#sun’s spicy drabbles

[slut4scoups]

2:20 am

watching clips from intak’s on my mama stage in europe and everytime he takes his belt off i can’t help but think about how much he probably loves to restrain his partner…

imagine, he’s straddling your waist and looking down at you with a small smile, his fingers delicately playing with his belt buckle as he tilts his head, “let me tie you up again? you look so hot..”

he would mumble as he started to undo his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. he would watch as you swallowed your saliva and cheeks slightly flush. you’d give him a nod and slowly raise your arms over your head, your wrists crossing over each other.

he would cuss under his breath as he grip his belt in his hands and gently loop it around your small wrists, tugging on the end of it causing a small gasp to leave your mouth. he would chuckle at this, his innocent smile starting to grow,

“you as excited as i am? i know you are. i can basically hear your heartbeat.” he would tease as he fastened the belt and ran his hand down your cheek, letting it rest just under your chin, “you know to tell me when if it’s too much, yeah?” he would gently lift your chin up as he leaned down to press small kisses on the side of your neck.

a small whine would leave your lips followed by eager nodding, “yeah.. yeah i’ll tell you, tak.” you’d breath out as you felt his lips move against your neck. he would nip on your soft skin causing you to slightly twitch and you could feel his movements come to a halt followed by a small chuckle,

“good, baby. gonna fuck you to sleep, yeah?”

[castlebyersafterdark]

yes mikes an ass guy, but he's also very much a thigh guy

(A day at the lake. And later that night.)

Mike can't believe his luck sometimes, as he watches Will from across the grass. That's his best friend, the love of his life. Sweet. With the capacity to snap a cutting remark, to tease and twist words with an ease, an art. He always says Mike's the one good with words, but so often Will leaves him speechless, breathless. Now is one of those moments. He can't get over it. Will's standing by the picnic table, leaned over the old wood as he flips through his sketch book, glancing through his work from the morning so far. The pages are full of interesting trees along the lake and some sketches of the old abandoned dock, but mostly Mike. All of his sketchbooks are littered with Mike. He's wearing his green shorts. Tight, lined with yellow piping. Barely covering the curve of his ass. Showing off the thickness of his tanned thighs. They're a little shorter than he'd normally wear, but this section of the lake is isolated. They're alone. That's the point. And Will likes to tease. He knows Mike loves to watch him.

He's well aware that he's being observed as Mike struggles to set up their tent for their impromptu camping trip. It's nice to sneak away, find time for themselves. A little hidden slice of the world, away from crowded houses and an escape from basements and bedrooms and the cramped backseat of Mike's car. None without merit, but none provide freedom. It'll be different when they leave for college at the end of the summer. For now, the lake. Will leans further against the slightly broken wood of the picnic table and imagines the eyes that are burning into the back of his legs. He shifts his hips. He never used to feel this confident. Everything about being with Mike leaves little room for anything else lately. It's addicting. Will hums and chuckles to himself, not having heard the hammer against tent peg for a while now. How long until Mike snaps?

Not long.

Mike's on him moments later, arms around his waist, lifting Will off the ground breifly in a somewhat possessive hug before dropping him back down. Will adores when he does that, makes him feel wanted and loved. Mike laughs into his neck and presses kisses where the sound touches first. Firm, but soft. Humming into his slightly sweaty skin from the summer heat. It's the reason why he's wearing so very little to begin with. Mike lost his shirt first, and his bare chest presses against Will's own slick back as wandering hands trail from hips up his sides, fingers gentle before they fall dramatically to his ass, giving him a rough squeeze as he bites at the back of his neck. Will involuntarily squeaks from the sudden motion and spins around, pinching Mike in the side in retaliation. Mike squirms but then brackets Will against the table once more, hips pinned to hips.

"You are ridiculous," Will chides with a fondness so deep from within, and leans up to steal a kiss. Can't really steal what's freely given, but he steals another, too.

"Hmm, title belongs to you. These shorts, Will. I swear you do this on purpose."

"Of course, I do. What am I doing, though?"

Mike hopes he doesn't fuck this up, and take the risk. He scoops Will up, arms under his legs, and deposits him on the table. The old table groans under his added weight. Will immediately winds his arms around Mike's neck, legs around his body, and draws him back in, mouth hot against his own.

"Distracting me," Mike says into his mouth, kissing him open and biting, bottom lip between his teeth, pulling away to press several small kisses to his upper lip and the mole that resides right above it. "Tent's never gonna get built at this rate."

"We have time."

