#let alone showering and watering the cows

[southislandwren]

are you guys normal or do you spend your evenings stressing out so much about your future you start researching how much it costs to drill a well

[candywife333]

One of the guys

pairing: OT7? alphas X chubby wingwoman HYBE counselor Y/N (omega in hiding)

NEW MINISERIES (almost resembles a series of just drabbles)

Summary: She's the man. No literally. She totally is. At least in the perception of everyone at HYBE. She hangs out with the guys like a pro , strategizes with them to get them any girl of their choice, gets rid of their one night stands with ease, convinces their FWBs to leave them alone, provides constructive criticism about their sexual techniques, and even counsels them when they are having mental breakdowns. In essence, she makes MEN out of boys. Is that her job description? Not exactly. But she does it anyway. Because Y/N just happens to be one of the guys.

Warning: cursing, crude language, eventual smut

PART 2

"Y/N!!!! Y/N?!!!! PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR. I NEED YOU!! I AM GOING TO BLOODY DIE OTHERWISE!! PLEASE GIRL, OPEN THE DOOR AND I WILL GIVE YOU MY FIRST BORN CHILD". y/n scoffed as she heard the ruckus outside of her door, first born child? What was she the antichrist, or a demon? The closest to that she ever got was using cow placenta face masks on a Sunday and babysitting her niece.

She opened the door in bewilderment adjusting her thick specs, goddamnit, the constant disguise got on her nerves some days. She stared up blankly at a perspiring, anxious looking Namjoon who was frothing at the mouth. "Sure Namjoon, come in and while you are it, why don't you tell me why you want to sacrifice a squealing, diaper pooping little human being to me? Maybe we can work that into a schedule".

He sat on the comfy couch on her office, as she blew out her lavender aromatherapy candle, turning off her zen bamboo lights. He blurted without preamble in a nervous frenzy, " I am not able to take my penis out of my foreskin ".

Y/N was the only one he would ever come to with such a concern, because she wouldn't laugh in his face and judge him. Y/N tapped her floral pen on her stationary sheet and wooden pad. Her tapping brought his attention to nails painstakingly painted pale pink color with a pink diamond ring surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds on her left hand that twinkled in the dim light. That was new. He never had noticed those on her before.

She calmingly inquired, "Are you on any medication Namjoon? Any antidepressants or heart medication, or did you ingest any herb recently"? Namjoon stuttered, somewhat soothed by her expressionless, blank face, "No. Not that I know of". She continued asking him, "Were you getting your morning erections and any nocturnal ones prior to this? And also, do you have diabetes or atherosclerosis"? As he answered negatively to all these questions, Y/N sighed. Then she quietly asked, "Do your regularly clean down there, with soap and warm water"?

Namjoon froze. "Ex--x-xcuse me"? Y/N sighed again, she rephrased , "To your own knowledge, do you clean up every time you have a shower down there by retracting back your foreksin from your penis and washing it with at least some warm water". He remained silent til he gasped out ," Yes ....I think I do ". Y/N put down her clipboard , keeping her hands on her thighs, looking directly in his eyes.

"You have a few options Namjoon. Either you can go to the clinic a few blocks away, and get it checked out by the urologist, who I can notify regarding your complaints. And he will get it figured out. Or, I will have to examine the situation since I am a licensed psychiatrist (a doctor nevertheless)".

Namjoon sat there in confusion, Y/N was a licensed psychiatrist, an actual doctor? Since when? So, her counseling idols was the usual for her? Then it all made sense. So that is why nobody had to actually go outside of HYBE to get basic medication/psychiatric medication prescriptions. That is why the prescriptions would always be written in her loopy cursive handwriting.

Then he realized he had to answer her. He decided to let her examine, as embarrassing and humiliating as it was. He didn't have time with the upcoming showcase the day after tomorrow to run to an urologist. "Please examine me y/N".

She nodded in assent and told him to get on the examination table which had been lined with a long white sheet. She turned on a circular examination light told him, "Take your pants and underwear off, and lie down flat on your back. I will examine you, so let me know if I am hurting you. I will stop or be more careful if that is the case".

She turned around , her back briefly facing him so that she could get sanitize her hands before placing gloves on. Namjoon noticed a protruding mass wrapping around her long baggy shirt. Did she by chance, have a big ass? It was a little silly to think that way, but they had never seen her in anything else. And her specs occluded her face, so they couldn't tell what she looked like without them.

Y/N took off her tinted glasses, and low and behold, Namjoon was starstruck as he saw her beautiful face. She had the biggest eyes and a classic round face, with beautiful lips the color of carnations. He was so distracted at her gorgeousness, he didn't realize she was trying to retract his penis from his foreskin. He erupted loudly, "OWWWWW. PLEASE STOP". She held his member more gently as she sighed, stating in a placid manner, " You have to clean down here a little more frequently Namjoon. After sexual intercourse, when in the shower regularly, and especially after a workout. This is called smegma, this white stuff. And it is basically dead skin cells that don't get cleaned off and build up as gunk. Let me get some saline solution and a pair of artery forceps and I will try slowly retracting it".

Namjoon blushed in embarrassment. Y/N took some saline solution on a gauze pad and gently started working it around his penis , making him slightly wince due to the sensitivity. Y/N internally sighed. Thankfully she didn't need to use artery forceps to pull it down. After dislodging the smegma, she was able to pull his skin off of the penis. It took some more time than usual, because there was a good amount of buildup and the man had a big D. Surprise, Surprise.

After fixing the situation, Y/N motioned for him to dress up once again. Namjoon, looking less stressed, but still flushed from the somewhat humiliating experience thanked Y/N, " I am so sorry to waste your time Y/N". Y/N waved away his concern, "That's what I am here for man. Just make sure to regularly clean that area with warm water okay"? Sheepishly smiling in agreement, Namjoon, taking a seat gingerly at the edge of the sofa.

Nodding reassuringly at him, Y/N concluded, "If that will be all, then I will talk to you later. Please let me know if you have any concerns later on, and I can help you out".

Namjoon walked out breathing a sigh of relief, that his problem was easily resolved even though he was mortified that she had to see something so intimate. He shouldn't be so inquisitive, but how was it that her face was so pretty but she covered it in thick framed glasses? And the rest of her appearance was drab and uninspiring expect for her pink accented nails and earrings. Surprisingly ,he had even gotten the faintest most alluring whiff of strawberries and cream that he couldn't place. Not her usual scent. Something alphas like him catalogued frequently, scent patterns. He had a feeling she was hiding a whole personality this entire time right under their noses.

If she was hiding her appearance and her scent, what else could she be hiding?

[ramp-it-up]

Christmas Time to Me

Pairing: Duke! Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count: Less than the last one, ok?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT, Explicit description of graphic sex. Read at your own risk.  All errors my own. Pining, angst, young pregnancy, Henry is someone’s father, I am writing about British nobility and I am not British, jet lag, reader has a slight inferiority complex, definite ‘Sir’ kink,  Dom thoughts, bratty behavior. Oral (both receiving) nipple, play, rough sex, size kink, cow girl, face sitting, p in v (wrap that up). Whew, this was quite different than the tender scene I thought to write.

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask from @ysmmsy found here. Let me know if you liked it, love. ❤️

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Good afternoon my Dear Professor. What do you think about the latest hullabaloo about the British Museum. Do you think they should return all artifacts? It would empty everything out.

Your alarm went off and you yawned and stretched, then reached for your phone, trying not to have any expectations. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you saw a text waiting there from 12 minutes ago, 6:48 am Houston time.

Good morning, Sir. You know very well what I think about that. I could give a rat’s ass about the BU’s inventory.

Lol, I agree, just wanted to get your blood flowing on this beautiful chilly noon day, mate.

You squirmed at the innocent words. He sure did get your blood flowing, to interesting places. And from just a friendly text.

Thank you, Sir. But it’s a nice balmy morning here in Houston. Now go eat lunch!

Henry grinned.

I will. I am looking forward to seeing you and Junie in a couple of days.

Somehow, you could see Henry’s smile through the phone.

I’m excited. I will do professor stuff while you and Junie are hanging out.

Thank you for the consideration, but there is no question that I will leave you alone for a second.

The authoritative tone reached you over 5,000 miles. You shivered, then shook it off.

🙄 Okay, Sir. I have to shower. See you in a couple of days.

You put your phone back on your charger as you shook your head, knowing that you would think of him while you were getting clean.

Henry stared at the text for a long time, his lunch stuck in his throat. He needed to take a drink of water, suddenly very thirsty. His pants got tighter at his desk as he imagined you all wet in the shower. And you calling him ‘Sir’ did things to him. You affected him in a myriad of ways with one text.

“Christ, Y/N,” growled Henry to himself as he rubbed the bulge in his now tighter pants. 

He ran his hand through his curls, trying to think of how he would both be appropriate with you in front of Juniper-Rose, and get beyond this friend zone you’d put him in.

Your ‘friend’ was actually a member of British nobility, Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill, the 12th Duke of Jersey, but one who worked at a non-profit for climate change. Your research on Britain’s role on colonialism and world oppression and his activist heart connected you on an intellectual level. He was tall, hot, and a little bit nerdy, just your type. 

Too bad that he was your best friend’s baby daddy.

The first time you saw Henry, there was an instant attraction, at least on your side. He was gorgeous, bright blue eyes happy and full of kindness. He looked at you with an appreciation that you recognized from a man, but there was nothing offensive in his gaze.

Junie was literally bouncing in his arms, and his smile was ear to ear for his toddler. He seemed full of girl-dad joy and it was obvious that he was wrapped around her tiny little finger. Of course that made him even more alluring. 

You tried to keep from swooning every time you saw Henry, as he grew up from slim-thick twenty something to grown and sexy hunk of a thirty something. Every time you saw him, he got sexier. And your body reacted more.

But girl code, and the fact that you were sure that he was still in love with Jasmine even though they were not together, prevented you from sharing your feelings.

You settled for debates whenever he was in town, which morphed into emails, which changed into friendly texts. He spent all of his available time in Houston with Junie, your goddaughter (christened Marion Eleanor Juniper-Rose Cavill), so the talk was light and passing, and you didn’t want to intrude on Daddy/Daughter time. Smiles and electronic chatter was the entirety of your relationship with Henry. Or so you thought.

You couldn’t, and shouldn’t want for anything more.

Jasmine was always the brightest star in your friend group. To you, she was always just a little bit cuter, prettier, popular and brighter than you, becoming a Rhodes Scholar and jetting off to Britain at 17, while you only earned a National Merit and stayed at home in Houston to attend Rice University. 

You two stayed close, communicating every day, you reveling in her adventures studying Economics at Oxford during the week and partying in London on the weekends. You lived vicariously, internalizing the stories Jazz told you as you lived your quiet academic life at Rice with your quiet boring boyfriends. 

She casually dropped the news about Henry and the fact that he was a Duke, stating that he was bored of his life of duty and privilege. They kept it fun and casual. Until Jasmine turned up pregnant during her senior year. 

Even though they were young starting out, Jasmine and Henry were wonderful co-parents. The only difficulty in the arrangement was that neither Henry nor Jasmine would, or could, give up their lives 5,000 miles apart. Despite his obligations, distance was no barrier for Henry. He would fly over at the drop of a hat for his daughter. 

One memorable occasion was when Junie broke her arm playing soccer at eight years old and had to have surgery. You almost hyperventilated when you ran into Henry, who was on Jasmine’s doorstep a day later looking tired and worried. He was very, very handsome, but he was not checking for you. It was all about Juniper-Rose, as he called her. And probably Jasmine too. 

The next years of Junie’s life were filled with regular visits to Britain and from her father. Henry came to the States every summer for Junie’s birthday and took her back to Britain for a few weeks. Jasmine took her to London every Christmas, using the opportunity for her work in Economics and to catch up with her European friends. 

So here it was, Junie’s 14th Christmas, and you were recruited (by Jasmine of course) to escort her to visit her father on her yearly holiday visit to Britain. Except Junie refused to go this year. Something about wanting to be with her friends who were going to Mexico. And so you wound up being convinced (by Jasmine of course) to go alone. For the entire eight hour flight, you lamented the fact that you did something that you normally don’t: go with the flow

When you landed at Heathrow on December 23rd, you expected a driver to be waiting for you, but what actually happened was surprising. There was Henry, with a small smile, holding up a placard with your name.

You stopped for a moment, heart beating erratically, not expecting this at all. Henry gazed at you as you collected yourself and moved toward him. His smile grew incrementally as you got closer.

“Hullo.”

His baritone held early morning gruffness and was making you feel some kind of way.

“Hello Henry, I mean Sir…I mean Mr. Cavill…Your Grace...” 

You felt like you had to curtsey, and you were tongue tied. Meeting Henry in England was different from talking to him on the phone, or texting. Then, you could pretend that he was a regular person, not British nobility and the real-life embodiment of your fantasies.

Henry’s eyes dilated when you called him ‘Sir,” but then he blushed and looked down, then back up at you to correct you quietly, but firmly.

“Henry is fine. Welcome to London.”

God, you were wet.

“Thank you. I.. I didn’t think that you would meet me personally, I mean, knowing that Junie wasn’t here.”

Henry’s smile dropped.

“Juniper-Rose and I spoke, and I am disappointed, but hopeful that she will join us. But I had to come greet you. To thank you for… for everything that you do for my daughter. And for me.”

Henry held your gaze for as long as you would allow before you flushed and turned your eyes to the floor. He was so god damned beautiful.

“No… no.. problem. I love that little girl.”

Henry reached for your carryon, brushing your fingers with his. You felt electricity down your spine as he started walking toward the exit. 

“My driver, Benjamim, will get your other bags.”

You chuckled. 

