#it's all wide angle shots and full bodies

[skeltnwrites]

Doctor Bob ─ Bob Reynolds x reader

It's the middle of the night, you're bleeding out in the bathroom, and refusing to let Bob take you to an actual doctor aka Bob learns how to stitch up a stab wound

avenger!reader, fem!r, roommate!bob CW descriptions of injury + gore, non sexual partial nudity | 3k THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS!!

─── ₊⊹

You shift your weight from foot to foot on the hardwood outside of Bob’s bedroom. It’s late, like, really late. The sun had set and spun its way to the other side of the world when you’d left the tower hours ago. It must be nearly morning by now. 

Bob’s not an early riser exactly, but he is an insomniac. It’s not unusual to hear him roaming around the halls at an hour like this. So maybe your luck has turned a new leaf, and he’ll be awake already. And maybe he’s got some useful medical expertise under that mop of curls. A shot in the dark, sure, but Bob’s a mystery. His mind stopped surprising you months ago. 

The lock clicks, and the door opens a short gap, just enough to highlight a familiar pair of eyes in a sheet of darkness. Bob says your name softly, pulling the handle back until he’s draped fully in the hallway light. “You okay?” He clears his throat, kneading sleep-swollen eyes with a closed fist. 

You feel sort of terrible for waking him then. The poor guy barely sleeps as it is. But your heart can’t sink with enough sympathy to turn you around; not when it’s busy pumping your body’s entire blood supply to the leaky faucet on your back. 

“Mhmm,” you strain. “Do me a favor?” 

He hums, blinking slowly at the arm curled around your waist. He’s fixated on the awkward angle you're keeping it. You’ve got your jacket on, and your boots. You’re decked out in full gear, he realizes. His hand drops from the door frame as he straightens up. “What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t freak out,” you start– which, in hindsight, is not a very good way to start a sentence– “but I’ve been stabbed.” 

His eyes go wide, his gaze slingshotting from your head to your toes. “You what?” 

“Stabbed,” you repeat, clutching your side tighter as you spin. It really hurts to turn, just to move. It’s like someone unplugged all of the organs in your abdomen and shook you up like a snow globe. “Now, will you just, please help me. I can’t reach it.” 

“Reach what?” The quick swish of Bob’s socks is the only other sound apart from his voice. “Hey, wait a second. Where are you going? Can you sit down?” 

You push the bathroom door open and flick on the light. There’s a vacant glaze in the eyes of your reflection that you pretend not to see. “Do you know how to sew?” 

Bob idles in the doorway, mouth faltering like you’re speaking another language. “What?” 

“Sew, you know, needle and thread.” 

He shrugs. “Well, kind of, but it wasn’t– I don’t think it was very good. I’m not very good at it.” 

“But you’ve done it before?” 

“Yeah, but– I mean, it was just a sock, it’s not like– it wasn’t a stab wound.” 

You bend for the cabinet's bottom drawer, a whimper slipping through gritted teeth. “It’s the same thing,” you rasp, swiping the roll of gauze off the top. 

“No, I’m not– I can’t.”

“You can.” You tug at your jacket zipper and shrug out of the heavy sleeves. Your arms are slick with sweat, but stippled with goosebumps. Not a reassuring combination. “I’ll teach you.” 

“No, no, I don’t really–.” 

“It’s not hard. Promise.”

Your focus flutters up to his face. He’s looking at you funny, brows heavy with worry. “You’ve done this before?” 

Even a weak little laugh pinches every nerve in your lower back. You tug the hem of your shirt up, gloating, “Once or twice.”

Bob ogles the graveyard of scars across your stomach, each raised line a farewell from a fight you survived. They’re trophies in a fucked up sort of way. His hands shoot up to yours, bracketing your wrist in one and the roll of gauze you're holding in the other. “I should call an ambulance.” 

“Don’t you know how expensive those are?” 

“Then I’ll drive you.” 

Your snort collapses with a strangled wince. “You don’t even have a license, Bob.”

“I don’t think the cops will care when they see that you’re bleeding out.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a scratch. You’ll see. It’ll be much easier to just stitch it here, trust me.” 

Bob does tend to trust you. You’ve saved his life more times than he can count at this point. But you’ve been stabbed. You must be delirious with blood loss or shock or something. He shakes his head vehemently at you, your wrist and the gauze slipping from his clammy hold. “No, no, no. I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s easy. I’ll walk you through it.” 

“Wouldn’t Yelena, or Ava, or literally any of the others, be better for this? I’ve never– I don’t know how to do this.” 

“Walker’s the only one home and I’d rather bleed out for real than inflate that asshole’s ego even more. Can you imagine what he’ll say?” You fold your arms and grumble, “Oh, remember that time I saved your life like a real hero.” 

Your impersonation does nothing to fix the pitiful look Bob’s sending you. You even muster up a smile, a pretty damn good one having been stabbed half an hour ago, but his frown only worsens. “Don’t be scared,” you say gently. “I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll tell you what to do.” 

“What if I make it worse?”

“You’re not gonna stab me, too, are you?” Your teasing grin snaps under the weight of a new wave of crushing pain. “I’d really like to just get this over with so I can go lie down.” 

Any last hope of changing your mind trickles out of Bob as you start to pull your shirt off. He looks away, burning up to his ears. 

The fabric sticks to the hot pool on your back, blood oozing like magma from a volcano. Lifting your arms isn’t as simple as you hoped it would be. You shimmy and struggle like a fish in a net before Bob takes you by the wrists and guides your arms free himself. His eyes catch yours for a split second before he snaps them shut, blindly tossing your shirt to the floor. 

“You can’t sew my back shut with your eyes closed, you know. You can look at me.” 

Bob swallows, opening one eyelid at a time. You’re still there in your cargos and bra, busy unrolling a wad of gauze. 

You cork the blood flow with the cotton, pressing and pressing until your eyes sting with tears. Every cell in your body is screaming at you to stop. “Grab that towel.” You exhale sharply, easing onto the toilet lid, your chest facing the tank. “Put it under me. On the floor.” 

Bob packs the towel around the toilet leg, eye to eye with your weeping back. His mouth gapes as you peel the gauze back, stringy webs of it detaching from your skin. 

“Is it still bleeding?” you ask, voice trembling. 

“Fuck, yeah, oh fuck. Put it back.” 

“Okay. Just relax, Bob. Go wash your hands.” 

He’s got lead feet all of a sudden. And his tongue’s stopped working too. Because how the fuck is he supposed to fix that? He’s going to screw it up, he can feel it. You’ll get an infection, end up in the hospital with sepsis, you’ll probably die, and it’ll be his doing, and he’ll never be able to forgive himself. You’re doomed. 

“I will bleed out, like, eventually, by the way.”

Your voice snaps Bob from his thoughts. He rams a hip into the counter as he spins toward the sink. He flips the tap on and pumps enough soap on his hands to disinfect an entire preschool, scrubbing like he’s trying to shave a layer of skin off. 

“Okay,” you grunt as he finishes, “from the drawer. Get a water bottle, and uh, a bandage, one of the bigger ones. Find the needles, should be little white packets, and then thread, there’s a whole roll of it. Oh, and this, um, big orange bottle, it’s called Betadine. 

Bob nods as every item is set on the counter. His lips are cinched shut in fear. The fear of failure, of failing you. He’s hunched over in his nice sweats, a pair you also have, from some brand collaboration, courtesy of the public relations team. Being an Avenger has its perks, including but not limited to the complimentary loungewear and nice-looking roommates. 

“Got it all?” 

His hands are trembling so badly that you can hear the antiseptic solution sloshing around the bottle in his hold. “I really don’t think I should do this.” 

“You got this.” You twist around, eyes reaching only a slice of your achy back. Your fingers curl under the gauze. “Still bleeding?”

Bob wrinkles his nose, looking, but not wanting to. “A little, it’s– it’s slow, like slower, it’s not–”

“Okay, that’s good.” You peel back the rest of the wet gauze, a heavy sponge in your hand. “You’re gonna flush the wound with water. Slowly. You’ll just tip the bottle a little bit. ‘Kay?” 

He kneels on the tile behind you, unscrewing the cap off the water bottle. “You’re sure?”

“Done it a million times.”

His hand inches slowly toward your back. He tips the bottle, and a heavy surge of water slops out. “Sorry,” he cries, straightening the bottle out. 

“It’s okay.” Your heel slides back to bump his knee. As far as encouraging gestures go, it can’t be very high on the list, but it’s the best you can do right now. The wound hurts like hell already, and flushing it is the easiest part. “Try again,” you say. 

He bolsters his wrist with his free hand, tipping the bottle at a snail’s pace, and watching the steady stream run down your back. You shiver as it soaks through your pants, then the thermals, and the underwear underneath. 

“Good?” he asks. 

You flash him a thumbs up, chin down, arms crossed over the tank of the toilet. The porcelain bears your entire weight now, your attention tied solely to your breath. 

Bob sighs as he drains the last bit of the bottle. “Okay.” 

“Get the Betadine… and pour some on a cotton pad.”

He works quietly behind you. Quiet, even by Bob standards. Or perhaps you’re fading in and out a little, it’s hard to tell. You blink hard. It feels like you’ve got sandbags for eyelashes. But if you pass out, Bob will probably have a panic attack and call an ambulance. You’ll end up neighbors in the hospital, and you’d prefer to just be neighbors in the tower. 

You can’t go to sleep. Not yet. You redirect your focus to your senses. There’s the click of caps and the familiar tear of sterile packaging. The chemical scent of disinfectant. 

Bob calls your name when you don’t answer his question. You didn’t even hear it. “Now what?” he repeats. 

“Wipe around the wound gently. Not in it.” 

Bob crouches behind you. His fingers land on your hip and quickly fly away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

In any other circumstance, you’d tell him to touch you however he pleases. But all you can do now is shake your head dismissively. 

“You okay? Ready?” 

You stop nodding when it makes you dizzy. 

Bob presses the cold cotton to your skin. It stings so bad your back muscles visibly clench, but his hands are a nice consolation prize, much kinder than when you do it. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“‘S okay,” you hiss. “Keep going.”

He takes a breath. His hands continue in short strokes, apologies falling off his tongue like a reflex. But the pain levels out, his ministrations become more soothing than not. The pads of his fingers dance nicely down your back, his wrist a pleasant weight on your skin. 

“Okay, that’s good,” you huff. “Open up the needle packet.” You listen to him fumble with the plastic. It feels sort of like you’re about to get a tattoo the way you’re sitting. A very botched tattoo from a very unlicensed artist. 

Bob spends what feels like an hour trying to thread the needle before your anticipation boils over. “Let me try,” you finally say. 

His tongue slips back into his mouth as he passes the needle. You bring it eye level, the end of the thread pinched between your thumb and pointer, and the spool balanced on the top of the toilet. You're shaking just as badly as he was. 

Bob wrings out his hands. “I can–”

“No, I got it.” 

You do get it, eventually. You tie it off, and Bob gets all set with the supplies on the floor behind you. 

You might be nervous about his face being two inches from your ass if it weren’t for all of the anxiety coupled with the reason he’s there in the first place. Bob’s a good guy. He has morals, priorities. He’s probably not thinking about it like you are. 

“Start a quarter of an inch from the edge. You’ll press through the skin, but not too deep, just the skin. Go across and then back, like a shoelace. And you’re gonna wanna pull it tight, just not too tight, okay?” 

Bob tries to hum, but his voice dies in his throat. 

“You can do it,” you assure. You’re sort of hyping yourself up at this point, too. This felt like a much better idea when the adrenaline came from being stabbed– less so now that it’s coming from knowing you’re about to be stabbed again.

He exhales hot air through his nose, squaring the side of his hand against your spine. 

You swallow the sound that makes its way up your throat as the needle sinks in. The pain sizzles like a firework, hot and bright and overwhelming. Your eyes well, and you shudder helplessly. 

“Sorry,” he promises. The needle quivers, his fingers slipping as it punches through you once more. He loops the thread back down like a bridge made of fire, the burn coming and going in lapses. Your skin pulls angrily, the string taut in his hand. “Is that too tight?” 

“I dunno,” you groan, “I don’t think so.” 

He groans back. “Shit."

“What?”

He pulls his lip between his teeth. “It’s– you’re bleeding again.” 

“Dab it. Carefully.” He stretches up for the roll of gauze on the counter. “Is it a lot?” 

“Mmm...” He watches a lone line of crimson drip down your back, brow twitching. “No. I don’t think so.” 

Your fist contracts as he swipes at the blood. “Fuck.” 

“Sorry, I’m trying…” He takes the needle and hooks you again. 

You shake your head, squirming against the toilet tank. “Can you– mmm– can you keep talking– please.”  

He hums. “About what?” 

“Anything.”

He pauses to think, voice low as his hand resumes. “I went for a walk today.” 

“Yeah?” you whine. 

“Mhmm. Down to Bryant Park. Saw a cute dog, a Saint Bernard. Thought it was a bear at first,” he chuckles. “What was his name? It was cute, it was… oh, Einstein, yeah.” 

“Einstein?”

“Yeah, Einstein. He was nice. Let me pet ‘em and everything. Big dog.” 

You squeeze your eyes as he tugs the thread. It's a different kind of pain when someone else does it to you. Pain, nonetheless.

“Think Bucky would let me have one? Like, here?” he asks.

“A Saint Bernard?”

“Any kind.” 

“I dunno,” you squeal, “ask for forgiveness, not permission or whatever.”

You hear him smile. It brings half of one to your own lips. He’s good at doing that. 

“I think I’m done,” he says after a while. 

You pick your head up. “Did you knot it?” 

“No.”

“Tie it. Three or four times. Tight.” 

He spends triple the time you would doing it, and his knots are only about half as good as your own when you inspect them in the mirror. The stitches are looser than you’d like, and terribly uneven, but you’re pretty sure they’ll hold. And if you don’t crawl into bed soon, you might just pass out in the tub. 

Bob takes your elbow as you sway on your feet. His worry has waned, but it’s not entirely gone. He still thinks you’ll keel over any second, and realistically, you might. 

He takes the bandage off the counter and unsticks the backing. He’s so gentle, smoothing it over your skin like he’s just glued you back together. He kind of has. 

You pull him off the floor, though it’s more of an excuse to hold his hand. “Thanks. Sorry for making you do surgery in the middle of the night.” 

“Yeah, you know it’s like four AM,” he laughs. His head shakes, his smile softening. “Do you get stabbed, like, a lot?” 

“What? Think I can’t handle myself?”

His brows jump. “No, oh no, I just– I just meant that–”

You squeeze his hand. “I’m teasing you.” 

“Oh,” he breathes, a shaky smile returning. “Well, I’m– I’m glad you came and woke me up. You can again next time– even if you can do it, or if it’s not that bad. I want you to.” 

“Okay,” you nod, grinning up to your ears. “Doctor Bob has a nice ring to it.” 

“No,” he laughs, spinning your finger between his. “I just want to make sure you’re not bleeding out in the tub while I’m asleep.” 

You hum. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Walker spits from the doorway. His hair is spiked with sleep, eyes just as heavy with it. “Is that my towel?”

You tear your hand from Bob's to flip Walker off. “Fuck off, dude.” 

“I have to piss.” 

“There’s, like, five other bathrooms on this floor.” 

He tuts, “Whatever. Better bleach the hell out of this bathroom when you’re done playing Operation or whatever the hell you’re doing.” 

You roll your eyes at Bob as he leaves. “Such a dick.”

“I heard that!” 

“Good!” you shout back. 

Bob's hand returns to yours as you share a laugh. You’re not usually thrilled to be stabbed, but next time, maybe you won’t mind as much. Doctor Bob really does have a nice ring to it, huh? 

[goofygubegubler]

Hihi love your blog💕

Could you write something with Spencer x reader and smutty hahaha. Like he's overstimulating her for the first time

If not thats okay. If you do, thankyouuu💞💞

𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥 (𝘚.𝘙)

wc : 1.5k | F!Reader (Established Relationship) | cw: explicit sexual content, overstimulation kink (7 orgasms), dominant!Spencer, mirror play, tears during sex (from intensity), possessive language, emotional vulnerability, implied aftercare, light degradation and praise, Spencer being reverent and obsessive

The idea came to him in the middle of a case—quiet, unassuming, yet all-consuming. Spencer Reid, meticulous and brilliant, had a mind that rarely rested. Lately, his thoughts had been drifting, not to criminal profiles or forensic evidence but to the way you sounded when you moaned his name. The way your thighs trembled. The way your body responded like it was made just for him.

He couldn’t shake it. Not through the jet ride, where he sat too still and too silent, his thumb twitching over the edge of a closed file. Not through the paperwork, where his handwriting slanted too fast, scrawled like a man trying to outrun something. Not even when Hotch barked his name across the conference table, startling him so sharply he dropped his pen.

The thought had embedded itself deep—like barbed wire wrapped around a live wire. Dangerous. Electric. The memory of your last night together wasn’t just vivid—it was visceral. The way your fingers had fisted the sheets, how your voice cracked when you gasped his name. How your thighs had trembled under his touch. And it wasn’t just the memory—it was the hunger for more. For deeper, longer, harder. To see how far he could take you. To see where your breaking point really was.

By the end of the day, Spencer’s patience was shot. Every sound felt too loud, every light too bright. He left without saying goodbye.

The drive to your apartment was a blur of headlights and white-knuckled silence. His hands stayed glued to the steering wheel, jaw clenched tight, eyes burning with purpose.

You didn’t ask questions.

You knew that look. You’d seen it before when he solved an impossible case or recited statistics with a fevered kind of focus. But this was different. There was something darker threaded through his veins tonight—something hungry. Something primal.

By the time the front door slammed behind you, your heart was pounding. Not from fear—but from anticipation. From the ache low in your belly that had been growing since the moment you met his eyes across the BAU bullpen, and he didn’t look away.

And now, here you were.

Naked and trembling on all fours at the edge of your bed, staring into the full-length mirror he’d angled perfectly to reflect the two of you. His chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths behind you. He was still fully clothed—slacks, white shirt rolled at the sleeves, belt undone but still looped through, like he hadn’t even bothered with the pretense of undressing. Like he needed to stay grounded in control.