Will wraps his legs around Mike's hips tighter and traps him close. Not needed. In no world would Mike try to get away. He places his hands on those thighs and feels the smooth skin under his palms, drags his fingers through downy hair and teases along that yellow edge of the flimsy fabric.

"Maybe if you'd help me," he squeezes the supple flesh, like his large hands are mapping and molding it to his satisfaction, "it would get done quicker."

"I wouldn't really know what I'm doing," Will adds with a flirtatious lilt, and scoots closer, barely contained on the edge of the table.

Mike's weight keeps him sitting, pressed together from chest to groin. His feet are crossed at the ankle, behind Mike's own legs. His thighs clench around Mike's body and he gets another deep, lingering kiss for his efforts. Sitting like that, Will still has to look up a few inches to see Mike eye to eye. They pull apart with a wet noise, and Will beams, chin on Mike's chest as he squints up. The sun is behind Mike's head. It's hard to look at him directly. Will nuzzles into his chest, kisses a slow line down the center of his pecs until he can't lower his head further. His mouth drags lightly up the path in reverse. Mike's breath catches. Will's thighs tense again as Mike slips his hands briefly down the back of his shorts, kneading once and bring him closer still.

"You know what you're doing. You absolutely know what you're doing."

"Fine. Have it your way." Will pushes forwards suddenly and lands on the grass, bare feet hitting the ground. "Let's build it."

He trots over to the half dilapidated tent and shoots a look over his shoulder to Mike, left standing with whiplash.

---

An hour or so later, full of bickering and little arguments laced with laughter, and more distracted bouts of handsy grab-ass and traded kisses - the tent was secure along the tree line. One less thing to worry about. Mike's next worry is finding the self control to not immediately pounce on his tempting, unfairly hot boyfriend currently tanning by the water's edge. He's laying on his towel, fresh from a quick dip in the lake. He'd neglected to change into swimwear and the green shorts are dark with water and cling to every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination, basically painted onto his skin. Will's head is pillowed on his arms and his satisfied grin rivals the laziest cat, stretched along a cherished sun spot. Mike shakes his head. Ridiculous. Genuinely ridiculous. How is this his life?

He's recruited to help apply sunscreen as Will tans and the game continues. Doesn't know what he's doing, psssh. He knows. He's cruel. He's so fucking sweet. Mike gets to run his hands freely over Will's body and he wants nothing more to pull the shorts off entirely, press him into the grass and dirt and embrace the primal side that flares up from deep within from time to time. Take what he wants, given willingly. Will feigns innocence but he shifts against the ground and spreads his legs just enough to make Mike's voice catch in his throat at the sight. When Mike's finished with his back, he turns to Will's legs. Traces the toned length of them with his hands again, rubbing in the white lotion until it blends into his skin, leaving them shiny and smooth and so nice to map, again and again. He doesn't need that much sunscreen, the sun's on the descent anyway. Doesn't stop Mike from applying more lotion to his hands and passing across the smooth backs of Will's thighs again, tracing the soft inner portions that the sun wouldn't even hit, carding up the flesh that's slightly clammy from the cool lake water, ass perky and softer still under the edges of those shorts. Will adjusts yet again and dips his back slightly, an exaggerated curve as he lifts back against Mike's wandering hands. Will moans into his arms and Mike flops down next to him.

"Mmmm, Mike. Why'd you stop? Felt really nice." His gentle complaint is borderline a whine.

"Because I don't think I could stop myself if I kept going." Mike stretches out, and mimics his position. "Rain check for later."

"What happens later?" Will teased. He loved riling Mike up. It was so easy. He faked a yawn, not his best performance but it did the trick. "Feeling kinda sleepy. Might turn in early tonight."

"Are you kidding!? That's the whole reason we came out here!"

Will let out a laugh at Mike's gentle outrage. Like he genuinely could resist him, either.

"The whole reason? Maybe I just wanted to work on my tan. Mission accomplished."

"Oh, that's right. Of course. And having me put the tent up was just for your sick amusement to watch me struggle."

"I needed something to entertain me."

"I love you but I'll throw you back in the lake. No hesitation."

Will cracks an eye open and smiles, expression a challenge, a dare. It's not taken. Mike moves close, sides pressed together as he inches across the edge of the towel that Will's hogging. Their feet kick together as they lay on their stomachs next to the lake, soaking up the remaining sun rays in late afternoon. Will pouts, not unhappy, but willing Mike to read his mind instead of genuinely asking for a kiss. He's too content to make the effort to move and strain his neck. Mike complies immediately and cranes over, gives him a wet peck before falling back onto his own arms.

