. “—i wanted to be all… respectful i guess. wait until the time was right, but… but i just wanna make you cum. so hard. so many times.” he lets loose a little, reaching down to pull his cock out. it’s then he hears it, that pretty pained whimper whilst you rub yourself— no holding back now.

“i’ve wanted you so bad from the day we first met. but — but wanted to be a good girl. show you i’m more than—”

“i know, and you are. you are. oh my god, screw this exam. i should be there. i’ll tell you what, okay — i’m gonna talk you through this orgasm, but i want you to remember how it feels to cum on your own fingers — ‘cause, well — that’s not gonna be happening anymore. it’s all me now, honey. all me.”

[wonderjanga]

Frenemies

Black Adam and Captain Marvel hate each other. It’s a well-known fact, or at least Black Adam hates Captain Marvel. To be honest, Marvel doesn’t really show much hatred towards him. So… yeah. Though, to be honest they’re more arch frenemies than enemies. But don’t worry, they’re still plenty enemies. This post is connected to the post about Marvel beating the shit out of Adam for not paying him back his five dollars. (I Want My Money post)

Mary: *in Marvel form* “Captain! Captain, you jerk, where are you?!” *looking for Billy*

Marvel and Adam: *drinking smoothies together on a rooftop*

Mary: “There you are- Why are you drinking smoothies with Adam?”

Marvel: “Why not?”

Mary: “Just yesterday, he slammed you through a bus.”

Black Adam: “It's in the past.” *sips smoothie*

Mary: “Is it though?”

Marvel: “Yeah.” *sips his smoothie*

She ended up joining them and got a smoothie of her own in the end. Surprisingly, when Adam isn’t trying to kill either of them, she’ll begrudgingly admit he’s okay to talk to. She doesn’t know how Billy’s so chill around him. (It’s because Billy is Billy “no danger awareness” Batson. I’ve seen the comic panels of him barely blinking at a murderer or something trying to kill him)

Marvel: “I gotta go early guys.” *stands up to leave*

GL(John Stewart): “Gotta date?”

Marvel: “Nope. Dinner with a friend”

Aquaman: “Ooooooh who? Bigfoot?”

Marvel: “I already told you, she prefers to be called Rhonda. And no. It’s Teth.” (Marvel and the Supernatural post)

GL: “Teth? Is that another hero?”

Marvel: “No. You guys know him as Black Adam.”

*silence*

Aquaman: “Is this a Batman-Catwoman situation?”

GL: “You’re never letting Bruce live that down are you?”

Marvel: “No? We’re just friends?”

GL: Wait but I thought he was your arch enemy?

Marvel: “…Yes.” *has never once thought of Adam as an arch enemy* (He once admitted this to Adam and uh… the guy wasn’t really happy. His hurt was like the equivalent of thinking someone’s your best friend, but they don’t think the same)

Aquaman: “Yet you can call him your friend and go out to dinner?”

Marvel: “Yes. But only sometimes. Right now we’re friends. Tomorrow, probably not.”

GL and Aquaman: *share looks* “Okay…?”

The JL thinks their frenemiship is strange. So does everyone else.

Marvel: “Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?” *punches him*

Black Adam: “Yes.” *kicks him*

Marvel: “Are you still bringing that Khandaq dish you mentioned?” *grabs and throws him*

Black Adam: *rushes over to tackle him* “If you even live to see tomorrow, yes!”

Junior: “DUDE ARE YOH SERIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT DINNER PLANS MID FIGHT??” *nearby nearly knocked out because earlier Adam delivered a foul punch to his stomach and sent him flying*

By the way, this isn’t some Uncle Adam type nonsense. Adam genuinely thinks Billy is just a hyperactive man child. As for why Teth chooses to spend his time with him every now and then? He’ll never know. (He doesn’t have any other friends. There’s also the fact the man child makes decent conversation. (Billy’s carrying most of the conversation))