“Look at yourself,” he murmured, voice low, reverent. Almost worshipful.

You did.

Your hair was a mess. Lips parted. Eyes gone glassy, heat blooming down your spine. Spencer’s hips were pressed flush to your ass, his cock buried deep inside you, unmoving for now, like he was savoring the feeling of just being there—inside you, around you, consuming you.

His hand braced at your lower back, thumb tracing a gentle circle into your skin. The other gripped your hip, not hard, not soft, just steady. Possessive.

"You’re perfect like this," he said, a breathless tremor in his voice now. "Fuck. I can’t believe I get to do this."

He pulled out slow—deliberately slow—and thrust back in with a force that made you jolt, your hands scrambling against the sheets, eyes wide as you gasped.

"Spencer—"

"Shh," he whispered, his body folding over yours until his chest kissed your back, lips brushing your ear. "We’re not stopping until I’ve memorized every single sound you make."

You whimpered, the sensation overwhelming and exquisite. It was the pause before the plunge, the breath before the scream. And then—

He moved.

Rhythmic. Deep. Relentless. Like he had something to prove, not just to you, but to himself. Like he was rewriting every equation in his mind with the way your body reacted to him.

The first orgasm snuck up on you. Sudden. Devastating. You hadn’t even realized it was coming until it was too late—until your thighs clenched, your voice cracked, and his name spilled from your lips in a half-sob of pleasure.

But he didn’t stop.

Didn’t give you time to breathe.

"That’s one," he said, dark amusement curling around the syllables. "Let’s see how many more you can give me."

Your body trembled, twitching from overstimulation, but he didn’t let up. He shifted his angle, adjusted his grip, and started again. Slower this time. Crueler. Every movement dragged deliberately, calculated with the kind of obsessive precision only Spencer Reid could possess—like he was testing a theory, refining a hypothesis with your body as his subject, your pleasure as his final proof.

Two.

The second hit harder than the first. It tore through you like a lightning strike—violent and bright, consuming every muscle, every thought. Your body seized, legs locking tight as the tension snapped again. Your voice caught in your throat in a strangled cry, your head thrown back, your knuckles white as they gripped the sheets. He didn't stop. He didn't even pause. Just adjusted his rhythm slightly and kept going like it wasn’t enough. Like it was never going to be enough.

Three.

This one crept in slower. Deeper. It built with a maddening patience, crawling up your spine, nesting in the back of your skull like static before crashing over you. Your limbs went jelly-soft, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as your fingers scrabbled uselessly against the mattress, seeking something solid in the haze of sensation. Eyes rolled back, vision blurred, but his voice broke through.

"You're doing so well," Spencer whispered, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "But I know you can give me more. I know you can."

Four.

Your hips jerked involuntarily, your body betraying you with how fast it built. You cried out his name again, this time ragged and helpless, like a plea for mercy you already knew wouldn’t be granted. The tears came freely now—streaking hot down your cheeks as he gripped your thighs tighter, forcing you back onto him. Deeper. Slower. Crueler. The mirror in front of you had long since become a blur of flushed skin and tears and sweat-slicked desperation.

"Spencer—" you begged, voice cracking apart in your throat.

His answer came like a prayer: low, reverent, terrifying in its devotion. "I’ve barely even started."

Five.

This one hurt. Not in pain, but in magnitude. It cracked something open inside you, reducing you to nothing but nerve endings and instinct. You came undone like glass under pressure, splintering with a sob you couldn’t hold back. Your body trembled violently beneath him, wracked with waves of sensitivity, the world spinning off-kilter. You were past reason, past thought. Every inch of you buzzed, overstimulated to the point of delirium. And still, he didn’t stop.

"That's it," he breathed, kissing between your shoulder blades. "Let me see everything. Give it to me. I want it all."

Six.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t form a single word. It hit like a shockwave—your body seizing again in full-body spasms, muscles clenching hard enough to ache. Sweat slicked your back, gluing you to him where he leaned in, voice murmuring something low and frantic against your skin. You couldn’t understand the words. Couldn’t process anything beyond the roar in your ears and the crushing weight of sensation flooding you.

The world went white for a moment. Your vision blurred, and your consciousness flickered like a faulty lightbulb. You might have sobbed. You might have begged. He never stopped.

Seven.

This time was different. Tender. But that only made it worse. He slowed his thrusts, made them gentle, languid—but your body was so raw, so responsive, that every brush of friction sent you closer to the edge. You were already there, hovering, and the smallest shift sent you spiraling. Your seventh orgasm tore through you like the crescendo to a symphony of torment and worship, built from everything that had come before it. Every tremor stacked, every sound echoed, every plea recorded in the steam-fogged mirror.

You shattered.

By the time he finally stopped, your body was a ruin of itself—spent, pliant, and humming with aftershocks. Broken open and lovingly destroyed. You collapsed forward with a sob, but he caught you before you could fall, wrapping his arms around you like a lifeline, grounding you.

He kissed your shoulder. Your neck. Your cheek. Slow and reverent. Like each kiss was a vow, a tether pulling you back to earth.

"Too much?" he asked gently, his voice low and shaken. He brushed your damp hair back, cupping your cheek, tilting your face toward the mirror.

You looked—eyes glassy, mascara smeared, lips swollen and parted. Flushed. Trembling. You barely recognized yourself.

You couldn’t speak. Your voice had long since left you. You could only nod, weakly.

Spencer let out a breath, trembling with it, as though he’d been holding back just as much as you had. He kissed you again—slower this time, softer, like he needed the contact to tether himself too. His forehead rested against yours.

"You were perfect," he whispered. "I’ve never seen anything so beautiful."

And just before the world faded to black—your body still echoing with every high, every gasp, every whispered demand—you felt it: his arms still around you, holding you steady. Like a sanctuary.

Like you were sacred.

Raw.

Endless.

And holy.

[rebelssvy]

you x your fave MHA man

LABELS: fucking sex. fucking you in heat. pov you get hit with a quirk that makes you all hot and bothered.

-chat i ate this up!

here you were, getting undressed by your childhood crush in the comfort of an empty changing room at your agency. you had been shot with a random quirk during a raid. you passed out during all of it.

the last thing you remembered he had swept you up into his arms and got you here.

you didn’t know what was happening to you.

your back arched off the bench, you refused to let go of him. you felt how soaked you were through your suit.

you grabbed every part of him.

“fuck i’m soso so sorryyyy-! i don’t know what’s happening to me.” you moaned out to him. he stood above you, slicking down your hair that had poked up during the fight.

“it’s ok. are you hurt? how do you feel?” he said through concerned eyes. staring down at you.

“i feel like i need your cock.” you said with full confidence before slapping both your hands over your mouth.

he looked down at your with desire and an open mouth. he didn’t say anything before shaking his passion. he reminded himself, it’s just the quirk after effects making you say this.

“i’m so so sooo sorry… i shouldn’t have said that.. but im just being honest i don’t know what to do” you moaned out again. your hands slowly making their way to your own body. grabbing at the fabric.

you felt hot. like you needed it all gone. you needed it off of you. asap.

“can u pleaseee help me.. oh my god.. fuck let me suck you off pleaseeee” you said up to him with puppy eyes.

it was truly a sight to see. and well, this was his dream. you begging to suck him off, your skin glowing with desire.

“if you think it’s gonna make you feel better…. i mean.. i guess you can-“ before he finished his sentence you were pulling his pants down. you wasted no time before licking his length with your tongue.

opening your mouth as much as you could you stuck his cock down your throat as much as you could.

“oh my god.. fuckkk y/n” he grabbed onto your hair bobbing your head back and forth.

you sucked as much as your could. you wanted all of him.

he pulled out. grabbing your jaw he tilted his head down to stare at you. you looked up at him with your mouth still wide open. you stuck your tongue out for him.

“let me fuck you.” he said before pulling you up to take off your suit.

“yes yes yes yes please fuck me that’s all i want!” you moaned out grabbing at the fabric he still had on his body.

he stopped all action, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a heated kiss.

pulling apart, “you getting hit with that quirk was the best thing that’s ever happened.. fuck” he said before making his way to suck on your neck.

you moaned at the contact, bringing your hands down to grab at his freed cock. squeezing the top of this length. pre-cum oozing out of it. he gasped at the touch.

“i’ve dreamed of this far longer then just today…” you said while your suit dropped off your body. you were now fully unclothed.

he stared at you with passion in his eyes. you broke the silence again.

“i dreamed about sucking you off under your desk in highschool.” you admitted.

before you knew it he picked you up. it was all happening to quickly. all you needed was relief.

twisting your body into a full nelson. your body pressed against his. he had both your legs, so you were spread full open.

you moaned out again.

“please please please put it in let me feel your cock” you mumbled out. flushed.

“whatever you say doll…” he said grabbing his cock, pressing it against your entrance.

it was filthy. him having you all wrapped up like this. but you were begging for it.

his cock plunged in and out of you. balls slapping your skin with each movement.

“oh yeah? you fucking like that?” he groaned at you spreading you as wide as you could.

you moaned out to him as a response. you couldn’t comprehend anything.

he hit all your deepest angles. you were on full display.

this was so naughty. and too think a quirk caused this? you would consider yourself blessed.

“fuck your so tight for me aren’t cha’?” he said to you in a condescending manner. making you clench around his length.

“mmm… i-i’m closeee”you warned him.

“cmon then…” he groaned softly, “cum around my cock.”

he demanded it. and so you did.

cumming around him, you moaned out ‘thanks you’’s and how your ‘all his’. your body spasming through your orgasm, as he fucked you through your high.

finally he set you down on the bench, you all fucked out like this, he couldn’t stop himself.

jerking himself off, to your face.

of course, he had to finish on your face.

even fucked out as you were you opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out. catching all the cum you could.

“thank fuck for that quirk” he said before wiping his own cum off your cheek.

“mmm… thank fuck for you” you said with a smile.

……………………………………………………………………………..

- i was personally thinking of katsuki. but that’s just me. LOLLLL comment who you thought about!!!

[oceantornadoo]

part two - outlaw!simon x reader who was supposed to marry johnny (rip)

when you wake in the morning, there is no husband in your bed and an angry sheriff at your door.

the missing husband is a later problem. you snatch your worn dressing gown from your nearby chair, shirking it on over your night shift as you head towards the door. you grab your rifle on the way, noting simon had unloaded it when you weren't paying attention. bastard.

"mornin' ma'am." sheriff graves is a sunny character on your doorstep, western sun and a shifty smile. you mutter a greeting back, wondering why in god's name he is pounding at your door when the sun has barely touched the sky. "did ya have any trouble last night? there's rumors of an outlaw group on the edge of town." you shake your head, gaze holding firm. "no, sir. woulda shot 'em if i did." he nods, then looks down at his boots. "and that husband of yours? he at home, protectin' his wife?" ah, so that's why he's here. everyone knows you are married but no one's ever met the guy, seeing as he's been journeying over mountains and grasslands to get to you. sheriff graves is well aware of your lonesome self, just you and your rifle. "he's around, sir. i'll be introducin' him to yall soon enough. 'course, we're spendin' some time together as man and wife first."

his pupils go wide at your insinuation, not ladylike in the slightest. 'course, you are a barmaid, so what's to be expected of you? "i see. well, i'll leave you to your mornin', ma'am." if he really wanted to give you your morning, he wouldn't have woken you up so early, but you weren't going to give him that much attitude. "good day, sheriff." you close the door when his boots are still in its shadow, a little too close to be polite.

"you protectin' me, darlin'?" you jump at his voice, nearly scaring you out of your gown. "good lord, give a girl some warning!" he's fully dressed, hiding in the shadows of your pantry in a full-black outfit. you take in the bandana hiding his face, the all-black chaps encasing his thick thighs, and the holsters strapped and loaded. "you're up early." he grunts, coming closer. simon checks the door lock, then pushes you up against it with his body, his arms coming to hold the wall over your head. "had t' water my horse. you miss me?" you shake your head vehemently. "you snore. you will not be gettin' in my bed again soundin' like a freight train." instead of taking offense, he laughs, all gravel in your ear. "johnny woulda loved you."

you can tell he regrets saying it the moment it leaves his lips. his body tightens, that easy flirtation dying in the wind. "you miss him?" you ask quietly, testing the lines between you. "everyday. less now, i think. got a spitfire to take care of." unwillingly you lean closer, crossing your arms over your chest. "you better be talkin' about your horse." he grumbles something unintelligible, one hand leaving the wall to ghost against your hip. you're reminded of last night, of his rough embrace and warm arms.

"hips up for me, sweetheart. there ya go." simon places a pillow underneath your hips, the angle revealing more of your cunt to him. you whine as he stares, hips bucking as if to entice him. "y'r so needy, darlin'." you moan, one leg reaching out around his waist to tug him closer. he lets out a laugh as you line up your pelvises, the rough material of his pants rubbing against your bare body.

"i've been horny. can't fuck anyone when you're married, apparently." he hums, opting to trace the line of your jaw instead of the seam of your cunt. "still, coulda been a killer, yet you opened up so easily for me." embarassment courses through your body but you refuse to feel the shame along with it. you reach out your hands to find his zipper, tugging it down when he doesn't stop you. "you're no killer. if johnny trusted you, so do i." your hand finds his cock beneath the layers of his clothes, tugging it out slowly. he hisses when it meets the cool night air, already so hard and ready to go. "don't go makin' assumptions about me, sweetheart. there's a lot you don't know."

the fear hits you for a moment. a realization that this man could be lying completely, some stranger off the street who barreled his way into your home. you search his eyes for the truth, sticking to your belief in the good in people. you find it in his gaze; he's trying to scare you. you smirk at the thought, this big tough man wanting to scare you, a lady living on her own in the wild west. takes a lot more to do that. "can i put it in?" you refuse to acknowledge what he said, gripping his cock tightly and tapping it against your opening. he's already made you come twice, once on the kitchen table and another against the door, but you still need to be full. "yeah baby, put it in."

you shake out of your daydream, noting the moving path of the sun lighting the outline of simon's body. "c'mon, i'll show you where my stable is. and then maybe, if you're good, you can come to my shift at the pub later." he snorts, one hand on your hip. the feeling of possession is alien. you've spent so many nights dreaming of johnny, dreaming of having a husband, that simon's presence feels like something you need to wake up from. he could be a figment of your imagination, you decide, watching him untie his horse from a nearby tree and bring her over. instead of walking down that mental path, you take another step towards this outlaw of a husband and try to shake off the butterflies in your stomach.

--

PART FOUR

yes he's wearing the gunslinger fit idc but with the bandana (i couldn't find a good pic)

tag list:

@chickennn-soupp

@vmaxis

@samanthamarkle92

@sinful-tawtute

@nightingale2124

@scottpilgrimvsmyfists

@saucypeanuttt

[sshnzsr]

34+35

warnings: smut, mentions of reader watching porn, 69, oral (f&m), dirty talk, slapping, cum play, lmk if I missed anything

wordcount: 1k

-

You loved Sunghoon—his touch, his voice, the way he’d smirk at you when he knew he’d gotten under your skin—but lately, the bedroom felt like a loop of the same old moves. Missionary, doggy, maybe a little cowgirl if you were feeling bold. It was good, sure, but it wasn’t electric anymore. You craved something new, something that’d make your toes curl and your mind blank out in that delicious way it used to.

So, one lazy afternoon while Sunghoon was out at practice, you sprawled across the couch with your phone, scrolling through anything that might spark inspiration. You weren’t even looking for porn at first—just some spicy ideas to shake things up. But then you stumbled across it: a video of a couple tangled up in a 69, their bodies locked together in a filthy, desperate rhythm. The way the girl’s thighs trembled as she sucked him off, the way the guy groaned into her pussy—it hit you like a freight train. Heat pooled between your legs, your breath hitching as you watched, imagining Sunghoon’s tongue on you while you choked on his cock. Fuck, you needed this.

By the time Sunghoon got home, you were practically vibrating with anticipation. He kicked off his shoes, tossing his gym bag aside, and flashed you that lazy, lopsided grin that always made your stomach flip. “Miss me?” he teased, voice low as he leaned down to kiss you.

“More than you know,” you murmured against his lips, tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt. “I’ve got an idea.”

He raised a brow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s my dirty girl plotting now?”

You smirked, pushing him onto the couch and straddling his lap. “I was watching something earlier… this couple doing 69. Looked so fucking hot, Hoon. I want us to try it.”

His eyes darkened instantly, pupils blowing wide with lust. “Yeah?” he rasped, hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips. “You wanna suck me off while I eat that pretty pussy? Say less, baby.”

That was all the encouragement you needed. Clothes hit the floor in a frantic blur—his hoodie, your shorts, his sweats, your panties—until you were both bare and buzzing with need. Sunghoon stretched out on his back across the couch, his lean, toned body on full display. His cock was already hard, tip flushed and leaking, and you couldn’t resist giving it a teasing slap with your fingers. He hissed, hips jerking up. “Fuck, don’t play with me like that,” he growled, but the smirk tugging at his lips told you he loved it.

“Shut up and lie back,” you shot back, swinging a leg over his face. Your pussy hovered just above his mouth, close enough that you could feel his hot breath fanning over your slick folds. He grabbed your ass, yanking you down so his lips could latch onto you, and you gasped as his tongue flicked out, tasting you.

“Goddamn, you’re so wet already,” he mumbled into your cunt, voice muffled but dripping with want. “This what that video did to you, huh? Turned you into a needy little slut for me?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, lowering your head to his cock. You gave it another light slap, watching it twitch before wrapping your lips around the tip, sucking off the bead of precum. Sunghoon groaned against your pussy, the vibrations making you shudder, and you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he panted, tongue swirling over your clit before he sucked it hard, making your thighs quake. “You taste so good, shit—gonna make you drip all over my face.”

