#monster cock boyfriend who teases you for not being able to handle even just the tip :///

[festive]

monster cock boyfriend watching you struggle to take his dick will forever be my jam

[euphoric-melancholyy]

The Secrets We Keep

I’m on a personal vendetta against “May’s abusive boyfriend” trope so I thought it would be fun to give May a really awesome, loving boyfriend who’s just a little confused as to why she lets her teenage son stay out til 1 every night and sleep somewhere else every weekend. Also, he’s friends with Tony Stark? Chris - May’s new boyfriend -  feels like he’s missing something here. 

I’m posting this instead of a fic rec today

Also on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

May Parker hadn’t planned on stepping back into the dating scene, but then again she hadn’t planned on most of the important life events that seemed to shape her. His name was Chris. He was handsome, tan with dark hair and scruff that couldn’t quite be called a beard yet, and hooded green eyes that all the hospital patients commented on. Chris worked alongside her at Queens Memorial, exchanging quips about 90s pop culture and recipes to actually cook for Peter. He cared for his patients with a rare sensitivity to their needs, always trying to brighten their day and learn a little bit about what makes them happy.  Like her, he was a widower, having lost his wife eight years prior to cancer. And she hadn’t planned on him crashing her little bubble, being a balm for the isolation of raising a super-powered kid who seemed to attract danger like a magnet. Not that she could tell Chris that. 

But even so, he soothed her worries when Peter was out on patrol and being with him felt like relearning how to breathe. It felt euphoric, and scary and soothing and exciting all at once. She wasn’t sure when she had last smiled as much as she did when Chris entered the picture. It didn’t go unnoticed by Peter either, her newfound giddiness after long days at work now more commonplace than exhaustion. 

After three dates, she tells her nephew, nervously twirling spaghetti around her fork as she awaits his reaction. 

His eyes brighten as she speaks and he puts down his fork, eagerly leaning forward as she tells him about the Italian dinner he made for them on their last date. “That’s great, May! As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I know Ben would feel the same way, by the way." 

Peter’s lips are pressed together in a soft smile and she’s not sure why she’d been so worried to tell him. Pride overwhelms her in that moment, of who he is and his kindness, his inability to let the little guy suffer when he knows he can help. She might not love that he’s risking his life as Spider-Man, but she can still be proud of him for it. It coils in her chest with the near constant ebb of fear, but it’s warm and inviting and she’s not sure how she got to raise the best kid in the universe.  

"He’d be so proud of you, Pete.” She beams at him before eating a forkful of spaghetti.  “Spider-kid.”

“It’s Spider-Man, May.” He protests. “You sound like Mr. Stark when you make those nicknames.”

“Oh, we can’t have me sounding like him, now can we?”

“You already tag team me like divorced parents who stay friends, so I don’t see why not.”

“It’s called co-parenting,” she responds and Peter rolls his eyes. 

“So when can I meet this Chris?” Peter asks and she doesn’t even try to stifle her smile at his eagerness. She might not be able to help him with homework or any of his Spider-Man activities, but this - this she can handle.

-/-/-

They set ground rules. The first and most important rule is that Chris can’t know Peter’s Spider-Man, at least not for awhile. It means Peter can’t leave his suit lying around or continue crawling on the ceiling out of boredom or stress or whatever reason he decides it’s a better place to pace than the floor. 

They also agree not to tell Chris that he spends half his week with the Tony Stark. 

(“People at school already tease me about it being fake and I don’t care, but…it isn’t normal for a random teenager to just hang out with Mr. Stark. And what if he connects Spider-Man? Then that puts him in danger too and I just, I- I don’t want him to know yet May.”) 

This is a secret May still thinks she can handle — at least, for a time. If asked, she says that Peter has an internship with Happy Hogan.

And, in some weird twist of fate he never wants to experience again, Peter finds himself giving the talk. He’s beat red the whole time, cheeks flushed as he stammers through his explanation. 

(“May, I-I have enhanced senses and um, I can hear your heartbeat. And I can hear a - hear a conversation happening two blocks over right now. So like, if - if he’s gonna spend the night, or something, please for the love of my innocence, let me be at the Compound. Or- or just tell me. I need a heads-up.”

“If your hearing is actually that good, I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but not from you and I never want to.”)

-/-/-

The second rule is broken three weeks after Peter meets Chris. Though they get along famously, Peter usually isn’t around when Chris is at the apartment. It isn’t planned, he’s just busy and overcommitted. At this point, it’s only his third time being in the older man’s presence.