“So you do have a driver…” Henry cocked his head at the comment, wondering what was going on in that head of yours.

“Of course. I told you. I wanted to meet you myself. You are a very special person to me.”

You did not, for a moment, believe that he really meant that. It was simply British politeness.

“And I told you. What I do for Junie, I will do forever. She is like my own.”

You did not want Henry to be nice to you out of obligation.

“And that is part of why I… That is why I have to thank you.”

You were quiet, wondering what this outpouring of communication and sentiment was owed to. You zoned out as you were waiting for the car, staring off into space as you bit your lip. Was Henry trying to get back with Jasmine? Is that why he met you at the airport? What was the reason? 

You sighed when you realized that you were giving yourself a headache overthinking, and you realized that you hadn’t had any caffeine yet this day.

Henry interrupted your thoughts with a chuckle.

“You’re overworking that mind of yours, Professor.”

You made a face as he laughed again.

“Come, we’ll get you settled and get you some tea and allow you to rest. Then, tonight, we’ll go out and witness Christmas Time in London.”

“That is just the ticket. Thank you again, Sir Cavill.”

You gave Henry your full smile and a little curtsey this time, and you could see Henry’s smile falter. He cleared his throat and opened the door of the SUV for you. You got in, relaxed in the luxurious seats, and was asleep before Henry and Benjamin got your bags in the car.

As the car rolled along into London, Henry watched you sleeping. You were beautiful, unguarded and soft. He knew that you didn’t know how gorgeous you were and that you constantly compared yourself to Jasmine. For him, there was no comparison. The first time he saw you, it was like he was struck by lightning. At that time, he thought it was unlucky. Only with time and maturity did he realize that he could make his own luck. With you.

You awoke as the car pulled into a drive of a beautiful, large white building. It was almost like a castle. Henry was staring and you stared back, disoriented at first. You looked around.

“Is this the hotel?”

Henry smiled at you.

“It’s my home.”

You smiled back at him.

“It’s beautiful. Will Benjamin be taking me to my hotel after this?”

“I was hoping you would stay here… those were the plans when Juniper- Rose was coming and I… “

Your mouth was hanging open and Henry’s heart sank.

“Of course, I’ll get you a hotel…”

You felt bad. Henry had done an awful lot for you.

“No need! I’d love to stay here. You are too kind.”

Henry looked troubled.

“Y/N, I…”

 “Yes?”

“Never mind. Let’s get you settled.”

Your suite of rooms were gorgeous. It was basically a little flat, with a sitting room, en suite and a huge four poster bed, and roaring fireplace. 

As soon as you were in your suite, tea was delivered. You are something, took a shower and then rested, letting everyone know you had landed. You were due to get dinner with Henry at 7 PM London time. You decided to nap some more to get over your jet lag. You needed to clear your head of all of your anxious thoughts, and sleep always helped.

It seemed your dreams were filled with thoughts of Henry as well. You woke up warm and wet, as well as dismayed that you were going to be with him in England for so long with this yearning need and no way to satisfy it. You were glad that you had packed your small toy. You needed some relief before you saw him again, or you were liable to jump his bones.

When you came down the stairs at 6 pm, you took Henry’s breath away. You were dressed in a bright red sweater which showcased your cleavage and form fitting black pants that showed all of your curves. Your face was slightly flushed and your smile was shier than this morning. He just wanted to take you in his arms when you reached the bottom stair.

“You look Lovely, Y/N.”

Henry’s eyes shone at you. Damn, he was being so nice.

“How do you feel?”

“Well. I think I’ve done my best to fast forward my body to Londont time. Ready to go!”

You moved to put your coat on, and Henry took it, his fingers brushing your neck as you were getting it settled. He felt your slight shiver as he let his fingers linger just a moment. He had a little bit of hope.

You took him in. Henry had changed from his pullover and joggers that he had on in the morning to a broadcloth shirt unbuttoned at the neck and with sleeves rolled up. He was in dress pants and shoes, and his hair looked combed but run through with fingers. You wished you could play in those curls. You stared for what seemed like forever until Henry cleared his throat and offered his arm. 

“Are you ready to see the sights?”

“I sure am, Your Grace.”

Henry rolled his eyes and shook his head

“Stop. If anything, I should be on my knees for you.”

“What?”

You didn’t quite believe that you heard him correctly. He smiled.

“Nothing, let’s go.”

——

You were absolutely charmed all night. Henry showed you around London sights at sunset and a dinner at Cafe Cecilia. You talked with Henry like you were old friends, and you were, in your way.

Any anxiety you had about Jasmine was erased from your mind with the good food, good wine, and good conversation, mostly about you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think this was a date.

When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, you didn’t see Henry checking out your ass in your slacks, you just saw how happy you were in the mirror when you washed your hands, you tried to tell yourself to calm down, that he wasn’t into you at all.

Meanwhile, Henry was wiping his hands on his slacks, trying to quiet his own nerves. Your conversations over the years stuck with Henry, and he played them over and over in his mind. When it got to the point that he was replaying how your mouth looked, your curves that his eyes couldn’t help but trace, and the erotic dreams he had about you, Henry had to admit to himself that he had more than just friendly feelings for you.

When he looked up and saw you coming back to the table, his erratic heartbeat and the fact that he could swear that your nipples were erect and pointing right at him, made him decide to tell you how he felt. That night.

An hour and a half later, you were looking over the night skyline with Henry in the private London Eye pod he rented when he spoke to you, barely above a whisper. His voice was hesitant and gruff. And sexy as hell.

“Y/N. I think I… I do.. I feel for you very deeply.”

You turned to him, butterflies loose in your belly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, Y/N. Exactly how much more hinting do I have to do? I am absolutely besotted with you. I told Jasmine how I felt months ago.”

Henry was looking at you, with those beautiful blue eyes determinedly fixed upon you as you paced before him inside the capsule. It was not lost upon you the fact that his eyes were taking in the entirety of your figure. The backdrop of the lights of the city surrounding you from atop the Eye made the scene that much more romantic.

But you didn’t feel romantic. You felt incredulous. 

Henry stood up from the bench in the middle of the pod.

“Y/N. I text you every morning..”

“But that’s just your lunch time.”

“I call you my Dear Professor..”

“That’s… that’s just a British thing, like Sherlock Holmes..”

Henry raised his eyebrow at you and looked stern.

“Y/N. I think about you all the time. I am constantly thinking of how to tell you how I feel and now that you are here, in front of me, I’ve decided to just say it.”

You stared at him.

“Well.”

Henry sighed, frustrated.

“Well. I have deep feelings for you.”

“I can’t believe… you did all this. For me?You hardly know me.”

“Don’t start this again. I want to get to know you.”

“Are you trying to get next to Jasmine again?”

Henry threw his hands up.

“What has this got to do with her?”

“Everything has to do with her!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does.”

Henry was mad.

“Tell you what. Forget I said anything.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

You two sat in the pod in silence for the next 15 minutes until the ride was done. Henry was texting on his phone and by the time you disembarked, Benjamin was waiting with the car. 

You were despondent as you drove back to Henry’s place. You watched him glaring out of the window and thought you’d certainly blew your chance.

“Good night, Y/N.”

Henry breezed by you as you entered the house. You said goodnight to his back as he went up the stairs. 

Yep. You blew it.

30 minutes later, Henry was tossing and turning, fighting the urge to go to your rooms and fuck you into submission. You needed to be tied up and… Needless to say that Henry was not getting a good sleep thinking of all the ways he could try and make you understand.

You were nowhere near sleep. The nap earlier and the time difference had you wide awake. As well as thoughts of Henry.

After an hour and a half, you found yourself in the hallways looking for Henry’s rooms. As you crept down a passageway, a door opened on your right.

Henry, sexy as hell in pajama bottoms and curly chest hair, glared down at you.

“What are you doing?”

The question was terse, and you felt the chill. He was still mad.

“I was thinking…” 

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, and Henry melted a bit. But just a bit.

“That’s the problem. You think too much.”

“I know…”

You found yourself playing the brat and moving closer to him as he guarded his doorway.

“But I wanna know what you think.”

Henry sighed.

“What I think about what?”

His raised eyebrow indicated that he was about done with you. You feared a spanking. And that made you smile.

“What do you think about when you think of me…”

Henry blinked and pursed his lips. But he didn’t hesitate for long.

“I think about how smart you are, how funny. I think about how our conversations make me think. And I wonder what goes on in that head of yours.”

You lifted your chin to look him in the eye. Henry returned your gaze, then allowed his eyes to follow the form of your body in your thin t-shirt and short shorts.

Henry’s jaw clenched and he seemed to take a step back. You pursued him, stepping forward.

“Is that all?”

You felt more confident now, and your sultry voice was barely above a whisper. Henry had to concentrate not just to listen, but to hold himself back.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Don’t I?” 

You kept moving forward until you were toe to toe with Henry.

“Tell me all your thoughts. Even the naughty ones. Especially the naughty ones. I wanna know what goes on in that head…”

You reached up on tip toes and ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the curls back that had fallen into his face.

Henry grabbed you by the waist and pulled you flush to him, so that you could feel his burgeoning erection.

“I’ve got to kiss you first.”

And he did.

His lips pressed against yours, lightly, rubbing across yours, then he opened his mouth and his tongue tipped out and traced your cupid’s bow. Then he took your bottom lip and nipped lightly, causing you to gasp and as you did so, he claimed your mouth. He suckled your tongue, ruining your panties as his hands slipped down and grabbed your ass. You were breathless as he pulled away. 

You looked up into his hungry eyes as they blazed blue fire.

“I think about that. Kissing those lips, feeling this beautiful body. I think about your breasts, what color your areolas, how they would taste. I dream about how your ass would feel. I think about lying between these thighs and having you sit on my face. God, Y/N…”

His long fingers squeezed your bottom and pulled your cheeks apart. The sound and feel of your wetness set Henry’s soul on fire. You whimpered in his clutches.

“Is it possible that you want me as much as I want you?”

Henry tried to peer into your soul.

“If not, tell me now, and I will not bother you again. But if there is some chance…. by God, I want you, Y/N….”

“Henry I…” 

He was waiting for word from you. You moved your hands from Henry’s chest down to his cock, which was large and throbbing between you.

“Henry, I want you too.”

“So you want to do this? With me?”

“Exactly how much more hinting do I have to do? Fuck me, Sir.”

Henry smiled as he hauled you backward into his room. He sat down on the bed and you climbed up onto his lap, grinding together through your night clothes as he pulled your hair back and attacked your neck with kisses and bites. His other hand went up your shirt to weigh your breast and roll and pinch your nipple.

He bared his teeth in enjoyment as you squirmed on him.

“So so reactive for me, does that feel good, yeah?”

You panted and nodded yes, caught up in the energy of the moment.

He slapped your nipple hard. You keened and shouted, “Yes, oh yesssss.”

You felt his cock throb.

“Just as I thought. You’re a naughty little girl. My naughty little girl now…”

Henry dipped below your t-shirt and started sucking your nipple hard and nipping at it as you desperately tried to find friction on your clit. You hastily pulled off your shirt, then tried to put your hand down your pants.

“Ah ah ah. Don’t touch.”

Henry captured your hand and bent it behind your back, bending you backward as he turned around and deposited you on your back. 

“So so beautiful.”

He bent over you and ran first his hands, then his lips and then his tongue over your areolas, grinding into you again. Your legs bent around him, trying to lock him into the friction against your nub. Your whines got to him and you watched as he took off his shirt.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Need you, Henry.”

“Need you too, love. I’ve been waiting for this for years.”

You reached for his pants.

“Give it to me, Sir. Please Sir, Please.”

“Fuck. You sure you want it?”

You started rolling your own nipples and you arched your back as you let your legs fall apart.

“Most definitely. Sir.”

Henry’s eyes were mesmerized, drawn to your core and your weeping, wet cunt. He automatically pulled down his pants and his huge thick cock slapped him on his stomach.

“I am so weak for you.”

You wanted him even weaker so you sat up and tested his weight in your palm. You looked up at him as you wet your lips.

“Wanna taste you. Can I, Your Grace?”

You pecked his dripping tip and let the string of precum stretch to your lips from the head of him as you gently played with his balls. Henry’s voice was impossibly deeper now.

“You may���ughhhhhhhh.”

You slipped your lips around him and drew him into your mouth, using your tongue to circumnavigate him. You had to hinge your mouth open wide to take his girth. You knew your jaw was going to be sore in the morning.

“Naughty, sweet naughty girl. Do you like to get your face fucked? Oooohhh, fuuuck!”

Henry’s hips started moving as his fingers pulled your nipples.

“I wanted the first time to be sweet and tender, but you… you are better than my wildest dreams. And I do mean wild.” 

Henry fisted your hair and held you to him, forcing your throat open with his thick member and causing you to gag. After a few seconds, he let go, but you stayed down, causing him to curse.

“Bloody hell, you’re going to make me cum down your throat.”

“Ummmm hmmmm.” 

You answered as you pulled off, messy with spit and pre cum. Henry’s eyes were alight as he bent down to grab your thighs and toss you back on the bed.

“You’re trying to get properly fucked, but I need to taste you first.”

He lay down beside you and grabbed you again, palming your ass in his hands as he maneuvered your legs around his shoulders. His hands were your seat as he prepared to eat you like some decadent fruit. He brought you to his mouth and his eyes watched you as he tasted you. They rolled back as if in rapture and he dove in, fully suckling and laving you.

Henry stopped long enough to say, “Sit down!” because you were trying not to put your full weight on him.

When he pulled you down on his face, his tongue went deep inside you as he nibbled at your clit. His tongue was so skillful that your legs drew up around his head and your thighs started shaking. 

You pulled at his hair and started begging.