You moaned around his cock, the dirty talk spurring you on as you bobbed your head, letting him hit the back of your throat. The angle was perfect—his dick stretching your mouth while his mouth worked magic on your pussy. You could feel every lick, every sloppy kiss he pressed against your folds, and it drove you wild. Your hips rocked down, grinding against his face, and he slapped your ass hard, the sting mixing with the pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, pulling off his cock just long enough to speak before diving back in, tongue swirling around the head. You slapped his shaft against your lips, smearing spit and precum, and he cursed under you, hips bucking up.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groaned, slipping two fingers into your cunt while his tongue flicked your clit. “So tight, so fucking perfect—gonna cum all over my tongue, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, the sound choked off as you sucked him harder, faster, your hand pumping what your mouth couldn’t take. His fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision white out, and you could feel it building—hot, tight, overwhelming. His lips sealed around your clit, sucking hard, and you lost it.

“Sunghoon—fuck, I’m cumming!” you cried, your whole body seizing as the orgasm ripped through you. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, slick dripping down his chin, and he lapped it up like a starved man, groaning into you as you shook.

The sight of him drinking you down pushed you over the edge again, and you ground your hips harder, chasing every last wave. But he wasn’t done—his cock throbbed in your hand, and you could tell he was close too. You slapped it against your tongue, teasing the slit, and he growled your name, voice wrecked.

“Shit, baby—gonna cum. Take it, yeah? Swallow it all for me,” he rasped, and you nodded eagerly, sucking him deep as his hips stuttered. Hot spurts of cum flooded your mouth, salty and thick, and you swallowed every drop, milking him dry until he was whining from the overstimulation.

You pulled off with a wet pop, grinning down at him as he lay there, chest heaving, face still glistening with your release. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, pulling you down for a messy, cum-and-slick-soaked kiss. “That was the hottest thing we’ve ever done.”

“Better than the video?” He teased, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You smirked, tugging him closer. “Way fucking better. Round two?”

masterlist

[chleem]

One shot/drabble: drew starkey x reader

Summary: you try a taste of his cigarette

Genre: fluff? smoking, swearing (read at own caution

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work pls

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Leaning against the balustrade of the balcony, from the corner of your eye, you see Drew preparing to light a cigarette. 

He takes a cigarette from its packaging, along with a lighter. 

With a subtle shift, he brings the cigarette to his lips, gently biting the filter between his teeth, steadying it in place. 

A flick of his thumb ignites the flame, and in one smooth motion, he cups the tip of the cigarette to the flame, his gaze briefly fixed on the glowing ember as the tip catches fire.

Drew inhales deeply into the now lit cigarette. The smoke curls up, and as he exhales, it drifts lazily into the cool air. 

His eyes close for a moment, savoring the calm before they slowly reopen, meeting yours with a quiet intensity.

Above, the night sky stretches wide, stars flickering, while the moon casts a silvery glow. The buzz of the city below fades into the background, adding a strange sense of calm to the scene. 

Tonight, the usual bustle feels distant, and the captivating sight of Drew lighting a cigarette seems to hold your focus in a way it never has before.

Normally, you wouldn’t pay attention to him smoking. But right now, you can’t help but watch. 

“Yeah?” 

A chuckle follows his words, and that's when you realize how hard you’ve been staring. A flush creeps up your neck, yet, you don’t look away. 

He holds the cigarette between his index and middle fingers, bringing it up to his lips again to take another inhale. 

There’s a small smile on his lips, barely there but enough to make you wonder.

To your surprise, he sharply exhales right into your face, the smoke hitting you like a sudden wave. 

You immediately turn away, your hands swatting the air in an attempt to clear it.

“Drew!” you exclaim, your voice a mix of surprise and mock annoyance, but there's a hint of laughter in your tone.

A low chuckle leaves his lips too, and he shifts closer to you, one hand in his pocket, one holding onto the cigarette. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word almost lost in the sound of the bustling street below. 

He doesn’t meet your gaze, his attention now drawn to the chaotic scene unfolding on the busy street below.

But you can’t quite follow his line of sight, your eyes instead focused on his side profile—how he looks effortlessly pretty from this angle. The soft curve of his jaw, the way his hair falls just right, his eyelashes catching the light with every subtle blink.

And then, of course, your attention drifts to the cigarette in his hand, how he brings it up to his lips again for another inhale. 

Your body has a mind of its own, bringing yourself closer to him, until your arm brushes against his. 

“Hey…” you start, your eyes fixed on his hand, “lemme try.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, full of curiosity. 

His head sharply turns towards you, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as that small smirk plays on his lips. There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes, and definitely surprise in them. 

“What?”

Drew laughs, and you roll your eyes, reaching for the cigarette in his hand. 

He immediately raises it up, out of your reach, “No—what?” The cigarette dangles just out of your grasp, and the playful challenge in his expression only makes you more determined.

“C’mon, let me try-“

With his tall height, you obviously couldn’t reach the cigarette, so, you shift your focus.

You slide your hand toward the pack tucked in his pants pocket, your fingers brushing against the plastic packaging in there, feeling the warmth of him just inches away.

Drew's eyes flicker down to you, and you catch the mischievous glint before he raises an eyebrow, stepping away, “fine- fine, here.”

He takes your hand that’s in his pocket, and guides your hand, pushing all but two fingers down—your index and middle finger.

“Shit- you sure?”

“Just give it to me,” you say, an eager smile on your lips as you watch the way he handles you, now attempting to teach you how to smoke. 

He places the cigarette between your fingers, the warmth of his hand leaving an imprint as he pulls away just slightly, his blue eyes still locked onto you.

“I don’t- how do you teach this?” Drew murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice, the teasing tone. 

You can’t help but let out a giggle too, the feel of the cigarette in your hands surprisingly strange, foreign even.

“Okay- um, imagine you’re kissing it-“

“‘Kissing it’?”

“Yeah-“ he chuckles at his own description, “like, you know, a light touch. Gentle.”

“Mhm-“

“And then just breathe.”

“Breathe?”

“Yeah. Breathe.”

The easy-going tone in Drew’s voice helps, and slowly, you bring the cigarette up to your lips. 

You focus on the scenery below, trying to ignore the sharp stare of your ‘teacher,’ his eyes watching your every move.

You inhale cautiously, still unsure of what to expect, the cigarette feeling heavier than you thought it would.

Then, you feel it—a harsh dab to the back of your throat, followed by a bitter taste that spreads down into your chest. The smoke burns, your body reacting instinctively. 

You cough, your lungs protesting the sudden intrusion.

You can hear Drew’s deep laugh, warm and genuine, as the cigarette is gently taken out of your hand, the weight of it suddenly gone.

“That happens to everyone,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and reassurance.

You glance up at him, a little embarrassed but also relieved by his easy-going response. “That- it’s horrible.”

Drew chuckles as he dabs the tip of the cigarette against the balustrade, watching the ash crumble and fall away. He takes another slow inhale, “yeah- it’s not for everyone.”

As he talks, the smoke flows out of his mouth in a perfect, steady exhale.

Part of you is shocked at how effortlessly he does it, how natural and fluid the whole motion seems. And for reasons you can’t quite explain, you feel the urge to try again.

Your hand reaches for it, and Drew pulls away sharply, once again. 

“Why?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing. 

There’s something about the way he keeps pulling it away that frustrates you. You can’t quite put your finger on why it bothers you, but it does.

“No,” he firmly says, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes you pause. There’s a quiet finality in his tone, as if he’s made up his mind and isn’t about to back down.

You tilt your head to the side, “one more time.”

“No,” he shakes his head with a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, before he takes another inhale. 

You gently tug on his sleeve, a slight pout forming on your lips, your gaze unwavering as you look up at him.

He responds by taking another exhale in your direction, the smoke curling toward you. 

This time, you don’t flinch. 

Instead, you close your eyes briefly as the smoke settles around you. 

Drew laughs, the sound soft but amused, almost as if he’s impressed by your reaction. 

After a moment, he hands the cigarette to you, the gesture almost reluctant but somehow accepting. “Alright, go ahead,” he says, voice low, “already- already fucking addicted, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh, a lightness to your tone as you joke, “Been trying to quit for a while.”

With a grin, you bring the cigarette back up to your lips, steadying yourself for another try. 

There’s a mix of anticipation and hesitation in the air, but you’re determined to get it right this time. Drew watches quietly, a small smile playing on his lips as he leans against the balustrade. 

You inhale, and the same bitter taste floods your mouth, sharp and unfamiliar. 

You attempt to play it cool, exhaling through your nose, your gaze meeting Drew's blue eyes, trying to mask the discomfort. 

But it doesn’t work.

The sensation hits you harder this time, and before you can control it, you cough once again. 

A soft chuckle escapes Drew, as he takes the cigarette away from you again. “…know you too well.”

“You make it look so easy!” you say, still a little breathless. 

“I’m just unhealthy,” he responds casually, taking another drag from the cigarette. 

The way he says it so matter-of-factly almost makes you laugh, as if smoking were some kind of badge of honor he wore. There’s no judgment in his tone, just a quiet confidence, as if he’s comfortable with himself and the habits that come with it.

And then, knowing exactly where the ashtray is, Drew walks over to it with ease, discarding his cigarette.

He walks back to you, and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer. “Back in?”

You nod, feeling the warmth of his touch, letting him guide you back into the venue. As you step away from the balcony, the hum of the traffic fades, replaced with the louder chatter and music from inside.

And as Drew leads you between the crowded room of bodies, the faint smell of cigarettes lingers on him. 

For a moment, you catch it—a sharp, familiar scent that clings to him like a signature.

Oddly enough, you don’t mind it. 

In fact, you enjoy it, because, well, it’s Drew. 

-------------------------------

word count: 1.6k

࣪𖤐 a/n: i actually have no idea what this is....came to me when i saw a video of him smoking

elevator | other

[baigepueckers]

Paige Bueckers X Reader

National Champ

The arena is on fire, a humming of noise, but your heartbeat is louder.

You can barely hear the person beside you. The announcers sound like they’re underwater…the crowd is a blur of colors and energy but all your focus, all your love, all your breath is locked on the hardwood court where she stands.

Where Paige stands.

The clock reads 1:26, fourth quarter. It’s everything people dream official moments, legacy on the line. And Paige? Paige is standing at half-court like she owns it. Like she’s been here before in some dream and already knows the ending.

You’ve seen that look on her face a thousand times. When she doesn’t talk, doesn’t blink, just breathes differently…like she’s entering another realm where nothing exists but the ball and the basket. That’s when you know something’s coming.

And it does.

A cross, a jab step, the kind of movement that makes the defender freeze for a second too long, and that’s all she needs. She launches. Deep. From way beyond the arc.

The net barely moves.

Three.

Your mouth opens in a scream that doesn’t make a sound. You’re on your feet, hands covering your mouth, tears already pressing behind your eyes. Everyone’s going wild, but Paige just jogs back on defense with the faintest, cocky smirk. She doesn’t need to celebrate. That shot was the celebration.

The final minute crawls like it knows how much is riding on it. One possession, one stop, one last stand. Your hands are trembling, and you’re squeezing your necklace…the one she gave you before the tournament. “To bring me luck” she said, slipping it over your head with a kiss to your forehead. “But really, I just need to know you’re wearing something that means I’m always with you.”

And God, have you felt it. Every second. Every game. Every heartbreak that came before this one.

The buzzer sounds.

UConn wins.

You don’t even remember how you got out of your seat. You think maybe you flew. Because one second you’re surrounded by screaming fans, and the next, you’re stumbling down the bleachers, eyes locked on her.

She’s crying. Laughing. Screaming. Collapsing into teammates’ arms, her jersey soaked, her shoulders shaking. But even in the chaos of celebration, you can see it…she’s looking for you.

Her eyes scan the crowd like a compass that only knows your direction. And when they find you?

It hits you like a tidal wave.

She runs…full speed, through the madness, pushing through people, mouth open in a sob. “Y/N!”

You barely have time to catch her before she’s in your arms, wrapping herself around you like she needs your body to remind her this is real.

“We did it,” she cries into your neck. “Baby, we did it.”

You’re sobbing. You don’t care how you look. You don’t care that cameras are everywhere, catching every angle. All that matters is her…her voice, her arms, her heartbeat against yours.

“No,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to cup her face, your thumb brushing over the smudges of black beneath her eyes. “You did it, Paige. You came back. You proved them all wrong. You said you would…and you did. You’re a national champion.”

Her face crumples eyes glassy and wide. “I kept picturing you, you know? Every time I felt like giving in. I’d think about looking up and seeing you in the stands. I kept thinking… ‘I want her to see this. I want her to remember this moment for the rest of her life.’”

You smile despite the tears still wet on your face, and glance up at the Final Four Champions hat now sitting crooked on her head. She hadn’t even realized someone had tossed it to her mid-celebration.

“Well,” you murmur, tilting your head and brushing a finger along the brim of her hat. “Not to take attention away from your win or your entire legacy or anything… but this hat? Baby, this hat looks insanely good on you.”

She huffs out a laugh, eyes closing like your flirtation is both exactly what she needed and something she’ll never get used to. “Y/N…”

“No, I’m serious,” you tease, leaning in closer until your lips are just grazing her ear. “It’s giving… national champ realness. Like, I might need you to keep that on when we get back to the hotel.”

Her face turns a shade of red that has nothing to do with exhaustion. “Oh my God.”

You giggle, and she buries her face in your neck again, still shaking with laughter and adrenaline and something softer…something sacred.

“You’re insane,” she mumbles.

You grin. “I’m in love.”

Her arms tighten around you, and her voice drops to a whisper. “I want forever with you, Y/N.”

Your heart stutters.

“You have it,” you say, barely above a breath. “You’ve always had it.”

Later, in the locker room, she’s still wearing the hat…because you told her to… and every time she catches you looking at her, you shoot her a wink that makes her blush so deep her teammates start teasing her for it.

“Let ‘em laugh,” you murmur when you finally get her alone, sitting between her legs on a bench, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “They’re just jealous their girlfriend isn’t a walking championship fantasy.”

She groans, burying her face in your shoulder. “Stop.”

“Never.”

And she laughs again, because the truth is she wouldn’t want you any other way.

[arpicityandneed]

As someone who really adores balls (they're so darn cute, just chilling there all unassuming) I just know Bucky's are fucking huge 🤤 catch me trying to explain tea bagging to that old man so I can get an excuse to leave a lipstick stain on his sack

a/n: to be fucking fair Bucky just has breeder ball energy, so I completely understand the feeling.

18+ f!reader. teabagging. Avenger!Bucky. Civilian!reader.

"So, there's a few positions that could be used here. But the punchline is I get your balls in my mouth." You explained with a sultry smile, taking your shot of whiskey down without so much as a wince.

Bucky choked on his drink.

When you'd come up to him, your curves wrapped in skin tight jeans a ratty tshirt that stretched over your tits and a leather jacket, he'd been more than game to flirt. Try his hand to see if he could still be charming at 106. He expected you to fawn over him, ask him questions about his metal arm, or even ask about what it was like to be an Avenger.

What he did not expect was for you to come onto him like that, confident and nasty and hungry. It made his dick hard as steel and he floundered. Would he ever understand women of the future and their kinks?

"And you would... enjoy this?" He wheezed as he pounded his chest, wondering if he'd suddenly gained the ability to get drunk or if you really just said what he thought you said.

"Very much actually." You scooted closer, your tits brushing his arm enough that he could tell you weren't wearing a bra. "Foreplay is foreplay. Knowing that the same balls that were covered in my lipstick are gonna unload in me later? Yeah." Your voice was breathless, needy, like you were imagining it already in the middle of the bar.

Bucky slammed his beer down on the table with more force than was necessary and stood, fishing a handful of bills out of his wallet and shoving it at the bartender before grabbing your hand.

"Lets go." He grunted barely able to keep his head straight enough to get you onto his motorcycle before he was speeding through the streets to his apartment. Your soft body plastered against his back didn't help the way his body ached to be inside you.

But no, first you'd have to have your snack.

When you got to the apartment he threw you over his shoulder, taking the stairs three at a time at super soldier speed. The door had barely closed behind him before he was reaching for you. Ripping your flimsy shirt like tissue paper he groaned when your breasts bounced free, cupping them in his palms greedily.

"Fuck me. You're so soft," he murmured huskily as his grey eyes flicked up to meet yours. "Remind me to take my time with these beauties later okay?"

"Yeah, promise. Now will you take your clothes off?" You smirked as you tugged at his shirt. "I can't rip 'em off of you without a knife."

A full body shiver ran down Bucky's spine at that mental image and he nodded, shucking his jeans and boxers off with efficient grace before stripping off his shirt.

"Where- how-?" He started to ask before you dragged him to the bed. You laid down first with your head hanging over the edge. From that angle all he had to do was step forward and his balls would be inches from your mouth.

"Simple right?"

"Right." Bucky's voice was a hoarse croak, and he took that one step that put him at your mercy.

"Hello beautiful." You cooed at his leaking cock, tonguing the slit for a moment and moaning at the taste. "Next time." You murmured to yourself before focusing on his balls.

They were heavy, full, and sensitive if the way Bucky shivered just from feeling your lips brushing against them was anything to go by.

"You do this with all your guys?" Bucky found the idea pissed him off, and you chuckled- low and throaty.

"Just the special ones." You murmured before opening your mouth wide and sucking a wet kiss against his sack.

"Fuck," Bucky groaned and you felt your cunt throb at the timbre of his voice.

You said nothing, after all talking with your mouth full would've been rude.

You sucked, licked, and worshipped his balls until his legs started to tremble. All the while you gushed, daydreaming about leaking his cum until your panties were soaked.

Foreplay was only complete with the main course after all.

p.s. this is just smut writing, if all you want is foreplay that's okay too xoxo Mina

[kpoplustzone]

Game of Nine Part 3

OC X DAHYUN

7246 WORDS

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Kiho lingered in front of Choi Hyuk, eyes gleaming under the pale streetlight, his smirk deepening with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you’ve crossed a line—and enjoyed it. He subtly unlocked his phone, its screen momentarily displaying a vivid image before he angled it just slightly, letting Choi Hyuk catch a tantalizing glimpse.

“You ever really look at them?” he asked, his voice low and slow, like velvet sliding across glass. “I mean not just as idols on a screen, but as women? Real, breathing women with heat and hunger and secrets?”