They’re all at the table together, eating lasagna that Chris had made when Tony knocks on the door and May answers. 

“Ah, Ms. Parker, lovely to see you as always. Mind if I borrow Peter for a few days? It’s for,” he glances at Chris and gives a signature fake smile and nod, “Internship stuff.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark, what are you - what are you doing here?” Peter asks, his voice getting higher the more he talks. “I thought Happy was coming, not that it isn’t great to see you. It is I just - I-”

“Happy’s in the car, kid.” Tony says, smiling to himself at Peter’s nervous rambling. 

May sighs and side steps, inviting him in while Peter gets a bag together. “If anything happens to my kid Stark, I will personally come and kill you. FRIDAY will let me in and you won’t even see it coming.” She keeps her face stern for a moment, then breaks into a wide grin. “Chris, meet Tony Stark. Tony meet Chris."  

Chris is unsurprisingly starstruck and confused, stumbling over his words in a way that May finds to be the most adorable thing she’s ever seen. "Hi, uh, hi. You’re I-You’re here? And you’re Iron Man. And Peter?” he stops mid-ramble and extends his hand. Tony takes it. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“Likewise. Peter’s told me a lot about you. Speaking of, kid, hurry up. I don’t have all day." 

Peter runs back into the common area, backpack in tow and wearing his suit, sans mask, under his clothes. The red spandex peaks out at his wrists. Tony cocks an eyebrow at his protege.  

"What?” the teen asks. 

“Nothing. Let’s go." 

Peter kisses May on the cheek, promising to be safe and update her three times a day, before following his mentor out the door. 

-/-/-

The next night, they’re curled up on the couch together with May’s head on Chris’s chest and legs intertwined. The news plays softly in the background but May isn’t really paying attention. 

"So when were you gonna tell me that you’re BFFs with a billionaire? With Iron Man himself?” Chris asks, running his fingers through her hair. There isn’t anything accusatory in his tone and May cuddles closer to him. 

“We’re not BFFs. He mentors Peter sometimes with… science stuff. It all goes over my head. Peter asked me not to mention it. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself." 

"And Iron Man just whisked Peter off to. . ?” he lets his question trail off. 

“Some nerdy science conference in Italy.”

“Damn, that’s-” he pauses, looking at the TV and pointing. On the screen, there’s a breaking news alert about The Avengers fighting another alien army, because apparently normal villains went out of style in 2012.  “Wait, that Italy?" 

She sees Peter, Spider-Man, next to The Hulk, Iron Man flying above as they fight off their oppressors. Everyone’s there - Cap and Widow and Iron Patriot and Hawkeye, but they are pulled away to another part of the fight. They’ve been fighting for at least half an hour when she watches as Spider-Man is thrown into a building. The bricks break with the impact and it begins to cave and she swears she stops breathing for a moment. It’s another five minutes before she sees him again, red and blue swinging around and webbing up the aliens. Iron Man fires his repulsors at the last big baddie and Hulk smashes their foe’s head half a dozen times. 

"Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s fine,” Chris offers, his voice low and serious. “He’s at a conference, not fighting these monsters." 

"Yeah.” It’s barely above a whisper and she takes out her phone when she gets a message from Peter. 

Don’t worry. I’m okay. It’s gonna take more than that to take me out. Tony is going all “dad mode” on me. It’s embarrassing. 

May looks up to the TV to see Iron Man cradling an injured Spidey and flying them to their jet. She smiles and types out a response. 

I can see that. You did great, Pete. Take an ice bath or something, that looked like it hurt. Love you.

“He’s fine,” she says, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. 

“Told you,” Chris quips, leaning in to kiss her. It’s soft and it calms her nerves in a way she can’t explain. “So, you know Iron Man, but who’s your favorite Avenger?”

“I’m partial to Spider-Man. He is Queens’ local vigilante after-all." 

"May Parker, a Spider-Man fan,” he teases. She throws a pillow at him. 

-/-/-

“Shouldn’t Peter be home by now?” Chris asks one night. May glances at the time on her phone. It reads 12:33 a.m. 

“He has until 1 a.m.”

“Isn’t that kinda late? I mean he’s only sixteen - he could get seriously hurt out there. Or partying and drinking his weight in-”

“He’s fine, Chris. Peter’s a good kid. I trust him.” She looks towards his bedroom door. It’s shut so he can just silently swing in. The crime has been quieter lately - thank god. No alien attacks or evil mutant who has it out for her kid. “His curfew goes back to 11:30 once school starts up." 

