#it doesn’t drop the ball so much as throws the ball as hard as possible as far away as it can

[probablygayattorneys]

I’ve been sitting with Spirit of Justice for awhile now, and I think I’ve finally come up with a concrete reason that it felt like it fell short, and that was because the messaging isn’t in line with the rest of the games.

Let me explain. Ace Attorney is, primarily, about family. The second case in the entire series is called Turnabout Sisters! And the game asks us, again and again, what does that mean? Who is your family? Is it your blood? Franziska and Miles are of no blood relation but she calls him Little Brother. Meanwhile, Dahlia is blood to Iris and Pearl and she completely rejects them outside of what they can do for her. The entire trilogy constantly asks, and answers, that your family is who you choose - even when they’re blood related, you still need to reaffirm and say yes, these are my people.

This idea is not unique to the original trilogy. Apollo Justice again asks us the same question. Does family mean blood? And it answers it right out of the gate, no. It doesn’t. Zak is not Trucy’s dad, Phoenix is. I know a lot of people don’t like the way it ends, but I would argue that it’s an important reiteration of the moral of the story: Apollo and Trucy sharing a mother doesn’t matter because they choose each other and build a relationship regardless.

Even Dual Destines somewhat visits this idea with Simon and Aura. There is a clear disconnect between them. Aura will openly say she does not care for Simon, and Simon makes his choices because he loves, cares, and wants to protect someone, but it’s not her. The fact that they share blood does not make their relationship important or strong.

And Spirit of Justice takes us… part of the way there. Dhurke and Apollo’s relationship is what you would expect. Apollo does not appear to feel anything towards his biological father, but Dhurke affirms himself as his father through his actions and his choices. And that’s where it ends.

Nahyuta is willing to literally die for Rayfa, because they are blood. That relationship is not expanded on at all. We do not otherwise see anything that would indicate an actual relationship between the two. We are expected to understand that they share parents, and therefore it is his duty to protect, preserve, and defend her. On the flip side, Apollo, the boy he grew up with and they call the same man father… Nothing. He never acknowledges Apollo as a brother. He rarely even acknowledges he has an actual name, rather than just whatever insult pops into his head.

As well, the idea in the people of Khura’in that the sins of the father stain the hands of the son. This is a very powerful idea - that has had several games denouncing. Franziska and Pearl are testaments to it. In fact, they didn’t seem to think that they really emphasized it enough and even in the Great Ace Attorney, they ask it again and they again affirm that no, a person can choose their own path and should be praised and punished for their own actions, and not those who came before. And yet in Spirit of Justice, it is not challenged in any meaningful way. Again, Nahyuta is willing to literally die before allowing Rayfa’s parentage to become public knowledge, because he knows what would happen to her.

In fact, Rayfa’s entire family is handled sloppily. Inga’s safe combination is her birthday, but you cannot look me in the eye and say the rest of his characterization makes sense as a man who would raise his enemy’s daughter. In fact, Dhurke doesn’t even seem to be aware of the fact that he has a daughter, he certainly never mentions her, even in his dying moments when he’s being killed by the man raising her. Contrast that to Turnabout Trump, when the biological and the adopted father face off and Phoenix literally attacks him in order to get the locket.

It just doesn’t make sense or add up in contrast to the rest of the games.

[rooshoom]

I did it. I have Spots verbal quirks in the previous post and now you get to have Spots physical quirks and movements with some quotes from when I noticed he does them.

Poses

Terrible casual ‘guy’ poses

The arm lean, the hand on the hip, the tilted head. He is totally faking the confidence.

“I love how many of your there are!”

“It’s the place with the big collider.”

Shoulders / Arms

When he first walks into the store to rob the ATM, he has super tense shoulders. We see a lot of his stress and tension carried more in his upper body than lower body.

Lots of shrugging

Shrinks in on himself by squeezing his arms to his sides

During the flashback when he brought the spider from 42 to 1610 you can really see how much he tries to squeeze in on himself.

Slings his arms, when he throws his portals his arms fly forward very fluidly. Example when he throws the portal at Pav, Gwen and Hobie, he throws it hard enough that his upper body drops once it’s out of his hand.

Hand movements

Fingers first, if you watch the way he reaches into the ATM he doesn’t just casually reach in, he grabs things with his fingers instead of his whole hand or with his palm

Floppy hand / t-rex arm

Conveys tons of emotions through his hands, like when he is shocked he flexes his fingers open. Maybe picked up on this since he can no longer express emotion through his face.

Balled fists but likely out of nerves. Once again seen in the flashback of the spider.

Points with all of his fingers instead of just one. “You made me into this!”

Standing / walking

It seems like he only stands at full height when he’s trying to convince himself to be confident. “I am the Spot.”

Even when he’s actually confident he doesn’t stand at full height. Right before he disappears inside Pav’s collider, which you can tell by his verbal cues that he’s very confident with what he's about to do, he’s still leaned over.

Knees together, once against this man just wants to appear small.

Clumsy. “I need more spots!” Running into walls, dropping things, and twisting around corners.

Would rather stand, crouch, or stand on his knees than sit down. Look at Gwen watch him ramble to himself while building, he doesn’t sit once.

Crouches with his neck more than his back. “You’ll have a villain worth fighting for.”

Head / Face

Head tilts

Leans forward to see with face first, so lucky he has a hole right there to deflect fists because if he didn’t he would be punched in the face so fast.

When he says “wow four on there.” You can see him lean in with his face. Totally why that old lady beat him with a purse.

Literal nose tilted up attitude later in the movie. When he’s in Pav’s universe dropping scientists into portals, he has face tilted up and nodding along with how many holes he creates.

Other

I see him stim with his legs a lot, such as hopping foot to foot. “This is real.”

Just generally very fluid, watch how he falls into the portal when he yells, “I am your nemesis!” He flops into it instead of bracing for impact. He has no sense of self preservation.

He. Cannot. Fight. Watch all of his scenes and look at how loose he is. A slinky of a man.

Look at how he flails. This man would flinch if you threw a pillow at him.

Y’all, I’m absolutely encouraging you to write Spot X Reader with my lists. I’m trying to make this easy as possible, don’t think babygirl just write a bedtime story for the masses we can all peacefully drift off to. Let me spoil you with the time I spent doing this so you don’t have to.

[wakeup01]

The Premium Member

You’ve grown tired of all the familiar fucks and basic twinks on the dating app you normally use, and you’re really in the mood for a new hole to abuse. After searching your phone online you come across an app you’ve never seen before and quickly go to download it.

Upon startup it immediately bombards you with an ad to join their ‘premium service’, no thanks, why would you pay to fuck someone. You close the pop-up without even reading what the ‘benfits’ are. You set up an account and enter all your details into the profile, although some of the required information is slightly abnormal. Intelligence level? You’re assigned an profile ID number, just a string of random figures.

There’s an option at the bottom, ‘premium member matches allowed’. Well why not? If they wanna pay like idiots that’s fine by you. After confirming you are treated to pages and pages of terms of service. Yeah, nobody reads this and you quickly agree without a second thought.

Only a minute passes before ‘premium member match’ flashes up on screen. A profile is pulled up, ‘ScallyDom’ is the username, 22 years old. What the hell? You’re here to fuck an easy hole, why would you be interested in a dom, geez.

The picture on display is of some smug arsehole with his middle finger pointed at the camera, wow, people go for this shtick? You attempt to close the profile but your phone is completely unresponsive. The ‘agree match’ button lights up and all of a sudden your phone seems to start acting on it’s own volition. A message appears on screen:

ScallyDom: ‘You look like a good fuck.’

‘With some obvious changes, fancy boy.’

‘Can’t believe you willingly agreed to match to premium members, moron.’

Yeah, arsehole was right. You try but you can’t even message back. Instead the screen scrolls down without your input, almost like, well almost like he has control of…. Fuck.

You immediately go to turn your phone off, nothing. What the hell, this guy’s somehow hacked your device? He scrolls to an entry titled ‘edit profile’ and all of your information is pulled up in front of you.

ScallyDom: ‘Look at this bellend, think you’re all that huh?’

‘A top? Yeah right mate, you look more like a bottom bitch to me.’

‘Let’s fix you :p’

As if he couldn’t get more insufferable. The first detail he selects is cock size, a drop down menu appears, ‘Large’ is currently selected.

ScallyDom: ‘This doesn’t work for me. You’re gonna be taking dick, fuckwad. You don’t need much down there.’

He selects ‘Small’ in the menu and confirms the change. Hilarious, you think; a real preschool level mentality here. A second passes and you feel an embarrassing twinge in your downstairs area. What just happened? Nothing, there’s no way anything happened you tell yourself. You do however open your trousers and pull down your underwear. Fuck. You visibly see your cock begin to shrink before your very eyes. This can’t be real, it’s not possible.

ScallyDom: ‘How you like that princess, is your little nub getting hard yet?’

A submenu appears. Caged: Yes.

click

You immediately look back down… there’s a pink chastity cage casing your once large dick. Your balls are pulled taut and you can’t help but feel yourself throb. Time for drastic measures you conclude, lifting your phone. You prepare to throw it and end this when…

ScallyDom: Trigger: attentive mode. Open camera.

You suddenly lose all control of your arms and your phone is brought back up to your face, the camera activates.

ScallyDom: ‘Hey there pretty boy. Don’t look so upset, won’t be long and you’re be fit for purpose’.

Despite your best efforts you can’t move, you’re stuck sat there, looking gormless into your phone camera. Your tiny dick twitches again in its restraints. When you get your hands on this guy… The screen starts moving again and settles on age. You watch as the age ticks down to 19 years old. The screen then switches over to the camera, and there you are staring back.

Your whole face begins to tingle and then a burning heat takes over. It’s almost like your body is being re-molded. Your muscles deflate until you have a decidedly slender, feminine looking body. All of the imperfections are seared from your face. As your new appearance takes shape it becomes obvious that this isn’t a young version of yourself. Unbeknownst to you ‘ScallyDom’ has uploaded an image for your new face to match. Frankly, you look like a doll. The sort of face you’d see when applying 15 filters to an image. If you were on the other end, you’d fuck this face. Unfortunately, this is apparently you now.

ScallyDom: ‘Still think you’re going to be fucking anyone with a face like that? You’re designed to take cock.’

Your lips begin to puff up and pull forward, now stuck in a perpetual ‘duck face’ pout. He goes back into the options and highlights ‘Butt status’. As a top you currently have ‘virgin hole’ selected. He quickly changes that and settles on ‘experienced hole’. You have got to be joking! Immediately the sensation of your cheeks parting presents itself. You squirm in your seat as your hole opens up invitingly. You feel a gaping, empty hole back there. Briefly the thought of it being filled enters your brain. Something, anything needs to fill that void.

ScallyDom: ‘Should be capable of accommodating me now, cocksleeve.’

‘Bet you’re feeling pretty hungry at this point lol.’

You’d love for him to be wrong but you can’t deny how horny you’re feeling, it’s like your new body is designed to take cock. At some point he had changed your clothes, a fluorescent pink crop top with the words ‘I’m on bottom’ didn’t really scream subtlety. A skimpy pair of booty shorts left barely anything to the imagination. Even the guys you went for weren’t this blatantly desperate and basic, you’re like a ‘fuck me’ sign walking.

He doesn’t hesitate to move to several new options, Butt size: ‘Bubble’ and Hair: ‘Buzzcut Fade, Blonde. No body hair.’

The hair on your head begins to recede back into your skull until there’s a couple of millimetres left on top. It lightens until it’s a stark platinum blonde. Great, people are going to assume you’re a ditzy airhead. The rest of your body smooths out completely, your skin is becoming much more sensitive. Your butt tingles once again as it begins to ballon out from behind you. Leaving a nice round cushion that jutts out noticeably, like a shelf. A moan escapes your pouty lips and your face turns red from embarrassment. You look like a twink through and through. This has to end soon, everything will go back to normal you repeatedly try and convince yourself.

ScallyDom: ‘Can’t wait to fuck that face, mate. Bet you’re still convinced you’re a top right?

You don’t like the sound of where this is going. Your ‘Top’ status is highlighted. No, there’s no chance in hell you’re ever going to bottom anyone, especially this cocky dirtbag. ‘Slutty bottom’.

Fuuuckk, you feel so empty. Something is missing from your life, well cock obviously. Your thoughts all shift at once, like you’ve just arrived at the wrong floor. The slut floor. Your hips begin to gyrate slowly. Once again you moan, but this time you don’t try and hold back. Your voice seems to be higher.

ScallyDom: ‘A bitch in heat if I’ve ever seen one. Lets start wrapping things up.’

You’re too busy thrusting your little nub to even bother reading his message. Internally you’re trying to pull yourself together, but your new desires are getting the better of your logical thoughts. Speaking of… Intelligence level: ‘Above average’ is replaced by Below average on a sliding scale, and gets dangerously close to ‘Poor’.

You giggle. This app is sooo confusing. Your head fills with pink cotton candy. Pink like your little cage. You giggle again, just like a schoolgirl. Can’t this guy just fuck your brains out already, gawd. Your eyes dilate and go vacant, your mouth opens slightly.

ScallyDom: ‘You’re made for fucking, not thinking boy toy. Don’t worry though, you got me to help you.’

This guy is like, so mean. Just because you’re a ditzy slut doesn’t mean you don’t have standards, although you bet his cock is pretty juicy. He goes into your relationship status on the app, listed as ‘single’. Several different choices appear, one of which scares you: ‘owned’. Please…anything but that.

‘Owned’ is selected and a second entry opens to type in the owner. Your new master types in his name and your whole world view begins to shift again. At one point you thought him to be a jerk, but all of a sudden he’s the centre of your world. You’d do anything for your sexy master, and you feel honoured to be his.

ScallyDom: ‘You’re now my legal property cocksleeve. Like a chair or a table. Not so high and mighty now, fucking dunce.’

He’s only stating facts, you agree. You are pretty dumb, but that’s okay. Master knows what’s best anyway. Your name is erased from the profile and is replaced by Cali. Immediately it’s like your old name is deleted from your memory. You desperately try to recall what it used to be, but you can only ever remember being known as Cali. It’s probably much cuter than your old stuffy name anyway, Cal-ee. It’s also easy for you to say, long names are like, so hard.

He reaches the end of your profile page and presses ‘save changes’. A warning screen appears:

‘Caution, changes are not made permanent until match is tagged in person by premium member.’

There’s a rush of relief in the back of your head. A small part of you is desperately clinging on to your old identity. Though, It’s becoming so hard to think of anything else other than being mercilessly fucked by master.

ScallyDom: ‘disable attentive mode’.

You feel control coming back to your body.

‘We need to get you fixed, come to this address.’

Fixed? That sounds good, you’d like to be fixed. Wait, wasn’t there a reason you didn’t want to see him in person? But how could you refuse, he was your master after all. Your fingers begin typing.

Cali: ‘Yes sir.’

ScallyDom: ‘Good boy’.

The praise sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Without a thought you get up and leave for his flat.

His place isn’t exactly in the best part of town, what do they call it again? A council place… flat. You’re standing in front of his door with this nagging feeling that you should turn around and leave. This might be your last chance.