Choi Hyuk’s jaw twitched, his silence sharp, brittle. He couldn't help but notice the flash on Kiho's phone – a close-up shot that screamed Momo. Her lower body was the focus, the curve of her bare hip and the dark triangle of hair just visible at the top of her thighs taking centre stage. A playful bubble emoji seemed to float just above her most intimate area.

Kiho gave a short laugh, soft and dangerous. “Momo?” he said, savouring the name like a delicacy. “God, the way she moves when no one's watching… there's this rhythm in her hips, like her body’s always dancing, always asking. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it. But I noticed. And once I touched her—not even anything obvious, just a hand on her waist—she leaned into it like she’d been waiting her whole life for someone not afraid to close the distance.” As he spoke, he casually flicked through his gallery, another image briefly appearing – Momo lying on her stomach, her bare backside raised slightly, a mischievous wink seemingly directed at the camera.

He tilted his head, letting the words settle. He then brought up another image, this time a message thread with Jihyo. “And Jihyo…” he breathed, almost reverent. “She’s something else entirely. Fire and control wrapped up in one perfect storm. She acts like she’s in charge—and to everyone else, she is. But when you get close enough, when you say the right thing in just the right tone, you see it. That moment her mask slips. The way her breath catches when someone sees past all that armor.” As he said this, Choi Hyuk caught a fleeting but unmistakable glimpse of Jihyo. She was in a dimly lit room, her top pulled down just enough to reveal the plump curve of her bare breast, the dark outline of her nipple clearly visible.

Kiho stepped closer, until the air between them was charged, electric. He then brought up a full-screen image, this one unmistakably Momo. She was leaning back in a chair, her legs spread wide, her short skirt hiked up to reveal the tops of her stockinged thighs and a hint of something much more intimate. Her expression was a playful pout, her finger teasingly touching her lips. “I didn’t seduce them with tricks, Hyuk. I made them feel seen. Made them feel like women, not dolls in glass cases. And they gave me back something real in return.” He subtly scrolled through his gallery again, this time lingering for a moment on a shot that made Choi Hyuk’s breath hitch – a close-up of Kiho’s own erect cock, thick and glistening.

Choi Hyuk’s breathing had quickened, though he tried to hide it. His fists were still clenched, but now it wasn’t just anger—there was confusion, resentment… and something darker. Something Kiho saw immediately.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Kiho whispered, voice curling around the tension. “The heat. The jealousy. That little voice in your head wondering what it would be like to have that kind of power. To be inside their orbit the way I am.” He then brought up a final image, this one of Nayeon, her previous barely-covered picture now in full view. Her breasts were gloriously bare, pushed together to emphasize her cleavage, her hard nipples practically begging to be touched. Her expression was sultry, a playful bite on her lower lip.

He leaned in, just enough to drop the final blow. “And I’m just getting started. Nine members. Nine different stories. You going to keep watching, Hyuk? Or are you finally going to admit you like what you see?”

Kiho turned with a flourish, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he pocketed his phone, the images seared into Choi Hyuk’s mind. He strolled off into the night, his presence still lingering like expensive cologne.

Choi Hyuk remained rooted, burning with a mixture of rage, envy, and something far more dangerous: temptation, his mind reeling from the explicit glimpses of the women he admired, now intimately connected with the man who had just so brazenly flaunted his conquests.

Having tasted the forbidden fruit with Momo and Jihyo, Kiho's confidence had ballooned. He’d boasted, in his usual smug way, to Choi Hyuk about his "growing connections" within Twice. To further solidify his self-proclaimed success and perhaps to twist the knife of jealousy a little deeper, Kiho had casually mentioned that Dahyun was filming a scene for a movie and suggested they go "check it out." Choi Hyuk, despite his resentment, found himself tagging along, a reluctant spectator in Kiho's increasingly audacious exploits. And so, they found themselves lurking near the bustling set of "You Are the Apple of My Eye," watching as Dahyun prepared to film.

The humid air of the outdoor filming set clung to Dahyun like a second skin, the tight school uniform doing little to conceal the generous curves of her figure. The crisp white shirt, though buttoned demurely to the top, strained visibly across her surprisingly full and round breasts, the outline of what looked like a delicate lace bra clearly pressing through the thin fabric. Each breath she took caused the material to stretch and pull, hinting at the soft, yielding flesh beneath. The short plaid skirt, riding high above her naturally curvaceous hips, showcased a significant length of her smooth, pale thighs, their gentle swell hinting at a delightful softness. The tightness of the skirt accentuated her small waist before flaring slightly over the subtle but noticeable roundness of her ass, promising a handful of pure, unadulterated softness.

Kiho leaned against a light stand, his gaze possessively sweeping over Dahyun's figure. “That uniform barely contains her,” he murmured to Choi Hyuk, a lascivious smirk playing on his lips. “Those little boobs are just begging to be freed.” His eyes lingered on the way the shirt seemed to fight against the fullness of her chest, imagining his hands cupping their weight, feeling the soft give of her flesh against his palms.

Choi Hyuk, a few steps behind, felt a familiar heat pooling in his groin. Dahyun’s petite frame packed a surprising punch in that uniform. The way her thighs filled out the short skirt, promising a delicious squeeze, had his blood racing. He fantasized about his hands sliding up those smooth legs, inching closer to the secrets hidden beneath the plaid fabric. He imagined pressing his face against her ample chest, inhaling her sweet scent.

Dahyun moved with an inherent energy, her steps light and bouncy, causing her breasts to jiggle subtly beneath her shirt, a sight that didn’t escape Kiho’s notice. “See that?” he whispered, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Even that innocent little bounce is enough to drive a man wild.” He imagined peeling that pristine white shirt open, revealing the rosy tips of her nipples, tracing their delicate outline with his tongue.

Kiho briefly caught Dahyun’s eye, offering a casual wave. She responded with a bright, innocent smile, a stark contrast to the explicit thoughts running through both men's minds. “She’s so oblivious,” Kiho chuckled softly, turning back to Choi Hyuk. “Doesn’t even know the kind of thoughts she’s stirring up just by standing there.” He then let his gaze drop lower, lingering on the subtle curve of her backside beneath the tight skirt. “That little ass… perfect for gripping while you take her from behind.”

Choi Hyuk swallowed hard, his gaze mirroring Kiho’s. He imagined pulling that skirt up, revealing the lacy edge of her panties, pressing himself against her until he could feel the soft give of her buttocks. The primness of the uniform only amplified the forbidden nature of his desires, making Dahyun's youthful curves seem even more tantalizing. Kiho had the casual confidence of a man who felt he had access, while Choi Hyuk could only watch, his mind a whirlwind of explicit images fueled by Dahyun’s deceptively innocent yet undeniably sensual form.

Dahyun, a mischievous glint in her bright eyes even as she feigned exhaustion, bounded off set towards the green room, her short plaid skirt bouncing perkily with each step, flashing glimpses of her long, slender legs that ended in white ankle socks peeking just above her sneakers. Kiho, a predatory smile already forming on his lips, gave Choi Hyuk a pointed look before sauntering after her. Choi Hyuk, predictably, followed, glued to Kiho’s movements like a shadow.

The green room door remained slightly ajar, offering Choi Hyuk a tantalizing peek. Dahyun had tossed her water bottle onto the table and was already fiddling with her tie, a playful frown on her face as if struggling with the knot. Kiho was instantly by her side, his fingers gently brushing hers as he took over. “Let me, clumsy,” he chuckled, his gaze lingering on the soft curve of her neck just above the crisp white collar of her shirt.

Dahyun giggled, a bright, airy sound. “I swear this tie has a mind of its own,” she said, tilting her head back slightly, giving Kiho even more access to her slender neck. As Kiho’s fingers worked at the tie, he deliberately slowed his movements, his knuckles grazing the top button of her shirt, feeling the slight pressure against the fabric that stretched across her chest.

“You know,” Kiho murmured, his voice low and suggestive, his eyes now fixed on the way her shirt clung to her surprisingly full breasts, “this whole innocent schoolgirl look… it’s really doing things to me.”

Dahyun’s playful frown returned, but this time it was laced with a teasing edge. “Oh yeah?” she purred, her gaze dropping to his lips and then flicking back up to his eyes. “What exactly is it doing, Kiho-oppa?” She leaned in slightly, the tips of her fingers tracing the edge of his collar, her movements mirroring his earlier touch on her neck.

Kiho’s hand had now fully loosened her tie, letting it hang undone, revealing a hint of the skin beneath her collarbone. His fingers trailed down, lingering just above the second button of her shirt, the fabric pulled taut over her budding cleavage. “It makes me want to see what’s underneath all this prim and proper attire,” he whispered, his thumb lightly brushing against the edge of the button.

Dahyun’s breath hitched. She stepped back slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She reached down and playfully hiked up her short skirt a fraction higher, revealing even more of her long, smooth legs and the tops of her white socks. “Maybe you’ll have to work for it,” she said, her voice a soft challenge. She then leaned back against the table, crossing her long legs, the movement causing her skirt to ride up even further, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the fabric underneath.

Choi Hyuk, watching through the sliver of the open door, felt his throat tighten. The playful yet overtly sexual banter between them, combined with Dahyun’s teasing use of her uniform, was incredibly arousing. He could see the clear outline of her bra through the damp fabric of her shirt, the undone tie suggesting a loosening of inhibitions. Her long, bare thighs, revealed by the hiked-up skirt, were a direct invitation, and the way she held Kiho’s gaze left no doubt about the undercurrent of desire flowing between them. Kiho was clearly in control of this game, and Choi Hyuk could only watch, a frustrated voyeur to their escalating flirtation.

With a swift, effortless movement, Kiho reached out and gently lifted Dahyun onto the small table, her short skirt riding even higher, revealing the delicate lace trim of her underwear peeking out from beneath. Dahyun giggled, her hands instinctively reaching behind her to steady herself. Kiho, now standing directly in front of her, took the ends of her loosened tie in his hands. Instead of simply straightening it, he used it to gently tug her closer, her body sliding forward until her knees almost brushed against his thighs.

Kiho’s gaze swept over Dahyun’s face, lingering on her bright, expressive eyes, her cute, button nose, and the fullness of her lips. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her cheek. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

He then began to tease her delicate features, the back of his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her cheekbone. Dahyun shivered, her eyes fluttering closed for a fleeting moment. Kiho then trailed his fingers down to her lips, gently outlining their shape, feeling their softness. He lingered there for a moment, his thumb lightly pressing into her lower lip, making her part them slightly.

Moving lower, Kiho’s fingers danced along the slender column of her neck, pausing at the sensitive spot just below her earlobe, sending another shiver through Dahyun. He could feel her pulse quickening beneath his touch. “You feel that, Dahyun-ah?” he whispered, his gaze intent on her reaction. “That’s what you do to me too.”

Choi Hyuk, still watching through the crack in the door, felt a surge of intense jealousy. He could see the clear attraction between Kiho and Dahyun, the intimate way Kiho was touching her. He imagined being the one standing that close, feeling her soft skin beneath his fingertips, her breath warm against his face. His own body tightened with longing and frustration as he witnessed Kiho’s effortless charm and Dahyun’s clear enjoyment of his attention.

Without any further hesitation, Kiho leaned in, his lips crashing against Dahyun’s in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw and immediate, his mouth opening wide against hers, demanding entrance as his tongue slid deep into her mouth. It tangled with hers in a slow, wet, and utterly unrestrained exploration, a primal dance of saliva and heat. Dahyun gasped, a surprised sound that quickly morphed into a soft moan of arousal, her lips parting further to grant him deeper access. Their tongues met and swirled, a sloppy, intimate ballet that left no doubt about the intensity of their sudden desire. Kiho’s hands, which had been framing her face, now tightened in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the connection, his thumbs pressing firmly against her cheeks.

At the same time, Kiho subtly shifted his hips, the thick, hard length of his cock pressing insistently against Dahyun’s clothed mound. He began to rock his pelvis slowly at first, a deliberate grind that sent a visible shudder through Dahyun’s small frame. She moaned again against his lips, a deeper, more urgent sound this time, her hands leaving his arms to clutch at his waist, her own hips instinctively meeting his with a growing, frantic rhythm. The friction through their clothing was immediate and incredibly arousing, a blatant, insistent pressure that promised the even greater pleasure waiting beneath. He could feel the wetness already seeping through her uniform skirt, a clear sign of her quickening arousal.

Breaking the intense, wet kiss, both of them were breathing heavily, their eyes locking, glazed with lust. Kiho’s grip on her hair tightened for a fleeting moment before his hands dropped with a sudden, almost violent urgency to the buttons of her crisp white shirt. He ripped downwards, the plastic fasteners popping open and skittering across the table, the sharp sound echoing in the small room. The fabric parted dramatically, revealing the delicate lace of her bra, a flimsy white thing that barely contained the fullness of her perky breasts. Kiho didn’t hesitate, his hands immediately going to the soft mounds. He palmed them roughly, his thumbs rubbing hard over the delicate lace, feeling the unmistakable hardness of her nipples pressing against his fingertips. He squeezed, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Dahyun, her eyes widening in a mixture of shock and intense arousal.

Choi Hyuk, pressed against the slightly ajar door, felt his own cock throb with a desperate urgency. The raw physicality of Kiho’s actions was a brutal assault on his senses, igniting a firestorm of lust and envy within him. The passionate, open-mouthed kiss, the blatant, insistent humping against her clothed pussy, and the almost savage ripping open of her shirt sent jolts of pure, unadulterated desire through him. He could see the deep flush creeping up Dahyun’s neck, her rapid, shallow breathing, the way her eyes flickered between shock and an undeniable, almost desperate arousal. Kiho was moving with a possessive confidence that spoke of prior encounters, and Dahyun, despite the abruptness of his advances, seemed completely enthralled, her body already reacting in kind. Choi Hyuk’s jealousy coiled tighter in his gut, a burning ache that mirrored the intense throbbing in his own groin. He was a helpless observer, trapped just inches away from the explicit scene, his own desires a painful echo of the pleasure unfolding before his very eyes..

Without wasting another second, Kiho leaned down, his mouth opening wide as he latched onto Dahyun’s exposed nipple through the delicate lace of her bra. He sucked hard, drawing the sensitive nub deep into his mouth, his tongue flicking and swirling across its erect tip, eliciting a sharp, almost painful cry from Dahyun that she bit back against her lip. He repeated the action on her other breast, his teeth gently scraping against the fabric before his wet mouth enveloped it, alternating between deep, insistent sucks that made her gasp for air and teasing flicks of his tongue that sent shivers of raw, electric sensation coursing through her entire body. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, her head falling back against the table, her breath coming in short, ragged pants that echoed her mounting desire.

His hands, still grasping the edges of her now fully open shirt, slid lower, finding the hem of her short plaid skirt. With a sudden, forceful rip, he yanked it upwards, the fabric tearing slightly as it rode high on her thighs, revealing the thin, pale blue fabric of her panties stretched across her damp mound. Without hesitation, his fingers, already slick with her arousal and his precum, slid beneath the elastic at her hip, tearing the small garment with a sharp, decisive rip. The sound echoed loudly in the small, tense room, and Dahyun’s thighs instinctively parted wider, completely exposing her wet and swollen vulva. Her eyes flew open, meeting Kiho’s with a raw mixture of shock, vulnerability, and fierce, undeniable desire.

In the next instant, Kiho shifted his body, the thick, throbbing head of his fully erect cock pressing directly against her bare, slick pussy. The contact was immediate, intense, and undeniably visceral, a raw, primal connection that made Dahyun gasp and arch her back off the table, her body instinctively trying to grind against him, seeking more of that incredible pressure. A soft, wet moan, this time fully escaping her lips, rippled through the air, a clear, unmistakable sign of the incredible pleasure and overwhelming arousal the direct, skin-on-skin contact was giving her. Her hands slid from his shoulders to grip his waist, pulling him closer, desperate for the friction.

Choi Hyuk, his face pressed against the narrow gap in the door, felt a jolt of pure, agonizing lust shoot through him. The sight of Kiho’s mouth aggressively sucking on Dahyun’s bare nipples, the abrupt and brutal ripping of her panties exposing her vulnerable core, and then the undeniable bulge of his hard cock pressed so intimately against her wet pussy was almost unbearable to witness. He imagined himself in Kiho’s place, feeling the heat and slickness of her body against his own, hearing her unrestrained moans of pleasure directed at him. His own erection throbbed with a desperate, aching need, the sounds and sights emanating from the green room fueling his intense jealousy and a near-crippling level of arousal.

Without any hint of tenderness, Kiho’s hands clamped onto Dahyun’s hips, his fingers digging possessively into the soft, yielding flesh of her buttocks. He lifted her slightly, positioning her perfectly, and then, with a sudden, brutal thrust, he drove his thick, hard cock deep into her wet and unprepared pussy. Dahyun’s breath exploded from her lungs in a sharp, involuntary cry, a fleeting flicker of surprise and a momentary sting of discomfort crossing her face before being instantly overwhelmed by a rush of intense, almost shocking pleasure. She gasped, her eyes widening as Kiho’s substantial length filled her completely, stretching her tight, virginal walls with a satisfying resistance. She instinctively reacted, her long legs wrapping tightly around his waist, her heels digging into his back, pulling him in deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him buried inside her.

Kiho, without missing a beat, began to pound into her with a raw, primal urgency. His hips slammed against hers, the fleshy thud of their bodies colliding echoing loudly in the confined space of the green room. He drove his cock in and out, each thrust a deliberate, forceful act, plunging to the hilt and then withdrawing almost completely before repeating the deep penetration. Dahyun’s head thrashed against the table, her moans escaping her lips now with less restraint, growing louder and more insistent with each powerful impact. Kiho relished the slick heat engulfing his shaft, the tight, almost desperate grip of her inner muscles clenching and releasing around him with each frenzied movement. His gaze roamed freely over her body as he fucked her relentlessly – her short plaid skirt was hiked up around her hips, a tangle of fabric revealing the bare skin of her thighs and the torn remnants of her panties. Her crisp white shirt hung open, the popped buttons scattered on the table, exposing the delicate lace of her bra, now damp with sweat, and the tops of her heaving, gloriously full breasts, their nipples already hard and erect from his earlier ministrations. He briefly reached down, his hand cupping the weight of one of her perky boobs, his thumb roughly stroking her already sensitive nipple as he continued his aggressive assault, his movements becoming more frenzied, his own breath catching in his throat.