Chris looks skeptical, but he’s not about to tell her how to raise her nephew. "Whatever you say.”

-/-/-

Peter’s body aches, muscles throbbing with the all-enveloping pain of post battle. Blood trickles down from around his left eye, which is now swollen shut. He cries, a short high pitched wince as he comes back into consciousness, his body pressing against a pile of rubble. 

A sharp pain erupts at his most definitely broken ribs and he bites down another cry. He could hear someone calling his name in the distance, their voice muffled as if they were screaming underwater. 

“Peter! Spider-Man!" 

Peter groans, opening his eye as he tries to recall where he is but there’s a glint of red and gold blocking his sight. 

"T'ny?”

“Yeah, bud. You blacked out there for a few minutes and I thought I’d come get you.”

“I’m o-” His word is caught on a hiss of pain as Tony lifts him into his arms and Peter curls into himself. “Shit.”

“Maybe don’t become a ragdoll for steampunk Ursula next time, okay?”

“Wha?”

“Otto Octavious - madman with mechanical arms. I’ll explain it to you when you’re more coherent. Pretty sure you have a concussion.”

Peter wakes later in the dim light of the medbay. Mr. Stark sits in a recliner next to him, checking and promptly ignoring his emails. Peter’s head throbs, his left eye still swollen shut, his body aching, but it’s duller than before, the pull of drugs making his mind fuzzy. He’s been stripped of his suit and looks down to find he’s wearing an old MIT hoodie of Tony’s and…his Hello Kitty pajama pants, great. 

“Four broken ribs, a concussion, a skull fracture, and of course there’s that eye - I’ll get you an eye patch and you can cosplay as Nick Fury.” Tony remarks, looking to the kid. 

“Better that than these pajamas. Really, Mr. Stark?”

“Punishment for scaring the shit out of me,” he says with a smirk, but the rest of his face betrays his cool demeanor. There’s worry lines etched into his expression that furrow his brow and dark bags under his eyes. His hair is disheveled and Peter has the urge to reach out and fix it, but decides that would be weird. It’s strange to see his mentor like this, so unguarded and worried, and not TV ready. Tony isn’t even trying to hide it, which seems to be the worst part for Peter.  He hates that he caused this.

“I’m sorry. Thanks, for - for saving me.” Peter says with a sheepish smile. 

“Don’t mention it,” Tony says, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. Peter leans into the touch. “Actually do. Please mention it to your lovely Aunt. She gets off at two tonight so I’m gonna drive you back. Don’t worry, I’m sending some Captain America level narcotics with you for all that,” his hand makes a circle in the air, gesturing to Peter’s everything. 

Peter gets home at 1:45, the hood of Tony’s sweatshirt pulled over his head in a sad attempt to hide his eye and some dry blood caked into his hairline. The smell of homemade pizza overwhelms his senses before he even walks in the apartment. It’s odd, May rarely cooks especially in the middle of the night. 

“Hey hon,” Chris calls as Peter walks through the door. He’s standing in the kitchen, looking in the oven. “I thought I’d make you some dinner befo- oh my god Peter!”

Peter freezes, trying to stifle the panic that’s bubbling in his chest. Chris is already by his side less than a second later, hesitantly pushing the hood off Peter’s head and examining his eye with a concerned what the hell happened? 

“Uhh…I was jumped? Yeah. Jumped. I was jumped.” 

Chris considers him for a minute, soft gaze searching Peter’s in a way that makes him uncomfortable, like he’s learning something new. “C’mere,” Chris’s says, voice low and laced with so much concern that Peter doesn’t even protest as he follows him to the couch. 

“I already went to the doctor. Mr. Stark took me. Really Chris, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Even if you already went, I’m worried and I’m a doctor, and I’d feel a lot better if you let me look. Please, Peter.” 

The way he says Peter, it’s not unlike how Tony says his name sometimes, like a whispered prayer for him to be okay, and it breaks his resolve. Slowly, Peter lifts the hoodie over his head and tosses it to the floor. Chris gasps and it’s full of surprise and fear and all the emotions Peter wanted to avoid for at least a week, and Peter chances a look down. His torso is littered in bruises of varying shades and there’s a cut along his stomach. He can feel the medicine Dr. Cho gave him wearing off and it hurts. 