Before you can consider that, the door flings open and your brain turns to white noise at the sight of your master. You can’t even speak, you just stand there pathetically. Gawd, he’s hot in his tracksuit, you stare at a noticeable outline snaking down his leg.

“Get’in.” He orders and you don’t hesitate to obey, trailing behind him as leads you into the flat.

A rather potent smell hits your nose immediately, it’s like walking into a locker room; a mix of sweaty feet and, ugh, cum… Focus! You need him to fix you, ask him to turn you back. Back to what, you’re not entirely sure but that annoying voice in the recess of your head seems insistent on it.

“Need fix.” You squirm.

“Did I say you could fuk’ing speak fag!” He grabs a hold of your shoulder.

“Sorry sir.”

“Hav’ ya fix right here”

He pushes down on you and you feel your body lower with little resistance. He stops once you are on your knees, eye level with his crotch. He pulls on the waistband of his trackies and his 8 inch cock springs loose. His own ‘premium member’. If you were a cartoon character, you imagine this is where your eyes would fly out of their sockets with heart shapes. Instead you have to settle with looking cross-eyed at his fat member while your mouth salivates.

“Let’s put one of these holes to use.” His hand moves to the top of your head as he holds you in place.

With his other hand he begins to guide his cock towards your waiting mouth, it slips between your plump lips and continues effortlessly until it hits the back of your throat. Your mouth is now brushing up against the dusting of hair on his crotch. He holds the position for a few seconds as his strong musk invades your nose.

Without hesitation he quickly pulls back and then all the way back in. Out, in, out in. His hips move like a jackhammer, your eyes watering. Your head remains held in place as he forcefully fucks your mouth hole, making sure you take the entirety of his dick with each thrust. The thoughts in your head grow even thicker, dislodged, as if he is literally fucking your brains out. This isn’t quite the ‘fix’ you had in mind. However, your caged dick isn’t complaining, as it dribbles continuously into your pants.

“Better get ready to swallow!” He grunts from above you.

His thrusting picks up in pace, your face beginning to feel like a receptacle for his dick. He pushes all the way in one last time and holds it as his cock explodes. Load after load is flooded into your mouth, you start to swallow, the creamy liquid gliding down your throat. It’s like sucking on a particularly thick milkshake, although this tastes even better. You can let yourself enjoy this once, then we can get back to fixing things, the voices in your head negotiate.

He pulls out with a plop, dripping his juices onto the floor. You make sure to clean up every drop, without even being asked.

“Fuck, you’re a natural cocksleeve. What are you?” He asks as you look admirably up at him.

“Umm……cocksleeve.” Don’t giggle, don’t giggle.

*Giggle*

It was like trying to hold back a hiccup.

“Haha, god’s your dumb.” The laugh cuts straight through you.

There’s a puddle forming beneath you as your nub continues to leak shamelessly. Your master pulls you to your feet, he’s so much taller than you.

“Need to be tagged ho. Lets see that bubble butt of yours.”

There was something about being tagged earlier, tagged was bad? It was so hard to remember, maybe that was the fix. Hopefully it would clear up this thick cotton stuffing your little head. You drop your clothes, a thin line of pre hangs from your pink cage. You put your hands on your lower legs and bend forward so your butt sticks out towards him. Master pulls out a small device, it looks a bit like a price gun.

“Should hav’ read those terms of service, you are now mine fuck slut.”

Master always has the best names for you, but you have no idea what he’s talking about. He seems happy so you smile dimly.

The device is held against your lower back, just above your jiggling butt. There’s a whine and a minor stinging sensation. The device is pulled away, revealing a series of numbers lasered into your skin. It’s your profile ID number from the app. Your brain clicks, like a key being turned. In an instant that annoying little voice is silenced as the cotton covers all your thoughts.

“Oh thuck, maaaaster!” You whine in your effeminately high voice.

Your caged dick spurts the floor; your old personality ejaculated, nothing more than a pathetically small pool of cum between your legs. You find yourself loudly panting.

“Mouth open, now.” Master spins you around so you are once again facing him.

You open your mouth wide, a metal ring is pushed into your open jaw. He fastens it tight on your head and you close your mouth around it. The ring gag keeps your mouth open in an O shape, saliva begins to naturally gather at the end of your tongue.

“Me ‘in the footie team got practice tomorrow. You won’t mind if we share you after the game, Cali. The lads tend to get pretty pent up.” Master gives you a cocky smile.

You imagine being passed around by the team in the locker room, them calling you names as you obediently polish their poles from both ends. Their sweaty crotches slapping against your face.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and your ass quivers.

You can’t wait.

[predalien]

I got you covered. 👍 (I almost didn’t catch this as it came from my main blog—so, just a reminder, please send yautja related asks over here.)

I got a little carried away with this one, especially the pup part. So sorry! 😩

Thicc s/o version

Yautja with a leaner/petite S/O headcanons

Now, this is how you impress a yautja. I mean, let’s face it, no matter how big of a human you are, a yautja will always be stronger, and most definitely bigger than you. So a leaner or more petite S/O will most likely catch a yautja’s attention under the circumstances of you being able to fight off larger enemies and protecting yourself.

They won’t necessarily try to fight or spar with you as much, but they’ll probably throw you around and manhandle you a little bit. I’m sorry, lol. You’re just so light, to them at least. How could they not play a game of football with you as the ball? Of course they won’t be super aggressive with you, they’re aware you’re smaller and therefore you could possibly break easier. But it’s still fun to them to throw you up in the air and watch you yell in annoyance at them. 🤷‍♀️

If you’re a solider, hunter, or warrior of some type already, they’ll send you into the small spaces and crevices they couldn’t reach. Just because they couldn’t catch that that tiny alien warthog that burrowed itself in the small crevices of a cave doesn’t mean that you can’t catch it, right? That’s right ooman, just chase it out and I’ll spear it! (They’re missing a tooth to add to their necklace.)

If you’re more on the petite and smaller side, the amount time you may be referred to as ‘pup’ or a ‘juvenile’ by older and large yautja, especially matriarchs, will start to get annoying. Even though you’re a fully grown human adult. It’s especially prevalent if you’re the mate or associate yourself with younger yautja. To them, you’re just an inexperienced juvenile who still needs to grow… BUT! This is where you can prove them wrong, and really get that respect that you deserve. 👀

Just imagine the shocked faces and flared mandibles you’ll receive when one of your mate’s teammates tried to poke and mess with you a little more than you’d like—only to get rabid badgered in the face by a, example, tiny little ooman with a pension for violence. Well, I warned you, didn’t pick them for no reason. That’s just what your mate is thinking, lol.

Now, if you’re more on the lean muscle, athletic, etc. kind of side? You’ll probably be treated similarly to your larger bodied counterparts, especially if you have visible lean muscle as compared to bulk muscle. It’s a clear sign of strength to them for the most part, even if you aren’t really a warrior or hunter of some sort. And to yautja? Strength and honor are some of the most valuable things you can possess, regardless of species. If you’re (a) worthy (opponent), then you’re (a) worthy (opponent).

You’re a pup playground, by the way. If you’ve been assigned to care and watch for the pups in the clan, you best believe those pups will drag you down with them. Whether you like it or not. You’re like, basically their size, right? Even though you could probably drop kick one with a hard enough kick?… You’ll get head-butted and pounced on from all angles, for sure. You may find it annoying as hell at first, but by time everyone is worn out and you’re in the center of the cuddle pile surrounded by actual purring pups and juveniles, you’ll start to think it’s not as bad as you thought. It’s kind of cute, really. Until they wake up again… Oh boy, at least their mothers are finally here. 😂

[parrythisucasual]

no pressure ofc but may i request a jax x reader where the reader is basically a ball jointed doll with some of the parts made of a soft playdoh material that can be shaped? i have no idea if that makes sense lmao. if not feel free to just do a normal bjd! as for story specifics ive been on a hurt/comfort kick tonight so maybe reader has joint pain or smth?

feel free to put your own spin on things! ive loved basically everything ive seen of yours in the jax x reader tag so im sure itll be great.

OKAY I WENT A BIT OVERBOARD AND I ACTUALLY HAD TO CUT IT SHORT DUE TO GOING TO A PARTY. I LOVED WRITING THIS STORY AND IM MORE THAN WILLING TO DO A PART 2 TO END IT A BIT MORE SATIFINGLY

HOPE YOU ENJOY, ANON!!!!

Jax x Doll! Reader

You were tossing and turning in your bed. No matter how you lay, your joint always managed to get caught on your sheets or blankets. It doesn't seem bad, in theory, but it was terribly painful. You finally settle in a spot, sighing happily. 

“SH(boing)T!” you yelp, jerking so hard you nearly fall out of bed. Your knee had pinched the blanket. You throw the sheets off, tears of anger (and probably pain) pricking the corners of your eyes. You swing your legs off the side of the bed, deciding to go for a mid-sleep walk. You’d say midnight, but there isn’t exactly a night here.

Trudging from your room, you walk up the halls. Your joints, your annoying burdens, click with each step. You feel a pang of jealousy; the others in the circus didn’t have any problems with their new bodies. If you really had to be a doll, why couldn’t have you been a plush one, like Ragatha? Instead, you’re stuck with stupid ball joints and silicone. It sucks.

As you pass by his room, you find you’re not alone in your restlessness. The sound is faint, but you can hear the floor creaking in Jax’s room. You pause outside his door, wondering what he could possibly be up to. 

The creaking passes from left to right as if he was simply walking back and forth in his room. As if he was pacing. You frown, debating whether or not you should knock. Maybe something was bothering him?

You shake your head, turning away. Jax wouldn’t talk to you, what are you thinking? You’d ask him if hes okay and he’d gaslight you into thinking he’d been asleep, into thinking you’d interrupted his night. He wasn’t the kind of guy to admit to his problems, not the type to care about yours.

You start up the hall once more, mind settling on the digital lake. At very least you could relax to the Lake_Ambiance.mp3 and watch the digital water move.

Crack

You let out a sharp yell, falling to the ground. Your knee had locked up, twisting at just the right angle the joint wouldn’t move anymore. God, it felt just like a sprained ankle. You hiss, gripping your knee in your hands. The tears really do come now, rolling down your cheeks in an oddly realistic fashion for this digital realm. Well, at least your night couldn’t get any worse.

“What, you forgot how to walk or something?” Dear god, it got worse. You glance behind you, the familiar smug grin staring you in the face. Jax’s confidence falters, very plainly, when he sees your tears. He raised a brow, “Oh, come on, you just fell. Are the waterworks really necessary?”

You try to stretch your knee out, yelping when it doesn’t budge, “It’s not just a fall you ignorant little- AUGH!” you give up trying to move your leg, resolving to simply lean back, giving yourself room to breathe.

Jax trots over, bending down and inspecting your knee, “How’d you manage this?” he reaches out and your stomach drops, “No, don’t!” He freezes, the surprise plain on his face, “Why not? I can snap it back into place easy as-”

“You stupid rabbit, it hurts!” you practically wail. He sits back, “Don’t be stupid, (Y/N), we’re digital now. Can’t get hurt. Can’t die.”

You turn your face away from him, growling slightly, “Clearly, I’m different. Not like you’d care, right? Too busy shoving your head up your own a(honk).” Jax doesn’t react to this, much to your surprise. Instead, he silently stands up, walking up the hall, one hand on his hip.

“Wait, where are you going? Jax?” you regret what you said immediately, you really didn’t want to be alone with this right now. “You won’t let me help you, I’m going to find Caine.”

“You’re… huh?” you blink, confused. Jax shrugs, “If it hurts that bad, why would I leave you like that?” You aren’t sure whether or not he really was going to find Caine, but with the lack of arrogance about him, you decide to trust him, “Alright… thank you.”

He doesn’t respond, merely gives a dorky salute as he rounds the corner. As the minutes pass, you begin to wonder whether or not you should have believed him. Just as you were about to give up hope, Caine appeared at the end of the hall, flanked by Jax.

“Oh, dear, oh dear! Would you look at that!” Caine’s annoying grandeur made your head hurt, but you couldn’t have been more relieved. With a simple snap of his fingers, your leg righted itself without pain. “Now then, anything else I can do for you, my dear (Y/N)?” the eccentric ringleader asked. You shake your head, a relieved sigh escaping from your chest.

“Excellent! Well, off to bed with you!” he zipped back into the air, “I was busy, after all.” Caine darted away, leaving you alone with Jax once more. He seemed off, not grinning as he usually did. You’re not sure what to say, until-

“Are you okay now?” he asks, looking anywhere but your face. “Um… yeah, now I am,” you start to sit up, and Jax rushes to your side, grabbing your hand and practically lifting you to your feet himself. “Are… you okay?” you ask, “you’re acting way different.”

Jax finally looks at you, “Why wouldn’t you tell anyone you were in pain? Are you really that thick? Any of us would’ve helped you! Any of us would be there for you!” he snapped, seemingly angry you’d hidden this.

“I… I didn’t want to burden anyone…” you admit, a bit shocked. “Burden us? Are you kidding?” his voice grew louder, making you wince, “you think your health is a burden? You moron, you’re-” he stopped suddenly, noticing your expression.

“I-I’m sorry… I-I…” He sighed, interrupting your shaky apology, “Next time, come to me. Okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt. (Y/N)...” he hesitated, “I just… I really care about you. Please, don’t hesitate to tell me you’re in pain.” He gathered himself, then placed a quick kiss on your forehead before darting into his room with a final, “Night.”

[fernandopiastri28]

first serve 🎾 (pt2) ~ oscar piastri x logan sargeant

-> part 1 <-

“Yeah,” Logan smiles, tackling Oscar fully back down as he’d partially sat up. “You’re so warm,” His hands slides up under the Aussie's shirt almost mindlessly. He doesn’t go further up then his abdomen though, his hand snaking around the back of his waist to hug him close. Oscar buries his nose into the crook of Logan’s neck, his senses flooded with the sharp taste of a cologne that costs more than he earns in a year. Well. Almost. It’s his favourite scent in the whole world, sharp tones of amber and wood. If he ever has enough money at one time, he’ll buy the scent, wear it each day just to think of the blond.

warnings: slight internalised homophobia

Oscar pushes his sunglasses back up his nose, wiping the sweat that had formed from the overbearing sun. Lando fans himself with a laminated menu, dabbing at his face with the bottom of his shirt. “Can you ask your boyfriend to get us into the vip area so we don’t have to sweat our balls off every lunch break?”

Oscar laughs at that, tugging his shirt out to allow more airflow to his stomach. “He’s not my boyfriend,” He hums, squinting down to the courts below where Logan’s in the middle of a practice session, his arm whipping back and forth with each serve.

“Not yet,” Lando teases. 

“Not yet,” He nods in agreement, tossing his head back to shake his hair out of his face. It is hot, Lando’s got that much right. Sweat is pooling in his armpits and likely causing a relatively embarrassing spot on his shirt. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t really care anyways. Logan certainly won't. He doesn’t care about Oscar’s exterior, just him. 

Thinking about Logan gets an unintentional smile to appear on his face.

It’s not unnoticed by Lando though who’s usually pretty unobservant. “Aww, you’re blushing,” Lando strings his words out, nudging his index finger into the soft chub of Oscar’s cheek. “You like him so bad,” Oscar swats him away, hunching over to rest his elbows on the table and hopefully cover the red flush decorating his face.