“Stop, please stop. Henry. Sir. I’m gonna… I’m… ahhhhh!”

When you came, and released into his mouth, you tried to climb off of him, but he held you fast, eyes dark with warning.

When he came up for air, Henry grinned at you.

“Now’s the time to split you open, Love.”

He literally grabbed you and positioned you above his pelvis. You knew what to do from there and you watched as he positioned himself so that you could slide down around him. You looked up at him as you bend your thighs so that his tip could breach your entrance.

“You feel as good as you taste.” 

Licked his lips as you slid down around him slowly, his thick cock difficult to take. The stretch almost took you out, but your wetness helped you out. You felt unimaginably filled to the brim with Sir Henry Cavill.

“So fucking tiny, Love. You feel so good, my naughty little girl.”

You whimpered as you stayed still to adjust to him, and as you grabbed his hand to feel himself inside your abdomen. His eyes got wide.

“Such a tight fit. D’you feel me? Feel me inside there?”

His cock throbbed and he started to move a little, eyes dilating as you winced.

“Does it hurt, Love?”

“Y-y-es Sir. Only a little.” 

You bit your lip as Henry spit on his thumb and started working your clit.

“Don’t worry, Love. I’ll make it feel better.’

“Hnnnghhhh. Ohhhh!”

Your back bowed as Henry pistoned inside you, and the pain turned to pure pleasure. Henry sat up and held your arms behind your back with one hand, and man handled your breast with the other. He suckled your nipple through his fingers and then gave you a filthy kiss.

“Do you want to be mine?”

“Hnnnhhh. Yes. Yes. Sir.”

“Good girl. You know what to say already.” 

He gave you a sweet peck on your lips as he pinches your nipple. Hard. That caused you to shatter, and you came around his cock.

Henry looked down.

“Look at that cunt. Pulling me in so greedily.”

He looked back up at you.

“Look at your face. So Lovely with it all fucked out.”

You were lost in his eyes as he rotated so that your back was on the bed.

“Need you to cum Sir. Job’s not done.”

“Your wish is my command. Tonight. But I will demonstrate to you who your Lord is later on.”

And Henry started to pull out, stopping just in time to save your sanity as you were ready to fight if he left you right now. He hiked your leg around his waist as he delivered powerful thrusts to seat himself deep inside you.

“I wanted to be gentle, but no. You pull this primal nature out of me. I can’t be polite.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be, Sir. Be yourself. Give me yourself. Take me.”

Henry grunted and suckled your collarbone, sure to leave a mark as he pumped sloppily into you.

“Cum again…”

You obeyed his command as he reached between you and thrummed your clit. You detonated just before he did and you both came back together in each other’s arms, sweaty and out of breath.

You stared at him as if he weren’t real.

“What’s wrong, Love?”

“I now know the meaning of Happy Christmas.”

Henry smiled and kissed your forehead.

“It is a happy Christmas, indeed.”

Reblog = Love

[whxre-bxby]

i luv your writes so much! I haven't been able to read many fics these past weeks bc of work life ugh but im catching up AND LET ME TELL U YOUR FICS DON'T DISAPPOINT!!! (LIKE UR SMUTTY ONES HOLY COW🐄)

ANYWAY HAV A GOOD NIGHT HOHOHOHUHUHUHUUHEHEHE *FLIES AWAY*

i may or may not hav sent this while high ssshhhg

PLZ- glad you're feeling happy lmao

"Comfort of your Body"

Recom Mansk x Human f. Y/N

(Saw someone post these ducks and it's amazing)

A/N: it's getting way too warm and summery for my liking

Masterlist

Summary: Injured and tired Mansk returns to Bridgehead after the final battle. He finds his girlfriend Y/N in his room, waiting for him and needs her to distract him from the horrible mission. (1K special request from @emzerdoo)

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluff, angst, death, injuries, sub Mansk, dom Y/N, edging, blowjob, penetration, breeding kink, size difference

Word Count: 4415 (a bit shorter, I have so much to write)

Today’s mission had been exceptionally brutal for the recoms. Not that the mission had changed. They still had to hunt down and kill Jake Sully. But today, most of them didn’t make it back home. 

Mansk was one of the three who had survived today. Quaritch and Lyle had made it out of the battle alive too, but everyone was in a bad condition. 

Flying back on the Ikran was almost impossible because the Marines were so terribly exhausted. They had to wait a few hours for an aircraft to come and get them. 

Returning to base, they were all ordered to go to the medical centre immediately. Lyle needed it the most because he had a concussion after his rough fall on deck. Quaritch needed rest and quite frankly so did Mansk. That’s why Mansk refused to stay in the emergency room. He was too tired and still too shocked by the near-death experience that he couldn’t be around people now. He just needed his quiet, his bed and you. 

Before going to your room which was all he really wanted to do, he forced himself to go to the showers first. Every step of the way pained him and while under the water he was getting flashbacks of almost drowning in the wreckage. The memories made it difficult for him to stand still. The wounds as well. He hissed and flinched when the water came in contact with his open and fresh injuries until he couldn’t bare it anymore. He wanted to collapse into his bed and have you by his side because in what he thought were his last moments, he had to face the likelihood of never seeing you again. 

He had found some fresh clothes for himself which he put on while holding the blood-stained gear of today in his right hand. Mansk limped through the now eerily quiet hallways of the recom dorms. They were quiet now. Usually, the team would be constantly walking through them but now he was alone. There was no team. The remaining bits of it were suffering in the medical rooms. 

Finally, he reached his door. He stopped in front of it, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to gather himself. 

Whenever he would leave for a mission he would have to leave you behind. To comfort yourself, you found it helpful waiting in his room rather than yours. Not only was it bigger to fit him, but it smelled like him and he would often find you asleep in his bed when he would return. 

Today, I couldn’t sleep. Something felt off as I waited for my boyfriend Mansk to return. I was in his bed, sitting upright while I hugged his pillow and stared at the door. My eyes find the electronic clock which showed me that it was past midnight. The time worried me more. Mansk was never this late. They always returned before 9 or 10 pm so that everyone would be fit for the next day. 

The uncertain and uneasy concern was eating me alive as I waited for hours. Dreadful thoughts filled me, making me worry about whether something had happened to him. Maybe he was hurt or maybe he wasn’t even alive. Perhaps they were looking for him and that’s why it took the recom’s so long or perhaps none of them had made it back… 

I too had noticed, how quiet the hallway outside his room was. No one in his squad had returned. It made me sick to my stomach to think about what could have happened. 

My eyes occasionally teared up and I would bury my face into the pillow from time to time and inhale his scent. If I tried hard enough, it would seem like he was here with me. 

Suddenly I heard faint shuffling in the hall and it stopped right outside my door. For a few moments, there was just silence. 

Then I saw the door handle move and my heart stopped beating in anticipation. 

To my relief, Mansk stepped into the room and I noticed how his eyes searched for me. His body visibly relaxed when he saw me sitting on his bed. But he looked clearly exhausted and weakened.

“Mansk-” I say, immediately getting up and hurriedly walking over to him. His stressed gaze softened when he saw me and his ears drooped in relaxation as he gently nudged the door closed before kneeling down in front of me. 

We were roughly the same height now that he was on the ground and once he opened his large arms to me, I threw myself at him and buried my face in his shoulder while we hugged.

Mansk tightly wrapped his arms around me, holding me as close as possible to him. One of his hands rose and he cradled the back of my head. He pressed his face into the crook of my neck and kept it there for a few moments, inhaling my scent which would comfort him while I refused to unwrap my arms from around his neck. 

He was alive and okay. And mainly, we were together. 

After a few minutes, we slowly pull away from the hug but we don’t let each other go. I look up at him and he’s looking at me with watery eyes filled with sorrow, while his hands hold my body and caress my cheek.  

“I was worried…” I whisper, placing my smaller hand on top of his one which was resting on my cheek. We gaze at each other, never seeming to want to look away. 

“Me too…” he softly answered and I noticed how gruff his voice was even through the whisper. He must have been shouting a lot. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, scanning over him with worry in my eyes. 

He hesitates to answer for a second before he tenses and nods. “Yeah.” he breathily says. I can tell he only means physically okay even though I can see lots of scratches and bruises. 

“Oh, Mansk…” I sigh, cupping his cheeks into my palms. Seeing him so distraught made my heart break. His tired and sad eyes meet mine again and feel how his fingers tremble. 

“I’m so happy you’re here.” he whispers, pulling my head to his so that our foreheads are pressing against each other. I small smile forms on my lips and I hold onto him again while he calms down in my presence. 

“I’m happy to see you too.” I reply, softly. My hands gently hold him and I kiss him on the cheek before we look at each other again. 

“Let me take care of you.” 

His tired eyes open slightly wider than before and his ears perk forwards, granting me his attention. That offer sounds so good to him, Mansk can’t help but nod.

I take his large hand into both of mine and he slowly gets up and off the ground, following me to his bed. My plan is to relax him so that he could fall asleep easier. 

Mansk was a strong man, no doubting that. That applied to him both physically and emotionally. But this lifestyle takes a toll on everyone and it has its side effects. He would often become disassociated from reality and would be completely submerged in his thoughts. The thoughts and memories often haunted him, not letting him forget the gruesome images he has seen. That is also why Mansk would struggle to fall and stay asleep. Sometimes he would lay in bed for hours without being able to close his eyes properly. And even if he would manage to fall asleep due to exhaustion, he would dream of those burdening things and therefore never wakes up well rested. 

It really isn’t fair on him, so you try your best to help ease his problems. He once told you that your presence at night helps him sleep and stay calm. So sleeping in his room has become a pleasant and regular experience. 

Mansk sat down on the side, his soft gaze not leaving me as he watched me guide him. I could see through the faint smile on his lips that he was thankful. 

“Take them off, please.” I say with a smile, pointing at his sweatpants and top. Mansk listened without hesitation, removing his clothes so that he is only left in his underwear. This wasn’t the first time I would help him relax so he roughly knew how I liked to do it. Usually, I massage and worship his body in a way that has him drifting off to sleep. Small, gentle touches ease his pain and let him forget everything except for him and me. 

In the end, I lay on him and we fall asleep together.

Mansk enjoys being close to you and feeling your warm skin pressed against his. Ever since he met you, he’s been feeling better all around. His nights aren’t as long and torturous and his days are brighter. He’s told you before, even if you wave it off, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to hold on and stay strong for as long as he is if he were alone. 

Mansk lay down on the bed, letting his heavy head fall back into the soft pillow. The rest of his body weakly slumped into the mattress. 

He was looking forward to seeing you all day, he would have been all fidgety and antsy if he weren’t so tired. 

I climb onto the bed with him and straddle his waist with a smile on my face. I hovered above his upper waist because otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to reach his face. He was already melting against me. I loved how easily I could maneuvre him. 

My hands trailed up and down his torso, making small shivers erupt from him. The size difference between us made things more interesting and apparently my small hands felt nice. He just needed small and gentle touches so I traced his stripes and drew circles around the small specks of luminescent light in his pretty blue skin. 

Occasionally, my eyes would return to scan over his face and when I notice that his eyes are fluttering closed and his breathing is faint, I feel better about what I’m doing. His body was still and not a single muscle was strained or tense. 

I felt such love for him I couldn’t hold back on worshipping him more, so I leaned forward and started placing gentle kisses along his torso. I don’t usually do this so it took Mansk by surprise and his eyes opened to watch me before he lay his head back and hummed in approval. His eyes close once more so he can focus on the feeling but the darkness brings back the distressing images of his mission. Quickly, they open once more and I notice the small jump and the fast action. 

I stop and sit up, looking at him in worry. Was he in pain or did I do something to make him flinch?

“Are you alright?” I ask, placing a palm on his chest to comfort him. Mansk inhales deeply before sighing and rubbing his eye. 

“Yeah- sorry.” his quiet and tired voice replies. 

“Don’t apologise.” I say, scooting closer and rubbing a soothing circle over his tattoo. He nods a little, running the hand over his face and taking a deep breath. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, leaning onto him. 

I notice his sad eyes staring at the ceiling before they meet mine. 

“No…” he whispers. Mansk wasn’t the person to talk about things. I told him it was unhealthy and he really was getting better, but I knew that there were certain things he has to go through that he prefers not to tell me. Mainly so that I don’t have to be burdened by the violent images like he is. 

I stay quiet for a while, thinking about what to do but then Mansk breaks the silence. 

“I just- I need to think about somethin’ else.” he says, tilting his head to lock eyes with me. I tilt mine to the side, wondering what he means. 

“I want to think about you.” Mansk adds and his words surprise me. I catch on to what he’s saying. He wants to be distracted by me, from his mission. 

“If it will make you feel better…” I say, leaning forward so that my face is above his. 

“It will.” he reassures me, raising a hand and soothingly cupping my face. “Please.” 

I can’t say no when he begs and asks so nicely. A smile forms on my lips, informing him that I’m agreeing to his plea. His hand suddenly grows firm on my cheek and his long fingers reach the back of my head. He then pulls my face down to his and presses our lips together. 

It had been a few days since I saw him last, so I missed the warm feeling of his kiss. 

Mansk was eager to continue it, not wanting it to end. I understood that this helped him forget his worries so I wanted it to last longer too. 

My hands once again roamed his chest and I started tracing my fingers over his muscles, slowly reaching his abs. I broke the kiss to move lower down his body so that I could kiss his flexed and toned stomach. He wasn’t happy about the loss of contact but he let me do what I wanted. 

My lips softly pressed against his skin, making his breathing hitch as he watched me work my way down his huge torso. I smiled up at him before sticking the tip of my tongue out and trailing it over his ab muscles which tensed even more at the touch. 