“Pete,” the older man whispers, hands held in suspension above Peter’s ribs, like he wants to touch them but he’s terrified of causing anymore pain. “Your ribs…You-”

“They’ll be fine in a few days. I have a concussion too, so can I just,” Peter sighs, resting his head against the back of the couch. It’s soft and comforting and he’s just so ready for this day to be over. “Go to bed, please?”

The door opens in that moment and May walks in. She’s wearing blue scrubs and her hair is tied in a loose ponytail. Immediately she locks eyes with Peter, and her face crumbles as she rushes over.  “Peter, baby! I- Tony said you were in a fight, but this…”

“I’m fine, May. Really. It really wasn’t a big deal. It’s not even worth worrying over.”

May shoos Chris to the side and sits down in between them. Her eyes run over Peter in a professional way, ending on his swollen eye. One of her hands goes to cup his cheek, “Okay, first off you cannot possibly say it’s not a big deal when you look like this. What did Dr. Cho say?” Her thumb brushes over his temple and a scowl replaces her worried look. As if wanting to prove her point, a gut-clenching pain shoots through him and he pulls his knees to his chest, sucking in air when his ribs protest painfully.

“A couple of broken ribs, skull fracture…” Peter whispers, wishing his metabolism didn’t work its way through all the painkillers in five minutes. 

“And a concussion,” Chris reminds, his hand resting on May’s knee.

They look like a team, Peter thinks, and May’s presence had calmed Chris’s erratic heartbeat the moment she came home. The idea elicits pangs of guilt on top of everything - guilt at the lies he and May have concocted to keep his identity of Spider-Man safe. He wonders how hard it’s been on May and Chris’s relationship, how many white lies she’s had to tell, but he pushes the thought down and focuses on the throbbing in his head instead. At least that can be dealt with, he thinks, and asks May to get his medicine from his backpack. She hands it to him with a sad gleam in her eyes. It makes him want to crawl under the nearest blanket and hide from their sympathetic glances. 

“Really May, it’s nothing I can’t handle. Just everyday stuff,” Peter tries to reassure her. 

“Peter, you were jumped,” Chris says, his tone serious. “That’s not an everyday thing, or at least I hope not. It’s a big deal and it’s scary. Your ribs are broken for god’s sake. Your eye is swollen shut. I just-” Chris pauses, looking down at the cut along Peter’s ribs. May’s brows furrow in confusion at the mention of Peter being jumped, but she quickly schools her expression. 

May sighs. “We’ll let you get some rest, okay superhero?” She offers her hand to help Peter get up. He takes it and stands. “Call if you need anything. We’ll be right here.”

“Thanks May. Thank you, Chris.”

He’s asleep not even ten minutes later, lulled by the concerned whispers of May and Chris from two rooms over. When he wakes the next morning, his body is sore, but his eye is almost back to normal. 

-/-/-

Five months have passed when May wakes to the shrill of “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath playing from her phone at 3 a.m. Peter had thought it’d be funny to set it as her ringtone for when Tony called and she never got around to changing it back. Her bedroom is coated in darkness, save for the light from her phone and she squints at it. Chris is wrapped around her like a koala, arm slung over her stomach and lips pressed to the back of her shoulder. 

“ ‘Ello,” she yawns as she answers, her eyelids drooping and the remnants of sleep threatening to pull her back in.

“May,” Tony’s says, his voice serious and raw with emotion that she’s never heard from the billionaire and it scares her, wiping away all the tiredness and replacing it with fear. May shoots out of bed, trying to keep her breath even but it fails. “Peter’s alive, first off, so don’t worry about that. He’s okay, kind of, well, he will be. He’s - he was shot earlier on patrol - twice. The damn kid. And Happy is on his way to get you, he should be there in ten minutes, so-”

“Peter was shot?” she whisper-screams, the words knocking the air from her lungs. And she can’t help it, the way her mind immediately goes to Ben on that fateful night, Peter at the police station covered in her late husband’s blood, silent sobs racking his body. The edges of a panic attack seeps in at the memory and her heart is going to beat out of her chest and she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t-

She hears someone call her name, but she isn’t sure where she is anymore, and her mind takes her back to that first night without him, an inconsolable Peter wrapped around her muttering apologies between broken sobs. Peter didn’t go to sleep until noon the next day. She’s at Ben’s funeral, and there’s flowers everywhere - bright and vibrant and sickening wisps of color among black suits and dresses and her husband’s cold body. Everyone comes up and shakes her hand, offering words of comfort and food, but she doesn’t want any of it. Peter’s at her side and she squeezes his hand, tries to reassure him (and herself) that it’ll be okay. Peter nods, his eyes red and his motions slow and robotic and Peter-

Peter. This is about Peter. Peter’s been shot. 