Dahyun’s initial shock had completely dissolved, replaced by an unrestrained wave of carnal pleasure. She met Kiho’s brutal thrusts with an equal, almost desperate fervour, her body bucking against his, her moans turning into cries of pure ecstasy with each deep penetration. Her hands clutched tightly onto his shoulders, her fingers digging into his back, her nails leaving faint scratches in his skin as she rode him hard, her head thrown back, her long neck exposed, her eyes half-closed and glazed with a haze of pure, animalistic pleasure. Her entire being was focused on the incredible sensations flooding her body, the intense stretching, the rhythmic pounding, the feeling of being completely filled by him.

Without pausing his relentless assault, Kiho suddenly gripped Dahyun’s thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks, lifting her with surprising strength while his thick cock remained firmly lodged deep within her slick pussy. Dahyun gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping tighter around his waist for balance as she was suspended in mid-air, still gloriously impaled. The change in angle was instantly electrifying, Kiho’s shaft now pressing against her G-spot with a more direct and intense pressure with each movement.

Kiho, holding her weight effortlessly, continued to thrust into her, his hips pumping with a renewed vigor as he carried her a few steps away from the table. Dahyun cried out, a breathless sound that was a mixture of surprise and heightened pleasure erupting from her lips. The feeling of being completely filled and suspended, moving as one with each powerful thrust, was overwhelmingly intense. Her head lolled back, her eyes squeezed shut, her grip on his shoulders tightening until her knuckles were white as she felt a new wave of sensation begin to coil deep within her.

To further stoke her rising pleasure, Kiho used his free hand to cup her bare backside, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit through the damp fabric of her torn panties. Dahyun’s whimpers grew more frantic. He then shifted his grip, sliding his fingers between her legs from behind, gently spreading her wider, allowing his cock to penetrate even deeper with each thrust.

The rhythm intensified, Kiho’s thrusts becoming deeper and faster, each powerful plunge sending shockwaves of pleasure through her core. Dahyun’s breath hitched, and she began to whimper and gasp in rapid succession, her body convulsing subtly with each forceful impact. A high-pitched moan escaped her lips, followed by another and another, each one laced with increasing urgency and a desperate need for release. Her inner muscles began to clench around Kiho’s cock, tighter and tighter, a frantic, involuntary squeezing that made Kiho grunt with satisfaction. Then, with a final, shuddering gasp that seemed to tear from the depths of her soul, Dahyun’s back arched, her body going completely rigid as a series of intense, pulsating waves of pure, unadulterated ecstasy ripped through her. Her first orgasm hit her with a force that made her cry out, a raw, unrestrained sound of pure, unadulterated bliss that echoed in the small room.

One of the sexiest idols in Korea, Kiho thought, a surge of pure dominance flooding his senses, millions of men fantasize about fucking her, and here she is, trembling and screaming her first orgasm on my cock. The memory of just yesterday, Jihyo’s soft moans and Momo’s wet sounds as they both trembled under his fingers, flashed through his mind, making his already rock-hard erection feel even thicker and more potent. He gripped Dahyun’s thighs tighter, his thrusts deepening with renewed vigor, reveling in the absolute power he held in that moment.

Kiho, feeling the incredible, tight contractions gripping his cock, continued to pump into her with a renewed intensity, relishing the feel of her climax washing over him, her wetness lubricating him even further. He could see the pure, unadulterated pleasure etched on her face, the tears that squeezed from beneath her tightly shut eyelids, the way her body trembled in his arms.

Without breaking their connection, Kiho gently lowered Dahyun until her hands rested on the edge of the table for support. Her skirt had twisted high around her hips, a chaotic mess of plaid revealing the bare curve of her lower back and the torn edges of her panties clinging precariously to one thigh. Her white shirt hung open, the flimsy lace of her bra now damp and clinging to the full curve of her breasts, their nipples still hard and sensitive. He gripped her hips firmly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks, pulling her back against his rock-hard length, the head of his cock teasing the wet entrance of her pussy. Her long legs trembled slightly, a visible sign of the intensity of her arousal.

Reaching forward, Kiho gently gathered a handful of Dahyun's soft, silky hair at the nape of her neck, the strands cool against his heated skin. He used it to tilt her head up, exposing the delicate line of her spine and giving him a clearer view of her flushed face and parted lips. He then positioned himself behind her, the thick, throbbing head of his member rubbing against the slick, swollen lips of her eager pussy, sending electric jolts through her already sensitized nerves. Dahyun whimpered softly, her hands gripping the table tighter, her anticipation a tangible thing in the air.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Kiho finally slid his entire length into her, filling her completely with a satisfying stretch. Dahyun cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that echoed in the small room. Kiho began to fuck her in the doggy style, his hips pumping with a deep, steady rhythm, his hands still gripping her hips, guiding her movements and controlling the pace. He could feel the incredible tightness of her slick walls clenching around his thick shaft with each deep thrust, her inner muscles milking him with a delicious intensity.

From his vantage point, Kiho had a perfect, unobstructed view of Dahyun's body. Her messy school uniform, the white shirt revealing the enticing swell of her trembling breasts, the plaid skirt a disheveled frame for her long, bare thighs and the glimpse of torn lace, only amplified her vulnerability and his dominant control. Her long, slender legs shook with each powerful thrust, and her soft, breathy moans filled the air, punctuated by sharper gasps as his cock hit just the right spot deep inside her. This was Dahyun of Twice, an idol worshipped by millions, and he was buried deep within her, fucking her hard, her body trembling with his every move, her pleasure his for the taking. The realization sent another surge of heat and power coursing through him, making his cock feel even thicker and more potent as he continued his relentless, pleasurable assault

Without breaking their intense rhythm, Kiho reached around, his hands cupping Dahyun's full, trembling breasts. His thumbs rubbed hard against her already erect nipples through the damp lace of her bra, eliciting sharp intakes of breath from her. He squeezed and kneaded the soft mounds, his fingers digging into her flesh as he continued to pound into her from behind. The sensation of his thick cock stretching her from within while his hands aggressively played with her sensitive breasts sent new waves of pleasure crashing through her.

“You like that, hmm?” Kiho grunted between thrusts, his hot breath hitting the back of her neck. “My cock buried so deep inside you, and my hands all over your sweet tits.” He squeezed one breast particularly hard, making Dahyun cry out. “Such perfect little things, aren’t they? Begging for a good squeeze.”

He continued to fuck her hard, his hips slamming against hers with a wet, insistent rhythm, all while his hands remained firmly on her breasts, “Tell me how good it feels, Dahyun-ah,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. “Tell me how much you love my cock inside you.”

Dahyun moaned loudly, her head thrashing back and forth, her hands gripping the table for dear life. “Oh, Kiho… yes… fuck me… it feels so good… so deep…”

“That’s right,” Kiho growled, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. “My cock belongs inside you, doesn’t it? And these perfect little tits belong in my hands.” He leaned forward, nuzzling his face against her neck while his fingers pinched and rolled her nipples, driving her closer and closer to the edge. “You’re so fucking hot, Dahyun. Such a good little idol getting fucked just the way you deserve.”

Suddenly, a sharp rap on the door startled them. “Dahyun-ssi? We need you back on set in five minutes!” a voice called out from the other side.

Kiho froze mid-thrust, his body still deeply embedded within Dahyun. Her eyes snapped open, widening in surprise and a hint of panic. Her hands, which had been gripping Kiho’s back, tightened instinctively. A soft gasp escaped her lips.

Choi Hyun, who had been glued to the crack in the door, flinched at the sudden sound. He quickly backed away from the door, his eyes darting around the room for another vantage point. Spotting a window partially obscured by a curtain, he silently rushed towards it, carefully pulling the edge of the curtain back just enough to create a small gap to see inside. He could still clearly see Dahyun and Kiho, now both frozen in their compromising position, Kiho’s hard cock still buried deep within her.

Dahyun’s chest heaved, her gaze flicking towards the door and then back to Kiho, her expression a mix of alarm and lingering arousal. Kiho, a smug look still on his face, leaned down and whispered something in her ear, his hand still firmly cupping one of her breasts.

From his hidden vantage point behind the partially drawn curtain, Choi Hyun’s breath hitched in his throat. Dahyun’s eyes darted from the door to Kiho, a flicker of panic mixed with a strange sort of thrill in her gaze. He could see the way Kiho’s lips were moving as he whispered to her, his hand still possessively cupping her breast.

Then, unbelievably, Dahyun took a step. Kiho didn’t budge, and Choi Hyun saw the subtle lift of her skirt, the awkward shift in her posture. He was still inside her. Choi Hyun’s jaw dropped slightly as she took another step, a barely perceptible wobble in her gait. With each movement, he could see the almost imperceptible clench of her thighs, a clear indication of Kiho’s continued presence within her.

She started to walk towards the door, and with every step she took, Choi Hyun saw the slight, almost involuntary thrust that rippled through her body. Kiho was fucking her with each movement, right there, in broad daylight, almost. The contrast between her schoolgirl uniform, now disheveled and revealing, and the blatant sexuality of the situation was a potent aphrodisiac, even through his jealous haze.

She reached the door, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for the handle. “Yes?” she called out, her voice a little higher than usual, a slight breathlessness to her tone that made his own cock tighten.

“Dahyun-ssi? We really need to get started on the next setup. Five minutes, okay?” the muffled voice replied from the other side.

Dahyun took a shaky breath. “Actually,” she said, her voice now sounding a little more composed, but still with that tell-tale tremor, “could you give me just… ten more minutes? I just need to… fix my makeup.”

There was a brief pause. “Ten minutes, Dahyun-ssi. But no longer, alright?”

“Yes, thank you so much!” Dahyun replied, a forced cheerfulness in her tone. She closed her eyes for a fleeting second, a small, almost imperceptible groan escaping her lips. Choi Hyun watched, mesmerized, as she then subtly shifted her hips, rocking them back almost imperceptibly to meet Kiho’s cock deeper inside her. Her movements were small, controlled, but undeniably sensual, and he could see the slight strain in her neck as she fought to suppress the moans that must have been building within her with each secret thrust. His own cock throbbed against his zipper, the sheer audacity and brazenness of their actions fueling his envy to an almost unbearable level.

Kiho, a wicked plan forming in his mind, subtly tightened his grip on Dahyun’s hips. Still deeply embedded within her, he began to take small steps, guiding her slowly towards the window where he had spotted the tell-tale flicker of movement behind the curtain. Dahyun, lost in the throes of her first climax, moaned softly, her body moving almost instinctively with his lead. She was so thoroughly consumed by the intense waves of pleasure still washing over her that she remained completely unaware of Kiho’s deliberate direction.

As they reached the window, positioning Dahyun directly in front of the gap in the curtains where he knew Choi Hyun was hiding, Kiho paused. Reaching forward with his free hand, he gently but firmly grasped a handful of Dahyun’s hair at the nape of her neck. With a slow, deliberate pull, he lifted her head, tilting her face upwards and towards the window, giving Choi Hyun a clear, unobstructed view of her stunning features, now flushed and beautiful in the throes of pure ecstasy. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted slightly as she gasped for breath, her expression a raw testament to the intense pleasure wracking her body.

Kiho, his eyes briefly meeting the barely visible shadow behind the curtain, felt a surge of triumph. He then tightened his grip on Dahyun’s hips once more and redoubled his efforts. He began to thrust deeper and faster, his cock slamming against her G-spot with each powerful stroke. Dahyun cried out, a mix of pleasure and surprise escaping her lips. Her body began to tremble anew, the aftershocks of her second orgasm quickly giving way to the building pressure of a second. Her hands gripped Kiho’s arms tightly, her nails digging into his flesh as she rode his increasingly frantic rhythm. Her head thrashed from side to side, her moans growing louder and more unrestrained, each sound a symphony of pure, unadulterated bliss unknowingly directed at their hidden audience. Her inner muscles clenched around Kiho’s shaft, tighter and tighter, and then, with a final, shuddering gasp, her back arched, her body convulsing violently as a third, even more intense orgasm ripped through her, her screams echoing in the small room.

Kiho finally released his grip on Dahyun’s hips, stepping back slightly after her third shuddering climax. Her legs instantly buckled, her knees going weak as the last waves of pleasure receded. She instinctively reached out, grabbing onto the edge of the table to steady herself, her body still trembling uncontrollably.

Her once neatly styled black hair was now a disheveled mess, strands sticking to her damp forehead and neck. Her makeup, no doubt meticulously applied for the camera, was now slightly smudged around her eyes, and her lips were swollen and red from Kiho’s intense kisses. Her crisp white shirt hung completely open, revealing the sweat-dampened lace of her bra clinging to her heaving chest. The short plaid skirt was twisted around her hips, barely covering her, and the torn remnants of her blue panties lay discarded on the floor. Her long, pale legs, now slightly shaky, bore the marks of Kiho’s rough handling, a faint blush evident on her thighs. This was Dahyun, the vibrant and beloved idol of Twice, now utterly undone, her usual cheerful composure replaced by a sated, almost dazed look.

That cock… it’s so thick and hard, Dahyun thought, her eyes, still glazed with lingering ecstasy, fixed on Kiho’s impressive member that stood just inches in front of her. A wave of heat washed over her again, a familiar ache settling in her core. Despite her weakened state, a powerful urge to taste him, to feel him in her mouth, took over.

Slowly, deliberately, Dahyun released her grip on the table and sank to her knees in front of Kiho. Her gaze never left his throbbing cock as she reached out a trembling hand and gently circled its thick head with her fingertips. It was still slick with her juices, and she could feel its powerful pulse beneath her touch. Taking a deep breath, Dahyun opened her mouth and slowly slid the tip in, her lips closing around the smooth, hard flesh.

Dahyun’s lips closed around the thick shaft, taking in as much as she could, her cheeks hollowing as she began to suck with a newfound eagerness. Her tongue traced the underside of his cock, flicking over the sensitive frenulum, making Kiho groan softly. She used her hands to cup his heavy balls, gently squeezing and then licking the taut skin, sending another jolt of pleasure through him.

Kiho, his eyes half-closed in bliss, suddenly flicked them open, his gaze finding the barely visible gap in the curtains where he knew Choi Hyun was still lurking. A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face as he watched Dahyun’s head bobbing up and down, her black hair swaying with the rhythm of her ministrations. Her beautiful, stunning face was now inches away from his engorged cock, her soft lips and tongue working magic on his stiff member. The contrast of her innocent idol image with the explicit act she was performing was incredibly arousing for Kiho, and he knew it had to be torture for Choi Hyun to witness.

Dahyun continued her passionate assault on his cock, her suction strong and insistent. She varied her technique, sometimes taking the full length into her mouth, other times focusing on the head, her lips and tongue working in perfect coordination. She occasionally glanced up at Kiho through her lashes, a playful, almost wicked glint in her eyes, before returning to her task with renewed enthusiasm, making sure to pay special attention to the sensitive underside and the thick veins that pulsed beneath her touch.

Dahyun’s lips closed firmly around the thick shaft, taking in his full length with a practiced ease that belied the earlier surprise. She began to suck with a fervent intensity, her tongue dancing against the underside, tracing the engorged veins with deliberate strokes that made Kiho groan and grip her hair lightly. Her hands, still resting on his thighs, occasionally squeezed and then moved to gently cup his heavy balls, her thumbs lightly rubbing the taut skin, sending shivers of pure pleasure through him.

As Kiho’s pace quickened, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts, Dahyun matched his rhythm, her head bobbing with a passionate urgency. He could feel the tightening in his groin, the unmistakable signs of his impending climax. He leaned back against the wall, his eyes half-closed in sheer bliss, relishing the incredible sensation of her mouth working its magic.

Then, it hit him, a powerful surge of pleasure that made him cry out. He bucked forward slightly, unloading his hot, thick semen deep into Dahyun’s eager mouth. He didn't pull away immediately, savoring the moment as his life force poured into her. Dahyun continued to suck gently for a moment longer before finally pulling back, her lips slick with his ejaculate. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of satisfaction and playfulness, a small smile gracing her swollen lips.

“That was… intense,” Dahyun said softly, licking her lips, a hint of Kiho’s semen still glistening on them.

Kiho chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a natural, Dahyun-ah.”

She giggled, a bright, airy sound. “Maybe you just bring out the best in me, oppa.” She reached up and gently wiped a stray drop of his semen from his chin with her thumb, her touch lingering for a moment. “Now,” she said, stepping back and picking up a tissue from the table, “I really do need to fix my makeup. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the fans, would we?” She turned towards the mirror, her movements no longer rushed, a quiet confidence in her demeanor as she assessed the slight smudges around her eyes.

Kiho watched her for a moment, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He then walked up behind her, his hands sliding around her waist and then up under her open shirt, cupping her bare breasts from behind. Dahyun gasped softly, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at their reflection in the mirror. Kiho’s thumbs rubbed gently against her nipples, which were still hard from their earlier encounter. He leaned down, his lips close to her ear. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” he whispered, his fingers now tracing the curve of her side, dipping slightly under the waistband of her twisted skirt. Dahyun leaned back against him, a small smile playing on her lips as she continued to examine her face in the mirror, seemingly unbothered by his lingering touch.

After a few more moments of enjoying the feel of her soft skin under his hands, Kiho finally stepped back, adjusting his pants. He gave Dahyun a final wink and then strode out of the green room, directly towards the spot behind the curtain where he knew Choi Hyun had been watching.

“Well, well, well, Hyuk,” Kiho said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction as he emerged into the warm parking lot. He stretched languidly, a picture of post-coital contentment. “Did you enjoy the show? I told you I had a way with these idols. Dahyun was… exceptionally enthusiastic, to say the least.” He chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “That tight little body of hers? Amazing. And that mouth… she knows how to use it, that’s for sure. Swallowed every last drop.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and casually flicking through his gallery until he landed on a recent, suggestive selfie Dahyun had sent him. He angled the screen slightly, just enough for Choi Hyun to catch a glimpse. “You know, Hyuk, you need to learn how to make these connections. It’s a whole different world when they’re actually… responsive. Maybe I can give you some pointers sometime.” He clapped Choi Hyun on the shoulder, his smirk widening, before heading towards his car, leaving Choi Hyun simmering in a potent brew of envy and frustrated desire.