I took my time, wanting him to know I appreciated him. While focusing on his slim waist, I sit back on him and my movements faltered for a second when I hear Mansk whimper. My eyes shoot up to his face and I notice the faint blush on his cheeks and the way his ears wilt to the sides. Then I look back at me, noticing I sat on his crotch. A grin paints my face and I grind down against him, watching him suck in a swift breath through clenched teeth. I can also feel him slowly hardening under me. 

“Aw, you feeling good?” I ask him in a teasing manner. He nods, staring at my lower half that’s sitting on him. 

“Please, Y/N.” he breathes out and his hands slide up my thighs but I gently push them away. 

“No touching. Just lay back.” I whisper, slowly pushing his chest back down into the mattress. Mansk doesn’t fight it and listens, letting his body fall back. 

If he needs a long distraction I’ll give him one. 

My fingertips graze his skin again, softly tickling his blue body. I could tell that his senses had heightened through his building arousal. Mansk’s heartbeat increased and his breath became heavier and deeper. He lost his rhythm of breathing due to occasionally gasping when I could nibble and kiss his now sensitive skin. 

Slowly, I dip my fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear, slowly tugging it down inch for inch. Mansk shudders beneath me and slightly lifts his waist up, eagerly wanting me to hurry. But I won’t. 

However, I do comply with stripping down his last bit of clothing, pulling it down his legs and throwing it on the floor next to the bed. 

He exhales in a form of relief. Apparently, clothes get uncomfortable and feel restricting on Na’vi when they are aroused. So Mansk preferred to always take everything off which I thought was funny because he would spend his days completely covered in long sleeves and pants. 

“God you look so good-” I breathe out, running my flattened palms up his thighs. He sighs in enjoyment and I notice his blush return. I feel over his v-line, before resting my hands right next to where he’s desiring my touch most. 

My eyes once again meet his and he’s lovingly staring at me. His eyes are soft and half-lidded and his lips are lightly parted. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” I ask, making his ears twitch. 

“Yeah-” he breathes out, locking his eyes on my hand which was daringly close to his crotch. 

“How bad?” I ask, wanting to push all the begging out of him. 

“Please, don’t tease.” he asks, looking at me with pleading eyes. I can see how tired and desperate he is, so I was going to spare him. 

“Okay, okay.” I say with a smile, gently wrapping my hand around him. At least I attempt to wrap it around him. My fingertips don’t reach, there is a small space separating them. 

Mansk shakily exhales as I slowly stroke him. I move my body in between his legs, kneeling in the space between his knees while my hands work and warm him up. 

His head drops back down into the pillows and he lets me take complete control. 

I lower my face down to his level. At this point in our relationship I know the things he loves, so I do my best to pleasure him. 

I nuzzle my face against the side of his shaft, kissing along his warm skin. 

Mansk’s mouth drops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

I stick my tongue out, licking a sloppy stripe from his base to the tip of his dick. His skin is speckled with goosebumps as I do so. 

I swirl my tongue around his tip, hearing a small groan escape him. 

Continuing my work, I move back down and lick over his balls, cupping them with my free hand while stroking him with the other. 

“Shit-” he sighs. Mansk’s tail is excitedly thudding against the mattress. 

I switch it up again, kissing my way to the top of his now almost fully erect dick. My lips wrap around his tip and I lightly suck on it while Mansk balls up his fists and groans in pleasure. Even just the tip has my mouth filled. 

“Feels so good.” he whines, clenching his eyes closed.

I can taste the precum on my tongue as it mixes with my saliva. Then I feel Mansk lightly buck his hips up and I get the message.

I open my mouth wider and start to slowly take more of him into my mouth, each time I bob my head. 

Small grunts escape his lips as he raises his head and fights the urge to thrust up into me again. 

Every time Mansk gets close to cumming I stop my movements, just kissing the skin of his abdomen until he’s calmed down before riling him up again. He wanted to forget about his problems so I would make sure of that. 

It’s becoming messy and sloppy. Mansk has a death grip on the pillow, refusing to let go because he doesn’t want to force you further down him. He is amazing at holding back and letting you take control of him. 

Sweat is rolling down his forehead and his skin is glistening and moist from it. His veins were bulging out of his skin and all his muscles are flexed as he tries his best to stay still and lay down while you edge him for probably the fourth time. 

He was whimpering, begging me to let him cum but I wasn’t going to let him cum like this. I knew he enjoyed this and I was simply trying to prolong his pleasure. 

“Y/N, please-” he chokes out. His eyes have become glossy and his dick is pulsing because it’s so painfully hard. 

“Not yet, baby. Hold on.” I smile at him, cleaning off the sticky pre cum that dripped down his shaft and all over my hand. 

He hisses through his clenched jaw, trying his absolute best not to spill and I decide that I’ve pushed him enough. 

My hands leave him and I lick my fingers clean while he watches me with wide eyes. 

“Take it off.” I say, motioning to my silky nightgown. Mansk never needs to be told twice. His large hands are on me in seconds. Even despite the skin on them being rough, he manages to gently push the thin straps off my shoulder, letting the thin material fall to my knees. 

I smile at him, pleased with how well he is cooperating. Mansk doesn’t even see the smile because he’s staring at my naked body in adoration. 

“I’ll give you what you want now.” I say, letting my smile turn into a grin. 

His big ears come to life again, perking forwards and his lust-blown eyes meet mine. Mansk literally cannot wait. 

I move back to his waist, straddling his trembling body once again. This time I’m not kneeling but squatting above him. He’s so bewildered and desperate that he stares and watches with a flushed face and perked ears. 

One of my hands rests on his abdomen to steady myself. The other reaches for his throbbing and saliva-covered dick, angling it to meet my now wet pussy. Playing with him turns me on, I count it as my foreplay. 

I press his tip against my slick heat and he groans words and curses I don’t understand. He’s too pussy drunk already to talk. 

I rub him through my folds, humming in approval to myself before focusing on touching my clit with him. 

Mansk’s hands are once again digging into the pillow and his head is thrown back. He can’t take the torture much longer. 

Without further warning, I decide to give him what he needs and what I now want. I line him up with my entrance and let myself sink down comfortably until his tip is engulfed by me completely. 

“Fuckin’ hell- Y/N…” he moans, needing to prop himself up on his forearms to watch me.

He was much larger than me and if I placed his huge cock on top of my body, the tip reached the beginning of my ribcage. I was never able to take all of him and never will be but I was able to bare the pain of having most of him inside me. 

I move up on him before sinking down a little more. My eyes clench closed as I flinch at the slight stretch but I know it is only temporary. 

I look back at him, watching how he’s fighting himself again to not buck up into me. Mansk knows it hurts me and he feels bad about it. It took me a lot of persuading to tell him that I enjoy sex with him. Now, he lets me do what I need to do and won’t dare touch, push or move me without my consent. 

“You’re so good to me.” I whisper, drowsily smiling again. He loved and needed praise. I knew he took it to heart, so I helped him feel better about himself. 

“You can touch now.” 

His eyes light up and I nod to reassure him. He was so big I would get tired quickly while riding him. 

Mansk’s large hands release the pillow and he closes them around my waist after running them over my bare chest. I put my hand on top of one of his and nod again, allowing him to move me. He needed his pleasure much more than me so he could get it now. It was well earned. 

I also happened to enjoy seeing Mansk lift me so effortlessly up and down him. 

He supported my movements, making it easier for me to ride him. Mansk was sitting up now and I held onto his shoulders while he thrust me down on him. 

“So tight-” he groaned, his hot breath fanning against the top of my head. 

His ears were pinned back in pleasure and he had his fangs bared as he concentrated on chasing his high. 

He was so sensitive from all the edging I had put him through, I could tell he is close. 

I want us to cum together so I reach down between our wildly different bodies and rub my clit. His eyes open and he watches with his jaw lightly hanging open. 

Mansk always grew weak when you touched yourself. It was a sight that would instantly turn him on. Whether you were naked or were doing it over your clothes didn’t matter, Mansk adored seeing you please yourself. 

That’s also why he moaned and his hips stuttered. 

“Y/N- I’m gonna cum-” he hissed, needing to let go now otherwise he would become an even bigger desperate mess. 

“Let go, baby, I want to feel it inside me.” I manage to say through heavy breaths. He groans at my requests and I feel his dick twitch inside me. 

Suddenly, I’m being pulled down against him faster than before and Mansk starts desperately fucking up into me. I can feel his cum explode and shoot deep inside me and the feeling of it makes me moan and throw my head back. Within seconds I’m cumming too and Mansk rides out both our orgasms until our quivering and trembling bodies fall against each other. 

His arms are around my waist, holding me close to his chest and his head rests on top of mine as we both calm our heavy pants. 

“Thank you…” he whispers, tipping his head down and kissing my forehead. 

“You don’t need to thank me, Mansk. I love you.” I say, looking up at him. 

“Love you too, baby.” Mansk whispers, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. 

He gives me a tired smile before helping me gently get off him. His cum flows down the insides of my thighs but I don’t mind it. Mansk loves the sight of it but he cleans it with a tissue for my comfort.

We’re both so tired now that Mansk just falls back into the bed and I fall with him. 

He was happy to be back with you in a safe space where he could forget everything except for the things that made him happy. Your presence had calmed him and he was able to fall asleep quickly, but only after making sure you were already asleep. His dreams won’t haunt him tonight. And that’s thanks to you.

Tag List: @numarusworld @ikranwings @jatwow @number1gal @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

[cinder-rose]

Time for more

Fics I'll never write

Nace is a new vet in a small town and has been called out to attend a little farm in the hills.

He's been warned the guy who lives there is weird, reclusive.

But he'll be fine. He can have this animal treated and head back to town long before the big storm rolls in.

Except oh no! The cow was super ill and by the time she's treated, everyone is sweaty and dirty and the sky is dark, it's starting to rain already.

Tension has been high but Nace has just saved Jan's cow. The least he can do is invite him inside until the storm clears. It'd be dangerous to drive in this weather anyway.

Maybe Jan let's Nace use his shower and when he's done, there's a clean dry shirt and a cup of cocoa waiting for him. Maybe this guy isn't as bad as everyone thinks. He's kinda funny actually. And sweet. Is Nace getting a slightly fruity vibe from him? No, it can't be.

A log cabin and a crackling fire.

But the storm isn't letting up. Uh oh, looks like it's gonna be an all-nighter.

"You know, I can make up the couch for you if you don't wanna travel in the dark. No, it's no trouble. You can be on your way in the morning.

I'll just be through here. Undressed. In my room. In my bed. Where I sleep alone. Always alone."

And after a while of listening to the wind and thunder from inside the cabin...

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to... Sorry."

"It's ok. Did you need something?"

"I was just going to get a glass of water."

"Here."

And a little lingering touch and standing too close. Jan has been alone for so long, and no one in this new town even knows that Nace is gay. It's dark and they share a super slow, soft kiss, just lips.

"You know, if it's too cold on the couch, you could..."

"Oh I don't want to impose."

"It's no trouble."

In Jan's room, I need them steamy and desperate, all touch-starved and sweaty and incoherent and clinging on so tight

And in the morning the storm has cleared and it's safe for Nace to make the drive back into town. Jan thanks him for treating his cow and that's that.

Maybe a week or two later, they pass each other in a livestock feed place and just nod hello. Jan says his cow is doing well. No one else in the town knows either of them are gay.

And Nace can still taste him.

[bkh-s-7449]

In the morning, Florix wakes up early, like he always does. 

Lucidity comes slowly. His fingers unfold from his palm, and he can feel them. His long legs are tucked close, knees nearly beneath his chin. How newly sore everything is. It is his body, the one he’s always occupied. The one given to him. His Corpus’ first gift, alongside life and consciousness. It feels heavy, but not so much that it cannot be moved. He is just tired. 

Just himself. Just tired. 

Even with the dosage of painkillers he’d been given eased back, the clan would not let him clock in to his shift if he wanted to. It is no small part of him that does, naturally — the urge to be of service so entangled with his identity that he cannot always tell who he is in these moments of stillness. Necessary stillness. To what end do you hold a lamb that kicks and cries? Maybe for its own good. So he will be still. So he will learn his own name, his own face. These things are significantly more difficult than clocking into a shift at work. More difficult than being busy. More difficult than being obedient. 

Florix and The Highwayman’s dormitory is fitted with a bathroom. It is a cramped, tiny space — a willing concession on behalf of the lodging plans for Florix’s sake. Sanitary to an obsessive degree, yet cowed away from the public baths, discovering him apologetic and skittish in the emergency decontamination showers off of the laboratory had happened one too many times. While embarrassing in the moment, it is a constant relief. Especially now. After everything, he feels like he cannot get clean enough. It is the first place he goes upon dragging himself out of bed, fawn-stepping the entire way on wobbly legs, reaching without looking up to undo the closures around the neckline of his nightclothes. He shudders out of them, an uncomfortable second skin. He does not want to linger in the space outside of the shower. He does not want to do anything but stand underneath water so hot that it hurts, and hope the process purifies something out of him, chases it out from beneath his skin. 

He reaches for the faucet, then stops, his eye catching on the dressings around his wrists. Those have to come off, first. Simple. Obvious. Just think. Just think before you do things. 

He withdraws like an animal caught misbehaving, despite being alone, despite having done nothing much at all. Slim fingers slip beneath where the gauze folds over itself at its very ends, loosening it, then unraveling. The septic scent underneath makes him flinch, and in his effort to look away from it, from the raw and bleeding wounds where his skin had sloughed off, looks up at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. Something strange and sallow peers back at him. Its mouth splits at the corner. It has only one eye with which to look. 

It’s just himself. 