His eyebrows flick upwards, his expressions mute in response to all the taunts Lando is clearly planning on throwing at him. “Obviously,” His eyebrows twist together and lips purse. “I sneak off with him during shifts to make out with him in the supply closet when his bedroom is rented out. Of fucking course I like the guy,” Lando’s face drops in pure shock.

“You what?” He shrieks, whacking Oscar’s arm about as hard as he possibly can. To Lando, Oscar is about the biggest virgin possibly. He even struggles to comprehend the fact that he and Logan have even kissed yet. Much less hookup on the daily. “That’s where you fucking disappear off to when you tell me you’re cleaning?”

His eyebrows raise up higher, a satisfied grin playing on his lips. “Yes,” His laugh is all breathy. “Not all the time, sometimes I actually am cleaning.” He insists, trying to calm Lando down slightly so his freak out doesn’t attract any unwanted attention. 

“Oscar, you are such a slut,” He tuts, wrapping his mouth around the straw of his orange juice. “Not only are you dating the boss’ son, you sneak off to suck face with him.” Oscar rolls his eyes at the lewd comment. 

“Not my boyfriend,” He corrects again, not bothering to say he’s wrong about ‘sucking face.’

“Didn’t deny being a slut,” The Brit stares him down out of the corner of his eye, his jaw tensed.

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he gazes off blankly to where Logan is doing cool down stretches. “Yeah, didn’t deny it,” He muses. That gets him another swift whack on his arm from Lando whose mouth is gaping open.

His voice is hushed the next time he speaks, “How far have you two gone?” He sounds genuinely curious and not as if he’s trying to taunt him. Over the past few weeks since the day he and Logan met, Oscar and Lando’s relationship had strengthened to the point that they’d consider themselves good friends and would often text and hangout outside of work. 

Puffing a tight stream of cool air up onto his top lip, Oscar decides how much he wants Lando to know. “Just makeouts so far,” His head tipped slightly, barely looking at Lando. It’s true, they haven’t gone any further than shoving their tongues down each other's faces, but it wasn’t just ‘innocent’, handless makeouts or anything. 

Only a few days prior, Logan had sat in the Aussie’s lap as they both only had boxers on to conceal themselves. It had been everything Oscar needed, but he worried that the American wanted, or needed, more. He’d been louder, moaning and groaning as his mouth had explored each sliver of Oscar’s exposed neck, shoulders, and chest. 

He worried that Logan would ask if he could take Oscar’s underwear off, and he worried more that he wouldn’t know how to say no.

“Not even a quick handie yet?” Lando jeers. It’s clearly meant to come off as lighthearted and teasing, but it just leaves a bitter taste on Oscar’s tongue. He really likes Logan, like more than he’s ever liked anyone else before, yet at the end of the day, there’s one really big problem about Logan,

He’s a boy.

It wasn’t something Oscar initially considered a problem in actuality. After their first kiss, Oscar’s head had been spinning too hard to even think about the logistics of them together. His whole life, the thought of being gay hadn’t ever been weirded out. He’d even liked a boy before, one of his friends back in Australia, Christian. But he’d never been with Christian, and Christian certainly didn’t like boys in the way Oscar did. 

Logan was the first boy Oscar had ever kissed, the first one he’d liked who liked him back. Now he felt dirty, wrong. It felt like he was doing something wrong, immoral even. Maybe that’s part of the reason he hadn’t asked Logan to be his boyfriend yet, and he was grateful he hadn’t been asked in return.

“Shut up Lando,” The corners of his smile slump, his brown eyes creasing around the corners- usually formed from a too big smile. This time, it was the face of holding back tears. He wanted to cry because he wanted to make Logan feel good in the ways Lando teased him about. He wanted to be so insanely in love with the American and not feel disgusting for loving a boy.

Lando reaches across the table, picking up Oscar’s sprite and taking a long drink without asking. He didn’t care, he had other things clouding his tension to get mad over Lando once again taking without asking. “Ouch, was it not good?” Lando scoffs, “That’s gotta hurt mate,”

Oscar sees red. His eyes burn, his body- his face, neck, all the way from his chest down to his toes burn hot. “Shut the fuck up Lando,” His voice hitches at the end of the, the rest of the sentence forced out with a harsh breath. Rough and exhausted around the edges. 

The Brit’s never seen Oscar like this. Oscar who wears the most bland expressions and attempted smiles as he goes around serving tables. Oscar who’s never raised his voice. Oscar who clamps his mouth shut with tightened lips whenever a customer bugs him. He just takes it. He’s not a guy who gets explosive, nor does he swear out of the context of being humorous

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Lando reaches his hand across the table, settling down on Oscar’s shoulder that’s closer to him. “Are you guys just.. not doing those kinds of things?” The way he says it sounds like he’s being overly careful and calculated as to not coax another bad reaction out of the brunet. 

Upsetting Oscar is never his goal, in reality, he just wants to make him laugh. It may be kind of embarrassing, being a year and a half older than the Aussie, he thinks he should be the one that the younger is chasing for validation, but it’s really the opposite. He wants Oscar to like him, not like how he wants Carlos to like him, but he wants Oscar to feel that they’re close enough to speak about these things. Want to tell him about all the small things going on in his life and his relationship.

He partially wants to live vicariously through Oscar. He has what Lando wants, the boy he likes to like him back. Right now he can’t help but feel like Carlos is just stringing him along for the fun of it, or even if he likes guys. 

Oscar’s eyes find a piece of fleece hanging onto the hem of his work issued polo and focus on it. It’s better then looking at Lando and certainly better then spotting Logan fucking prancing around as he hits each obnoxiously neon ball across the courts with the same elegance of a primaballerina. “No,” It’s only one word, yet he manages to shorten it further, almost to the point that it sounds like he didn’t even say anything. “I- We, yeah,” He gives up trying to explain, his fingers wrapping the rope of his drawstring jeans around his joints.

Lando shoots him a sympathetic smile, as if he needs sympathy. To Lando, it’s forced celibacy, like Logan is the one resisting each sexual advance he makes. In reality, Logan’s insinuated the wanting for something more than just kissing , but has consistently immediately stopped as soon as he saw the hesitation on Oscar’s face.

The Aussie can’t help but wonder if they’ll get to a point where Logan’s asked so many times that he just gives in and puts up with the shame, or Logan will be sick of the lack of intimacy and just leave him straight up. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything with him,” Lando assures him, his thumbs pushing uncomfortably into the neon stitching on the polo’s shoulders. Neon likes tennis balls, tennis like Logan. Logan likes Oscar.

“I know that,” His voice softens, his face too. He doesn’t want to be mad at Lando, he really isn’t anyways. Maybe he’s mad at himself, maybe he’s mad at his mind, maybe he’s mad that he can’t fucking just like Logan and not hate himself for it, but he’s definitely not mad at either Lando or the American. “But, yeah. Thanks,” He doesn’t note that it sounds somewhat insincere, because it really isn’t. 

Lando swallows loudly, his hands clasping together and hitting against the edge of the table to accompany it. The sigh that leaves his mouth is loud, comparable to the noise of a leaf blower. “And I’m sorry about that comment I made, it wasn’t.., yeah, wasn’t cool,” He puffs his lips out and blows a raspberry. Oscar grins in amusement, his eyes creasing in the way that he finds something funny this time.

“All good,” He slides his drink back over to himself, chewing down on the floor absently. “Also, stop stealing my drinks,” He flicks Lando’s bicep, his broken index fingernail getting caught in the fabric. His mum pesters him to cut his nails more regularly since they grow seemingly at a far quicker rate then the normal person. He keeps them long for Logan who can’t get enough of the way his nails scratch into his scalp.

Lando shrugs, his body slouching down in the overly stiff and structured chairs, “Nah, you’ve got boss’ son’s privilege, surely he gives you some kind of discount,” He hums, his cheek full of air and bulging, the way he does when he’s deep in thought. That or sticking his tongue out slightly. 

“You’d be shocked that I get fuck all,” Oscar’s mouth twists downwards in a way he reckons makes him look a bit like a frog. “His dad doesn’t know about us, so me getting a bonus or raise would be sorta out of the blue,” 

“Not super strange, you’re certainly a better worker than me,”

“And I’m on break half the time,”

“Yeah, can you work on that? I don’t like the extra work,”

Just as Oscar’s about to give Lando the most dramaticised eye roll- the ones that make his hurts burn, two hands slide down his chest and clasp together in the middle. It’s not a heavy touch, more just barely grazing down the fabric. Based on how the skin around Lando’s nose creases in disgust, Oscar knows exactly who’s behind him.

He tilts his head back, the crown of his head hitting against the defined abdomen of Logan. “Hey,” The American grins down at him, his blond hair nearly brown from sweat and his face filled with exhaustion from his workout. Oscar thinks he looks beautiful, and for the first time today, he truly feels at peace with how he feels for the older boy. Missed you, he murmurs, and Logan’s smile grows wider. ‘Me too,”

Lando looks like he’s about to stand up, make an excuse that he’s had enough of his lunch break and he’ll just clock back in, simply to allow the ‘couple’ to have some space. Oscar feels bad though, Lando shouldn’t have to leave each time Logan comes around. “Stay,” Oscar presses his hand to the back of Lando’s. “Please?” He mouths. It’s time for his friend and maybe soon to be boyfriend-mutual crush to become friendly.

The Brit’s eyes flick in between the pair before finally settling back into his seat reluctantly. His lips spread into a tight near grimace, his line of vision trying to only catch Oscar. “I don’t think he wants me here,” Logan murmurs, dipping down to bury his face in the Australian’s hair, a soft kiss accompanying it. “I’m gonna go have a shower, have fun with Lan,” He rubs Oscar’s shoulders, his voice void of any jealousy or condescendingness. That’s just how Logan is, always so understanding.

“No,” His hand goes to wrap around Logan’s wrist, who simply jerks it back. “Logan,” His voice is more hardened this time, his eyebrows knotting together and twisting upwards. Please, I wanna spend time with you, when you’re right next to me- everything feels so right. I need to feel right about this, Lo. There are so many words fighting to spill out of his mouth, to just completely word vomit all over the other boys, but he keeps his composure. 

Logan smirks, rolling his eyes slightly. “You’ll see me later, Oz, chill out,” His hand swipes along Oscar’s fluff of hair before he sets off for his own room. The room which he and Oscar have spent endless hours in, and no offence to Lando right now, Oscar really wants to be in that room right now.

“He’s touchy,” Lando comments mindlessly as if he’s already forgotten the conversation the two of them had just before. A clipped exhale leaves his nose as he pushes the statement to the side of his mind, hopefully to never be brought back up. He likes that Logan is touchy, but Lando having to comment on every single moment the two share is beyond irritating.

Being left in a semi awkward silence after Oscar chooses to just not reply, they decide to get some food in before they clock off for the day. Some days, they end just about half an hour after their lunch break, which seems redundant, but also works out pretty well in their favour. They order two club sandwiches, Oscar keeping all the toppings on while Lando opps to only keep the cheese and all three meats. 

When their meals are delivered, Lando eats more than half of Oscar’s serve of fries and all of his own obviously. Judging by the way he keeps stuffing his mouth every time he looks up and meets Oscar’s eyes, he clearly has something he wants to say. It takes until he’s crunching down on his final ice cube that he finally spits it out, “What’s it like kissing a boy?”

A lump of half chewed up white bread gets stuck on its way down Oscar’s throat. It’s thick, soaked with saliva and impossible to swallow. “Huh?” He gags around the mass, trying to cough it back up to his mouth so he can properly chew it and not suffocate.

Lando cringes, looking away as Oscar continues to heave, his back hunching over like a cat. “Is it different to kissing a girl? Better? Worse? Are their lips rougher or softer? Do they taste like boys, like is it obvious that is a b-” Oscar rests his palm on his chest, feeling it raising and dropping readily as result of his body reacting post choke. 

With a quick move, he whacks his hand swiftly into the centre of Lando’s chest, pushing a wheeze past the Brit's lips. “Ow? Fuck you?” He groans, sliding down in his seat as he finally stops talking for long enough for Oscar to actually recover. 

“Sorry mate, needed you to shut up and I was sort of… unable to speak,” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a string of saliva snapping when he then wipes his hand against his shirt. He sighs deeply, trying to mentally note down all of Lando’s many questions. “Uh, where’s this curiosity coming from? I thought you and Carlos were.. you know,””

The tan expanse of Lando’s neck burns a deep red, the tips of his ears tinting a similar colour. “Nah,” His hands clasp and rest in his lap, “I’m not sure if Carlos is actually.. gay,” The word sounds shameful coming out of his mouth, as if he’s not used to nor is he comfortable using it. “So, it looks like we’re dating most of the time to people, and we kind of act like we are- but I think he just sees it as a ‘bromance’ thing,” 

“Shit,” Oscar’s eyes squint slightly as the setting sun hits his direct sight of vision, blinding him. He hadn’t realised how late it had gotten, and they were far over their lunch break time by this point. “Man, I’m sorry,” He reaches out an arm to rub Lando’s shoulder, about as far of physical comfort the two teenagers will go. 

The older boy lurches away from the touch though, a weird smirk of humour dancing on his lips. “I’m not looking for comfort, I’m looking to know what kissing a boy feels like,” He reiterates, getting an eye roll of Oscar. Serves him right for trying to comfort Lando, Lando who can’t take a single thing seriously.

The aussie crosses his arms over his chest, slumping back against his seat and staring wistfully off into the distance. “Well, I think it probably just depends on the person,” Images and phantom feelings of Logan’s kisses blurring into kissing girls before him mix in Oscar’s mind. “I’ve only ever kissed one boy, so I can’t speak for what all boys in general feel like,”

Lando doesn’t look satisfied with the answer, understandable given how vague it had been. His cheeks puff out as he fills them with oxygen, finding a way to phrase his next question as to not offend Oscar. “Is Logan a good kisser then? Is he.. just is it different then when you’ve kissed girls?”

Oscar nods without a doubt in his mind, yes to both questions at that. It’s weird to place them together as comparisons as they’re so vastly dissimilar and unrelated. When he’d kissed girls, it was almost because he felt obliged to. In dares, at dances, during spin the bottle, games. He’d never looked at a girl and so desperately wondered what her lip gloss would taste like. With Logan, he craved to know how his hair smelt, how it would feel as he dragged his fingers through it, how his aftershave would smell as it tickled Oscar’s nostrils. 

“I really like kissing Logan,” He nods again for a lack of creativity of what to do with his head. “More than I’ve liked kissing other people, but I just like Logan in general. If you genuinely like Carlos, I reckon he’ll be a better kisser than any girl you’ve kissed or any boy you might kiss that you don’t really like,” It’s not pleasant being this vulnerable and sharing so much to Lando, it isn’t even really when it’s Logan. Oscar just isn’t the type of guy who finds pleasure in divulging into each intimate aspect of his life to anyone who will listen, so rambling on about kissing his crush isn’t exactly pleasurable.

But just thinking about it is, he could easily think about Logan’s wet and sticky mouth attached to his own for years to come. Lando talks and he’s aware of it, he hears the muted rambling of his twisted British accent and sees the exaggerated movements of his mouth to match it, yet his mind is too distracted to take in any sort of information.