[jaegeraether]

Unknown Territory (Alexia and Ridley) - 2

Sunsets and Footballers - ONE-SHOTS

(*1k*) - Lil one!

Masterlist (other parts here)

ALEXIA POV

As soon as they were in the car, Ridley took Alexia’s underwear out and twisted it around her wrist like a bracelet.

Alexia smirked to herself, knowing she enjoying this. Their little claims on one another. It’s something she never wanted or needed until that first moment she’d seen her in the bar, and at that moment, it had hit her harder than anything she'd ever experienced. The deep-rooted need she felt for her. And not only that, but the need for others to know.

Alexia was getting used to teasing Ridley at this point. She enjoyed it. In any other situation, in any other relationship, it would be a power-play. But it never was with them. It was just their way of expressing their feelings. Communicating.

As they drove, she saw the whites of Ridley’s knuckles as she gripped the wheel, knowing just how hard she was trying to be respectful and give Alexia her space.

But she didn’t want it.

They’d been apart for over a month, and only had a few days together. She wanted them to get as much of each other in during that time as possible. And both being so stubborn and lacking in the communication department, sex was the most pure way they could show their obsession for each other.

Alexia unclipped her belt and slid her dress as far up her thighs as she could get it, a little of her bare lower hip showing - the part that cut in where her underwear would usually be.

She held it there and looked over to Ridley who’d spotted it immediately, trying to cover a groan of frustration.

She sat there for a minute or so, letting Ridley really suffer while she admired her. Alexia was not at all the type of person to feel out of place in a relationship, but sometimes she did catch herself daydreaming at how it was possible that Ridley was hers. Even to the point where she was already thinking of their life and what it may look like beyond her footballing days.

She was completely and utterly hers. So why would Alexia just sit there needily, and not take full advantage of that?

“Nice bracelet.”

Ridley groaned, her eyes still very much pinned to the road outside to avoid Alexia’s body on show. “Lex..”

“I don’t think the wheel deserves to be strangled.”

Ridley rolled her eyes, but relaxed her hands slightly. Alexia reached over to claim one of her hands gently, lowering it to her thigh, just inside the knee.

"But I do."

“Lex..” This one was a warning. And that just made her want to push even further.

Alexia curled her fingers around the bicep of the Australian’s extended arm, her other hand over Ridley’s, ever so slowing dragging it down her inner thigh towards where she needed her.

“Alexia.” A harder warning now, but she didn’t stop. Ridley was hers, and she needed her… so she would take her.

Alexia continued to drag her hand down her thigh, her legs parting and without any pause, she guided Ridley’s hand and lifted her hips slightly, sinking down onto her fingers with a soft whimper.

“Fucking hell.” Ridley gasped in English, her eyes wide with surprise and lust. “Lex.. what the fuck are you-”

“You’re mine, and I need you.” Was all the explanation she gave as she started to rock onto her fingers, getting the penetration she needed.

Alexia closed her eyes and let her body follow its needs, her fingers tightening around her bicep and her face joining them, whimpering into the fabric of Ridley’s jacket.

She was slightly bouncing now, her hand ensuring Ridley’s stayed where she needed it. That pressure and angle just as she needed it.

“Lexi…fuck.” Ridley gasped, sending a tingle down her spine. She loved having such an affect on her. But she could also tell from the sound of her voice that she was looking at her.

Her head still pressed against Ridley’s bicep, she reached up to grab her by the jaw, twisting her head.

“Eyes on… argh.. the road. No spee…oh fuck… don’t s..peed.” She whimpered as she rode, the delicious sound of Ridley’s fingers in an out of her now louder than the tyres.

She braced her foot on the door and gripped onto her arm for dear life as she felt herself getting to the edge. She was only riding for a matter of minutes, but that’s all it ever took when it came to Ridley.

“….fuck…” she whimpered, her voice higher and more desperate than before as she reached the point where she knew she was about to cum. 

“You’re fucking perfect, Lex.” Ridley said, her voice strangled, her lips somehow finding her forehead to whisper. “Cum for me.”

Alexia heard herself agreeing desperately as she reached her end; the thrill of the car speeding down the highway, being in another country, seeing the woman she loved after a month, fucking herself using her hand. All of it contributed to her body tightening and pulsating around Ridley’s fingers. 

She was pretty sure she was breathing, most definitely crying out and even more certain that it was the best orgasm she’d ever had… in a car. She thrust a few more times, harder and deeper than the others just to drag out the feelings before her body relaxed into a state of bliss.

After a minute or so, she released her grip on Ridley’s arm, kissing her bicep and smoothly pulling her fingers out of her.

Sitting back in her seat, she clipped her seatbelt back on and readjusted her dress, meeting Ridley’s incredulous look.

“Where in the fuck did that come from?”

Alexia shrugged with a lazy, fucked-out smirk. “You’re mine and I wanted you.”

She enjoyed the look of Ridley’s mouth opening and closing, her jaw locking as they drove. Taking her hand, she sucked the taste from her fingers, watching her girlfriend’s eyes roll in need.

“Lee?”

“La Reina?”

“You can speed now.”

[glassartpeasants]

Supernova trio reacting to you cupping their cheeks and kissing them before saying, "I'm proud of you"

Characters: Luffy, Law, and Kid

GN!Reader

A/N: It literally came to me just now, and I needed to write it before I lost the motivation.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

~~~

Luffy:

It was just one of those days on the sunny, everyone was relaxing and enjoying not being shot at by marines or defending themselves by other pirates. Robin with her flowers, Nami sunbathing, Zoro napping in the warm sun while Brook played his music next to him. Sanji making drinks for everyone while Franky tinkered on the Mini Merry. Usopp working on new inventions while Chopper studied next to him.

The only one yet to be seen was your boyfriend, Luffy.

"Luffy! Hey, where are you?" You walked around the ship calling out for him, yet no response. He usually came to you after you even called his name. Was he below deck or up in the crow's nest?

"(Y/N)!" Just while you were thinking about where to look next, you hear the telltale sound of Luffy's sandals running at you at full speed. Turning around, you see your boyfriend lunging at you before wrapping his rubber body around you. Both of your fall to the ground on your butt.

"There you are! Where were you? I've been looking for you!"

"I was making something!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah! Here! It's for you!" Luffy untangled his arms from your torso before shoving a piece of paper to your chest. Grabbing it, you brought it to your face to look at it. You saw a drawn picture with you and him holding hands with the words "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" written on it.

"I made sure to give it my all!" You can feel your heart melting as you look at it.

Placing it down next to you, you move your hands to cup his warm cheeks. You rub your thumb along his cheekbone before leaning in to kiss him on the tip of his nose.

"I love it Luffy. It's perfect, I'm so proud of you." Luffy looked at his nose wide-eyed with a light red painting his cheeks before looking back up at you with a wide smile.

~~~

Law:

It wasn't uncommon for your boyfriend to be locked away in his office. Working and studying about anything and everything under the sun. He put his studies before his own health almost all the time.

It was hypocritical cause he'd chastise you if you did the same.

Despite that, you walked to his office with coffee and some onigiri just to keep him at least a bit healthy. A smile plastered on your face as you knocked on his door.

"Come in." Carefully opening the door to make sure you don't spill, you slip through without an incident.

"Hey, baby. I got you some coffee and snacks." You walk up to his desk and place the tray holding everything on the only unoccupied space left on his desk.

"Oh. Thank you (Y/N)-ya." You watch him grab an onigiri before taking a big bite, his eyes still focused on his paperwork. Walking up behind him, you place your hands on his shoulders and gently start to massage them. You feel him tense for a split second before letting out a sigh as he eased into your touch.

"What you working on?"

"I took a test and now I'mm correcting myself."

"And?" you see him place his pen down as he yawned.

"I got them all right." His long, drawn-out words had you giggling as you put your hands on his cheeks and moved his head so he had to look up at you. You gently took off his hat and placed it on some of the papers. He gave you a puzzled look at your actions.

"What are you-" Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on his forehead. You looked down at him and admired how the light framed his face from that angle.