It is not often Florix looks at himself. Really looks, past the soothing ritual of getting himself ready for work. He does not want to. Had he changed? It is the logical thing he knows to be true, but he is not sure he would recognize himself, even if he hadn’t. Did any of it matter? He was made for a purpose, and it wasn’t gawking at himself. 

His fingers brush over the tender skin, shaking, from his shoulder to his sternum, over the stand-out relief of his ribcage. If his eye follows the lines of his tattoos, he can pretend he is not grotesque. If he does not acknowledge the other half, the lack of symmetry. If he can. He cannot. The lesions in his skin glimmer queasily, glaring at him through the mirror, all guttered flesh and infested filth. It is as if a part of himself had been flayed down to the sinew. His palm rests over one small breast, consumed by scar tissue, and if it is rough to the touch he cannot tell because his hand is rough, too. It is not an idea he entertains. He is disgusting. Humiliation stings at the corner of his eye. His jaw sets, clamping down on something swelling in his chest, crawling up the back of his throat. 

Florix-S never cries. Not on the clock, at least. 

He needs perfection. 

When he turns his head, he can see faint, discolored impressions on his face, an ugly forming bruise. This, he remembers. A wire cage fitted over his mouth, tightened restraints to keep it in place. An awful taste that still lingered on his tongue, condemning. But why? He was good, he is good. He cannot imagine behaving in a way that would warrant that type of retaliation. Did he have to imagine? Where had he gone, in that moment? He tries to move his hand to cover his eye, but even without fetters it stops halfway, bid to stillness by something else that he cannot name. There is an ache at the back of his head; a hole yawning wider, angrier. He had not gone anywhere. Fragmented, maybe, frightened into delirious submission, but never left. He can remember, if he tries. 

Pop! the stitches in his uniform. Lay bare the thing underneath. Worse still, touch it. Her hand had passed his face. Seething, terrified, he had lunged off of the table and bit. Bit until he heard a pop of his own. Until he tasted blood in his mouth, until it spilled over his lip, until it ran back his throat. He would have kept going. The hive would have kept going. 

He watches the way his chest flutters rapidly in his reflection, nearing hysteria. How his body heaves, fragile as bird’s wings. This time his hand manages to lift, pressing over his mouth. He gags into his palm.

Florix-S never raises his voice. He does not like to. 

He needs control. 

He screams.

In a fit of panic, he grabs the first thing in reach on the counter and swings it at the mirror, watching it shatter. It is not enough. Again. Again. He drops what he holds with a rattle, driving the heel of his palm into the splintering glass instead. It burns when he cries. A cold sheen of sweat prickles at his skin, growing feverish with exertion. In his agitation he nearly crawls up onto the sink, clawing at the hairline fractures webbed across the mirror’s surface. 

He finds only that he has brought himself closer to his reflection. That he moves in fractals, the image repeating.

That big blue eye stares back at him, a thousand times over. 

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - The Loners

Lucky (2)

Later. When Twyla came home with the little dog, Autumn was the first to meet her. “Where did you get him?"/ ‘I found him with the cows, shivering in the little feeding house.’/ ”Oh boy. I don't know if Leila will be so enthusiastic"/ ‘Let's see’.

Just a few seconds later, Leila came down the stairs. Together with her fiancé. “What am I not going to be enthusiastic about? Oh… Twyla, we've talked about this before, no animals…"/ ”I know. But he's all alone. And alone he would have frozen to death and found nothing to eat"/ ‘and now we're supposed to share our food with him?’.

“Hey, he's not going to eat the hair off our heads"/ ”Our supplies are tight as it is, we have to divide everything up well for everyone. And one day our child will be here and…"/ ”It's okay, I get it, he's one mouth too many here. But I won't abandon him. Then I'll find somewhere else a place for us"/ ”And where? “.

“I don't know, somewhere where the little one is tolerated,” Twyla said a little defiantly. “Oh man, Twyla, you know I…"/ ”Yes, you prefer a clean house, without dog fur or poop in the garden. But you don't have to worry about that, I'll take care of it. At least give him a chance, o.k.? He's totally lovely. And he certainly won't eat any more than we do. An egg or two and a piece of chicken every now and then should be fine, right?”.

Leila took a deep breath and looked at the little dogs. He gave her a friendly look and wagged his tail. Then she held a finger up to his nose so that he could sniff. “Well,… He's cute, and… Atumn said earlier that she'd like to move out, so…”…

Twyla looked over Leila's shoulder into her best friend's tired face. “Is that right, you're moving out?”. Autumn looked at her and smiled with a shrug. “It had to happen sometime, didn't it? And it's such a long way to Hank's house every time, you know?”.

Autumn walked past Leila because she noticed Twwyla's somewhat disappointed expression. “Hey, don't be mad now, okay?"/ ”I'm not mad… And yeah, it would have happened eventually anyway. We've just known each other for such an incredibly long time. It's always fun with you…"/ ”But that hasn't gone away just because I live somewhere else.” Twyla stroked the little dog. “Yes… That's right.”

“Well…maybe there's something good about it after all. One mouth comes, the other goes…"/ ”hnhn, exactly. I know that we're going through a difficult time here at the moment. But I'm sure things will get better soon. We all just have to stick together. Has the little one got a name yet?"/ ”Lucky. I'll put him down first, if that's okay?”. Leila nodded.

Twyla sat the little dog on the floor, who then looked at her somewhat expectantly. “Of course, I'll see if I can find something for you in a minute. Oh dear, I don't want to know how long he hasn't had anything to eat"/ ‘probably a while… I'll get my things in a minute, I wanted to go to Hank's already today’.

After the two friends had hugged, Twyla looked at Leila for a moment. “hmm, then I probably shouldn't have made someone an offer earlier."/ ‘Offer?’/ ‘I offered him the chance to sleep here because we still have an empty bed…’/ ‘hh… And who?’/ ‘Reggie, from the store by the cows’.

“oh man, Twyla, you're really…��/”what? incorrigible? Maybe, yes. But do you know how he lives? He's lost everything too and now he's hanging out at the gym and has to shower with ice-cold water… I offered him the chance. he should decide for himself whether he wants to come here or not”. Leila looked down at her stomach and stroked it. “hh, all right, but then we really have to think about the supplies. I'm going to bed now…”.

Twyla helped her friend pack the last of her things into her bag. Then she took her downstairs to the door. “Don't make such a face, I'm not out of the world"/ ”I just wanted to sulk one last time, hn. I don't begrudge you your happiness. “/ “Thank you, sweetie.”. One last hug, then Autumn made her way to Hank.

It was time to retire. After they eating a snack together, Twyla went upstairs with Lucky to her room. There, the little dog immediately jumped onto the other bed that was there. “This is much better than sleeping outside, isn't it?”.

Of course, she didn't expect a verbal response from the little one, but she could hear him puffing long and contentedly as he lay down. She looked over at him and smiled. “hnhn, sleep tight…”.

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

Later. While everyone else is asleep, Reginald is still standing in the store looking around. But his thoughts are with Twyla, who had made him this nice offer. “A warm bed… A hot shower… And I could… be near her…” He has had feelings for her ever since he first saw her. But he hid them deep inside himself.

“I… I'd like to bring her something, but you can't get fresh flowers at this season. I don't think she's necessarily the flower type either… I've sometimes seen her sitting on the bench with a book. So she likes to read… But I can't even bring her a good book… what else does she like?”. You have to find out first… and be brave.

Reginald doesn't just look after the store, he also takes part in being there for the cows. “Look, I've got some dried peas for you. You don't want any? Oh come on, they're important protein, at least a little bit… Well, I'll try again tomorrow. But you have to eat…”.

Reginald closed the store sometime after midnight. Who comes by so late to pick up groceries or household items? When he arrived at the gym, he decided to forgo the ice-cold shower this time. Last time, he had been incredibly cold during the night. He didn't want that again, so he lay down in one of the beds upstairs and fell asleep exhausted.

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

@greenplumbboblover 😊

[ring-a-round-a-posey]

Cowpoke

welcome to finding charlie!

next

lowercase intended

when a girl from texas finds her self intertwined with the world of sticks and pucks.

if anyone has any questions regarding the actual ranching part shoot me a message and i'll give you an explanation!

the early dawn was shining on the body strewn across the sheets. the body peacefully sleeping was quietly awoken by the rays. 

her eyes slowly adjusting to the light 

“why must we wake up so early?” charlotte asked in the quiet of her room. she begins to make the trek across the floor to her now, slowly opening door,

“hey shug, just making sure you were up.” a soft-spoken elderly woman said to her. 

“yeah mawmaw, i’m awake, has pa made breakfast yet?” charlie responds. 

“no, your daddy did, he’s tacking the horses up with the hands.” dorothy responds

“are we sure that the food is edible?” charlie jokes

“you’re funny shug, i’m sure your daddy is perfectly capable of making the four of us breakfast” dottie laughs. the two women begin their journey down the stairs, 

“hey momma, hey babygirl. ready to get to work?” graham asks his daughter while flipping an egg. 

“not really but someone has to do it, we can’t let chloe and the rest of the hands do it alone.” she laughs as a weathered gentleman walks in from the daylight-ridden ground. 

“how is my favorite person this morning?” henry asks

“great dad, hows my favorite person?” graham responds causing the other people in the room to tumble over in laughter. 

“now baby you know that wasn’t meant for you.” his mother says with residual laughter coating her face. 

“haha of course i did momma, my babygirl has always been his favorite.” he says with a soft smile

“i don’t know about that now daddy, momma would’ve given that answer a run for its money,” charlie says with the same smile on her face,

“c’mon y’all, now lets not kick off our day with a grim start.” dorothy says before grabbing the cooler full of water and gatorade. 

“now shug go ahead and get on some work attire, you can’t ranch and ride in your pajamas.” her grandma said in a warm tone

“yes ma’am,” charlie says before walking up the same stairs she came down thirty minutes before.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

the once calm sun, now beating down on the crowd of cows and people.

“you sure know how to pick ‘em mr.jamison,” chloe says wiping the beads of sweat from off her hat-line.  

“you sure do pa, it's hotter than hell out here” charlie adds on,

“yeah mr,jamie, why’d you choose the hottest day of the summer to do this?” anthony, a ranch hand says.

“oh y’all quit your complaining, let’s get this done before the real heat starts to hit you lot.” henry nags on their complaining.

“WOULD SOMEONE COVER THE FLANK FOR ME?” charlie yells as she sees a cow and calf begin to move out of the circle. she goes to grab her rope and begin to circle it in the air,

“CHARLIE GO BACK TAKE YOUR POSITION LET THE SWING HANDLE THE LOOSE ONES” graham yells at her from behind

“i almost had ‘em” she mutters to herself as she drags her horse to get back into their position. she couldn’t help with the way she was feeling, although she knew that her anger was unnecessary, all her dad wanted was to keep her safe. especially after what her mom went through, and she never wanted her dad to go through that pain again.

the drive was long and tiring but that’s the price you have to pay when you’re generations deep into a cattle ranch. all charlotte wanted was a cold shower and to relax, but her day was far from over.

“hey shug, when you’re done untacking your horses wanna come start dinner with me?” dottie asked her granddaughter.

“of course i do, mawmaw! give be about thirty minutes to cool down stetson and i’ll be right in!” charlie said with a grin adorning her face

“actually i might need a quick shower before,” as she said that her face screwed up, “i smell pretty bad.”

“alright hopalong, see you when you don’t smell like you’ve been rolling in cow patties.” dottie says laughing as she walks back to the house.

while she and stetson were winding down from their eventful day, charlie couldn’t help but think about how much she wished her mom was there with her.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

charlie had finally made her way downstairs after her much needed shower.

“it’s about time you got down here” henry said to her

“would you rather me sit here and make your food while i’m covered in dirt and sweat?” she asks with a smirk lacing her lips.

“no i guess not” he says with a small laugh. charlie walks into the kitchen, admiring her grandmother from afar.

“you know staring is rude shug?” dottie says whilst turning around.

“can’t a girl look at her grandma with admiration without being nagged?” she says with the same bright smile that once shined on a similar face.

“whatever, come help me make these biscuits before those men get restless.” dottie says before turning around so she can start the chicken.

“how was the wagon without me mawmaw?” charlie asks

“not near as exciting, no one drives that buggy like you do.” dorothy softly laughs, “how was being back with the team?”

“not as exciting as i remember, i’m not used to being so stagnant. you know?” charlie thought out loud, “is it bad to say i miss the thrill of being in the middle of the problem?”

“no, of course not shug. you’ve been doing this since you could ride by yourself. being on the back burner is hard when you’re used to bubbling over all the time.” dorothy tells her before ushering her out of the way of what she need. charlotte took that a sign to finish up with her biscuit making.

“alright, ive got this dough shaped it just needs some time in the oven” charlie says as she put the cast iron of biscuits in the oven. dorothy nodded her head as she breaded the final pieces of chicken to fry.

“alright shug, i can finish up from here. why don’t you go set the table and find out what those hooligans want to drink, hmm?” dottie asked

“yes ma’am.” charlie replied before disappearing into the dining room. she begun laying the plates down, 5 place settings, one for henry, one for dorothy, one for graham, one for her, and one for clara. even though charlotte’s mom had passed almost 6 months ago, no one had the strength to leave her seat empty.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

dinner had commenced but not without some banter between the son and father. charlotte had taken it upon herself to clean up after everyone to catch some peace of mind before her day starts all over again.

charlie had made her way up the stairs for the final time today. although instead of turning into her room, she took the turn into the den. she thought some tv would do her a little good after the day she had.

she surfed channels for awhile before settling on some old western, when her grandpa walked in.