When his mind slowly flicks back into focus, he doesn’t pick up on a single thing Lando has been speaking about, instead becoming hyper aware of his body. His lips feel weird, his whole body does. Like an itch burying itself just below the surface. His index and middle finger reached up to his mouth, pinching his bottom lip and twisting it back and forth. It alleviates the tingle, but not overly. It’s not even an intense pain, just a dull one that can’t simply be ignored.

He needs Logan. His body is actually aching for Logan.

“Mate, you look really unwell,” Lando notices based on the way that Oscar is twitching, basically forcing himself to stay still and in his seat. Oscar does feel unwell, he actually feels hellish. The quicker he can escape this conversation, the better. 

“I feel like shit,” He hums, his nails scraping against the cushion under his ass. “I need a shower, and a nap, and… nah, just those two things,” Lando gives him a knowing look, “And Logan,”

A barking laugh comes out of Lando who kicks at Oscar’s ankles until he’s pushing his chair out to get away. “Then go be with Logan, I’ll just watch the tennis and see if I can find someone better than Carlos,” There’s a satisfactory smirk on his face as he slides a pair of sunglasses down from on top of his head to the tip of his nose, a pair Oscar had somehow not seen the whole time they’d been sitting together and talking. 

He doesn’t mention it though, just grabs his phone and wallet off the table, slamming a $10 bill on the table and rushing off. He’s halfway to Logan’s office/room/holiday bedroom when he realises a perk of working here is that he gets free food, meaning Lando is officially $10 richer and Oscar $10 poorer. 

His fist is rapping on Logan’s door before he’s even comprehended that he’s actually made it there. There’s a shuffle that sounds on the other side, closer and closer until the door clicks open. “Hey Dad, I’m just-” Logan turns to look at who’s actually at the door and his eyes wide. “You are not my father,”

Oscar wants to make a retort of how awkward it would be if he was, but his mouth seems to have more control over his actions than his mind. His right hand grips at Logan’s mess of ungelled blond hair, the lighter ends peeking out between his fingers. His mouth is hot and heavy on Logan’s, so desperate and dominant it feels like he’s trying to consume the American. 

“Fucking hell Osc,” His rough is rough and breathless, debauched around the edges, “What’s going on, baby?” Desire pools in Oscar’s stomach purely from the way Logan’s American accent melts with the word. “So needy,”

Oscar slides his hand up the blond’s shirt, light dustings of pale hair brushing against his palm. Logan’s skin is warm, so warm. He feels like a fireplace, being bundled up in a thick blanket while snow pounds outside. Oscar can’t get enough of him, he’s like a drug. 

His teeth nip against Logan’s plump bottom lip, pulling a pleasured groan from his mouth. Logan’s hands trail up Oscar’s back, the touch of his fingertips sending burning shots of sinful lust through his body. “I- fuck you for leaving me with Lando, that conversation was awful,” His slender fingers clench together to trap bundles of hair between each digit, effectively helping to yank Logan off him.

He’s all blushy at the comment, unable to even pretend he’s apologetic. “Was that my punishment for abandoning you, then?” He mocks, his mouth in a twisted up grin against Oscar’s lips. A shaky nod of confirmation gets  him to keep going, “You’re really shit at punishments in that case, because that was really good,” Hands grip Oscar’s hip, holding him in place to take control back over the scenario.

It’s exactly how each makeout goes, taking turns being the dominant one- fighting for control. It shows on the court too, a steadily improving tennis player of Oscar getting increasingly more eager and confident to show off to Logan, portraying himself as the epitome of professional tennis. 

He might not quite have the refined talent yet, but he has the confidence to carry him for miles. 

Within a matter of moments, Oscar somehow caves and gives Logan the satisfaction of leading. The older needed that, based on how his tongue mercilessly shoves into Oscar’s mouth and his lips ram aimlessly into the brunet. Logan had got him onto the bed, pinned underneath him. 

His thighs bracket Oscar’s lower body, knees into the soft flesh that pads over the aussie’s hips. He won’t say it aloud, given Oscar gets all blushy, in an embarrassed and unpleasant way whenever Logan mentions just how much he likes that about his hips, but they just might be his favourite thing about the younger’s body. The softness, how squishy they are, fucking biteable. 

Logan would gladly leave endless hickeys on that patch of his skin, littering the pale untanned spots of his usually covered body. Yet, those thoughts are reserved for late nights, those where he allows the sinful thoughts he has for the boy to run wild. He doesn’t want to scare Oscar away with those thoughts, keeping them hidden within the heated space his weighted blanket creates, with his heavy pants trapped underneath the sheets. 

And as much as he wants to keep going, keep Oscar’s plush lips up against his own, he’s far too hard to maintain any normality, so he pushes away, struggling to get off of Oscar. “Sorry,” His voice breaks as his breathing fights to be louder. “I’m just,” They both glance down, “yeah,” 

Oscar gets it, he doesn’t get angry. He’s happy that Logan’s able to articulate when they need to stop. Deep down, they probably both wish they could take it further, but there’s lingering doubt playing in both of their minds. For Logan, it’s the fear of not being accepted by others. For Oscar, it’s internal. “Do you just wanna cuddle?” 

“Yeah,” Logan smiles, tackling Oscar fully back down as he’d partially sat up. “You’re so warm,” His hands slides up under the Aussie's shirt almost mindlessly. He doesn’t go further up then his abdomen though, his hand snaking around the back of his waist to hug him close.

Oscar buries his nose into the crook of Logan’s neck, his senses flooded with the sharp taste of a cologne that costs more than he earns in a year. Well. Almost. It’s his favourite scent in the whole world, sharp tones of amber and wood. If he ever has enough money at one time, he’ll buy the scent, wear it each day just to think of the blond. “I’m sweaty,” He murmurs back, feeling an uncomfortable patch of sweat seeping from his polo back onto the space just between where his shoulder blades meet.

“Well, I like when you’re sweaty then. You smell good too,” He plants a peck to the top of his head, followed by another, and another, and another. Each more slobbery and wet then the last. It’s the most annoying thing he does, covering Oscar in drooling kisses that coat him in rings of spit. 

“Loooo,” He groans, wiggling out of his forever tightening hold. Oscar’s only able to turn around, his back planted to Logan’s chest while he continues to be attacked by wet kisses. “Stop, that’s so gross,” Logan’s insistent, both his hands moving to link around his tummy so he can’t leave and get away from the kisses. He does however move where he leaves them, trailing down the side of his face down the side and back of his neck. 

He hums lowly, his nails hitching up the thick fabric of Oscar’s shirt with ease. “Can I give you a hickey?” It’s undiscovered territory, not even something that’s met the air between them. It’s a thought Logan keeps to himself and only allows it to come to the front of his mind past midnight. But it’s so prevalent recently, being the only tangible thought that crosses his mind throughout the day.

Fuck the fear of potentially scaring off Oscar with the request- he’ll never know if he never asks.

“Y-yeah,” That’s all it takes for Logan’s lips to seal around a patch of pale skin on the back of his neck. The contact sparks goosebumps to shoot down Oscar’s arms and legs, pale brown hair sticking directly upwards. His teeth graze gently, trying to remember the last time he’d done this. He’s had next to no experience with another person, even less than Oscar, so it’s easier to think of articles he’d read about doing this in his early stages of puberty. 

A pair of hands tangle up in his mop of hair, pulling him infinitely closer, “Mate,” Oscar moans. Logan finds himself back in the awkward situation from earlier with the tone of his shaking voice. His hips roll upwards, not attempting to insinuate anything, but more to alleviate the aching pressure on the area. 

It must feel good for the younger boy as his hips roll back to meet the motion, the two of them acting like dogs in heat. “St-stop,” Logan laughs, pulling Oscar’s face closer to his, straining the Australian's neck who has to look over his shoulder to join the kiss. “You’re too hot Oz, I’m so hard,” It feels nice to admit that openly, especially when nothing needs to be done about it. It’s a statement, merely an observation. He’s not asking for Oscar to open his mouth or to cup his hand to help him out, and it takes off some pressure he’s been feeling.

Oscar reacts with a smile, a flattered one at that. Curiously, his gentle touch grazes the spot on his neck, wincing pleasantly at the sting. “Does it look good?” Logan examines the darkening splodge, looking satisfied with his word. It’s currently a ferrari red, but it’ll likely die down to a mauve as hours turn to days. 

He’ll just need to be cautious about his fashion choices for the next week or so- opt for more sweaters and hoodies, even though the weather is excruciatingly hot. “Yeah,” It looks hot, hot enough for Logan to want to create a million more. “I like it,”

Oscar palms at the spot, his eyes fluttering shut at the singe of the bite. It’s good, insatiably good. He wants hickeys on every inch of his body if they feel this good. It would also mean being somewhat attached to Logan- mouth to skin. Now that is hot.

His arms loop back around Oscar’s waist, pulling him half onto his lap until he gives up, lying down with Oscar’s back flush to his chest. He’s able to smell Oscar’s hair like this, the sweet and sour apple scent of his shampoo and the natural clean ocean smell that is him. His mind becomes gradually more foggy, any thought besides the heavy mass of the boy on top of him is so distant. 

That is until a familiar voice brings him back to life. “Logan. Hunter. Sargeant.” And it’s definitely not coming from the body ontop of him.

Fuck, shit, fuck

Shit. 

Oscar’s muscles go rigid, scrambling to get off Logan from where his legs have been trapping one of the American's knees in between. He whacks the back of his neck, quickly covering up the hickey. He feels like a preteen getting caught by his parents while watching a MA 15+ or R 18+ movie, or staying up far past his bedtime playing on the switch. Yet this time, he’s getting caught on top of the boy he’s basically dating, by said boy’s boyfriend. 

And worst of all, it’s his literal boss.

“Dad,” His voice comes out as a squeak, far more vulnerable and scared then Oscar’s ever heard him. He knew Logan had doubts about how and when to come out to his parents, but he knew it wouldn’t be for a while. 

He’d just had that very privilege stripped from him.

Daniel looks like he’s about to say something rather harshly worded to his son until his eyes flicker to the other boy, his lips pursing and eyebrows wiggling in confusion. “Piastri?”

“Sir,”

“Oscar?”

“Yes, Sir,”

“Oscar Piastri?,”

“Yes, Sir,”

Daniel looks completely bewildered, even in the dim lighting of the room, his expression incredulous. His stare is pulled from Oscar, moving back to his son. “Logan, explain yourself,” The tone isn’t as jarring as either boy would’ve expected out of him given the situation, but it still feels Logan with dread and unease.

He wishes he could bury his face back into the tight muscles that ripple across Oscar’s back, submerge himself in the salty aroma of him and be so blissfully unaware of anything else in the world. He craves that comfort back, to be so far away from here- mentally and physically. “I don't know how,” It’s not a lie per say.

He’s not sure just how much he should go into detail about. Calling it a hookup or friends with benefits situation is crude to say to his father and insulting to Oscar, but saying their dating is a lie. His father’s face doesn’t flicker in reaction, so he has to come up with something. “Oscar and I enjoy spending time together, and we like one another,” Yeah, that’s good enough.

His father looks less than pleased, but he doesn’t look fuming. He’s not red in the face, puffing air out of his bottom lip like whenever he used to religiously watch Logan’s tennis matches, bunching his hands up into fists and yelling out each time Logan made a mistake. So, he really can’t be that mad. “Sorry Oscar, I would like to talk to my son individually,” 

Oscar has never been more glad to be fully dressed. He crawls off the bed, his toes curl as his feet hit the cold hardwood floor. His instincts tell him to give Logan a little peck, a kiss to say we’ll talk soon, but it hardly feels appropriate, so he settles with giving him a final look back over his shoulder before the door clicks shut in his face. 

 A swirl of discomfort settles in the bottom of his stomach, and his sandwich from earlier feels as if it's about to make a reappearance. He compresses the thought, his feet quickly padding away from the door and into the storage room. Him and Logan’s storage room. There’s a few resounding smells encasing him as the door snaps closed after him- some organic peanut butter, burnt caramel, and vanilla extract from a glass bottle that had smashed during one of their mid-work/practice makeout sessions in here, leaving the brown liquid to seep into the wooden shelves below. 

Oscar sinks to his knees, his back planted up against a gas tank. The room feels tight around him and how he and Logan are able to both comfortably stand in here seems impossible right now. He feels trapped, yet so comforted and safe. It’s like a hug, just too tight to the point that it’s unpleasant, yet, it is still a hug. He wishes it was one of Logan’s overbearing, too tight hugs. The ones he claims to hate, the ones he weasles his way out of, feigning hatred for public physical affection. He hopes Mr Sargeant will come around, that he’ll allow Logan to continue to spend time with Oscar.

Yet, right now, he needs fresh air, he needs to be rid of all the smells that are authentically Logan. He makes a beeline for the infamous table at which he’d seen Logan from for the first time, where he’d daydreamed about the American- watching him play on the court, where he’d been interrupted during his lunch break a few too many times with a soft kiss to his forehead. He clocks as soon as the table is in sight that the 10 dollar note he’d left Lando is still there, clearly the brit had done the right and left it.

But, it was an idiotic decision just leaving money on an abandoned table. Lucky, but so stupid.

He takes the seat he always does, the one that gives him the perfect view of the court Logan always plays at. From the distance he’s at, he can't quite see the deep smile lines he adores so much, or the piercing blue eyes that he sees in his dreams, but the golden strands on top of his head are enough of a sight to keep him absolutely enamoured.

Thinking about all of this- Oscar doesn’t think it’s the worst thing ever that people might find out about the two of them. He’d love to show Logan off, have a voice seeping with pride when he flaunts that the Logan Sargeant is all his. That’s all he wants, maybe it’s even all he’s wanted for a while.

Sitting down feels wrong, there’s still that emptiness inside of him, a buzzing distraction that’s patiently waiting for Logan to emerge from his room to give him the verdict- are they even allowed to hang out from now on? 

A sinking realisation burrows itself deep in his bones, what if he loses his job over this? It’s breaking work policy, it must be. God, he’s gonna get fired, he’s gonna lose his job. There won’t be a single thing connecting Oscar to Logan- he’ll lose him. He’ll lose him before he’s even really had him.

So he does the only logical thing that he knows will calm the panic in his head. He runs down to the court, picking up a free racquet and a few lone balls, practising his serves. They’re awful, the swings are too hard and uncontrolled, sending each neon globe into varying directions. Each thwack helps return his pounding heart rate back to a normal pulse, the shallow sharp breathing he’s adapted to beginning to ease up.

He looks up to the sky, squinting to see if rain is actually falling on him or if he’s just absurdly sweaty. It doesn’t take long to realise neither option is right- he’s crying. Fat, hot tears spill down his cheeks, his quivering bottom lip pierced by his top teeth in an attempt to keep it in place. He doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to let the world know just how scared all of this makes him. Logan scares him, to a degree. He’s scared of just how much he loves the American and how much it would absolutely kill him if he didn’t get to ever be with him.

So he keeps hitting, a new feeling and compressed though coming out with each one.

Thwack, don’t leave me Logan. 

Thwack, Mr Sargeant, I promise to be more attentive during work hours and take less breaks if you allow me to keep seeing your son. 