Her world comes back into focus and she sees Chris kneeling in front of her, sleep mussed hair and wide green eyes full of concern. His thumb wipes at a tear on the apple of her cheek and she presses the phone to her ear. Tony is still talking, telling her to breathe and that Peter’s okay and Happy’s almost there.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out a sob. “Tony, I…”

��“It’s okay. He’s gonna be okay. He has to be okay,” he pauses. “Do you want me to stay on the line?”

She leans her head on Chris and her eyes flutter closed. He wraps his arms around her and it’s grounding. Peter’s alive. Peter isn’t Ben. Peter’s alive. She repeats it over and over, a silent mantra and she realizes both Chris and Tony are waiting for a response. “I…” she speaks into her phone. “Chris is here. I- I’m okay,” May hangs up and turns her attention to Chris. 

“Peter was shot. He - I have to go. I - Happy, he’s outside I gotta-”

“Let me go with you,” Chris says. And god, she wants him too. She wants to curl into his side in the car and tell him everything, but she knows she can’t do that to Peter. Not right now. He asked her to keep his identity safe, to keep Chris safe, and that’s the least she can do when her nephew is out saving the world every night. 

“I need you to stay at the apartment, please I- I know you want to come, but I need you here. I’ll be back in a few days. I just - I’m sorry, I need to go.” She kisses him, soft and quick and rushes out the door before he can protest.  

-/-/-

Unable to process the night’s frightening turn of events, Chris is left standing at the doorway. He had called multiple hospitals looking for Peter, but none of them seemed to have anyone that matched his description. It wasn’t until May called the next morning saying that Peter was okay and recovering at the Avengers Compound, that he figured out why. 

Why is he at The Avengers Compound, May? That’s insane he had said, but she acted as if it was normal, saying that Tony preferred treating him there. When he asked about what happened, she said it was an unfortunate wrong place, wrong time, but that it didn’t matter now because he was okay. 

Now, five days later, Peter and May were coming home. He waits inside the apartment for them, pacing the living room as he cleans the countertops for the seventh time in the few days they’ve been gone. He can hear laughter down the hall and it takes him a moment to realize it’s them. Peter is rambling excitedly about something - he can’t tell what - and he stops as the door opens.  What he doesn’t expect is to see Tony Stark behind her, his arm around Peter’s shoulder, beaming at a perfectly healthy, energetic kid. It throws him for a loop how domestic they look. 

Like a family. 

And that’s when it hits him. The internship, the nights at the Compound, the easy banter, Stark taking care of him after he’s injured. Chris pauses his inner monologue, sweeping the group from head to toe with his gaze. “Wait…Is Peter Tony’s secret son or something?”

Fin 

[cinnaminsvga]

Cop-a-Feel Preview | Robot!Jungkook AU (M)

→ summary: When you find a JK300 android lying in a pool of its own blood while on your way home from a 20-hour shift at CyberLife labs, you surmised that your life might have gone significantly awry.

{or alternatively: “alexa, what do you do when you fall in love with a robot?”}

→ genre: robot/dbh!au, smut, fluff, angst, humor/crack → warnings: none for this preview, but expect dom/sub!jungkook, mild voyeurism/exhibitionism, sex toy usage, food play (?), and some violence → words: 1.3K → a/n: welcome to the shitty preview of the fic that murdered all my brain cells!! don’t ask me when i’m going to post the entirety of this thing, because i don’t know either!! i’m anticipating around 10K for this, and this is technically my first try at smut... and of course my intellectual self decided to do roboporn. enjoy?

Just when you thought you finally had the entire apartment to yourself, you hear someone cough behind you. You whirl around in shock, bringing a hand to your heart at the sudden noise. The anxiety of getting caught has caused you to become even jumpier than usual, and the nerves only get worse when you see who it was who caught you in the act.

“J-Jungkook? You’re back so soon?” You fake a laugh, but by the unimpressed look he sends you, you can tell that he is suspicious.

(Not to say that Jungkook has ever been impressed by you, but you have managed to distinguish his varying unimpressed expressions over time and you can safely say that this one means he knows something is up.)