“hey pumpkin, watching el dorado are we?” henry asks before plopping down right next to his granddaughter. charlie nods while dropping her head on to his shoulder. he responded by wrapping his arm around hers in turn. charlie eventually fell asleep, and henry didn’t have the heart to move her, she looked so content just laying there.

charlie stayed asleep until a nightmare plagued her mind. she woke up with a shine on her forehead and decided she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. she, once again, began to channel surf before seeing a familiar face. although she couldn’t quite place the young man, she knew him from somewhere. she paused before getting lost in the way the men slid across the ground, seemingly chasing nothing.

she didn’t know it then but that one interview would change her life, but would it be for the best?

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

[bielefleur]

my letter to a perfectionist me, who always feels like she is running out of time and is way too hard on herself:

It’s okay to prolong your shower by a few minutes because the warm water feels good on your skin. It’s okay to bask in the experience of touch. There’s no reason to rush.

It’s okay to dance around your room singing at the top of your lungs, only finding time to clean in the crossfades between songs in your personally curated playlist. It’s okay to make a little mess playing dress up afterwards.

It is okay to jump around with excitement because you heard good news. It is okay to be alone sometimes, and to need community at others. It’s okay to slow down when you’re driving by a pasture of cows so you can point out the babies, or watch the sun lowering behind the horizon.

This is the human experience, to dance, love, feel, sing, share, cry, mess up. There’s no right way to do this. It always ends the same.

We are all on a destination to the same grim inevitability.

Isn’t having fun the entire point, then?

Productivity is measured in trivial routine actions, sometimes building up to a goal and sometimes just done in order to make things orderly or well-kept.

But joy… passion… love… laughter… friendship… these are measured in the moments in-between “the grind.” The moments in our “free time.”

Humans are not meant to be prisoners to productivity and perfection. We are meant to bask in the sun with friends! And sing our favorite songs at the top of our lungs! We are here to paint bad paintings, play bad music, tell corny jokes, and love, cry, laugh…

We are here to have fun. To be a little messy, a little awkward, a little silly.

You have no reason to berate yourself for imperfections, or always rush to the next moment of your life. Let’s just bask in this one for now.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Unconventional Medicine

“I hate cows.” Sierra looks down at her hands with a grimace.

“That’s what the gloves were for,” Shay says, holding them up. 

“It was a two month old calf!” Sierra says. “She was cute!” She sighs. “Until she dragged me ten feet through the pasture and tore my hands up.”

“You really don’t know when to let go.” Shay puts a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go back to the house and get those cleaned up and treated.”

“It’s not that bad. There’s not even blood,” Sierra objects. 

“You were complaining it hurt two minutes ago.”

“Well it’s going to hurt even more if you use that antiseptic from Abuela’s medicine cabinet on them.” She shrugs. “I’ll just wash them well and it’ll heal.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to mess around with these things. If they heal wrong it’ll curl your fingers right in on themselves.” Shay shakes his head. “Happened to guys on the docks sometimes. They’d hold onto a line too long or let a crate come down on the tackle too fast and the rope would cut through even a glove. Messed a couple guys up for life.”

“Okay, okay. Thanks for the scare tactics,” Sierra mutters, grimacing. “Can I at least take a shower first?” She gestures vaguely to the mud and other grime she doesn’t want to think about on her clothes.

“Probably a good idea. Gonna be hard to do with your hands wrapped,” Shay says. “Just try not to get that mess in the cuts.” 

“Ugh. Yeah.” Sierra frowns. This is going to be harder than she thought. She has no idea how Wren does anything. That woman is in a cast, brace, or has multiple bandages at pretty much any given time. 

Maybe fae have some sort of special injury management skill set, because Tio’s partner Robin is usually in the same situation. 

Whatever it is, Sierra certainly doesn’t have it. It’s hard enough getting the buttons on her shirt (that’s going straight into the trash, the elbows and back of the shoulders are shredded and besides, she’s pretty sure the dirt is ground in and would never come out) undone, let alone the thought of handling soap and trying to work her hands through her hair to get out the dirt and straw and debris that got tangled up in it.

This is just not happening.

She knocks on the door, knowing Shay is waiting outside for her to be done and ready for her hands to be cleaned and bandaged.

He opens the door and frowns, probably at the mud still streaked on her face and caked in her braid.

“I could use a little help,” She mutters.

Between asking for help stinging her pride and Abuela’s homemade soap stinging her hands, she’ll take the former. 

“You sure?” Shay asks, head tilted like a confused puppy.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” She raises an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d be asking you to open the door when I’m standing here in my underwear if I didn’t think this was the best option?”

“Point taken.” He steps in and closes the door behind them, then turns on the water. “Is it the hair you need help with?” he asks, shrugging out of his own t-shirt and folding it up on the top of the laundry hamper.

“Mostly.” She shrugs. “If you can get some of the soap lathered on a washcloth I can do my face without too much trouble, but whatever Abuela puts in that stuff burns any cuts.” 

“Okay. That I can do.” He grabs a washcloth from the teetering stack on the small wall shelf, and the bar of soap hanging in a little string bag. Sierra steps into the shower, tilts her head back, and lets the water run down her face, until she feels the cloth touch her fingertips as Shay hands over the soapy material. Holding the washcloth with her fingers pressed together so it doesn’t touch her palms is awkward, but she can at least manage to scrub the dirt off her face and neck more or less effectively. She’ll worry about her arms when they worry about her hands. 

“Okay. Now the hair.”

She turns around so the water is hitting the back of her head, and feels Shay work the elastic out of the end of her braid and then start combing his fingers through the braid to loosen it. His hand hits a knotty spot, and she takes half a step back at the tug, shoulders bumping into his chest. His skin is cool, and she can’t quite help the little shudder at the odd sensation. It’s easy to forget vampires have no body heat of their own, until touching them reminds you of that fact.

“You okay?” He asks. 

She nods and blinks a few times, opening her eyes and hoping she did a good enough job rinsing the soap off her face. If she can see, she’ll have better balance. “Yeah. Just a snarl.”

She hears a brush clatter off the edge of the sink, and then feels it moving through her hair. He’s gentler than she is, and another shiver runs down her back, but this time at the sensation of a hand other than her own on her scalp. She can’t help it. Ever since she was a kid, every time her mom combed her wet hair, she’d have a weird little shudder in response. 

“Sorry my hands are cold,” Shay apologizes, clearly misinterpreting the source of the shiver. “I can hold them under the water for a bit if that helps.”

“No, we’re good.” Sierra says. She closes her eyes again as she hears the cap of the shampoo bottle click, and leans her head back so as much of the lather as possible avoids her face. Shay rubs the soap in deep, then runs fingers through her hair as he rinses it out again.

“You do anything else to it?”

“We share a shower in the apartment. Have you ever seen anything in it other than the bar soap and generic shampoo?”

“Just figured I’d ask.” He squeezes gently down the length of her hair and puts a hand on her shoulder to turn her around. “Okay, let’s do your arms.”

She grimaces. She wasn’t kidding about how much that soap stings.

Shay lathers another handful of soap from the string bag and rubs it along her forearms, cleaning away what’s left of the dirt and manure stains. When he turns her hands over, and the warm water hits the raw spots, Sierra hisses and jerks back slightly on instinct.

“Sorry.” 

“I’ll manage. Just give me a second to adjust to it.”

“I could lick it, that might help.”

“You know how weird it sounds when you say that, right?” Sierra asks.

“That’s why I do it.” He shrugs.

“You know, it’s kind of weird that ‘kiss it better’ is actually a real thing if it’s a vampire kissing you.”

“It won’t make it better, the saliva doesn’t heal you faster. It just numbs you.”

“You’ve been hanging around Pete too long if you’re that hung up on the details,” Sierra chuckles. “Ah what the hell, why not.” 

It feels really, really weird for the approximately ten seconds before the numbing agent kicks in. But it does make the ensuing cleaning, disinfecting, and then drying and bandaging of her palms a whole lot more bearable.

She’s shivering a little when he’s done, between the wet hair hanging down her back and her now soggy and clammy underwear. Shay wraps a towel around her shoulders and another around her hair, rubbing gently but briskly and very clearly trying to avoid touching her as much as possible. She appreciates it, but he’s got to be even more chilled than she is. His body just doesn’t show it the way a living one does. 

When he moves around to dry the front of her hair, she lets go of the towel she’s been clutching around her shoulders with her fingertips and wraps her arms around him instead. 

He is cold, and the weird lifelessness of his skin makes her shiver all over again, but she leans into him anyway.

“Okay, good enough. Now, both of us need to go get some dry clothes on.” She looks up at him. “And I’m pretty sure Abeula will make us her hot chocolate even if it is seventy degrees in the shade today. She just might never let us live it down.”

Shay smiles, water still dripping off the ends of his short faux-hawk and landing on her face. “That sounds like a good plan to me.”

(You can read this story and others from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter

[lilypadlys]

Burnout

Summary: Aether loves his pack fiercely and does anything and everything to care for them. But what happens when he has nothing left to give? Fortunately Cumulus is there to remind him that taking care of himself is just as important as being there for others.

Ship: Aether/Cumulus

Word Count: 1152

Rating: Gen Audience

Tags: Fluff, cuddles, comfort, discussion of burnout, Aether just needs a hug sometimes

AO3 Link

Aether lays on his bed, worn out. He stares at the ceiling listlessly, incapable of finding the wherewithal to do much else. He knows he should get up; check on everyone, see what needs doing. Instead he just sags deeper into the mattress.

He’s alone for once. Hiding out in his room. Unable to muster enough energy to socialize. He’d meant to lay down for just a minute. Get some distance to cool down. Catch his breath before getting back to the common room. He’s worried he’ll snap at someone, his fatigue making him cranky. Now though the thought of simply getting up, much less functioning, is a chore.

Aether’s edging on burnout although he’d be hard pressed to admit it. He’s always looking out for others; even putting his own needs aside to do so. Normally he can power through it. Take care of everyone else before falling to sleep exhausted. Then he’ll do it all over again the next day. As long as someone needs him, he’ll find the time and energy.

Lately though, he feels things wearing on him. He wakes up even more tired than when he went to sleep. That if he sleeps at all, pulling late shifts in the infirmary more often than is healthy. He’s forgotten to eat more times than he’d like to admit, his growling stomach sometimes being the only reminder. He showers if and when he has time, sneaking in quick five minute rinse offs with cold water in between tasks. He’s done his best to ignore it, but his neglect of himself is finally catching up to him.

Despite his fatigue, when he hears a knock at his door he’s up instantly. If someone needs something he won’t, can’t, say no. He opens the door to Cumulus.

“Hey Lus!” He puts on an enthusiastic front he doesn’t have the energy to back. Then he pauses, catching her concerned expression. “What’s wrong?” He can practically feel the worry emanating from her. He steels himself for the latest crisis. Musters what little energy he has left.

“Hey it’s okay. Nothing’s on fire.” She soothes.

Aether sighs in relief.

“I came to check on you. Are you doing okay?”

“Aeth?” Cumulus says sternly. “We both know that you’re stretched thin. Don’t try and pretend otherwise.”

His sigh is cut short as he blinks in surprise and tenses up all over again. What? Had he not hid his fatigue well enough? The last thing he wants is everyone worried about him.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” He laughs and attempts to brush it off.

He raises his hands, palms out. “I’m okay. Really.”

She tilts her head and raises a brow, unconvinced. “You need to take a break and let yourself relax.”

Aether’s forced facade starts to drop. “I just took a break and I need to-”

“None of that.” She tuts. “I already checked and everyone is doing fine. Get back in bed.” She points a manicured nail past him towards his bed.

“Cumulus?” He immediately cringes at the whine that slips into his voice. He’s acting embarrassingly like an overtired kit getting scolded by a stern mother. “But I need to be there in case someone needs something.”

“Right now your job is to rest. I’m here to make sure you do.” She smiles, a look of genuine love and care that he can’t say no too.

He cows, lowering his head with a sigh. “Alright.” He shuffles back to his bed.

To his surprise, rather than leaving, she shuts the door and follows him to the bed. “Go on. Get comfortable.”

Aether adjusts his pillows and settles down. He looks at Cumulus who nods in approval. She joins him on the bed; sliding in next to him and pulling his quilt up over top of them both.

“Now come here.” She coos and beckons, patting her abdomen.

“I dunno Lus. What if-”

“Shhh. Everyone is fine. Now it’s your turn to be cared for. Okay?”

“Okay.” He nods, tentatively laying his head on her chest..

“Good.” Cumulus wraps her arms around his back, holding him close. She tangles her fingers in his hair and rubs his back. “I’ve got you darling.”

Aether leans into her, eyes quickly becoming heavy lidded. He’s fucking exhausted, he realizes. He’s been mostly ignoring his body’s signals to rest, but now they overwhelm him. It’s all he can do to keep from nodding off. He kicks up a contented purr as the air ghoulette caresses him.

“That's right.” Cumulus hums. “Just relax.” When she catches him stifling a yawn she adds, “You can sleep. I’ll still be here.”

Aether just snores softly in response.

When Aether wakes, Cumulus is still there just like she promised; arms still wrapped around him. At the moment, she’s dozing. Her soft breaths flutter the ends of his hair. She looks absolutely ethereal, head pillowed on her cloud white curls. Golden hour light filtering in.

He breathes in her clean scent of fresh linen and roses. He nuzzles her neck and snakes a hand up to caress her cheek and tuck her hair behind her ear. When her sky blue eyes open he begins purring all over again.

“I’m supposed to be the one comforting you.” She smiles down at him.

“Can’t help it.” He smiles back.

“Do you feel any better?”

“Lots. Thanks, Lus.”

“Of course.” Her expression turns less dreamy and more serious. “You can’t let yourself get so burnt out like this Aeth.”

“I know.” He looks down, sighing. “It’s just that, I have to make sure everyone’s taken care of. That they know they can rely on me.”