Thwack, I wanna be with you Logan, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

Thwack, I wish this all made sense to me.

Thwack, I wish I wasn’t scared to be happy.

Thwack, I don’t want to experience happiness if I can’t share it with Logan.

Thwack, I love Logan. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. I. Love. Logan.

He loves Logan. 

Two hands clasp around his own, guiding his swing towards the next ball the machine catapults out directly forward, an objectively perfect swing. It doesn’t a single word for him to identify just who it is. “Fuck, Lo,” He turns around without a single thought, burying his face into the older’s neck.  “What did he say?” 

The grin on his face speaks a million words, “He said we need to learn to lock the door, but otherwise- we’re all good, Oz,” Both of their cheeks hurt from how wide their smiles stretch across their faces. Oscar is smashing his face into the blond’s before he even realises he’s doing it. It’s their first kiss out in the open, and even though no one else is around to see it, it’s a step.

There’s so much fondness sparkling in Logan’s eyes as Oscar pulls away, his usually pale lips tinted a peachy pink, spit spread across to look glossy. “I’ll never get over those kisses,” A million small pecks follow that one, a few lasting slightly longer than the last. 

Confession pricks at Oscar’s skin, forcing its way up his throat, trying to pry his mouth open and bring itself to light. He can’t hold it back much longer, nor does he want to. He isn’t willing to find himself in another situation where he worries whether he’ll have Logan ever again, “I love you, Logan,” Nothing has felt more right to say, and he’s not scared to either. 

“I love you too, Osc,” Looks like Logan might be suffering from guessing whether it’s raining or not based on the clear strips staining his cheeks. His hands bunch up in Oscar’s hair, wisps of brunette hair tangling over his knuckles. “A whole fucking lot,” The world feels still when he says it, like everything he’s ever wanted has clicked into place. It’s right, it’s perfect, it’s them.

But something is missing. 

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

A mouth full of once braces-yielding straight teeth gleams right at him, “Yes Oscar, I would love to be your boyfriend,” He grins, pulling him back into one of the sloppy kisses he claims to hate so very much, yet there’s nothing he loves more than it right now.

Well, except for Logan.

[kasssscali]

hello! hope your doing good this week, especially since the tadc pilot dropped. can you do fluff headcanons for Kinger x Reader? preferably male reader if that helps, thank you!

Kinger obviously gets startled easily, you can’t run to him or give him a hug because you might scare him to death

so you have to be cautious when you approach him

”GAAH!- oh it’s just you!” When he sees you he instantly relaxes and makes quick small talk

Kinger usually rambles about some random stuff, and that might just be his brain talking into insanity from how long he’s been in the digital world

but you still enjoy his company nonetheless

Not only are you his significant other, you also need to rake the role of protecting him. Kinger is smart, but his mind is a little scrambled and he’s gotten himself into trouble more than once

so you need to be glued to his side, for his own sake. He doesn’t mind your company at all and loves to talk to you about his insect collection

as for cuddling, i don’t know… he might not enjoy physical affection that much

even when someone goes as little to tap his shoulder it still freaks him out, the most you can do for Kinger is honestly to just hold hands with him

A certain rabbit will definitely try to torture Kinger more, Kinger is an even bigger target to him now since your here

going back to the protecting role, be ready to dodge whatever Jax throws at you both

from wads of trash to literal fucking bowling balls

Kinger is going to be oblivious, so it might be hard to drag him out of that situation as soon as possible

but just stay by his side, the more time you spend with him, the more he is internally grateful to have you in his presence

he’s been along for some time, after losing Queenie he hasn’t really been able to bond with someone

and who knows? Maybe with your presence he’s gaining more than just someone to talk to, maybe with every Econ of being with you he is slowly becoming a little more sane

and further away from being Abstracted

[heartsofminds]

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score - sneak peek

"Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone." or Jake calls the landline at 11 PM on a Thursday because his goddaughter is wasted and Bradley is less than thrilled.

A/N: in light of me finishing my second to last semester of undergrad and my undying love for Bradley's precocious daughter from the halloween fic, i thought i would post a little preview of what i'm working on for them! love these characters more than life and def so excited for y'all to get to know them better soon.

No one ever calls the landline. Very few people even have the phone number for the landline outside of Maverick and a few close family friends. Besides, anyone who would need to reach you had your cell phone numbers anyway. 

So who the actual fuck is calling your landline at 11 PM on a Thursday night? 

You hear Bradley yank the phone from its place on the wall and exhale with a huff. After sixteen years of being together, you know that huff is his tell of being annoyed. 

“Hello?” he gruffly answers. His irritation makes the questions sound more like a monotonous statement. 

“Bradshaw –” 

Jake Seresin is on the other end of the line. You can recognize his voice from the other room with his cadence even though you’re not the one on the phone with him. Having “mom ears” does that to a person, you suppose. 

“Why the fuck are you calling my house at 11 PM?” Bradley snaps. 

You’re wondering the same thing, but you’ll have to talk to him about being so rude and huffy. Jake may actually need something, after all. 

“Well you weren’t answering your fucking cell and neither was your wife so I had to do something.” 

Bradley rolls his eyes and looks back into the darkened living room. He’s been more on edge about you lately. 

“You can’t miss me that fucking much to be spamming my phone with calls,” he sighs and leans his back up agaisnt the wall. He notices the open blinds on the back door and starts to walk to close them before he’s yanked back by the phone cord. 

“Don’t cream your pants. I don’t like you that much.” 

Bradley lets out a soft snort in amusement before he remembers that he’s supposed to be annoyed. He opens his mouth to ask Jake what exactly it is that’s so damn important and can’t wait until tomorrow morning when he’s beaten to it. 

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” 

The statement sends Bradley into panic mode instantly. His voice catches in his throat and he can’t recall a moment he’s had where he’s felt like he’s had to force the breath out of himself like this. 

He lets out something between a huff, a cough, and a wheeze before remembering he can’t make a huge show of himself right now because it’ll also throw you into panic mode. 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s not well? Jake, where the fuck are you?” he whispers into the phone, trying to cover his mouth as much as possible so you can’t even read his lips if you tried. “Is she okay? What’s –” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Bradley is panicking. Even Bradley’s beyond intoxicated and passed out seventeen-year-old daughter sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck could piece together that her father is nothing but a raging ball of anxiety at the moment, and Jake is positive that his friend is growing another patch of gray hair as the seconds pass. 

“Oh. . . fuck, I guess I should’ve phrased that better,” Jake admits. His truck comes to a halt at a spotlight and he glances over at his goddaughter. “She’s fine. She’s definitely drunk as shit right now, but I’m on the way to drop her at yours.”

Bradley can feel the obnoxious orange ball of anxiety inside of him shift to a tumultuous rage induced scarlett. His hand tightens around the cord of the phone and he has to stop himself before he yanks it out of the wall. He’s gotten angry like this before, but it never was angled toward his daughter. 

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. 

But she knows the rules (and she chose to break them) and she knows what was told to her (and she snuck out anyway) and she knows that it’s dangerous to be that drunk (but yet she’s passed out in Jake’s truck). 

And if that isn’t both nerve-wracking and frustrating, Bradley doesn’t know what is. 

“Put her on the phone,” he speaks lowly. 

Jake gulps, knowing that he’s in one of those moods. Bradley doesn’t express anger as often as he expresses annoyance, but an angry Bradley is never someone he wants to be around. And from the way that Quincy made it sound when she called him to come get her from some random party in the middle of nowhere thirty five minutes away from her house at 11 PM on a school night, he knows her ass is being had tomorrow morning by both you and Bradley. 

There’s absolutely no way his goddaughter is coming out of this unscathed. 

“Dude, she’s obliterated right now and I think you talking to her is just gonna make it worse.” 

“And I don’t give a fuck. I said, put her on the fucking phone now.” 

Jake shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Quincy begins to stir next to him in her seat. He’s always been the person she’s called whenever she was in trouble. He always got the first hug whenever she was brought around. He’s always been her source of comfort outside of her parents and he’s never minded it because being around her is easy. 

It was easy to carry her around whenever she asked when she was little. It was easy to give in and let her sit in the cockpit of his grounded aircraft with him and let her play with the buttons when her dad and Papa Mav refused. It was easy to pick her up from school mid-day and take her to lunch. It was easy to bring her back gifts from whenever he was deployed and even easier picking them out because she’s a sucker for meaningless trinkets. 

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. 

Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone. 

“No,” he speaks and he can hear Bradley let out a small gasp at the denial of his request, “She fucked up bad, Bradley. I’m sure she knows and you can have it out with her tomorrow morning, but right now, she’s not in any place to be screamed at and made to feel worse. You’re her dad and m’not tryin’ to take that away from you –” 

Bradley scoffs, “What exactly do you fuckin’ know about raising kids, Jake? Huh?” 

Jake grimaces and decides to take the brute of Bradley’s anger. Better him than Quincy, he figures. Besides, he knows Bradley doesn’t mean any of it. . . At least he hopes he doesn’t. 

“You obviously can’t be a dad because you just wanna have fun and dick around all the fucking time. Buying them fuckin’ candy and letting them off scott-free doesn’t do shit. You don’t have what it takes to raise a fucking person.” 

Jake doesn’t know why, but part of him starts to get that prickly feeling in his chest. Usually, every insult rolls off his shoulders into oblivion and he gets off on making people angry and being able to put on the facade that he really couldn’t give a damn if he tried.

But this one hurts because he knows that Bradley is right in some regard. 

He’s a runner and he lets people down. He’s nearing fifty (and God, he never thought he ever would) and has never even bothered to settle down. And he’s made the peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. 

To hear one of your closest friends admit that to you openly, to know that someone outside of you sees it too, makes his heart stop momentarily and forces him to feel the ache of the words meant to stab him in the chest. 

“I understand,” he swallows. He knows arguing with Bradley isn’t the right thing to do at the moment and never will be. “I’m still not putting her on the phone. We will be at your house shortly.” 

The line goes dead and Bradley is overcome with a wave of anger that drowns him like a tsunami. He knows what he said was shitty and that he has no right to do that to someone who he considers a close friend, but he just can’t help himself. 

He knows no allies when it comes to his daughter. 

[bbrissonn]

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 | ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀꜱ ʙᴏʀᴅᴇʟᴇᴀᴜ & ʙʀᴇɴᴅᴀɴ ʙʀɪꜱꜱᴏɴ

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting

warnings: nsfw, read at your own risk, the whole fic is pretty much just smut, swearing, not proofread

pairing: brendan brisson x reader x thomas bordeleau

wc: 3k 

hey u free rn 

a smile creeped up on your face once you had noticed who the notification was from, brendan. the two of you had been messing around for about a month and a half now, the first being when you had woken up in his bed being the day after his 19th birthday. it was now late december, everyone would be heading home soon for the winter break, meaning you and briss were trying to see each as often as possible between your classes and his practices. 

 yeah 

you answered and he saw straight away, his gray typing bubble popped up, making your smile even bigger than before. 

home alone

come over 

he answered, making you bite your bottom lip a bit. your fingers flew over your keyboard to answer him. 

ill be there in 5 

him living right down the street from you was also a very big advantage to the two of you being able to see each whenever you wanted. he sent you a thumbs up back and a ‘be quick’ before you closed your phone and quickly changed into something a little more appropriate. changing your cotton underwear for a pair of lace one, and putting on a matching bra under your hoodie. you pulled out a pair of sweatpants you had stole from him a week ago, put socks and shoes out and quickly left your house. 

when you arrived at brendan’s house, no cars were in the driveway, and no lights were turned on beside the one in his room, meaning he was really home alone. you pushed open the door, which you were sure was gonna be unlocked because locking doors is something you quickly learned these boys don’t know how to do. you quickly took your shoes off and rushed up to his room, only to see him lying on his bed shirtless, phone in hand. his covers were on him, resting right below his waist, exposing all of his upper body, including his abs. 

you closed the door behind yourself and turned back around to face him, as he tossed his phone aside. you then made your way over to him, moving the blanket off of him and straddling him, you rubbed your hands up and down his chest, pulling on his chain a bit, before leaning down and connecting your lips. 

“fuck i missed you.” he whispered against your lips, his hands going up your thighs all the way to your ass, giving it a small squeeze. and that’s when he realized you were wearing his sweatpants, making him let out a groan as you felt his hard slowly grow under you. 

“you saw me like 3 hours ago.” you whispered back, pulling away a bit before connecting your lips again, your tongue slipping into his mouth. 

“yeah, but not like this.” he mumbled as his hands pressed your hips down hard on him, making him groan in your mouth. his hands then slipped in your hoodie, another groan leaving his mouth when he felt the lace bra you were wearing. 

“god, you drive me insane.” he spoke before pulling your hoodie off and throwing it on the ground. you pushed yourself back up a bit, resting your hands on his lower stomach, running them up and down his abs a bit first. he rubbed both of your nipples through the lace before undoing the clasp and throwing it in the same direction as your hoodie. 

“my little stress balls.” he whispered, making you let out gasp and slap his hand lightly. 

“don’t call them that, bren.” you said, as both of his hands cupped both of your boobs, making you let out a sigh of pleasure.

“don’t worry, babe. they’re not little.” he said with a smirk, and you decided to just drop the subject, watching him as he stared at your boobs like a middle school boy. after about a minute or so, you started grinding your hips against his, needing to feel something more. 

“so impatient.” he mumbled as you started undoing the string of his sweatpants. you then pulled them down, along with his boxer, making his cock fling upwards, landing on his pelvis. the tip was already leaking with pre cum, all red and tweaking. you placed yourself between his thighs, placing your hands right next to his dick as a support while you moved.

when you looked back up at him, his head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth opened as he tried to control his breathing, making you smile to yourself. you slowly moved your thumb so it was resting right against the head of his cock, making him gasp a bit. 

“y/n/n, fuck, babe, i need more. please.” he begged, making you smirk as you slowly started moving one of your hands up and down his length, a couple of moans leaving his mouth as you did so. you added a second hand after a couple of seconds, making his hips thrust in your grip.

“fucking hell. i’m so close, baby. don’t stop, god yes!” he mumbled, making you pull away. his eyes quickly flew open as a whine left his mouth and his hips stopped moving. he looked at you, clearly confused as you straddled him once again, his cock rubbing against the fabric of his sweatpants. you ran your hands up and down his chest a bit before moving one of them to his face. you pushed his hair back, your hand sliding down his face and playing with his lip a bit. 

“i want you to fuck me, bren.” you whispered, your eyes staring into his. you felt him twitch under you as you lowered yourself, pressing your boobs against his bare chest. 

“fuck.” he whispered before flipping the two of you over so you were laying on your back. his hands quickly attacked the strings of his sweatpants before pulling them off your legs and throwing them in another corner than your bra and hoodie. he let out yet another groan seeing the small lace underwear you were wearing, before pulling them off of you and throwing them where the sweatpants were. he then waist no time connecting his mouth with your clit, making you moan out his name. 

“brendan, fuck!” you moaned out, as your hands landed on his head, pulling on his hair a bit. you let him have his fun for a couple of minutes, before pushing him away from you. 