“Miss? I have finished picking up the groceries like you had requested,” he says, his eyes clearly flicking from your face to the monitor. You pray to every god in existence that you had managed to erase your search terms before Jungkook had surprised you.

“Er, thank you Jungkook, but I already told you that you didn’t need to do my chores for me. You’re my guest after all, and not my helper—“

“That does not mean I cannot choose to help, isn’t that right?” He smiles gently, before closing the remaining distance between you and him with two long strides. He bends his head down slightly, too tall for your computer monitor, and his large form almost completely envelops you with his scent. No longer did he smell like android blood and gun powder; now he just smelled like—

“What were you searching for?” He asks, cutting to the chase like usual. That was one of the things you immediately noticed when you had taken him into your home. Despite having renounced his identity as a robot officer, he continues to keep the same strict and serious personality that he was programmed to have.

Not that it was of any help right now.

“It’s… it’s nothing. I was just looking for a gift for a friend.” You lie, your words sounding weak even to your ears. You watch as Jungkook shamelessly clicks on your search history, his quick eyes scanning your most recent activity until they finally land on what he was looking for.

“Sex toys? Really, miss?” He chuckles, and the pleasant sound brings a soft buzz through your body. You don’t think you’ve ever heard the android laugh before, and if the circumstances had been different, you would have liked to make him do it again. 

“Listen,” you begin, cheeks hot. “I don’t have much of an option, okay? I work almost 20 hours a day with absolutely no time to find a proper boyfriend, much less any time to date prospective boyfriends, and my fingers haven’t been doing it for me lately, so excuse me for having to compromise a little okay? And wipe that grin on your face, you look stupid.” You grumble, causing the android’s grin only to widen.

“I’m not judging you for your after-work activities, miss. I was simply thinking that you had not actually run through all your options, since you are clearly forgetting your easiest way out.” He says, his smug expression unfaltering.

You raise a brow, both annoyed and confused. “Oh? Prithee, Jungkook, tell me exactly what I’ve been missing out on.”

In lieu of an answer, Jungkook raises his brow in return, his eyes glancing downwards at his pants until the answer finally clicks in your brain. Oh hell no—

“Are you… implying what I think you’re implying?”

“Only if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, I suppose.” He returns easily, the LED ring by his temple glowing almost white from how amused he is.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious.” You stammer, but your treacherous eyes deceive you when you feel your gaze lowers in tandem with his as you both stared at what hidden treasures lied beyond Jungkook’s ratty oversized sweatpants.

“I am 100% serious, miss. In fact, I’ve never been more serious in my life,” he says, even though you were sure he has never been anything but serious throughout his entire existence. Which, of course, made his words even more grimly sincere.

“Although, I must admit that I was never… equipped with the correct modifications due to the fact that those parts were never required in my line of work. That does not mean I cannot be equipped with aforementioned modifications, however.” He nudges your hand away from the cursor as he clicks the search bar at the top of your computer screen. With deft fingers, he quickly types in “android sexual modifications” and suddenly, the entire situation felt oddly too real for you to handle.

“Jungkook, I don’t think this is necessary—“

“What’s your budget for me, miss?” He continues on as if you had said nothing, even going far as to hum a soft tune in order to silence your protests. Understanding now that you had no other say in the matter, you slump tiredly into your chair. “I don’t fucking know… One grand?”

“You’re spending all that money on lil ol’ me? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t want me to be little, to be more precise.” He jokes, sending you a quick teasing smile before continuing to scroll through the search results.

Finding something that must have looked promising, he clicks on one of them and your retinas are immediately assaulted with pictures and descriptions of android modifications that you would not dare utter in the daytime.

“Here,” he hands you back the mouse and takes a step back. “Just scroll through the mods offered for JK models and you should be fine. I’ve never tried any of these, so forgive me for being a bit excited to try these on.”

Hold up. Did this bastard just say he was excited to try whatever the fuck these things were? Because you are sure no human could fit any of these contraptions into their bodies, especially not with Daddy Michael’s Monster Cock 3000 or the 13-inch Love Machine With An All-New Ribbed Silicone Design.

“Are you sure these are alright? What other mods do you have?” You question nervously, your gaze trailing the website screen with some horror. A few of them looked innocuous enough, with many of the products boasting of their almost human-like proportions. (Human? In what universe did men walk around with double-headed dicks? Or was your dry spell really that bad?) You stop scrolling abruptly, however, when your eyes finally fall on the one dick that could potentially ruin you (for better or for worse).