"Well, I'm very proud of you for working so hard to get them all right." You can see the pink dusting his cheeks as he looks shocked to hear you say such things. He looks to the side to avoid eye contact as his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"Thank you..."

~~~

Kid:

The feeling of your brutish boyfriend holding you close as the two of you lay under the covers has a permanent smile on your face. You loved being in his arms and enjoying his touch. The safety he promised always scared away the nightmares that threatened your sleep.

Looking up, you see Kid with his eyes closed and his hair messy, no longer held up by his goggles. He looked so peaceful and contempt while he slept that you couldn't help but admire him.

"Enjoying the view?" You see him open an eye while a smirk plays along his lips.

"Very. What? Can't I admire my perfect boyfriend?" Rolling his eyes, you see the red creeping up along his neck and face. He always got so embarrassed when you complimented him. It was truly your favorite pastime.

"I simply like admiring my strong, handsome, decently smart boyfriend." You see the small look of offense appearing on his face at your last words. The feeling of him pinching your thigh had you yelping yet giggling.

"I'm kidding! Only a smart guy would be able to create such beautiful metal artwork and machinery." Using your elbows, you push yourself up so that you're face to face with him. His amber eyes staring directly into yours as he waited to see your next move.

Moving your hands to cup his cheeks, you kiss his lips passionately. You can feel Kid smirk as he kisses you back with the same amount of energy. His arm pulls you even closer, and you feel him rub his hand along your back.

Pulling away from his lips, you move a stray hair behind his ear as he pouted. The freckles that covered his face calling you to kiss every inch of his face. Your heart felt like it was gonna burst out of your chest with how much love you felt for him in that moment.

"I'm so proud of you, baby. No doubt in my mind that you'll be the King of the Pirates." His eyes widen at your words before red covers his entire face. The face that once held a smirk now soft as he took in your words. He moved his head to your neck just so you couldn't see how much your words affected him any more than you already had.

"I love you, Kid." You run your fingers through his silky hair as you hold him close. You feel him kiss your neck before mumbling against your skin,

"I love you too."

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Brant fucking our ass soo good squirt keeps gushing out of our pussy😼

“Brant—Brant, fuck—!”

Your voice cracked, high and whiny as his cock pounded into your ass from behind, big hands spreading your cheeks so wide you swore your back arched automatically just to keep up. You were face-down, ass-up, drooling into the pillows while your pussy squelched with every bounce—even though he wasn’t fucking it. Not directly, at least.

But the way he angled himself, the way his fat cock dragged against that spot inside your ass—it was sending shockwaves through you. Too good. Every thrust made your clit twitch, your body tensing, and then—

Gush.

Clear, messy squirt shot out of your poor, untouched pussy, soaking the sheets below you.

“Shit,” Brant growled, hips stuttering. “You squirtin’ again, sweetheart?”

You whimpered, nodding, your thighs shaking. “C-Can’t help it—your cock feels s’good, Brant—!”

He bent down over your back, licking the sweat off your shoulder, his voice deep and filthy against your ear. “You’re so damn cute when you make a mess. And look—” he reached between your legs, rubbing two fingers through the soaked mess between your thighs, “—your pretty lil’ pussy’s crying ‘cause she’s jealous, huh? Doesn’t like being left out.”

You gasped when he pushed his fingers inside your pussy while still slamming into your ass, giving you both at once. You clamped down hard—walls fluttering, ass stuffed full, pussy drooling and spasming around his fingers.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, mouth hot on your ear. “Cum for me again. Fuckin’ squirt all over my fingers while I wreck this tight little hole.”

And you did.

Again.

Harder than before—soaking his hand, the bed, everything.

Brant just chuckled, cock still grinding deep in your ass.

“Gonna keep goin’ until you’re not just squirting,” he whispered, “but sobbing for it.”

[supernotnatural2005]

The Full Circle

Pairing: College!Dean x Reader AU

Summary: A tale of mutual pinning, miscommunication and heartbreak. Will the reader and Dean finally figure it all out?

Word Count: 3.2k

Prompt: "Don't take me for granted!"

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angst, feelings are hard! Drinking, swearing.

AN: Okay so this one was a tough one 😅 i don’t know why i struggled so much with this prompt, i wrote like 5 different stories lol. But this is the one that stuck. Another square filled for @jacklesversebingo I hope you enjoy 💕 feedback is appreciated 💕

Main Masterlist

JVB Masterlist

The bass from the speakers thumped in rhythm with the nerves twisting in your stomach as you stepped through the door of Ash’s place. The apartment was already packed, the air thick with the scent of alcohol, cheap cologne, and the unmistakable energy of a party well underway. 

Charlie nudged you playfully with her elbow, grinning as she surveyed the scene. “Relax,” she said, noticing your anxiousness, you had been a little off lately and she thought this would be a good way to get you out of your funk. “We’re gonna have some fun tonight.” 

Fun.

You wished it were that simple. But you knew he would be here.

Your fingers clenched around the strap of your purse as you followed Charlie inside, weaving through the mass of people. The excitement of the party barely registered through the storm in your chest. 

You had been to countless parties before—hell, you’d been to plenty here at Ash’s place—but this was the first one where you felt like you didn’t quite belong. Because two weeks ago, you had made the biggest mistake of your life.

Or maybe it wasn’t a mistake at all.

“Hey, there’s my favourite new wingwoman!” Jo’s voice rang out, breaking through your thoughts. Her blonde hair was curled in loose waves, her wide grin easy and familiar as she pulled you into a hug. “Come on, I need you to help me school these idiots in beer pong.”

You smirked, letting the energy of the party pull you in. “Oh, absolutely. Let’s crush them.”

Jo clapped her hands together. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Ash appeared with a beer in each hand, passing one to Charlie. His lazy grin and signature mullet were as ridiculous as ever. “You guys made it. I was starting to think you bailed.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Charlie replied, already taking a sip.

Before you could respond, Jo grabbed your wrist and dragged you toward the beer pong table. A small crowd had gathered, cups already set up, the air buzzing with playful competition.

“You’re going down, Harvelle,” Benny taunted from the other side of the table, standing next to some unfortunate teammate who already looked nervous.

Jo scoffed, grabbing a ping pong ball. “That’s cute, Lafitte. Real cute.” She tossed the ball, sinking it in one shot. The group erupted in cheers and groans, and you laughed as Benny’s teammate sighed, already reaching for his drink.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to dominate the game, sending team after team packing. You felt lighter, almost giddy, as you landed another perfect shot, throwing your arms up victoriously.

Jo whooped, nudging your shoulder. “Hell yeah! That’s my girl!”

“Y’all are cheating,” Ash grumbled from the sidelines, shaking his head.

“Don’t be bitter,” Charlie teased, bumping his hip with hers.

You grinned, soaking in the moment, the warmth of alcohol settling in your veins, and let yourself relax into the atmosphere, mingling with your friends. The tension in your chest lessened—until you turned your head and saw him.

Dean.

The sight of him sent a sharp pang through your chest. He was standing near the kitchen, laughing at something Cas said. And Lisa was right beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her body angled toward him like he was her whole world.

Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t like you hadn’t known she would be here. But knowing and seeing were two very different things.

Dean’s eyes lifted, and for a split second, they locked onto yours. His smile faltered. The air between you shifted, invisible threads tightening and pulling. But then, just as quickly, he looked away, muttering something to Lisa, and your throat closed up.

Charlie must have noticed because she nudged you again. “You good?”

You swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

You weren’t.

The night pressed on, alcohol dulling the edges of your pain. You found yourself actually enjoying the party, letting the noise and laughter drown out the ache in your chest. You danced with Jo, took shots with Ash, and even managed to joke around with Cas and Meg. For a while, it was almost easy to forget.

Almost.

You had been on your way to the bathroom, the buzz making your steps lighter than they should have been, when you rounded the corner and nearly collided with someone.

“Whoa,” Dean’s hands shot out to steady you. “You alright?”

Your skin burned where he touched you. You stepped back quickly, shaking off the daze. “I’m fine.”

He hesitated, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

The question knocked the air from your lungs. You blinked up at him, surprised. “Talk?”

Dean’s jaw tensed, his green eyes searching yours. “Yeah. About…about that night.”

That night.

The words sent a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you—longing, regret, anger. The alcohol in your system made it impossible to shove them down this time.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, now you want to talk about it?”

His eyes darkened. “Come on, it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “You’re still with her, Dean.”

His lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but before he could, a voice called down the hall.

“Dean?”

Lisa.

Your heart clenched. You sucked in a sharp breath, brushed past him, and shoved the bathroom door open before locking yourself inside.

Your hands trembled as you gripped the sink, staring at your reflection. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes shining with frustration and something deeper, something you didn’t want to name.

After a little while spent calming yourself down, a knock came at the door. “Hey,” Charlie’s voice was softer than usual. “You okay?”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

“You sure?”

You exhaled shakily. “Yeah.”

When you finally rejoined the party, Charlie eyed you carefully before murmuring, “Dean’s been in a mood all night.” She took a sip from her drink, her gaze shrewd. “Something going on with you two?”

Of course she'd noticed the distance between you both, and it wasn't the first time she'd asked. But your answer was always the same.

You forced a smile, ignoring the lump in your throat. “Nope.”

Charlie didn’t believe you. But thankfully, she didn’t push.

You let the party swallow you whole again, pretending, just for a little while longer, that your heart wasn’t breaking all over again.

The night stretched on, the alcohol dulling the edges of your pain but not enough to make you forget the way Dean’s gaze found you every few minutes. It was never long, never obvious, but it was enough. Enough to keep your heart lodged in your throat, enough to make you reach for another drink each time you caught him looking.

You weren’t the only one getting drunker by the minute—Dean was knocking back beers like he was trying to drown something, and maybe he was.

The party carried on in full force. Jo and Ash had somehow convinced Cas, to do a ridiculous impression of his favourite movie character, which ended in him dramatically monologuing in his deep, gravelly voice about how “profound” love was while Meg cackled beside him. 

Someone, probably Jo, suggested a game of spin the bottle, and in your drunken haze, you let yourself be dragged into it. Dean was already sitting in the circle when you plopped down beside Charlie. Unfortunately, that put you right next to him. 

Lisa was on his other side, chatting away to him whilst you tried to ignore the close proximity. The way his knee brushed yours every so often, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, and the soothing warmth of his body heat. 

The dares started off innocent enough. Jo spun and had to take a shot off Charlie’s stomach, which ended in her nearly choking on tequila while everyone laughed. Garth kissed Benny, which neither of them seemed to mind. Meg was dared to whisper the dirtiest thing she could think of into Cas’s ear, and whatever she said had him turning an alarming shade of red.

Then Meg, drunk and mischievous, turned to Dean with a lazy smirk. “Alright, Winchester. I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

Your stomach dropped. The group hollered, whistling as everyone waited for Dean to do something. You braced yourself for him to turn to Lisa, to get it over with—but he didn’t.

Instead, before you could react, his lips crashed against yours.

The world tilted. The room faded. Your heart slammed against your ribs as his hands cupped your face, his lips warm and firm against yours. It was so wrong, but felt so, so right. Like everything you had ever wanted, everything you had been aching for since that night.

But then reality slammed into you—Lisa.

You pulled away, eyes wide, heart pounding.

The room fell silent, all laughter fading into hushed whispers. And then Lisa was climbing to her feet and rushing for the door. 

She was already halfway, her face set in a mix of hurt and fury, before Dean blinked, as if just realising what he had done, and immediately pushed himself to his feet, following after her.

A heavy silence settled over the room, but it didn’t last long.

“What did I say, huh?” Lisa’s voice rang out from the hallway, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Don’t take me for granted!” Lisa was furious, her voice shaking. 

Everyone winced. You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting painfully.

“You promised me nothing was going on!”

“Lisa, I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

You couldn’t listen to it anymore. You needed air.

Stumbling to your feet, you made a beeline for the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you gripped the sink. Your reflection stared back at you, wide-eyed and flushed, lips still tingling from Dean’s kiss.

Why did he do that? What was he thinking?

Your breath came uneven, chest rising and falling too fast. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was everything. The weeks of silence, the confusion, the guilt, the ache of loving him when you knew you shouldn’t. He had kissed you so easily, so thoughtlessly, in front of everyone. Like you were something he could just have. But then why had he let you go so easily after that night? Why had he stayed with her?

A knock at the door made you jolt.

“Y/N, it’s me.” Dean’s voice was muffled but unmistakable. “Can we please talk?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Go away, Dean.”

“Please. Just… let me explain.”

“Explain what?” Your voice wavered as you turned, pressing your back against the door. “That you’re still with her? That you let me believe I was just some stupid mistake? That you—” Your breath hitched, and you shook your head. “I can’t do this. Not here.”

You yanked the door open, brushing past him before he could stop you. The apartment felt too small, too suffocating. You needed to get out.

Charlie spotted you the moment you stepped into the main room, her brows furrowing as she saw your expression. “Hey, where are you—”

You didn’t answer, just shoved through the crowd, stepping out into the cold night air. The second the door shut behind you, you exhaled sharply, your hands trembling.

Charlie was right behind you. “Okay, what the hell happened in there?”

You let out a bitter laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walked down the quiet street. The cool night air did little to soothe the heat still burning under your skin. “I slept with Dean.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Two weeks ago.” The words tumbled out in a rush, your voice shaking. “We were drinking, talking, and it just… happened.” Your breaths came uneven, heart still racing from the disaster you had just left behind.

Charlie stared at you, processing. “Jesus Christ.” She ran a hand through her hair, looking torn between shock and exasperation. “I knew something was up. You two have been acting weird as hell. But this?” She let out a breath, shaking her head. “Shit.”

You swallowed hard, guilt settling deep in your stomach. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt,” you admitted. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I’m just so confused.”

Charlie softened. She could see the way your body trembled, whether from the cold, the adrenaline, or the sheer weight of everything, she wasn’t sure.

Without a word, she pulled you into her arms, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Okay,” she murmured. “Okay, deep breaths. We’ll figure it out. But first, let’s get you home, get me a strong-ass coffee so I can process all this, and then we’ll talk. Sound good?”

You nodded into her shoulder, blinking back tears.

The walk back to the apartment was mostly silent, except for the occasional sniffle from you and the way Charlie muttered something about “dumbass Winchesters” under her breath. Once inside, you changed into sweats, Charlie made her coffee, and then you told her everything.

You told her about how you had always felt about Dean, how it had never seemed like the right time, how you both kept dating other people as if that would fix things. You told her about that night, how you had been comforting him, the way he had opened up about his mom, who was sick, the drinks, the lingering touches that had turned into something more.

“And then I panicked,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I left the next morning because I didn’t know what to say, I felt so guilty. But then that afternoon, I went to talk to him. I was ready to apologise, to at least get everything out in the open.” You swallowed, throat tightening. “But then I saw Lisa going into his apartment. Like nothing had changed. And it stung. It hurt so much, Charlie.”

Charlie sighed, rubbing her face. “And he just… stayed with her?”

You nodded. “I waited for him to end it. To say something. But he didn’t. So I distanced myself.”

Charlie looked down at her coffee, then back at you. “I don’t know what to say, dude. Lisa isn’t exactly my favourite person in the world, she barely tolerates any of us, and yeah, Dean has been distant because of her… but she didn’t deserve that.” She met your eyes, her voice softer now. “Neither did you.”

You exhaled shakily. “I feel awful. But at the same time, I’m in love with him, Charlie. And it fucking hurts.”

Charlie reached across the couch, squeezing your hand. “I get it. And I get why you’re pissed, but… maybe you should let him explain.”

You scoffed, but before you could respond, a knock at the door had both of your heads snapping up.

Charlie arched an eyebrow. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You already knew who it was before Charlie even moved to open the door.

Dean.

He looked wrecked. His hair was a mess, his green eyes glassy, his jaw clenched like he was barely holding it together. “Is she here?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Charlie glanced back at you. “You wanna hear him out?”

You hesitated. But then you nodded.

Charlie stepped aside, letting him in before shooting him a glare. “Don’t be an ass.” Then she disappeared into her room, leaving the two of you alone.

Dean exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before meeting your gaze. “I fucked up.”

You swallowed; arms crossed protectively over yourself. “Yeah. You did.”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue but knew he had no right to. Instead, he took a slow step forward. “I need you to know that morning you left? It felt like a punch to the gut. I woke up, and you were gone. No note, no call, nothing. I thought… I thought you regretted it. That it didn’t mean anything to you.”

Your breath hitched. “That’s not… I just didn’t know what to say.”

Dean let out a shaky breath. “And that day, when Lisa came over… I was going to tell her. I swear. But before I could, she told me her grandma died. And I didn’t know what to do.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And then you started pulling away, and I just felt like I was drowning. I fucked up. I know I did. But I need you to know that it’s always been you. Since the moment I met you, it’s been you. I just… I was too much of a coward to admit it before.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Do you know how much that hurt, Dean?” Your voice cracked. “Watching you with her, waiting for you to say something, to do something—but you didn’t. And I thought I meant nothing to you.”

His face twisted in pain. “You mean everything to me.”

The weight of the night, the emotions, the months—years—of feelings left unspoken all crashed down on you at once. Your breath hitched, your vision blurred with tears as you sank onto the couch, your hands trembling as they covered your face. It was too much. All of it. The heartbreak, the confusion, the love you had carried for him for so long.

A moment later, you felt him. Dean knelt in front of you, his hands carefully wrapping around yours, pulling them away from your face. “Hey, look at me,” he whispered, his voice gentle but urgent.

You did. And the way he was looking at you—it made your breath catch. There was so much emotion in his eyes, so much love, so much regret.

“I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you since the first damn moment I met you. And I’m sorry. For everything. For waiting too long, for hurting you, for not being brave enough to do something about this sooner.” He swallowed hard, squeezing your hands.

“Lisa and I—we’re done. I should have ended it earlier; I should have never let things get this messy. But all I want is you. If you’ll have me, I’m yours. No more doubts, no more waiting. Just you and me. Always.”

A shaky sob escaped you as you stared at him, searching his face for any hesitation, any doubt. There was none. Just Dean, raw and open, laying his heart at your feet.

You didn’t think. You just surged forward, pressing your lips to his in a desperate, aching kiss. He responded immediately, his hands cupping your face, holding you to him like he was terrified you might slip away again. The kiss was everything—a promise, an apology, a confession all in one.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard, your fingers tangled together.

“Always,” you whispered, and the way his lips curved into a soft, relieved smile before kissing you again told you everything you needed to know.

AN: Okay this one was a little on the angsty side, but there was a happy ending right? for some... 👀😅 I just want to throw out there that I don't condone cheating, just adding a little flavour other than all around fluff for once lol. I hope you all enjoyed! 💕 Feedback is much appreciated 💕

Also did any of you get the Perks of being a wallflower parallel? 👀

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @shadysoulangel @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa

[mandowifey]

Deprication

Miguel O'hara x Reader

Miguel Masterlist

Drabble

Warnings: NSFW (reader is female and 18+), dub con/non con, captive reader, My miguel is a bad boy, not a good boy, aggressive miguel, he's a nasty lil mans, biting, blood, mentions of force, implications of ownership.

Had to get this out of my system. I did not proof read this!

× × ×

"When has running ever worked for you?"

The lab floor felt cold against your skin but compared nothing to the ice in Miguel's eyes. He stood over you, claws curled and red eyes searching. You hardly recognized him like this, feral and borderline beastial. With a groan, you shift in your position and attempt to sit up, ready to begin your apology when something sticky locked your wrist to the ground.

"Answer me."

You were trapped now. Even with one hand free, you'd never be able to claw the webbing off your skin without his help. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force a timid smile and look up towards O'hara's brooding form. "I-im sorry, I'm not sure what came over me. Just was being a little spontaneous." You laugh, but your nerves are shot and the unease is clear as day in your expression.

Miguel wasn't buying it, but he never did.

He dropped effortlessly into a crouch before you and shook his head. "We talked about this, kiddo. You don't try to run, and you don't get punished." Your breath draws in your throat as his large hands push your legs apart while he crawls between them. Miguel nudges your dress up your hips as his suit retracts over his pelvis.

"Im sorry," you whisper, tugging at your arm and watching him carefully.

"No, you aren't." The red dims from his eyes, but the callous expression remained. "Not yet."

Swiftly cutting your panties open with his claws, Miguel shifts himself into position against you. While you cannot see his cock, you knew how big he was from memory. The man drops his head to your neck and breathes in your scent, listening to you whine as he nudges your entrance. "Better relax." He licks your throat and nips. "Or don't. Doesn't matter to me."

The pain is searing. He bottoms out on the first thrust, filling your cunt excruciatingly full. Your head tilts as you scream, heat blossoming across your cheeks as he forces you to stretch around him. Your cry is cut short as his palm covers your mouth, muffling you as he sets a brutal and focused pace. Each thrust causing your smaller frame to bounce under him.

"There you go, just like that. Knew you'd come around." His voice grunts in your ear, his hips impacting yours bruisingly hard. Your free hand flails, grasping at him where it can and sinking your nails into the meat of his bicep. All you can do is take his cock while he used you like he owned you. Miguel gives a groan, smitten by how tightly you squeeze around him and how warm you are. He fucks with purpose, driving his cock with precision and knocking your cervix.

You can only scream against his hand, your pelvis taking the brunt of his assault. Stars pop behind your eyes, and in your dismay, you feel yourself rapidly rising. Miguel could smell it and shifted to sink his claws into the floor and begin rutting into you harder. "Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" He snaps his hips to yours, plowing your cunt relentlessly hard. As Spiderman, he had endless stamina and strength to use against you.

As your orgasm rose, you hit and pushed at his arm, trying to fight it. Even while he bullied your cervix, your eyes rolled back, and your body arched. You were chasing it now, your legs opening wide and hips angling to help him glide unhindered inside of you. It only took two more thrusts before you came crashing down. Clenching around him, you shudder as you burst, sobbing against his hand while you cum.

Miguel rocks harder, fucking you through it before he hunkered down and shoved as far as he could go. Snarling like an animal, his eyes close, and his mouth latches to your shoulder. Pain blooms as he breaks your skin with his fangs. He ruts twice more before stilling and shuddering. You can feel his massive cock throb within you, followed by the heavy, hot spurts of his cum drenching your innards.

Removing his hand from your mouth, he moves and kisses you hard. Blood smears between your lips, and he dips his tongue between your teeth, groaning as he keeps you two connected. He remains on you like that for a few moments before finally lifting his head and sitting up. Relaxed back on his knees, Miguel watches as he slowly slides out of you, smirking when you twitch and whine.