“fuck me. now.” you said and he was quick to listen, getting up and grabbing a condom along with the lube bottle that were in his nightstand drawer. he tossed you the packet and you quickly ripped it open and rolled it down on him as he opened the lube bottle and let some fall directly on your pussy. he used the tip of his cock to spread it all over your slit, small moans leaving your mouth. 

“you ready?” he asked as his tip stopped right over your opening, making you whine a bit. 

“mm-hm.” you hummed and he was quick to push himself into, exactly the way he knew you liked. a moan slipped past both of your lips as he reached the deepest point he could go. he waited for your signal and then slowly started moving back and forth until he was fully thrusting into you.

“oh god, bren!” you moaned out as he hit that spot inside of you over and over again, small groans leaving his mouth every time. his left forearm landed right next to your hand as he let himself fall on top of you, his right hand grabbing your right thigh and bringing it up, changing the angle a bit. you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as your eyes rolled back. 

“g-god! you feel so fucking good, baby.” he whispered before leaning down and connecting your lips together. you wrapped your legs around his lower back, keeping him as close to you as possible, when he realized what you were doing, his thrusts went from slow and long to fast and short. you were about to answer him, when his door flew open, making both of your heads look over at the door, but briss showed no signs of wanting to stop his movements.

“what the fuck!” bordy’s voice echoed in the room, making briss throw his blanket over both of your naked bodies. 

“dude, what the fuck!” briss yelled back, his hip still snapping into yours, something that clearly didn’t go unnoticed by thomas. you bit down into briss’ shoulder, trying to stop your moans from coming out of your mouth, but had no success. 

“bro, stay if you want or leave, i don’t give a shit but close that fucking door.” briss told thom, after he didn’t answer him or move. bordy blinked a couple of times before closing the door behind him, but he stood in the same place as before. you and briss had talked a bit about potentially having a threesome with bords, and the two boys had talked about it between themselves, after bordy had let it slip at a party that he’d down the fuck you if he ever had the chance to do so. 

“c’mon, baby, don’t go all shy on me just because he’s here.” brendan whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as you stopped biting down on his shoulder and let a couple of moans slip past your mouth. you saw from the corner of your eye bordy sitting down on briss’ desk chair, his eyes glued on the two of you, clearly a little excited by what he was seeing and hearing. 

“eyes on me, pretty girl.” briss whispered again once he realized your eyes were fully looking at thom instead of him. your eyes quickly moved back to him as his hips snapped into yours even faster than before. 

“g-gonna cum!” you struggled to say, making both boys smirk as briss looked over to bordy. 

“whatcha think bords, does she get to cum or not?” he asked, making you let out a whine, as bordy got up from the chair and walked over to the side of the bed. he smirked a bit at his best friend before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“i think we make her wait.” he whispered after pulling away from you, another whine leaving your mouth. the two boys smirked at one another before briss focused back on you, and bordy started undressing himself. brendan moans started getting louder and louder as he felt himself coming closer and closer to his high. meanwhile, thom had found himself sitting back on briss’ desk chair, slowly stroking his hard. 

“f-fuck! holy shi–” brendan started, but he cut himself off with a bunch of groans and moans leaving his mouth as his hips stopped moving, his dick buried deep inside your pussy as he came undone in the condom. you let out a whine as he stopped moving, before trying to move your own hips up to get some sort of pleasure, but brendan was quick to push them back down with his hips. 

“so fucking needy.” he mumbled before pushing himself up and slowly pulling out of you, making yet another whine slip past your lips. Brendan scoffed a bit before removing the condom and throwing it in his trash, before looking over at bordy. thom was still slowly stroking himself, the head of his cock red and throbbing as pre cum leaked from it. 

“she’s all yours, man.” brendan said before sitting down next to you, rubbing himself a bit. a smirk grew on bords’ face as he got up from the chair and walked over to the bed, grabbing a condom on the way.

“turn around for me, pretty girl.” the bordeleau boy whispered as he opened the packet and slipped the condom on himself. Once you were laying on your stomach, thom grabbed both of your hips and lifted your ass up the air, exposing your pussy for him. he let out a groan as he pushed your cheeks aside, fully displaying your holes. at the same time, briss moved over a bit, so he was sitting right on front of you, scoffing a bit when he saw the look on your face. 

“fuck.” bordy sighed as he slowly slid into you, making you let out a loud moan as your eyes grew big. thom was much thicker than brendan, meaning this whole a different experience, and he was a lot smaller than him, making the angle totally different as well. the two boys smirked at each other before brendan grabbed your chin and aligned your mouth with his cock. 

“think you can take me in that pretty little mouth of yours while he fucks you, baby?” he mumbled as he let go of your chin and took his dick into his hand, rubbing it against your lips. you nodded eagerly before opening your mouth and slowly taking him into your mouth. 

the two best friends both let out loud moans and groans as bordy pounded into you from behind, making your mouth move further down briss’ length every time. eventually, one of brendan’s hands found its way to the back of your head, pushing it down everytime thom hit that one spot inside of you, making your eyes roll backwards. 

“you’re doing so fucking good, baby. so fucking good for us.” thom whispered as he bent down, placing his hands right next to bren’s hips, changing the angle of his dick, making you let out a scream of pleasure. 

“don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you moaned as you pulled your mouth off of brendan’s cock. 

“like the way he fucks you, huh? such a fucking slut for us.” brendan whispered as he grabbed your chin once again, this time only making you look into his. you nodded eagerly once more before a moan slipped past your lips. you felt your high building up inside of you, until thom pulled out of you, pulling the condom off and flipping you over so you your back was against briss’ chest. 

“where do you want me to cum, pretty girl?” he asked as brendan started rubbing your clit, making your breathing pick up. 

“m-mouth… cum inside my mouth!” you begged, and he was quick to listen. he moved himself forward so the tip of his cock was resting against your tongue that you had stuck out. he jerked himself off at a rapid past until he started leaking into your mouth, throwing his head back as loud moans slipped past his lips. 

“s-shit!” thom moaned as he slowly came down from his high. you were about to close your mouth, when brendan grabbed your chin once again and turned your face towards him with his free hand, connecting your lips together. thom’s cum getting mixed up with your saliva and his, meanwhile, brendan’s fingers slowly made its way inside of you, making you gasp in his mouth. one of your hands grabbed the back of his neck, keeping him close to you as you felt bordy’s lips attach to your neck. 

you let out a moan as brendan’s fingers moved faster and faster inside of you and bordy’s hands found both of your breast, messaging them and pinching your nipples a bit as his lips stayed connected with your neck. eventually, his lips moved down your body and connected with one of your nipple. 

“shit– ah!” you moaned as you pulled your lips away from briss’, grinding your hips onto his fingers, making him smirk at you. gasps left your mouth at a fast pace, feeling your high coming closer and closer, well that was until brendan’s finger slipped out of you, a whine slipped your lips, but it was quickly replaced with a moan from bordy’s lips and tongue connecting your clit. 

“fuck!” you yelled out, placing both of your hands in thom’s hair, keeping him close to your core. bren’s lips connected with the side of your neck as his hands slipped down to your breasts, repeating the same actions bordy’s hand had been doing barely seconds ago. you threw your head back on brendan’s shoulder as you let out a silent scream, your high taking over your body. 

thom’s fingers rubbed your clit rapidly as his tongue collected all of the cum coming out of your hole, groans of pleasure leaving his mouth when he swallowed all of it down his throat. 

“dude!” brendan whined, seeing as he wasn’t going to be able to taste you tonight. bordy let out a laugh as you rolled over brendan’s legs and placing the blanket over yourself and the boys. 

“my bad, bro.” thom said light heartedly as he settled down next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder as brendan rested his head on your chest. heavy breaths left your mouth as you were still coming down from your high. 

“you okay?” brendan asked when he heard the sound of your fast heart beat in his ear. you slowly nodded your head as bords pressed a small kiss to your forehead. 

“i’ve been dreaming about this for so long. fucking you.” bordy whispered in your ear, making you giggle a bit. 

“who knows, maybe this could become a weekly thing. you and i.” you shrugged, sending the bordeleau boy a small smile. he was about to say something when a loud snore coming from brendan could be heard, making you scoff a bit. 

“he’s a baby.” you stated as you playing with briss’ hair, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head. 

“he’s always like this?” thom asked with a laugh, making you shake your head slightly, before letting out a yawn. 

“go to sleep, y/n/n.” thom whispered, pulling you closer into his chest. you snuggled your face in it before you eyes slowly started closing. 

“g’night."

taglist <3 @mack-samo @hugheshugs @studsccsnackavoybambi @blanksbae @doyouevenplayhockey @dracoswhore007 @bemybinarystar @ancient-remnants-of-love @power2myheart @emsully2002 @jamiedryssdale @jayda12 @marcoskasper @bowen-power @sidcrosbyspuck @arianabordeleau @bordeleau @alexturcs @dora-the-exploraah @sophia-bordeleau

[slowlyhardgoatee]

Now, I bet you’re wondering why I brought you over here to my house today, right?

Well, there’s a couple of reasons, Smith. Let’s just say I’ve got a proposition for you.

Firstly, there’s the work situation. You’ve worked for me at my construction business for a long time now, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand why you stick around despite the low pay. Hell, everyone knows you like nothing more than jacking off over a pair of dirty construction overalls and boots in the back workroom. We’ve all seen you doing it. But I’ve noticed that, nine times out of ten, you specifically pick MY overalls and boots. Am I your type, Smith? ‘Yes Boss’, was that? Good. Keep that subservient attitude up, faggot. Oh, that’s your name from now on, by the way. Faggot.

The second reason you’re here is actually to do with my wife. As you probably know, I’m a married man. Been with my wife for just about 30 years, and let me tell you she is a classy lady. Very proper. Now, me, I’m the opposite of her. I’m ex-police, ex-military, hell, even did a stint as a prison guard for a while. Tough work, done by tough men. Thing is, all that testosterone flying around turned me into a 24/7 horn dog. My wife puts out once a month for the most missionary sex possible, and that’s nothing like enough for me. I need my dick sucked several times a day - and she does not suck dick. She said to me, ‘Find someone else if you want that shit’ - so faggot, I’m finding you.

I’m shutting down the construction company. But don’t worry, I’m keeping you on. Your new job is as my personal cocksucker. It’s a full-time, live-in and entirely unpaid position starting immediately. I know you live alone and have no family, so you should have no problem getting started right away. What do you say, faggot?

Atta boy - ‘Yes, Boss’, and dropped straight to your knees. Good faggot. Go ahead and get my cock out. Look at that. Look at the piece of meat that’s gonna be running your fucking life from now on. You want to nurse on it, faggot? Go right ahead.

Fuck yeah, right down the back of your fucking throat. Fuck, that’s a sweet and talented mouth. I’ll be putting it to near-constant use.

Ah - what do you think you’re doing? No no no - hands well away from your cock, faggot. In fact, give ‘em here. There. That’s where your hands belong when you’re sucking your Boss’s cock, faggot - tugging on my fucking nipples. I’ll be locking your cock up in a cock cage first thing in the morning - and you’ll beg me to throw away the key.

Oh, fuck yeah. Oh, you’re gonna be at my beck and call whenever I want. I think to start with, I’ll keep you down here in the basement. But every so often, on special occasions, I’ll take you upstairs and let you suck me in the actual house. Y’know, on my birthday, or our wedding anniversary, or my wife’s birthday, days like that. I’ll always make sure she’s in the house when I take you up there, as well, so she can see first-hand how you satisfy the demands she wouldn’t meet. If my wife won’t give me what I want, I’m happy to make a cuckold out of her in her own living room.

Last thing, faggot - you don’t smoke, do you? No? Good. Nor does my wife. She hates it when I smoke. So - I promise that every time I fuck your mouth up in the house, I’m gonna light up the biggest cigar I can find, and I’m gonna smoke it nice and slowly while you’re servicing my meat. Then, because we can’t have you taking too much pleasure out of your new life of servitude, once you’ve swallowed my cum in front of my cuckold wife, you’re gonna beg me to put my cigar out on your faggot balls. And believe me, faggot, the sound of you screaming and whimpering like a pathetic little bitch is only gonna get me hard all over again.

Now, hold still. I’m gonna blow my load all over your face, bitch. Here it comes, here it… fuuuuucking comes, you CUNT. FUCK. Look at that, dripping all over your face. That’s the first of many, believe me.

What do you have to say to me, faggot?

Yeah, ‘Thank you, Boss’. Good fag. Now clean my cock off for me, and then let’s go upstairs into the house. The wife’s due back from work in about fifteen minutes, and the first thing I want her to see is you begging for my cock in your mouth while I’m smoking. If you’re a good faggot, I might rape you in front of her, too. You like the thought of that, eh? Your Boss’s married seed up your faggot cunt? Yeah, thought you would. Well, you just concentrate on being a good cocksucker, and we’ll see what happens. Now, come on. Up we go. Time for you to get a good feel for your new job.

[dogtiber]

journal update because I haven’t done one of those for a hot minute!!!

vet stuff: vet has Tiber back on a prescription diet following a lack full of improvement in his stools after his last tummy bug treatment.

he’s been on it for like a week and is already doing so much better tho! definitely happy even if getting the food is a pain in the ass and expensive. vet is trying to get us discounts for the food but there have been issues with getting that to go through, so that’s on hold for now much to the dismay of dadtiber’s wallet.

he’s been protesting the Sidewalk Snack Stopper. we did training to make sure he we comfy and happy with the muzzle but he has opinions lol. he’s happy to put it on and wear it around but I get pouty sits and dirty looks every time it actually prevents him from eating trash and poop.

he just sits down and makes the most affronted faces lol.

he’s also got a new lump we’re keeping an eye on this week, but vet thinks it’s benign and just some inflammation around a possible bruise. unfortunately she couldn’t prescribe the usual anti-inflammatory since last time Tiber had it, it made him sick. and she said he’s a bit young for her to want to put him on steroids. but he doesn’t seem to be in any pain, so just slower recovery time and monitoring for now.

she’s also got him trying a little natural anti-anxiety medication. tbh I’m a little frustrated at having to do the otc options first, since we’ve tried various sprays and calming treats already, but I get that she wants us to try all our options first before SSRIs. and she seems concerned also about introducing a new med to his system while we’re still sorting out the Tummy Troubles.

I am mostly just worried since we’re moving overseas spring of next year, and I think starting anxiety meds will really help with his home alone training, which will help in case we need to transport him via cargo.