“They do know that.” Cumulus assures. “Believe me. We wouldn’t go to you with problems if we thought you didn’t care or couldn’t help. But, you forgot to take care of someone very important.” She gently raises his chin with a finger to get him to look at her. “Yourself. You're a giver Aeth. It’s beautiful how much you care about everyone. But you can’t neglect your own well being.”

“I know.” He says softly; embarrassed.

“You can set boundaries and take care of yourself while also being there for others. It can be hard but I know you can do it. Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable. Ask for help or take a break when you need it. No one is going to judge or think less of you. You’re just as deserving of being cared for.”

Aether nods, a little choked up. He knows in his heart that his pack cares for him just as much as he does them but it doesn’t hurt to hear it out loud sometimes.

“Promise me you’ll work on taking care of yourself too?”

“I promise.”

Cumulus kisses his head.

“Can you stay here a little longer?” Aether whispers.

“Of course Starlight.” She resumes rubbing his back. “As long as you need.”

[thatguywiththefaceog]

Kinktober 2023 Day 2 Titfucking

Gravity Falls Pinescest

Being horny 16-year-olds, Mabel and Dipper decide explore some urges

written for @kinktober2023

requested by anon

Warning the following story contains both incest and fictional minors in sexual situations. If this makes you uncomfortable or are under 18 please do not read. This story is rated E for explicit and is for adults only. This story is a complete work of fiction.

It started one day when Mabel was waiting for her shower. He came out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist. Mabel couldn’t help but blush at her brother's torso. Puberty had been kind to her brother, no longer lanky and awkward, he had grown quite a bit of muscle since starting high school.

Puberty had been kind to Mabel as well. Her breasts were bigger than her head, easily the biggest in school. Even now as she stood by the bathroom door, her own towel barely covered her. Plenty of her cleavage was showing.

Once inside the bathroom, Mabel let out a sigh in relief. Dropping the towel, the 16-year-old entered the shower naked. After washing herself for a bit, she took the shower head and started shooting the water jets directly at her crotch.

"Oh, oh, Dipper! Dipper!" She cried, until she came from fantasies about her brother.

This had been Mabel’s morning routine for the past couple of days. But today was going to be different. She wore her tightest jeans and a sweater with no shirt or bra underneath. Mabel would have liked to wear something with a little more skin but it was a cool October day, so this was the best she could do.

She waited until her parents left for the day. They were spending the night in San Francisco, so the twins would be in their home all by their lonesome.

Once alone she approached Dipper and wrapped him in a Mabel hug.

"Oof Mabel, what's the occasion?"

"Can't a girl give her favorite brother a hug?"

Dipper chuckled. "Mabel, I'm your only brother."

Mabel laughed at that. Mabel let go and they hugged each other again more sincerely. As she pressed Dipper close to her body, she could feel him sniffing her hair. Yes.

Mabel sniffed him back. The scent of his terrible body wash filled her nostrils.

"Ma-Mabel are you sniffing me?"

"I dunno Dip. Are you sniffing me?"

Dipper’s face turned beet red. "Mabel I-"

"Dipper, it's okay. I like it when you sniff me." The two sat down onto Dipper’s bed. "Dip, you mean more to me than anyone. Thinking about you, about us, it gives me butterflies in my stomach. You are the most important boy in my life."

The dam burst. Mabel wasn't sure who kissed who. What she did know was that she liked Dipper kisses a lot. His tongue met hers, swapping incestuous spit with each other. Mabel did know who put his hand on her boob. It was Mabel.

Mabel got off the bed and knelt in front of her brother. When she started taking off her sweater, Dipper tried to stop her, but she told him, “Dipper, I want my first time to be with someone I know who loves me.” She took off her sweater and judging by Dipper’s face, he couldn’t tell she wasn’t wearing a bra when he was feeling her up earlier. Guess it was the wool.

She reached for his jeans. "Well Dipper, ready to show off for your big sister?" She stuck out her chest, showing off her large breasts. She undid his zipper. When pulling down his pants and underwear, his fully erect dick came popped out and hit her square in her face.

Dipper winced. "Mabel, I'm so sorry."

Mabel however, Laughed. "Oh, so you’re a big brother. I likey." She took hold of her massive tits. “Hang on, I wanna try something. I saw this on pornhub.” She put her boobs around her brother’s cock. She moved her fat cow tits along his member. But the two teens winced in pain. The friction between their skin was hurting them.

“Ow, ow, Mabel.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” She removed her breasts from his crotch. She looked at Dipper’s boner. “Hmmm, wait, I got an idea.” She slid her brother’s cock into her mouth.

Dipper's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, oh Mabel, that's good." He patted his sister's head while she covered his dick in her slobber.

Once Mabel was sure Dipper’s penis was sufficiently slick, she popped him out of her mouth. "Now let's try this again." Once again Mabel put his dick between her tits. It slid much easier this time. "Oh yeah. This is so much better."

She grinned as she pumped titles along his cock. Dipper’s moans were turning her on so much. They were growing in pitch too.

"Mabel, I'm gonna… I’m gonna-"

At that moment Dipper ejaculated. Mabel watched as his cum came erupting out of her cleavage. Most poured down her hills like an avalanche. Some hit her cheek.

She took a scoop in her finger and put some in her mouth. She blanched. "Ew, this gross! How can girls eat this?"

Dipper laughed. "What did you expect it to taste like?"

"I dunno, but they seem to like it in porn." She stood up and took her jeans off. "I'm taking a shower."

"Mabel, you’re naked."

"Dipper, you just jizzed all over me. I don’t care if you see my ass."

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 115: Tuesday April 25, 2023 - “Babies Mamas”

This post contributed by Audrie after hosting a pool party with her baby mamas:

I am so grateful for these women. Kate and Bre. They both are saved in my phone contacts with “Stella” and “Otis” attached respectfully. We all met about 18 or so months ago at the Birth-Center-Mom-Baby group. Stella was just a little sprout and Otis had to have been closing in on 7-9 months, William in 4-6 month range, and I just latched on to the positive energy of these two.

Out of all the women, and all the children, I knew Bre and Kate could be my tribe. It wasn’t more than a few words after hearing Kate & Stellz’s dad were from the STL, that I suggested beers at the brewery and invited a friendship that went beyond Friday’s at the Babymoon.

The rest is history.  We co-encountered and co-conquer all the variations of sleep regressions, teething tenuousnesses, food introductions, and developmental milestone markers along side one another while strolling the zoo, group texting or sneaking away for mamas-only-night at the comedy club.  

Then suddenly Bre and Tom were unexpectedly expecting a second baby and Kate and I didn’t hesitate to throw a warm welcome sprinkle-shower for baby E.

These women have been my go to for mom-talk, ladies nights, and just over all steadfast rocks to recenter on and cling to when the waters became too murky and rough to navigate solo.

These two were always on standby to hoist me back up when the slippery sloping edge that is new-motherhood got too steep to navigate alone.

I love them, and their babies. And we don’t all get together as often as we all would like, or connect as much as we all wish we could to let the kids bond, and the wine and whines flow. And yet, it’s been enough to not ever forget the value of this band of new mamas and the impertinent asset of having a few good women in your corner; walking a journey not exactly right along with you but somewhere…as if on a similar trail…within the same rough square mile of foreign landscapes and wild places…. A square mile made up of rock, and wash gullies, dehydrated shrubbery, and random wondering useless cows.

These women have been a lot like fellow desert hikers: picking their way from the tattered ends of the long dirt road that goes over the grand escalate staircase, and then diverges like the Nile’s Delta into the randomly-organized maze of trails that weave and wonder their way up to the backside of Lake Powell.  

We are all out here looking for the golden goose— that amber glazed sunrise donut reflecting off the red rock and glassy still water in Reflection Canyon.  We are all seeking that piece of peace.  Whether it’s in the wild or it’s in the wildness of the child, we are all set to conquer the peace.

In preparation for the journey, someone might have given you their compass, or their recollection of the way along that similar excursion that they hiked years ago… but until you are in it yourself, and realize we are all on a journey aimed at the same destination, but true north will point in different directions in the same compass for for each mama and child — we all have a yearning for the the prize of that award winning son-rise: a happy and healthy child, a thriving and not-crying and peacefully-sleeping-not-weeping-tiny-human that is not just the product of our cell building and milk rearing, but also our decision making and pathway picking though the neural-network map of endlessly possible passages to the sweet water’s edge.

This singular journey that pushes back and dances with the banks of insanity, also brings grounding and recenter in the small moments with the mamas who cross paths, who find their tribe on this solo journey; who take shelter under the same shade tree, together to breathe, to share, to reflect and to project and then to continue on again, in our slightly different directions and at different paces —yet all arrows aimed to arrive collected again. Down the trail. We all want the waters’ edge. The peace the love the beauty of a contended child, the warmth, the joy, the gratitude reflecting back in that baby’s smile.

We collected under a shade tree again today, Bre, Kate and I. And in the cooling waters of the Finca’s back yard, our hands stayed busy, while our hearts slowed down— for at least a few fleeting moments we rested our mama-souls. Leaning into one another, affirming, praising and recollect.  

It’s never enough, and it’s also always just enough time with these women, and our babies.

Song: Mazey Haze - Back to the Start 

Quote: "What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger." ~T.S. Eliot

[puppyguppy]

Not that you go looking for him or anything, not when you’ve got shit to do. Shit like finding the little set of keys your aunt stashed around the front porch – under rugs and amidst potted plants. Shit like unpacking, showering, settling. Shit like removing and shaking out all the sheets that covered the furniture. Shit like checking just how stocked the cabinets, fridge, and freezer are, and making a list of things you hope are available at the local market. Needless to say, you’re pretty busy.

But, you know you aren’t alone. You catch sight of him a few times. The farmhand. From the corner of your eye, through the various windows you’ve opened around the house. He flutters past your vision like the mild breeze through the curtains, and stills sometimes in certain spots, dark, like a shadow. Over by the barn, over in the garden, over by the greenhouse – you’ve yet to spot the trailer you were told he lives in. But again, it’s not like you were looking. You’ve got to hand it to him, though; he’s one hell of a farmhand. Though you don’t exactly have anyone else to compare him to – the house is old, but so far, seems in need of little to no repair. The garden you’ve glimpsed looks weeded, watered, and pruned. There’s silhouettes of several different plants most likely flourishing out in the green house. Your aunt said there’s a handful of animals scattered about the property, such as a horse, a cow, some chickens and a pig, all serving different purposes, but you can hardly even smell the evidence of them. And to top it off, the lawns are mowed, and there’s fruit on the fruit trees. It’s hard to believe it’s all tended by just one person, just some guy your aunt had taken a shine to. She hadn’t even bothered to give you his name. You honestly wonder if he even knows you’re there. You get your answer later, just as the sun’s starting to set, when you decide to head out onto the back porch with a glass of wine and your phone. You planned to take some pretty pictures; post it up online as proof of your spur-of-the-moment decision, and to let everyone know that you’d arrived safe and sound. Even if the sun sets ugly, the deck and property make for just as pretty a picture. There’s an old porch swing with some comfy looking cushions, more potted plants, one of those papasan chairs that look like a little nest. There’s a couple of little tables littered with little knick-knacks and decorations, like crystals and rocks and – dragon figurines? And there’s also what looks like a little firepit. And a windchime, almost moving enough to make a tune – with another dainty, stained glass dragon motif. You’re about to sit down, pondering whether it’s your aunt or your aunt’s ‘best friend’ that has an obsession with such mythical creatures, when a sound catches your attention. That’s something you’re going to have to get used to. The noises here. And the lack thereof. Your place back in the city wasn’t loud, but it also wasn’t quiet enough to hear the gentle tapping of a hand against a weird wooden crate from several feet away, either. Which is exactly what you’re hearing. And what you’re seeing. Down in the grass, between the deck and the barn, the farmhand stands amidst several stacks of wooden crates. The stacks vary in height and color, sort of haphazardly so, and the farmhand stands next to the tallest one, hunched over with what seems to be his ear pressed down against it. It’s hard to be sure, though, since his back is towards you. Does he know you’re there? Outside right now, or at all? Is there something in that crate? You don't want to startle him… And you don’t. Even as your phone chimes in one of your hands, he doesn't even flinch. So you stop holding your breath (since apparently you were doing that), but before you can get a single word out, he holds up his hand and straightens up. You watch, then, as he pats the top of that crate again with a gentleness you can't help but compare to affection.  “Do you need anything?” He asks. The question zips through you like lightning, making you still save for the blinking of your eyes.

You cough and wave dust away from your face, eyes watering as you fish for the folded up letter you’d previously shoved into your back pocket. The man that’d picked you up from the bus stop was kind, but you couldn’t tell which was older; him, or the spluttering truck he drove. It made for difficult, hardly held conversation. Not because you’re shy or weren’t curious, but because the truck had been loud, and the man a bit hard of hearing. He’d had a warm smile as he waved goodbye to you though, tinged with a little red. However, before you could ask, or even so much as thank the guy, his truck was off down the road, kicking up dirt.