“Oh? Are you interested in that one?” Jungkook asks, his face looking blasé at best. He does not even flinch at the size nor girth of the… object. (You refuse to call that thing a dick; not on this planet will it ever fit in anyone’s hole.)

“Dragon dick dildo for men and women? Comes with artificial semen and vibration options?” You ask more than state, trying to keep your heavy breathing to yourself. You could already feel your perineum tearing.

“Hmm… 5-inch diameter, and requires model JK400 and higher for compatibility,” Jungkook leans in closer to read the description beside you, his artificial heat warming your skin. Despite his unnatural hotness (both literally and figuratively), you feel yourself shiver at his proximity.

“I’m afraid to say that I’m a JK300 model, so I wouldn’t be able to wear that modification model for you,” he says, and—do your ears deceive you—he sounds almost disappointed. You feel a weird tingling all over your body at this discovery. “Although, it says that they do have older models in stock, so we could ask—“

“Per…perhaps it would be for the best anyway. I don’t think I could have handled it,” you interject quickly, shutting him down before he can get any ideas.

Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you see a smirk on his face from the corner of your eye.

“Understood. Shall we keep looking, then?”

[shineebebe]

Cuddles

(Daddy/little girl kink. Long smut.) 

Everyone knows Sundays are for being un-apologetically lazy. It was getting dark outside; your bedroom was lit with soft light from your bedside lamp and fresh cotton scented candles that made you ache for cuddles from your sex god boyfriend Choi Minho. In Minho’s large shirt and PJ bottoms, you laid on your double bed, barely paying attention to the TV as you waited for Minho to come home from SHINee practise. You wondered if he’d be in the mood to snuggle after his intense workout but knowing your boyfriend well, he’d do anything to put his hands on your body. 

Minho walked in to the room with a cute smile on his face, his chocolate brown eyes glistening as the light hit them. 

“Hey Princess, missed me?” 

He greeted you as he hung his jacket up on the coat hook. Underneath his jacket was a simple white shirt that showed off his toned arms a little bit of his muscular chest. 

“A lot baby. Come cuddle with me?” 

You asked in the most adorable way you could; a voice that could usually get you anything you wanted. Reaching out your arms to him, Minho chuckled warmly, shaking his head like he knew what you were up to. Seductively, he walked up to the bed and leaned down to kiss you. His lips brushed and teased your hungry mouth, making you want more of him instantly. 

“Let me go shower first and then I’ll be right with you, baby girl.”

Your heart fluttered as you caught a glimpse of him lifting his shirt over his head as he walked in to the on-suite, showing his slightly damp dancer body. Hearing the shower being switched on, you day dreamed about a naked Minho, rubbing a soapy sponge over his godly body, droplets of water dripping from his chin. The thought made you even more keen to have his big arms around you, pulling you close and pressing your behind against his crotch. Minho must have been thinking about intimate cuddling too as he cut his shower unusually short. Your boyfriend sauntered in to the bedroom with a towel around his waist and a flushed torso from the heat of his shower; a delicious look in his eyes. 

“Now for that cuddle I promised.” 

Minho said before dropping the damp towel to the floor, revealing his semi hard manhood. Whenever that boy was around you, he couldn’t seem to help feeling aroused. Your jaw dropped slightly though you tried hard not to show it, instead you just turned on your side, ready to be embraced by him. Instantly, your craving for physical intimacy was satisfied as you smelled Minho’s manly scent whilst he wrapped his arms protectively around you. His touch was perfect, sweet, loving, his toes tickling yours fondly. Though, it seemed like Minho’s craving was not quite fed yet. Feeling Minho’s erection dig harder in to the crevice of your legs, he told you he wanted more. To yourself, you smirked; even after a long day of him singing and dancing, the man still had the energy and libido for sex. His soft, plump lips graced your neck as his powerful hands slowly teased you, moving down to your crotch. You bit your lip.

 “I missed you today baby. I couldn’t help thinking about your amazing body. I want it all to myself.”

 Minho almost groaned before eagerly grabbing your hips and turning you around to him. All so suddenly, you were pinned down by his strong grip, his body towering over you. His eyes gazed in to yours; he smiled wickedly, seducing you further. 

“I was expecting cuddles and movies but...I think you have something else planned.” 

You spoke shyly to him, barely able to speak from the intense arousal you were feeling. Minho chuckled, knowing the power he had over you. Slowly, he leaned down and uttered quietly in your ear:

“Oh we can cuddle little girl, with my cock buried deep inside you.”