I am starting the process of sorting out all his travel paperwork and vaxxes and also looking into options for cabin travel and boy oh boy are they expensive.

he’s just a tad heavier than where most airlines cut off for pets as carry ons, so having to look into either boutique airlines with higher weight limits or booking a private charter. which even if sharing costs with other people flying pets, is still gonna run north of 7k. 😭

the current boutique options are still in the thousands, and looking like I’m gonna have to do some road-tripping with him down to Europe and then fly from there to the states and then road-trip from NJ to wherever we end up on top of that.

and that’s IF we’re in the states lmao. dadtiber’s work might also put him in Japan (which he would love to get and is trying hard for) so we’re still going to be up in the air about where we’re moving for a while.

yay me for having to sort out several different moving contingencies for puppy lmao. it would be so much easier and affordable to send him via checked baggage or cargo, but god I know it would probably traumatize him. and we’d prefer to be able to choose to just pay the expense for the best option for *him* over us. but goddamn. 7-10k$ is. tough.

but I’ve got a year to work on it so fingers crossed either I find a more affordable option or can get his separation and confinement anxiety managed. (realistically trying to find a cheaper travel option is gonna be more feasible even if it’s near impossible let’s face it lmao Tiber is like 17 anxieties and a bad tummy in a dog-shaped trench coat :’))

but!!! time for fun update stuff!!!

he has been learning to bring the ball back reliably when we play fetch! I figured out finally that throwing the ball again was a better reward for him than treats, but I’m too slow to throw it again for him to make the connection that bring-to-me equals ball-goes-again-asap until I tried using two balls that I could throw immediately once he dropped it. such a simple solution lol but he finally got it! we’ve been having much more fun at the park now. I think he’s liking having the high energy activity, and I like that throwing a ball takes less energy out of me than longer walks.

he is learning to be a better snuggler! 🥰 finally figuring out how to cuddle up instead of sitting on you in the most inconvenient and uncomfortable ways. he does still come to sit on you though sometimes. his favorite way of comforting me if I seem tired or upset is still to put his butt on my head.

his recall has been improving lots too, and he’s consistently polite on the lead now too. still having trouble being *neutral* about other dogs, but he’s being much more polite now, and won’t run over without permission. very proud of him! it’s also kind of funny to watch the gears turn in his brain too. he will usually sit down like “mom I’m being so good and calm see sitting down very calm PLS PLS PLS can I go play with other dog now????? if I stay extra still and make good eye contact with you I can go play??”

reintroducing his crate is going nicely too. I haven’t worked up the bravery on my part yet to do more than just close the door and immediately reopen it on him, but he goes to hang out there frequently and happily now. so glad that at least he seems to feel consistently positive about it now.

it’s just been so nice watching him grow up into himself and spending lots of time hanging out with him and doing Tiber things. I’m loveb him so much. he is the silliest goose.

these last few weeks have been a bit rough since dadtiber and I have both been sick, so we’ve been exhausted by him. but even when we’re run ragged he really is just a good little companion. just the neatest little guy! in my home! licking my knees! dogs are great man. Tiber is best puppy.

[ifidiedinadream]

Per our last talk, if you don't mind taking one more request, I'd looooooove to read some 'solo fun' featuring literally any BC guy in literally any form (and any toy if needed) ❤️ or, if you're at all into the idea, consider this: the band's been on tour abroad for weeks with literally zero alone-time, so when they finally have a well-deserved day off and sign in to a hotel, they all retreat to their individual rooms for some special alone-time, each guy in their own way 😌

hi dear i think i messed it up, specifically the last part/chapter, but i only noticed when it was too late 😭 hope you don't mind too much and enjoy this just the same 🥺🩷 it's still pretty boys touching themselves after all

also on ao3

Tommi

When Tommi enters his hotel room, his empty, quiet hotel room, the first thing he does is slump his shoulders and let out a sigh. He drops his suitcase to the floor and rests his back against the door, running a hand all over his face.

Fucking finally.

It’s been weeks. He hasn’t heard the sound of silence in weeks. With no Porko or Joel making weird noises at random, no sound of Aleksi and Olli making out for hours like they’re latched at the mouth, no Niko bursting out singing at the least inconvenient of times.

Tommi feels like he can finally breathe again.

Eager to make the best out of his alone time (they only have two days off, hence the hotel stop, then they’re touring for another couple of weeks), Tommi gets to work, setting the mood for himself: first he puts some slow music on, then he goes to the bathroom and starts filling the tub with hot water. He bought a bath bomb last time they were at a gas station, and drops it in the water as soon as the bath is ready. The bomb rolls around in the water, releasing blue pigment and changing the water’s color. Tommi undresses and relaxes in the bathtub with a sigh, all his muscles releasing tension the more his body is submerged. He might not be able to stretch his legs very much, but he needs all the warmth he can get.

Tommi rests the back of his neck on the rounded edge of the tub, his gaze unfocused somewhere on the ceiling until his eyes almost close.

He’s relaxed. He’s alone. And his cock is just sitting there between his thighs.

Now, to keep on just lying idly in the tub doesn’t sound like a bad idea either, but Tommi is thinking, maybe it’s the last chance he gets to finally blow off some steam without having to worry about his bandmates hearing him from the other bunks.

(Not that he hasn’t heard any suspicious noises coming from the bunks at night.)

So, Tommi grabs his cock in his hand and starts stroking it. It’s slow, getting used to the touch that his cock wasn’t particularly asking for, but still feels so good. It’s still limp and Tommi is playing with its foreskin, tugging at it, squeezing it, feeling his cock growing inside it.

When it’s fully hard and the head peeks out from the skin, Tommi’s cock is definitely more sensitive. Half of it is in the water and as he strokes it faster, the sound his fist makes when it enters the water grows louder.

Tommi bites his lip, throws his head back, listens to himself grunt from the pleasure. One squeeze to his balls with his other hand is all it takes for him to come, thrusting his hips upwards, tainting the bath water with his white cum.

Tommi comes down with his mouth agape, his breathing shallow. How he needed this.

***

Joel

Joel thought his balls could burst if he didn’t find release as soon as possible, so he’s already lying on his hotel room bed, naked with his cock as hard as a rock leaning towards his abdomen, while the others are still downstairs in the lobby.

He grabs it in his hand. The simple touch alone makes his eyes roll back in pleasure. Joel is fast right from the start, not keen on enjoying the feeling, quite the contrary; he needs his orgasm and he needs it now, his whole body trembling for it, anticipating (it’s been too fucking long), and he’s going to do whatever it takes to reach it as soon as possible.

There is a way. Something he never told anyone, mostly because of embarrassment – as far as he knows none of his friends like it like that, and maybe he’s a little freak (although Joonas says that as long as you aren’t hurting yourself or someone else, as long as everything is safe, sane and consensual, then whatever you’re doing in bed is fine), but he just loves it way too much.

He rolls on his tummy. Grabs one of the fresh hotel room pillows on the bed, puts it underneath his body (his crotch), lightly starts grinding on it.

Joel brings the hand that was fisting the sheets to his mouth and licks a finger, sucks it. Once it’s wet enough, he reaches it behind to his ass (stuck out and supported by the pillow) and pushes in.

Joel grinds his dick harder against the pillow, feeling the friction all over his cock under the pressure of his own bodyweight. The finger in his ass slides in deeper and flicks, making Joel muffle a whine in the mattress. The two types of stimulation combined are soon too much for him (in his defense, he’s been desperately horny all day; if he had wanted to take things slow, he wouldn’t have added the finger, because it gets the job done oh so easily), and when Joel comes, he feels it warm and sticky all over his stomach. There’s the fleeting image of Joonas sticking his finger inside Joel’s ass instead of his own (sometimes Joel thinks about Joonas randomly, nothing to think too hard about) and it causes a particularly intense wave of pleasure (the finger does, not the thought of Joonas, obviously), leaving Joel squirming and biting at the sheets in an attempt of maintaining some sort of long lost dignity. Not that he cares at the moment, basking in the sensation of finally having his balls empty and no longer heavy with need.

Joel falls asleep before his breathing even goes back to normal.

***

Niko

Niko sits down on the bed and stares at the wall. For a few minutes, he can’t bring himself to do much else; he’s so damn tired.

Nonetheless, boredom kicks in quite abruptly. He’s been overstimulated for weeks and, somehow, the sudden nothingness feels wrong, physically wrong. He just can’t relax; on the contrary, his body is starting to feel restless.

A whole evening to himself, if one doesn’t count how they’re going to have dinner together at the hotel restaurant in a couple of hours. Niko has to find something to fill the time if he doesn’t want to go insane.

His gaze lands on the TV hanging on the wall. He turns it on with the remote but all the channels are in a language he doesn’t understand. It isn’t interesting.

Studying the remote, Niko learns about the options of the TV. There’s a pay per view option. Niko presses the button.

It doesn’t take too long to get to the porn after that.

Fuck it. Santeri will deal with it at check out.

Before choosing a video, Niko gets up, searching for his equipment in the suitcase. He brought his fleshlight along, because what if he needed it for an emergency (much like this one), and once he finds it, alongside a bottle of lube and a toy cleaner, he lies down on the bed, with a couple of pillows keeping his head reclined. He pulls himself out, starts playing with his cock idly with his left hand, while he uses the right one to browse through the videos.

The choice isn’t endless, after all it’s not a porn site, and Niko quickly settles on a movie whose thumbnail shows a woman sitting on a man’s cock.

By the time he presses play, Niko’s cock is already hard.

He cleans the toy and smears lube all over his cock and in the opening of his fleshlight. He closes his eyes when he slides his cock inside it, warm and soft and full of different textures.

The woman on the screen is moaning loudly, riding the guy’s dick as he grips her hips firmly. Her hair falls forward, the man sits up to mouth at her tits, and Niko is fucking his toy with the same pace as the couple on TV. When the man starts bucking his hips to meet her thrusts, so does Niko, and when she says harder, Niko goes harder.

He closes his eyes, more listening to the movie than watching it, pumping the fleshlight on his cock. He only goes back to paying undivided attention to the screen when the woman moans louder: the guy has stilled deep inside her, and when he pulls out, liters of cum spill out of her cunt, down her thighs. Niko comes watching that, grunting lowly and squinting his eyes shut. He pulls out of the toy in the same way and watches his cum come out of it: it looks almost the same, only his cock is thicker than the actor’s and more hairy and there’s no woman moaning for him.

Not that he minds. He needed the release.

***

Joonas

Joonas only tends to his personal needs when it’s night time. He spent the afternoon in the hotel pool, trying to wash away the stress with a swim; Joel joined him later and they had a gym session together. He took a shower, went to dinner, grabbed a beer, and now he’s lying in bed, lights off, massaging his dick inside his underwear.

Joonas can’t help but think of Joel every time he touches himself. His crush has got a little out of hand lately, and Joel has been looking so good with the darker, shorter hair, the stubble, all the new tattoos… and the scar on his shoulder is just so damn sexy.

Joonas thinks he can indulge his fantasies tonight. In the daytime he’s always trying to push these thoughts away, mostly because of guilt, but now it’s night, he’s alone, he has nothing to account for.

Are these thoughts right? Probably not. But he’s not going to overthink it now.

Joonas tugs at his cock, helping it harden; it’s not difficult when he thinks of the way Joel’s biceps flexed at the gym earlier, how red and sweaty his face and chest were, the groans he let out when the weight of the lat pulldown machine was too heavy.

Next Joonas thinks of Joel’s thin lips, the way they’d stretch around his dick to take it in. Maybe a tear would fall from the corner of his eye, smudging the residue of eyeliner from the day before. Maybe Joel would also add his gorgeous hand, wrapping it around the base of Joonas’ cock, squeezing lightly just how Joonas likes it; maybe he would pull away and spit on the head, watching how his saliva and the precum would mix inside the foreskin.

Joonas thinks of Joel sucking him in earnest, bobbing his head up and down without taking any breaks; he thinks of him humming around his length, the vibrations reverberating through Joonas’ body. In his fantasy, Joonas is fisting Joel’s hair, tugging at it, and Joel is whining around his cock, and that’s when Joonas reaches his climax, Joel’s name quietly stumbling out of his lips. He fucks harder into his hand, his spine arching, warm cum covering his fingers.

He only opens his eyes when his ears stop ringing. It’s dark in his hotel room and outside. Joonas tries to keep the guilt at bay by turning in the bed as soon as it appears, like giving his back to it, refusing to confront it.

Fantasies will do, Joonas tells himself. He’s not hurting anyone, and he’s so relaxed now.  

***

Aleksi and Olli

“On the bed. Now!”

“But babe, it’s the first time we can fuck in forever, why don’t you just join me in bed?”

“Because I’ve been fantasizing about this specific scenario since this tour started and I wanna try it out.”

Olli throws Aleksi a look with his eyebrows downwards but complies, leaving his luggage by the bed and getting on top of it, making to undress. Aleksi, sitting on the chair across from the bed, is adjusting himself in his jeans, anticipating, mouth watering. Olli stops before he can lower his boxers.

“Not even a kiss?”

Aleksi shakes his head. “Just touch yourself for me.”

Olli pouts and Aleksi is about to throw his resolve out of the window (because how is he supposed to resist Olli’s pouts), but thankfully it’s gone from his face in seconds, Olli’s limp cock now on display. Aleksi sucks in a breath, pressing harder against his own cock with his palm. “You’re so beautiful.”

A light blush tints the pale gold hue of Olli’s skin. His eyes glance downwards and his lips are curved in a shy smile. “I would love to see you too.”

Eager to set his cock free, Aleksi pulls himself out, his dick already semi-hard and only getting harder under Olli’s longing gaze.

“Wanna touch you so bad,” Olli says.

“No, angel. You only touch your body and I only touch mine. Okay?”

“But we’re in a hotel room… alone... and it’s been so long.”

Olli wraps his hand around his cock, stroking it absent-mindedly, bringing the foreskin upwards. His eyes are big and pleading, but Aleksi won’t back down.

After all, Olli’s insistence is what makes it all worth it.  

“But I really wanna do it like this today,” he answers, watching as Olli’s cock grows bigger and bigger under his touch. Then he adds: “Please?”

Olli, however, doesn’t even look at Aleksi, on account of he’s getting lost in the pleasure for good. He only nods, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted, the hand on his cock picking up its pace. Aleksi’s hand does the same.

Aleksi glances down at his own dick, watches the little hole at the top disappear from all the skin as he pumps it, then directs his gaze at Olli on the bed: his chest is red in patches, visible through his chest hair, his nipples are dark, his abdomen contracts and relaxes. Aleksi can hear his breathing now, ragged and loud, as his hand gently squeezes his veiny, pink cock, pleasuring himself just how he likes it.

“Oh, Ale… you know what would make this perfect? Having you inside me.”

Aleksi grunts. He strokes his cock faster, never diverging his eyes from Olli, his perfect expression, his perfect body and his perfect cock. Then, Olli’s gaze demands his attention, wordlessly, but oh so convincingly; they end up locking eyes, both with sweat all over their foreheads, chests rising and falling, ready to say each other’s name at any given moment.

Not scared of being too vulnerable, still looking deep into Olli’s lustful eyes with nothing but him on his mind, Aleksi says: “I need you to come for me, angel. I know you’re close. Let it all out.”

The voice came out sultry enough to drive Olli crazy, Aleksi is sure. Olli squeezes his cock harder, letting out a groan. He spills his load a few strokes later, and it lands all over the head of his cock and his hand. Aleksi’s eyes roll back at the sight, and when Olli chants his name, releasing his bitten lip just to do that, Aleksi can’t help but come himself; a shudder animates his whole body as pleasure takes over, demanding attention to itself only. He keeps stroking his cock until his balls are empty, and when he opens his eyes again, Olli is right there, crouching down by the chair, resting his head on Aleksi’s thigh. Aleksi idly caresses his face, making Olli smile.

“You look lovely like this,” Olli says while staring up at him, “but next time it has to be by my touch.”

Aleksi snorts. “Alright. We have all night. Just give me a few minutes.”