"Next time you run, I won't be so gentle."

[trashmouth-richie]

⋆·˚ ༘ * eddie x female reader

⋆·˚ ༘ * summary: what happens, when eddie makes plans without you?

⋆·˚ ༘ * tw: 18+ only, unprotected p in v! toxic relationship behavior, choking, reader is kind of crazy but it’s explained at the end, breaking shit, mean!reader, drinking, weed, knife use, pet names, nicknames.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 1.7k words, not proof read, pretend it is.

Saturdays were usually your nights together. Spending the night at his trailer because it was guaranteed that Wayne would be gone. 

But tonight Eddie said he had “plans with the boys”. 

So imagine your surprise when Robin called you up and asked why you weren’t at Steve’s party, but Eddie was?

The ten minute drive felt like sixty seconds of pure rage filled hell. You only saw red, steam shot from your ears like a cartoon. 

And when you pulled up to Steve’s enormous house, Robin was right, because Eddie’s van was sitting out front. 

Your blood boiled and your cheeks felt like fire. Heart hammering in your chest,  you slammed the gear shift into park before the car could even come to a full stop. 

You didn’t care that he was here with his friends, what you cared about was the normal posse of skanky girls who were at Steve’s parties, one strawberry blonde in particular that rubbed you every way of wrong. Chrissy.

She was always hanging on Eddie any chance she got, batting her eyelashes, acting dumb to get his help in math. You’re so smart she’d whisper to him— even though the straight F’s on his paper definitely didn’t stand for Fantastic. 

Jason had dumped her and rumor had it she was looking to get back at him the biggest way she knew how, and that was t getting with the freak. 

Your freak. 

The sharp black points on your heeled boots clicked along the sidewalk as you stalked towards the house whistling an angelic sort of tune, swinging the wooden bat by your side. 

Jonathan was outside the lavish home, smoking a fatty and leaning against the raised brick garden bed. Upon first glance he waved, all drunken smiles and lazy greetings. 

It wasn’t until he saw what was in your hand that he finally pieces it together, and you asked him sweetly to kindly get Eddie because you had a message for him. 

The driver's side window broke with little to no effort, a few swings and it shattered into a pretty spider web of splintered glass, covering Eddie’s driver seat. 

The whistled tune never stopped from your puckered lips. Not when you flicked open the pocket knife and punctured the rubber tires, or when you carved a long jagged scratch into the paint down the aluminum body. 

It wasn’t until you were standing on the hood of the van, crashing the bat into the windshield did you hear the front door to Steve’s swing open, music fading through the night with each body shoving their way through the door, gasping at your surprise gift for your boyfriend. 

Someone, Jeff, you think— hollers for Eddie and you plant your ass on the hood, leaving a dent for sure by the way you plopped down like it was a trampoline. With legs crossed and twisting the bat between your palms, you wait patiently for the man of the hour to finally arrive, a smile on your black painted lips. 

By now there’s a decent sized crowd, all gaping mouths and wide eyes, some laughing but mostly struck with fear out of the freaks girl. 

He walks down the concrete steps, his heavy boots thudding against the hard ground. You can see the muscles in his jaw tense from where you are sitting, his knuckles tighten into a fist and his shoulders broaden and angle back, like he's trying like hell, not to yell out right by the look of the destruction you caused to his van. 

“Hi baby,” you greet, sugary sweet like you just brought him balloons on his birthday, “having a fun night?”

Eddie is seething, nostrils flared as he tries to even his breathing, “what did you do Lil?” 

“What?” You ask, turning your body to look at the glass splintered on the windshield and smashed on the ground, “oh, you mean all this? It’s pretty right?” 

Eddie drags his tongue across the front of teeth, sucking in a breath, “you’re kidding right?”

Unhooking your crossed leg you slam your heel into one of his headlights, the satisfying crunch of the plastic pieces littering to the ground, you smile pretty up at him, but he doesn’t bat an eye, “oh Eddie,” you tsk, “I don’t like jokes… or being,” the tip of the bat hits the other headlight with a crunch, “… lied to.” 

“Fucking Christ, what are you even talking about?” Eddie spits as he looks to Jeff then to Gareth. 

“Really? Then why did Robin call to say you were here with that bimbo Chrissy?” 

The crowd ooo’s as Eddie stomps towards you, his face struck with anger, the browns of his eyes completely black as he glared down at you, his necklace still swaying as he leans forward into your space, only malice in his voice. 

“Time to go,” he grunts, grabbing the bat from your hand and tossing it to the ground, “now.” 

“Nah,” you say, looking past him and waving at Steve, he returns the wave with a confused look at a silent gasp at the look of Eddie’s van, “I’m just getting started.” 

Steve tries to push everyone inside shows over! Let’s go! But nobody budges, waiting for the train wreck, unable to look away. 

Eddie pulls you from the van by your feet, your bare ass skimming the hood as your skirt lifts up, sure to leave a burn, you land on your feet, waltzing over to aforementioned blonde and taking her drink from her, downing the horrific liquid in a gulp. She’s too stunned to speak as you twist back around to catch a glimpse of Eddie, shooting him a wink. 

The knife tucked into the cute holder on your thigh comes out with a flick. Flashing the steel blade to Eddie, you wink before whipping back around to Chrissy just in time to catch her ponytail between your fingers. The knife cuts through her hair like a shear, close to her scalp beneath the emerald ponytail, her golden locks fisted limply in your hand. 

The scream she lets out is blood curdling and ugly, but you don’t mistake the laugh coming from Robin or Steve as Chrissy runs inside, her cheer squad hurrying behind to help their friend. 

“Wait! You forgot this!” You say shaking the blond strands towards the door, “I’m sure some glue or tape will hel—”

You're caught off guard as Eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist and starts dragging you away from the party back to his van. He wiggles the knife from your fingers and closes it on his hip, shoving it into his jacket. 

The smile never left your lips, not even when your shoulder blades rest against the side of the van as Eddie crowds you in. 

“Jesus Christ you’re fucking crazy, y’know that?” his words are mean but there’s a hint of something else on his lips, a smirk.

Your fingers move to his belt buckle, threading it through itself as you look up at him through your lashes, “you love it.” 

His eyes roll tk the back of his head, and he takes a deep breath, animalistic instinct kicking in as you suck his thumb into your mouth. 

“Fuck.”   

Your thighs are wrapped around his waist in two seconds flat. He grunts as his thick fingers glide through your wet heat, finally noticing you weren’t wearing any panties he groans guttural and low. 

His hand wraps around your throat and he smiles as you gasp for a little breath, eyes rolling into your skull as he cants his hips forward and his thick head pushes through your walls, filling you full. 

Your lips attach to his neck, licking and biting hard enough that your teeth marks will bruise a perfect dental record into his skin. A nice match for the red lips tattooed on the left of his neck, an identical mark to yours. 

“Shit,” he groans slamming into you harder and harder, shaking the van on its flat tires, broken glass hitting the ground like hail. “Always so fucking tight for me baby, fuck I love your pussy.” 

You’re mewling into him, inhaling his words as he bites your lip, licking the blood from them and running it over his teeth. 

The front door opens and shuts but neither of you stop, not even when the sobs from Chrissy get closer as her friends bell her into their car, parked right behind Eddie’s van. 

Eddie’s face is buried into your neck and you catch Chrissy’s blue teared stare, horror on her face as you and Eddie both moan. “Mm fuck,” you say to her, eyes boring into hers, “like what you see, Christopher?”

The screaming huff from her mouth is  heard around Hawkins as she slams the door to Heather's car, tires screeching as they tear out of Steve’s driveway. 

Eddie chuckles into your skin and shakes his head. A smile on his face as he kisses you hard, pumping into you harder and before long you're both coming and moaning into the night, completely lost in your own world. 

Later that night in Eddie’s bed, you're tangled naked and fresh from a shower beneath soft cotton sheets. His hands lazily work up and down your back, your arm propped up beneath your chin on his chest, “so, I did good, right?”

Eddie laughs and blows a ring of smoke into the air, “you were perfect my little vixen, I could barely contain myself when you were sitting on the hood like that, looked so fucking sexy, wanted to fuck you right there.” 

You both laugh at the theatrics of the night, and you remember something that’s missing, “gonna need my knife back by the way, feels weird without it.” 

Eddie points to his jacket crumbled on the floor next to a mountain of discarded clothing and leather boots, “it’s in my pocket, just keeping it safe.” 

You roll your eyes with a tease and slither from the sheets, bare skinned beneath the yellow warm lamp, the jacket feels cool in your hands, silk pockets gentle on your fingers as your grab your knife and pull it out. 

Examining it in your fingers it truly was the perfect gift from the man you adored, etched into the handle, a script he cut himself, “to my Lilith.” 

liked this? consider a reblog like and comment! thanks for reading

another story in the same lilith au - here & here

[tallulah477]

Fill Me Up

Kinktober Day 15: Size Difference

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Oral (female receiving), P in V, Size Difference, Belly bulge, Creampie, Mention of free hanging over a tall height (not sex related), Very brief mention of possibly falling to one’s death

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Guess who has full use of her account again babyyyyyy! Now no one's comment sections or asks are safe. Thank you, tumblr, for finally fixing the glitch after a week. Anywho~ fic is late (again), but I hope you enjoy it <3

Summary: There’s plenty of things Neteyam loves about how tiny you are, but none of them can compare to how you feel wrapped around his cock. 

Translations:

Tewgn - Loincloth

Yerik - Animal resembling a gazelle or antelope

Tawtute - Human

Palulukan/Thanator - Apex predator resembling a lion or panther

Nantang - Hyena/wolf-like animal

Tanhì - Star, bioluminescent freckle

Neteyam’s favorite thing about you is how tiny you are compared to him. 

When he first saw you, you captured his attention completely. He had been hunting a yerik near the human outpost, his body hidden in the foliage behind the cover of some nearby plants, bow drawn at the ready to take his shot. 

A rustle on the opposite side of the small clearing grabbed his attention, halting his movements, and the yerik lifted its head slightly from where it had been nibbling on some bits of tree bark. 

You slowly walked through the brush, tiny hands lifted up to show that you meant no harm as your eyes stayed glued on the yerik. Neteyam watched in curiosity as you slowly approached the animal, moving cautiously, careful not to startle it as you moved closer. To his surprise, the animal let you. Deeming you no threat, the animal went back to its snack and didn’t move an inch when you reached out to place a delicate hand on its blue striped skin. 

Your smile, even through your mask, was blinding and Neteyam’s eyes widened as the sound of your giggle hit his eardrums. He thinks that was the moment he fell for you completely - just watching you admire your small hands on the larger animal’s back. He watched you the rest of the afternoon, leaving his hunt behind and stalking you through the forest as you studied various plants, taking samples and shoving them in a small backpack slung over your shoulder. 

He learned you worked closely with the human scientists, were one of them actually - ‘a very smart xenobotanist’ his father had told him when he asked. He had never seen you before, always choosing to avoid the cramped and all too chemical smelling lab and making sure to stay outside when he would be sent to get Lo’ak and Kiri during their visits with Spider and Kiri’s mom. 

What a mistake that was, he had thought. 

When he finally got the courage to meet you face to face, he was worried you were going to panic about the size difference. He stands at a respectable 9 feet tall, towering over your smaller frame at nearly twice your height. His build is even bigger than most Na’vi as well, a benefit from having some human genes courtesy of his once human father. His body is lean and long like a Na’vi, and there’s no denying that the average Na’vi is incredibly strong, especially compared to humans. But the muscles in his shoulders, arms, and back are much more visible than the average Na’vi, his thighs bulkier in their strength, and he knows the look makes him seem even more intimidating than he actually is. 

But you don’t react the way he thinks you might, and is shocked even more when he presents you with the small woven bracelet adorned with polished beads that he made you as a courting gift and you don’t immediately throw it back at him. 

Instead, you take the gift graciously, holding it to your chest like it’s something precious. He watches with wide eyes as your own scan down his body, slowly taking in the angles of his face, the dip of his collarbones, the hard canvas of his chest and down the flat plane of his belly. They hover a bit longer around his tewng, your tongue poking out to wet your lips, and when your eyes flick back up to meet his, they’re completely blown - only a small sliver of color left around the darks of your pupils. 

The smirk gracing your beautiful, plump lips is absolutely wicked. 

Being with you comes with different expectations than being with a Na’vi woman. You need help, a lot - your tiny tawtute body is not equipped to handle the extreme environment that Pandora throws at you. Neteyam can navigate the terrain just fine, stepping over fallen branches or large growths of shrubbery, jumping large rocks and creeks like it doesn’t even phase him to do so. Because it doesn’t, his body was made for it. Yours, on the other hand, was not.

So Neteyam does his best to help you out. He’d carry you around all the time, if it were up to him. He doesn’t mind. Loves it even - loves the feel of your soft body against his as you cling to him. So small and easy to carry, arms wrapping around his neck while his big hands support your thighs as you hang on him like the small backpack you were wearing the first day he saw you. 

But you’re a stubborn woman. An ‘I can do it myself’ kind of woman, and, even though each journey without him carrying you takes significantly longer than when he does, he doesn’t mind, enjoying every additional second he has in your presence. He’ll hold your hand, or give you a supportive hand on your butt to lift you up and over any obstacle, because you’re just so beautiful with that proud grin on your face when you’ve accomplished something hard. 

He likes to tease you, using his height to his advantage. You’re notorious for stealing the last few bites of Neteyam’s yovo fruit. Your excuse is that since you’re the one that cut it, you should be able to have some too. Neteyam always agrees with this fact, but you knock back bite after bite with the desperation of a hungry thanator, and when it comes to the end of the bowl and he’s only had a few pieces himself - he knows exactly how to put a stop to your yovo fruit destruction. 

“Neteyam,” You whine, jumping up and trying to reach his arm to pull the bowl back down. His arm stays solid where it is as he pops another bite of fruit in his mouth. “Give it back! I want some,”

“You ate the whole thing already,” He laughs, grabbing your reaching hand with the one not currently holding the bowl and pressing it back against your chest. “My little hungry palulukan, let me eat some, yes?”

He makes up for his ‘inexcusable use of his gargantuan height’ by cuddling you after, wrapping his entire body around yours as he pulls you close. You feel so safe in his embrace, protected from everyone and everything who could ever try to hurt you. Just let them try to come and grab you from his unwavering hold - your big, strong teddy bear who’s flat nose presses against your neck, docile and sweet with his shielding hold around his love, turning fierce and wild at the first hint of any danger. 

He loves your curves, loves how soft and squishy you are compared to everyone else. The Na’vi women are all lean, hard muscle, beautiful in their own right - but you, your hips that mold under his fingers, plump chest that feels so good under his head when he rests on it, small fingers playing with his braids that lull him to sleep. No one can compare to you. 

And he loses his breath when he thinks about how much you trust him. He’s your protector, he knows that more than anyone. He would lay down his life for you in a heartbeat, fight tooth and nail to keep you safe from anything - but you have these . . . adrenaline rushes. Moments where you can’t help but want to feel a sense of excitement and the feeling of complete freedom that comes with it from doing something daring. You're able to contain it mostly - it’s not like you’re jumping off mountains or cliff diving into the freezing water. 

You like to test him, try to catch him off guard by climbing on tall rocks or on the lower tree branches and throwing yourself at Neteyam giggling like a nantang about to attack. He always catches you, arms wrapping safely around your smaller frame and never letting you hit the ground. The antics used to scare him, prompting him to give you long, frustrated lectures about how he’s responsible for your safety and you shouldn’t purposefully put yourself in dangerous situations. But you would just shrug him off, heart still beating faster in your excitement and tell him that he should just always be there to catch you then. 

Now, he helps you get your fill - laying on his stomach on a high tree limb as he slowly lowers you over the side, large hand wrapped securely around your forearm while your own hand wraps around his wrist. He lets you dangle there, suspended in the air over nothing but what would be a long drop and a rather nasty death if you actually fell. But he would never drop you, and the look of pure thrill and happiness on your face as you hang there overlooking the vast expanse of forest and feeling like you’re invincible always makes his chest flood with warmth. He especially loves it when you look up at him and grin, reaching up to grab his wrist with your other hand, too, and playfully kicking your feet, swinging slightly and using his arm like your very own personal swingset. 

But his favorite thing about your size is how tight you feel wrapped around him. 

You look so gorgeous, laying on the forest floor and spread out for him like the delicious feast you are. Your back arches, breasts jiggling with each movement as you grind harder against his face. He sucks savagely at your clit, two fingers curling just so inside of you, pressing against that special spot that makes you see stars.

“Neteyam, please,” You whine, leg lifting up to drape over his shoulder, trying to pull him closer. 

“What’s wrong, tanhì?” He murmurs, voice sending vibrations through the sensitive nub between your thighs. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks up at you through hooded lids, the usual amber of his irises nearly completely overtaken by the darks of his pupils.

“Stop teasing,” You breathe, walls clamping down tightly around his fingers. His head looks so big between your thighs, his fingers thick and long where they’re thrusting inside you. “Just put it in already. Want you to fill me up.”

“You’re not ready,” He says, sounding drunk as he breathes in your arousal. “Need to stretch you out more.”

“I’m not an amateur,” You grunt, glaring down at him. “I’m stretched out enough,” 

His eyes stay locked on yours, unamused at your little tantrum even as he gives your clit another firm lick, textured tongue swiping across the swollen nub as pushes his last finger into your drenched cunt. You whimper at the stretch, humping his fingers and face as you chase your orgasm. You feel so full already, so full with only three fingers and it's not enough. Not enough when you know just how full you’ll really feel with his cock inside you. His long, hard, thick, beautiful cock that he’s currently pressing into the ground but that should be pushing into you instead. 

The coil in your belly tightens, and your fingers grip onto his hair, pulling the braids tightly as the pressure bursts and you cum, squirting all over his face and thrusting fingers. He works you through your orgasm, fingers digging into your sopping hole and lips attaching to your clit as you ride it out. Wave after wave of pleasure rushing through your body as you scream. 

When your orgasm subsides, he pulls his fingers from you, ears perking at the wet noise your pussy makes as it tries desperately to stay clinged to him. You pant, pushing yourself up on your elbows as you watch him kneel in front of you - large body blocking the setting sun behind him and you watch in awe at how he can look so beautiful in his orange glowing halo. 

His skilled fingers untie his tewng, pulling it from his body and letting his hard cock slap against his belly. Your mouth waters at the sight. It stands proudly, tall and thick and nearly the size of your forearm - dark blue stripes and sparkling tanhì decorating the shaft all the way up to the lilac tip that’s already dripping with precum. 

You want it inside you so badly. 

He moves to crawl over you, lips pressing reverently against your neck before you pull back, mischievous smirk on your face as you crawl backwards away from him. 

His hairless brows furrow at your distance. “Ma y/n, what is wrong?”

“You’re so mean to me,” You tell him, scooting back even further as he tries to get closer to you. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m mean to you?”

“Mhm,” You hum. He moves closer again, faster this time as he tries to cage you under him, but you scramble away again. “I beg and beg for your cock, and all you do is deny me.”

“I’m trying to give it to you now,” He huffs.

“Well, what if I don’t want it now?” You say with all the attitude you can muster, and your heart pounds in excitement at his dark glare.

“Woman,” He growls, a wicked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Come here,”

With lightning quickness, he grabs your ankles and pulls your body towards him. You squeal at the sudden movement, giggling as your body flops when he manhandles you into the position he wants. He flips you over onto your stomach, gripping your hips and dragging your lower half up so they’re flush against his. One of his hands finds your upper back, pushing you down further into the moss covered ground and pinning you against the forest floor. 

You moan when you feel his cock slide through your slick folds, gathering your wetness on his length as his tip bumps rhythmically against your clit. 

“You don’t have to be a brat, tanhì,” He says, his grin audible in his voice as he rocks his hips, and your breathing hitches when the head of his cock catches on your entrance. “You know I’ll always give you what you want.”

You whimper desperately as he starts to push inside of you, large cock bullying its way into your tight pussy. The stretch is glorious, your body molding to take his length, and the burn making your mouth fall open in a silent scream as he pushes in further, inch by inch - and it feels so good, so fucking good and you cry for more, cry for faster despite the fact that you feel like you might split in half.

He ignores you, pushing into you at the pace that he wants, not you. And you both let out satisfied moans when he’s finally buried deep inside you. You feel like he’s in your guts and a large dopey smile graces your lips at the thought of your body being completely used by him, any and all important body parts and organs pushed to the side to make space for his even more important cock. 

You can feel yourself dripping on the ground beneath you, long lines of slick dripping from off your clit and onto the moss below. The burn has subsided into a dull pleasure, and your eyelashes flutter as Neteyam adjusts his stance behind you, leveraging himself onto one knee with one foot planted on the ground. Your pussy clings to him as he pulls halfway out, not wanting to let even an inch of him leave your tight heat, and you gasp when he slams back in.

“What happened, baby?” Neteyam teases, pulling back out and pushing in again, your eyes crossing when you feel his tip kiss your cervix. “You had so much to say earlier.”

“Nughh, f-fuck,” You whine. 

You can do nothing but take it as he thrusts into you, fingers so tight on your hips that you know there’s going to be bruises afterwards. His cock drags against your walls, balls slapping against your clit with each thrust, and sparks of pleasure shoot up your spine. Your hands try to find purchase on the ground but can’t find anything to grab onto, and your fingernails dig into the dirt just to do something. 

Your second orgasm is quickly approaching, the intense stretch and constant battering against your cervix combined with Neteyam’s husky voice in your ear grunting ‘you feel so tight, baby. Feel so good. Fuck,” pushing you closer and closer to that sweet edge of bliss that you’ve been craving ever since you dragged Neteyam out here. 

“Teyam, g-gonna c-cum,” You whimper, and in an instant he drags you up by the back of your neck, hand sliding around to the front of your throat to keep you pressed against his sternum. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna cum?” He asks, huge hand moving to caress the large bulge now visible in your belly. “Gonna cum for me, tanhì?”

You whimper at the contact and your hand drops to massage at your throbbing clit. “Please! Please, I’m so close. So fucking close,”

“Shh,” He says, hand gently rubbing the jumping bulge as he continues to rock into you. “Cum for me, baby,”

You scream, pleasure ripping through you when his hand presses down hard on the bulge. Your orgasm rips through you like a freight train, your hand rubbing furiously over your clit as you squirt all over the ground below you. He roars as your pussy clenches and pulses around him, drenching him in your essence, and with only a few extra thrusts he’s cumming too, spilling into your warm, tight, tawtute body and filling you up to the brim with his release. 

It’s too much for you, too much and too hot as he paints your insides white. He’s still cumming even when you're full - his release spilling out of you from around his cock and mixing with your squirt in a puddle. You shake and twitch in his hold, a long hum of satisfaction ripping from your throat as your eyes roll back into your head. 

You can hear him panting into your ear behind you, trying to recover from his own explosive orgasm, but he’s ready all the same when your body goes limp in his hold. He picks you up, carefully pulling your exhausted body off of his cock, and his strong arms cradle you to his chest. 

“Just sleep now, ma y/n,” He says, gently brushing a strand of sweaty hair away from where it's stuck to your mask. “I’ll take care of you,”

A sleepy smile graces your lips and you let yourself fall asleep without argument. You know he’ll take care of you. He’ll always take care of you. Neteyam Sully - fierce Omatikaya warrior, eldest son of Toruk Makto, your protector, your lover.

And the man who can fill you up like no other.

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @teyamshuman