His barely held together tailgate read, in bold but faded white letters, “Plus Ultra!” When you can see and breathe clearly again, you unfold the paper in your hands and double check the address you’d been given. You’d been to the property before, of course, but a long, long time ago. Honestly, it felt like a lifetime ago – your childhood. Even then, you can’t really remember the place beyond a couple of random, core memories. Like falling asleep on both the way there and the way back, safe and comfortable, lulled unconscious by the quiet conversation of your parents and the rhythmic rocking of the car. You could’ve made more memories there – here. You’d been invited well into your teen years, for holidays and summer breaks and special occasions. And it’s not that you didn’t love your aunt, the one who used to live here; her and her ‘best friend’ though everyone in the family knew better. You still love her, love them. Hard not to with just how crazy they could be – like the two of them buying a farm out in the middle of nowhere, and thinking they could keep up with it. They’d done surprisingly well, up until randomly deciding to travel the world before permanently settling down. You’re pretty sure they eloped. You’re like, ninety-nine percent positive that they’re currently on their honeymoon. Just best friend things. You probably could’ve been closer to them, if you’d just given them the chance. But, you were young. You had classes and friends and hobbies at the time that you’d just considered too cool to pass up. Now all gone, for one reason or another, which is why you’re even here. Why you’d reached out to your aunt in the first place. It was the perfect opportunity. They’d more or less left the property abandoned, and you were in desperate need of an escape. A reset. That all depends on that more or less, though. Apparently, your aunt had hired a farmhand at some point. And, said farmhand still lived there. Here. Not in the house or anything, but in his own little trailer, supposedly. Parked somewhere rather permanently on the property. In the letter, your aunt had described him as ‘a bit standoffish’ but with ‘a heart of gold’. Then followed that up by saying that if you didn’t like him, well. ‘Tough shit. Leave.’ Whether you liked him or not didn’t really matter. You didn’t come here to make friends. You didn’t come here to get to know anyone else other than yourself. So, you figure, as long as he stays out of your way, you’ll do your best to stay out of his. Which… Ends up being almost eerily easy.

[r1vrrr]

Billy Hargrove x Amab Reader

cw. bottom! billy x dom! male reader

i wanted to write a steve fanfic but this was requested more 😭

There are many reasons why Billy hates Hawkins, Indiana. Being uprooted and dragged away from his life back in Cali to this place is in his top 5 reasons why his life is shitty. All his friends are thousands of miles away, and he’s stuck here alone, surrounded by the local hicks, high school cows, and forced to spend increasing amounts of time with Max, and his pathetic excuse of a family.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he could get his rocks off every now and then, but in Hawkins, the queer population is exactly zero. And for good reason. You wanna keep breathing, you don’t mention the fact that you might have a proclivity for dick.

He makes do with his left hand as best he can.

There is one good thing about this pathetic excuse of a town though. Y/N. Big-dicked Y/N. Billy would know, he’s ingrained the glances of Y/N’s dick he gets to have in the Gym showers into his mind. He’s only allowed a glance or two though. Everyone knows it’s perfectly normal for guys to check each other out in the showers. You’re just comparing merchandise. Billy does more than compare merchandise. He’s not an idiot though, he’s subtle about it. And Y/N?

Billy likes his merchandise.

Y/N is fucking hung. In the showers, whilst he’s soaping up Billy gets a glance or two at him and Y/N even flaccid, is long and thick. The first time he got a look, he knew he was fucked. And sure enough, that dick has been the star of every jerk-off fantasy Billy’s had since. Billy can admit to himself that he looks forward to those one or two glances he gets to have of Y/N’s cock a little too much. It’s pathetic as shit, but not much else Billy can do in this town.

Today he’ll get another chance to catch a few glimpses of Y/N in all his glory. Or he thought he would, but when the guys hit the showers after practice, Y/N didn’t appear to be joining them. Great. He’ll just have to survive with images from last week then. He takes his time showering, stays longer than the other guys, everyone leaving till it’s just Billy and the weak water pressure. Doesn’t notice the new figure walking in until he starts his shower beside Billy.

It’s Y/N, naturally. He’s under the water, letting the water flow through his hair and over his face and isn’t acknowledging Billy’s even there. Billy’s heart gives a little jump and he realizes this is the perfect opportunity. He stares, no one there to see him do it and Y/N’s got his eyes closed. So, Billy lets his eye drag up his body. From his calves to thighs, right to that tight ass, across his lean torso and then down to his cock and balls.

“Like what you see, Hargrove?” Y/N teases.

FUCK, Billy thinks, “You wish, Y/N” Billy scoffs looking away, but Christ, he can feel his face heat, his fucking ears burning, those traitorous bastards.

When he looks over at Y/N again, he’s smirking at him, washing over his torso with soap.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” Y/N remarks.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N?” Billy retorts, and shoves Y/N’s shoulder, stepping into his space. Billy’s heart is gonna beat straight out of his chest.

“It means, I’ve seen you looking before Hargrove, and not like how the other guys look. You look and for a split second, your face changes.” Y/N smirks at him.

Billy’s gonna fucking kill him, his breathing is increasing and he’s tensing up, waiting for Y/N to make the accusation. “Yeah? How does my face change, hmm?” Billy looks Y/N square in the eye when he says it, daring him to take this any further.

Y/N’s mocking smirk turns straight into a grin and he leans closer, Billy swears he sees him glance down at his lips for a second. “You get this look, of pure want” Y/N whispers, and then he kisses Billy, plants his lips firmly against his.

Billy’s whole body locks up and his arms shoot up to grab Y/N by his upper arms, planning to push him the fuck away and take a swing most likely, but Y/N stops kissing him all at once, and stares at Billy as he stares back, in mild shock.

“You gonna kiss me back, or just stand there stock-still?” Y/M says, smiling at him as if Billy’s the sweetest thing he’s ever seen, and Billy’s freaking the fuck out right now. “Are you messing with me, Y/N? Cause if this is some kinda joke, I will bash your head in against these tiles” Billy warns.

Y/N leans in and whispers “Not a joke”, before planting his lips on Billy’s again. Billy relaxes, kisses back, and nearly melts into Y/N. Slides his arms up and around Y/N’s shoulders, gets his hand in that hair as he deepens the kiss. Opens his mouth and pushes his tongue against Y/N’s. Y/N wraps his arms around Billy’s lower back and pulls him closer. Their bodies collide and Billy feels his cock meeting Y/N’s, and fuck that feels good. They pull back, panting into each other’s mouths.

Billy glances down, sees Y/N’s half-hard against his hip and fuck, he’s huge. Blood rushes to Billy’s cock at the sight of it, and he knows what he wants. Has wanted it from the moment he saw Y/N in the showers. “You ever been sucked off by a guy before, Y/N?” Billy whispers.

“Fuck, Billy, no…not by a guy” Y/N pants out, his pupils wide.

“You wanna be?” Billy says, licking his lips.

Y/N nods, “Yeah, please…?”. That’s all Billy needs, he drops to his knees in front of Y/N, the tiles hard beneath him. Y/N’s cock is a fucking work of art, long and thick, curving upward. Billy takes a hold of him, feels the weight of him in his hand, the girth. And looks up at Y/N through his eyelashes.

“Fuck, look at you,” Y/N says, pushing his hand through Billy’s hair, practically petting him. Billy smirks and then licks straight up from the base of Y/N’s cock to the head before taking the head into his mouth and swirling his tongue. Y/N groans above him, and Billy can taste the precum that’s gathered at the tip. Gripping Y/N’s hips, Billy works on taking him deeper, bobbing his head and using his tongue to swirl around the head of Y/N’s cock. Billy loves this, hasn’t had it for weeks since moving to Hawkins and he plans to make the most of this opportunity.

Y/N is panting above him, making all these soft noises. Staring down at Billy like he can’t believe he’s real. “God, Billy” he pants out and Billy would smirk if his mouth wasn’t so full. He’s good at this, knows it, but Y/N is the biggest he’s ever had. Billy’s determined to make this the best head Y/N has ever gotten though. So, he closes his eyes and takes as much of Y/N into as throat as he can. Concentrating on not gagging and feeling the head of Y/N’s cock hit the back of his throat and pushes further.

Y/N lets out a noise that’s close to a shout and Billy opens his eyes and pulls off, panting. “Gotta stay quiet for me, Y/N. Can’t have anyone hearing” Billy says, and he continues to mouth at the head of Y/N’s cock. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be quiet” Y/N pants out. “You’re just, like, really good at that” Y/N says with a huff of laughter. This time, Billy does smirk, “Yeah, I know” and then promptly swallows Y/N down again. Y/N makes a cut off sound and Billy looks up as he’s bobbing his head to see Y/N biting into his fist

Billy can tell he’s gonna blow soon, so he really goes for it. Closing his eyes, he bobs his head faster, swirls his tongue around the head of Y/N’s cock and concentrates on getting as much of him into his mouth as he can manage. He’s got a pretty good rhythm going when Y/N’s grip in his hair starts getting tight, “Billy I’m gonna cum” Y/N manages to get out between the pants and small noises he’s making. Billy’s gives him all he’s got, increases his speed as much as he can, jaw aching and lungs burning until Y/N suddenly grips his hair tight and pushes his cock as far into Billy’s throat as it’ll go and then coming. Billy gags, grip tightening on Y/N’s thighs as he struggles to swallow the cum filling his mouth. Manages most of it but some leaks out past his lips. When Y/N finally comes down from his climax, he pulls out of Billy’s mouth.

Billy’s keeps his eyes closed and pants for air. Then Y/N is gripping his chin and bending over to lick the cum from the side of his mouth before plunging his tongue into Billy’s mouth. Billy’s too tired to do much of anything, but slowly kiss back, letting Y/N explore his mouth with his tongue. Can likely taste himself, and Billy’s own cock throbs with the thought.

Eventually Y/N pulls back, and Billy opens his eyes to see Y/N regarding him. “You alright?” Y/N asks, and Billy huffs out a laugh.

“I’m so good, Y/N,” Billy says, still laughing. Y/N smiles at him before his eyes travel lower to Billy’s own painfully hard cock. “You want help with that?” He asks looking hungrily at Billy. Billy’s surprised but also fucking delighted, he thought Y/N would awkwardly thank him and then leave Billy in his own state of painful arousal. “What, you offering to help, handsome?” Billy says, raising an eyebrow at Y/N.

Y/N looks up at the two shower heads still spraying now, lukewarm water, before shutting them both off. “Lie back,” He says gesturing with his hands for Billy to lie down.

“On these fucking tiles? I don’t need fungus growing on my balls, Y/N.” Billy says, cause really, is he dumb?

“Yeah okay, fair enough, uh,” Y/N looks around before he seems to come to an idea. “Here, over here then,” he says offering his hand for Billy to take in getting up, which he does. Y/N leads him to the benches, between the row of lockers in the changing rooms. “Lie down.” Y/N instructs.

Billy doesn’t usually enjoy people telling him what to do, but he's excited for what Y/N has planned for him, so he lays back on the bench. Y/N smiles before planting his knees between Billy’s on the bench and bending over to hover his face above Billy’s dick. And holy fuck, Billy isn’t going to last long. “I’ve, uh, never actually done this before so, um,” Y/n mutters looking up at him.

“Yeah, figured as much Y/N, but I’m about two seconds away from blowing my load so you won’t need to do much,” Billy says, pushing his right hand through Y/N hair. “Right,” Y/N says, laughing a little before he licks right up Billy’s cock and takes the head in his mouth. “Fuck,” Billy exclaims, before biting down hard into his bottom lip to quiet himself.

Y/N was by no means an expert, but the mere sight of him looking up at Billy whilst he bobbed up and down had Billy’s gut tightening, and his orgasms rising fast. But fuck, Billy doesn't want this to end so fast, so he pants out a breath and tries to quell his orgasm.

Y/N was taking more of him into his mouth, closing his eyes with a look of concentration. His mouth is so wet and hot around Billy, and better than Billy ever imagined. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking hot,” Billy says, stroking his fingers through Y/N hair.

Y/N hums, and then did something unexpected, takes his right hand from Billy’s hip and slides his index and middle finger down Billy’s perineum to stroke them over Billy’s hole. Billy gasps, his toes curling. He cums so fast and hard, he doesn't even have time to warn Y/N, whose eyes widen when cum hits his tongue.

Billy can't even stop the noises spilling from his mouth, his orgasm blazing through him, and he can only hold on as Y/N continues to suck him through it. When the last wave of it hit, and Y/N pulls off, Billy feels so blissed out and relaxed, he doesn't think he ever wants to get up off this bench.

Opening his eyes, Y/N was looking at him with amusement in his eyes. “What’s so funny, Y/N?” Billy says, narrowing his eyes and daring Y/N to say something to ruin all of this. Y/N laughs a little, “Think I did a pretty good job for my first time” he says, smirking at Billy, clearly noticing how blissed out Billy looks.

Billy smirks back at him, “Don’t let it go to your head Y/N, I haven’t gotten any in weeks since moving to this shithole” Billy states, finally sitting up.

Y/N looks at him in confusion, “You have like, a new girl at your side every week, Billy” Y/N says, frowning confusedly.

Billy wanted to laugh, Y/N really wasn’t the sharpest, “I just came at the feeling of your fingers on my hole, Y/N, you really think I enjoy my time with those cows?” Billy says, laughing at Y/N’s face when it clicks in his mind.

“Oh, so what, you’re just keeping up appearances?” Y/N says, laughing a little.

“Yeah, don’t know if you’ve noticed but being a fag isn’t really celebrated around here,” Billy says, which is true for pretty much everywhere, but Billy knows in Hawkins his life would only get so much worse if it got out. Or the short period of time between when it got out and when his Dad found out and promptly murdered him.

Jesus, wonderful post-sex thoughts Y/N’s inspiring. Getting up and grabbing his towel, Billy quickly dries off. Y/N doing the same at his locker. “You know, my parents won’t be around later if you maybe, wanna come around?” Y/N says. Billy glances over at Y/N, what was he offering here? “You looking for round two, Y/N?” Billy smirks. Y/N rolls his eyes, smiling and says, “No, I’m offering to braid your hair and paint your nails.”

“Well why didn’t ye say so! See you later then, Y/N!” Billy says as he finishes dressing, sauntering past Y/N, as he felt his ass get smacked. Maybe Hawkins wasn't so bad.