[ws-01-elena]

Days had gone by since starting this small experiment with the code. Each passing hour it seems to only get better at copying everything in the room. The only identifying feature was a green tint.

For the first time in a while Elena was doing some basic work in her office. As much as she wanted to avoid it she began piecing together a report for the Bureau. Truthfully she hoped the Bureau wouldn’t come to check on the code. It would probably approve of her work, but something in her feels dread about having to possibly speak with the other.

Plus, if the Bureau did come investigating it would probably notice notes in her reports. As the pen in her paws glides across the paper she realizes she’s leaving things out on purpose. Why? She doesn’t know. Maybe it’s just because she doesn’t know the codes full potential- after all it could change making all previous data useless.

Regardless, looking down at her report she’s hesitant to turn it in. Why is she lying?

It’s then crinkled up into a ball, tossed into the small trash can beside her desk. The bottom is filled with her first two attempts. A fresh clean sheet is again under her paws. The words should flow easily, there’s so much to be said about the code and its progression, but she stares at the paper.

“This is ridiculous.” She drops her pen, her paws going to rub where a face should be. “You sort papers. You’ve literally written papers. Why can’t you write this one?”

Still, that fails to motivate her any. Just to have an excuse about it Elena checks the time. It’s been a few hours since she checked on the code, probably the longest she hasn’t been in that room, so she might as well mull over the report in there.

The office is nice today. Of course it always is, it’s stunningly clean, it looks like it should have more activity than it does. Today it’s not too bad. Elena politely waves at some of the other workers, even striking a conversation with a few. It leaves a pleasant buzzing in her circuitry. The Federation is perfect, this office is perfect too, but nothing truly beats having a chat in the break room with another worker.

Bustling synthetic paws against tile quiet, the approach to the observation labs have that effect. For a good reason, you don’t want to disturb anyone housed in the lab. Here, it’s between the scientists and the experiments.

(A little lonely, but that’s science.)

The doors open as Elena walks through, closing them behind her and going to the storage lockers to see what she could throw in the room today. Actually, Elena wanted to test something new. A picture book. She was curious if the code would only replicate the book or what it would see.

Finally she walks towards the glass, too focused on finding a page that would garner the best results. Something recognizable, easily unmissable to her censors and something that would take the code time to perfect. Maybe something like-

Elena looks up. There’s a blank face on the other side of the glass. White ears poke out from a hard hat, accompanied with matching construction gear. Easily looking like another worker, all except the glitching and green colors. A few details are missing, but it unmistakably looks like them.

Her partner.

Of all the objects in the floor none have any similarities with the bear. Absolutely none. No other workers enter this room either.

Only Elena does.

[hells-wells]

Start Of Something New 3

EDITED-Walking along in the city you come across Mokuba being attacked, no one else within sight you jump in to protect him.

You met him briefly through duelist kingdom and you had to admit, he was cute. BUT this was something you would never admit, your friends hated him and he hated them. Is there a beating heart under all that cold?

Seto Kaiba fluff.

The timeline is between the end of Duelist Kingdom and Battle City

********** Please give any feedback, it's greatly appreciated!

///////////////Seto Kaiba X reader/////////////////

/////////// No warnings yet///////// Beginning of relationship

The sun was shining bright in the city, you struggled to keep it from hurting your eyes, digging through your school bag for the red-tinted glasses hidden somewhere in there. Once you finally found them, stopping briefly to put them on, you could hear some kids fighting, glancing down the side street you recognized one of the kids back into a corner, it was Mokuba. Two other boys who looked about your age had what looked like metal pipes.

Mokuba?

“Hey!” They turned to look at you, a smirk appeared on their faces.

“Fuck off girly, this doesn’t concern you.”

There was a pile of pipes next to you, you quickly grabbed one “Get away from him!”

“Y/n!”

“Don’t you listen?”

“If the rich boy gives us his cash, we’ll let him go.” The biggest one stepped closer to you.

“He’s not giving you shit. So I’ll tell you one last time to fuck off.” You were hoping you sounded strong, but on the inside, you were shaking. 

“Why don’t you guys just give up now? When my big brother finds out you’ll be sorry.” Mokuba threatened. 

You had to give the little guy credit, even when he was outnumbered, he still stood his ground.

The smaller guy moved quickly, hitting Mokuba hard in his stomach, he dropped to the ground fast, curled up in pain as he clutched his midsection. 

Seeing red you moved fast, swinging at the bigger one in front of you but he grabbed your pipe before you could strike. The sound of your pipe hitting the ground echoed.

He laughed “Well, now we’ll have some fun.”

Throwing a punch he grabbed your hand, and that’s when you smiled. 

Right where I want him

While he was preoccupied with blocking your punch that’s when using all your strength and kicked him in the groin, using every ounce of strength to bring him down. But you hadn’t noticed the other guy sneaking up, he grabbed your hair “Fucking bitch!” punching you in the ribs sent a shock wave through your system, you didn’t have time to react as he threw you down with Mokuba. 

Fuck!.... That hurt….

With your vision going back and forth and struggling to breathe, you realise how hard he must have hit you. As he was helping the other guy to stand, you grabbed Mokuba to bring him in behind you. 

“Y/n! Ar-are you ok?”

Taking a deep breath “I’-I’m ok, I need you to listen to me ok Mokey?” Glancing at him to make sure he was listening “I’m going to jump back in but when I do, I need you to run.”

“Whoa, wait! But what will happen to you?”

Seeing the panic on his face you try to sound as level as you can, smiling “Don’t worry about me, get to safety, that’s all that matters.”

With the guys advancing it didn’t give Mokuba enough time to say anything else, you jumped up and ran at them “Now!” Tearing falling down his flushed face he ran. 

“He’s getting away!”

Grabbing the guy in front you bit down on his wrist, drawing blood. 

Be safe...

Time seemed to slow down, you weren’t sure if it had been a few seconds or minutes, you curled up into a ball to protect your head as much as possible as they kicked you. When the one you had bitten suddenly went flying into the garbage heap, you took a peak to see looking up you were surprised to see Seto, not surprising was the grim look on his face. 

I never knew someone could look SO good throwing a card

The last thing you saw was Seto grabbing the taller one by the neck, and laying on the cold ground everything went black.

                                            ------------------—-------

Hmmm, what smells so good?

As you slowly opened your eyes everything came back to you, sitting up you looked around this strange room. You were in what looked like a king-sized bed but seemed larger, taking in the room your eyes landed on a purple jacket that hung over a chair.

Wait.........

“Finally.” Seto’s voice came across the large room, he was sitting at a desk, legs crossed, his blue eyes watching you closely.

“Seto?... Huh, so is this your house?”

“Obviously.”

"What happened?”

“How hard did you hit your head?”

“No, I remember you saving me but what happened to those D-bags?”

He chuckled “They won’t bother you or Mokuba again.” He stood up and made his way towards you.

The blanket slipped and that’s when you realised you weren’t in your clothes but a long white shirt that stooped just above your knees, more than likely belonging to Seto.

The blush covered your face “O-Ok next question what happened to my clothes?!” Yelling as you covered yourself with the blanket, slightly turning to hide your face.

“They were dirty so I sent them to be washed.”

You let out a loud scream, throwing a pillow which hit his face “Yo-YOU Perv!” The blush was now covering your body, or at least that’s how you felt, moving further across the large bed "Yo-you undressed me?!"

He saw me naked?!

He stood still not moving and continued to stare “... You honestly think I would undress you?... The maids-”

“Oh!...” Sitting back down feeling like a complete idiot “Tha-thank you…”

He huffed “Look, I appreciate what you did for Mokuba... Because of you, he’s fine.” You noticed a light blush appearing on his face as his eyes landed on your legs, tracing up to your thigh before quickly looking away “Hmm I’ll have the doctor check on you.”

The doctor came and looked you over, once he was finished a maid brought your clothes in, she seemed annoyed by you. As you finished getting dressed there was a knock on the door.

“Hey, Y/n, can I come in?” Mokuba asked.

You opened the door to find his smiling face “Hey Mokey” You returned his warm smile, and both of you were sitting on the bed.

“You know, my big brother used to call me that.”

“Oh?’

“He doesn’t anymore though…” He looked sad for a moment but quickly brightened up “That was really brave!”

“Or really stupid!” You let out a small laugh.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“Are… Are you going to be around more? Cause I like having you around!”

“I like being around you guys too… As long as it doesn’t annoy Seto then I’m happy to hang”

“I’d like that.”

"So would I."

Next

[chequerootlurks]

_____

I am going to throw an opposing voice into this.

> “but they share because they want to engage with the community”

I think that depends entirely on the artist.

Some do want to engage, yes; but others share out of pure hubris — and a way to quickly access their work without the privacy of cloud storage.

Me personally? I rarely get feedback, on my art or my stories.* But that doesn’t bother me!

I am my own biggest fan.

I reread my works, I print my art on teeshirts for myself. Hands-down, I am the biggest consumer of my content.

Does that mean my works are bad? Not at all! I look at things like “views” and “hit counts.” If I see a bunch of people have checked out my work, cool! If I get a kudo/like/comment/etc, awesome! Rare, but it makes my day!

I think a lot of people don’t leave reviews because we’re not sure what to say! *waves hand* Me! Right here! I am awful at knowing how to drop a review!

#anxiety, #invisible_audience.

I feel like “Nice story/art, I liked it” isn’t adequate, but I also don’t know what more to say. I worry that I will offend the artist with something that sounds too bland.

Counterwise, I’m not comfortable gushing in public.

I’ll usually drop a message if I can.

_____

I personally get annoyed when writers/artists pull down their stuff because “no one’s commenting.”

It seems sooo petty!

IRL, an author might know how many copies of their book has been sold, but they don’t know how many times it has been READ! *glances at library books with long “checked-out” logs.

One copy, loved by so many!

IRL, an artist hangs some art in a gallery. They will probably only be there personally on opening night (if at all). — Many art galleries are non-profit, local venues that allow the public in for little to no charge.

Sometimes an artist’s work will sell, sometimes it won’t, but that does not reflect the number of people who visited the show. Dozens or hundreds of people could have seen and admired the artist’s work; and the artist would never know!

I think the internet can be a great platform for sharing and engaging… BUT! it makes people crave reactions and validation to an unhealthy degree.

Hard To Swallow Pill: no one is “owed” validation from an external source.

It’s like people who adopt a yellow lab so that people will like them.

Seriously!

This is a thing!

It was even discussed in the book “Labrador Retrievers for Dummies” [90s edition] and listed as a reason NOT to get a lab, or possibly any dog!

(Labradors are (were!) the most popular breed, and the yellow ones were the most popular colour.)

People who put their art up EXPECTING to get interaction are setting themselves up for disappointment.

Then, they blame the audience for not meeting their expectations, and pull their work away in a huff.

It’s childish.

It’s selfish.

It’s a huge slap in the face to every person who DID interact.

It says to their fans: “Your appreciation isn’t good enough. YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH! I’m taking my ball and leaving!”

> “Nobody should be expected to work endlessly for nothing.”

If one isn’t technically getting paid, they are doing exactly that; to a degree.

If it’s work, rather than a satisfying hobby, then one might want to reconsider why they’re doing it.

I don’t work for free. No one should!

I don’t expect to be paid for having fun.

Whether that fun is learning a new hobby (like skateboarding) or drawing fan favorite characters, it should be something they’re doing FOR FUN!

I believe if it stops being fun, then stop the project. By doing it as a hobby, one has the freedom to start and stop as they’d like. Maybe an art-binge followed by weeks, months, or years of not?

Some people prefer a steady pace. “I set aside time each day for [craft].”

Both are fine, but the ultimate goal should be self-satisfaction, not external gratification.

I think people put too much emphasis on internet interactions, rather than the satisfaction they get from seeing a project to fruition.

I stand by it that one should be their own biggest fan! No one can take that feeling away ^_^

_____

* I have probably gotten more personal messages on my fics than I have reviews.

For the record, I save all my fan mail. I print it out, and keep it in my “jar o’ morale,” a large glass jar with little messages that I’ve gotten over the years. Tip envelopes from dog grooming, shout-outs from colleagues, little sticky notes from my fam… it gets saved so I have a physical reminder of when I made a difference in someone’s day ^_^

it’s so frustrating (and heartbreaking) to see so many writers going on indefinite hiatus / deleting their blogs because they are not motivated to write anymore. worst of all: people would always be like ‘no why are you leaving we don’t want you to do so :(’ but they were nowhere to be seen in our notifications beforehand. the lack of support on this platform is a huge issue and it’s a shame that content consumers don’t get the hint when writers have been waving the red flag for months. please support creators by rebbloging their posts, interact with them by leaving a few tags, a comment or an ask! if you’re too shy then hit that anon button and you’re good to go. show them that their works matter and you enjoy their blog, because when the decision to leave is made, it’s already too late.

[yourtamaki]

founders + breeding

hashirama breeds you the same way he loves you, by flooding you with a devotion so vast and endless it leaves you drowning in its wake. there’s nowhere to run when his undivided attention is levelled at you, you just have to be a good girl for him and take everything he gives you. hashirama won’t let you lift a finger, spending hours worshipping the body that’ll bring his child into the world. no amount of prep is enough. his fingers are pruny and his chin is shiny with your cum by the time he finally sinks inside you, squeezing his eyes shut cause the sight of you gasping at the stretch is enough to make him lose it already. the slow drag of his cock against your walls has you both panting into each other’s mouths, quiet whispers of love floating between you. when he finally cums, it’s with your name on his tongue and the frantic roll of his hips against yours to make sure you don’t spill a drop.

tobirama’s intentions for wanting to get you pregnant are not as pure as his brother’s. yes, he loves you so much he feels like his heart might burst in his chest when you smile at him. yes, he wants to start a family and grow old with you in the village he helped found. but all that fades away when he fucks his fist late at night in the hokage tower when everyone but him has called it a day and he’s left alone with filthy daydreams running through his head, each and every one starring you. his fist is a blur as he imagines you with heavy tits and a heavier belly, tip drooling knowing, at least in this fantasy, he did that to you, marked you in the most primal way possible. no one could look at you and deny that you’re his and the thought makes him twitch in his hand. tobirama pushes himself right to the edge but doesn’t let himself spill into his fist and all over his desk. he refuses to cum unless his cock is kissing your cervix and he’s finally able to turn fantasy into reality. until then he’ll deal with the ache in his balls.

madara always fucks you with the sole intent of knocking you up. it lingers in the back of his mind every time he’s got you on your back, the need only growing when he bullies his thick cock inside you and you try to squirm away like you’ve never taken it before. maybe that’s why he throws your legs over his shoulders and ruts into you so hard you’d be shifting up the bed with each thrust if it wasn’t for his iron grip around your throat. he knows you can take it because your perfect cunt was made to be his cumdump and when you beg for more, it only proves it. madara pushes your knees to your chest when he feels his balls get tight so he can see the translucent, creamy ring you smeared around his cock as he pumps you full of cum. he rides out his high with a low groan and doesn’t slow down his thrusts for a second, gritting his teeth against the sweet pain as your cunt milks his oversensitive cock. he’ll fuck load after load into you until you tap out or his balls are empty and he doubts the latter will happen anytime soon, not until he’s sure he’s got you good and pregnant.