 It was like the foreplay was a haze as it just felt too good to be alert; you wanted to melt in to the pleasure like butter. Closing your eyes, you tried not to be so loud as Minho spread your legs so smoothly and held them apart as his tongue explored your excited slit. You tried to hard to keep your eyes open and watch Minho get his lips wet and glisten with your juices. His tongue flicked so fast on your sensitive bud before engulfing your lips and clit in his mouth, sucking lightly on you; it made you grip the sheets and whimper repeatedly. Your legs could barely take the pleasure as they shook side to side; they wanted to close around Minho’s head, they wanted to spread wider, anything to handle Minho’s mouth. Dominantly, he held your legs still and pushed his tongue inside your hole, telling you who’s pussy it was...his. 

“Enjoying this baby girl?” 

He asked seductively against your clit, the vibrations making you squeal even more. 

“Yes!” 

You cried in ecstasy. Minho slapped the side of your ass, making you jump. 

“Yes what?!” 

He growled. When he got authoritative like that, it made your pussy throb, yearning for him like a lost puppy. 

“Yes Daddy!” 

You knew that was what he wanted to be called. Whenever he heard that word, he would go wild, almost to the point of accidentally hurting you but it felt so good when he shoved his cock almost too deep inside of you. 

“Oh baby. You asked for it.”

“Good girl. Taking daddy’s thick cock so well.” 

Minho grunted as he thrust his cock deep and fast inside your aching pussy with your legs up over his shoulders so that he could push his manhood up to the hilt. He stretched you so wide that it hurt so good and you never wanted it to stop. Minho’s abs and biceps flexed deliciously as he fucked you. The sex god never failed to make you drool over his mind blowing physique. Your boyfriend’s jaw was tense as he grit his teeth, releasing his inner monster and all his kinky desires on you. Roughly, he grabbed your hips and rocked your body back and forth like a rag doll, making you meet his hard shoves. He had the strength to throw you around and use you like a sex puppet and the way he did it so confidently yet protectively made you smitten.

“On your hands and knees Princess.” 

He instructed. As soon as his stiff cock left your body, your pussy pulsed, wondering where the person filling it had gone; it felt so empty without your lover. Minho loved doggy style. Doggy style made him feel manly and confident, in control of his baby girl. Instantly, your pussy clenched around him as he entered you from behind, making him growl from the friction. Licking his lip, he gripped your hair and impaled your submissive womanhood. Your head leaned back, stretching your neck as he tugged your hair further, his hips making your butt cheeks blush as it smacked hard against them when he moved. Minho loved the cries and moans that escaped your lips as they told him that you liked, even loved, what he was doing to you. You loved it so much when Minho was rough in the bedroom; it had your palms sweating and your mouth wet, hungry for your master. Having an idea, Minho leaned forwards on top of you as he fucked you, massaging your sensitive nipples with his fingers, throwing you so close to an orgasm. Loudly, you mewled, feeling one of his hands move from your breast on to your clit, rubbing your sweet spot. You felt your orgasm building, sending your pussy in to overdrive on Minho’s cock. He felt you twitch and grab his cock with your walls and not even Minho could control his fast approaching orgasm. 

“Oh baby! I’m going to cum! Please daddy, Princess. Cum on my cock.” 

His words along with his talented fingers on your clit made a gush of juices coat Minho’s pulsing dick. Your orgasm made you cry out so loud that the neighbours would be concerned. The orgasm never seemed to stop, it just kept going and going, making Minho explode inside of you. He groaned so loud, pushing you back on to him so he could release every last drop. Wanting to drop to the bed, you felt his hot liquid shooting load after load inside your body. It wasn’t until the both of you had come down from your orgasm that you realised you were both dripping with sweat from the vigorous sex. Finally, you fell back on to the bed, your body aching all over deliciously. Minho pulled you in to his arms once again but authoritative Minho had gone and boyish, silly yet still undoubtedly sexy Minho had returned. Gently, he placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Sorry for interrupting your cuddling plans baby. Why don’t you pick a movie while I get us to post-sex snacks and we’ll cuddle all night. How does that sound?” 

He questioned sweetly, his beautiful eyes making your heart melt. Although you didn’t want your boyfriend to let go of you, the snacks sounded great and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you could hold your man tight again. 

“It sounds absolutely perfect babe.”