They tease each other and lay close until the cicadas start singing, having talked through the early stages of sunset. Times like that, they forget how easy it is to lose track of time and get lost in one other, conversation flowing as easy as the summer breeze. There was no rush. Not for the moment.

---

Will's back arches as Mike touches him again, hand dipped under the hem of his shorts, slightly uncoordinated as he groped at his clothed cock while he mouths hungrily and presses kisses to the inside of his thighs. Theyre spread out inside the tent, sprawled over sleeping bags and illuminated by lantern light. Will gasps as Mike's teeth graze his skin again, biting and kissing and biting again, sucking bruises into the soft, pale parts of Will's inner thighs. He loves marking him up, seeing the reminders bloomed under his skin the next time he buries his face between Will's thighs. Hickies rarely have enough time to fade before Mike revisits them. Will's the artist out of the two of them but Mike takes pride in the colors he paints on such beautiful skin.

"Mike, Mike. Please. Here," Will begs and guides Mike's hand from out of the bottom of his shorts to where he's shoved them slightly down and pulled himself out, hot and hard and leaking with needy attention.

He loves the teasing, the harsh kisses and teeth embedded in his skin, but he's been pent up since the picnic table. Worse off than Mike's desperation. Mike needs no further instruction and seals his lips around Will's exposed length and sucks him down, bobbing and moaning as Will whines high and breathy underneath him. He slides his hands under Will's shorts again, both palms splayed wide against his cheeks, tugging his body closer as he sucks him. Will's thighs tighten as he feels the pleasure building, pressure threatening sooner than he'd like. It had been a long, teasing day. And Mike was relentless. Will comes down his throat, thighs so tight around Mike's head at the peak that the sounds he makes are muffled as plush muscles hold tight to his ears. Mike loves how Will sounds lost in pleasure and misses them. But, the night's still young.

"Holy shit, Mike. Get up here."

Mike crawls over his body, hovering above as they exchange a kiss, sloppy presses of tongue and lips as they share the taste of Will's release. Will inclines on his elbows and pulls away, smirking as he reaches a hand down to palm at the pronounced bulge in Mike's underwear.

"Loved that, but I meant bring me this," he teases, stroking the shape of him through the fabric, fingers lingering on the outline of the head where he's so wet and sensitive. Mike groans, mouth falling open at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut as Will tries to work down the boxer briefs one handed.

"Will. God, hmm, fuck. Ok." He takes a breath, takes the plunge, and asks, "Can I try something else?"

"What do you want to do?"

Blushing in the low light, he asks Will to turn over. He complies, allows himself to be moved and positioned how Mike wants him. Face pillowed on elbows, chest flat, ass raised. It's still a little weird, still a little vulnerable when Mike asks him to turn over like this, but he trusts him. He always makes him feel good, feel wanted. They've been trying a few things, explored with tongue and fingers a few times. He's still so shy, almost embarrassed by his pleasure. But Mike gets him through it. Mike always takes care of him.

Mike's got his hands on him again, always grabbing him like he doesn't quite know what to do with all that skin, with the permission to feel up all that pliable flesh. Will's heart races as he let's himself be played with, still finding it thrilling that Mike desires his body in such a way that he doesn't even know where to start with him. He jolts as a hand comes down hard on him, palm loud against his right cheek. The sting is lessened by the fabric, but with little recovery as Mike follows with his mouth, delovering a moan and a bite. Will can't help but giggle into his arms as Mike traces down the seam of the shorts, dragging his finger over his approximation of his hole, lingering a moment. He's correct and Will whimpers. Mike doesnt know what he wants, but he wants. They haven't done that yet but he wants to. They haven't really talked about it yet. Not in detail.

"You look so good like this, baby. So good. Don't even know," Mike begins to ramble as he gets up on his knees and presses his aching cock to the clothed swell of Will's ass, sliding fabric to fabric.

The friction is nice. Skin would be better. Being inside would be otherworldly, he knows it. Not yet. Not tonight. His mind swirls with ideas, though. He works them down and pulls off his briefs, completely bare while Will remains in those tight green shorts. Mike pushes at the fabric, watches as it clings to skin as he moves it higher and exposes the bottom curves of Will's ass, so incredibly soft. He presses forward, cock hard and hot against the inside of Will's bare thighs. Will doesn’t know if he wants to close his thighs or spread them. He doesn't know what Mike's thinking.

"Wanna fuck you. So bad, baby." Will's voice catches in his throat at the deep reverb of the statement, unsure how to respond. There's the clarification. He doesn't know what to say. It's the first time he's heard it so blatantly from Mike. "Can I? You can keep these on."

He snaps the elastic band of the shorts against Will's waist, where he's pushed them to ride up in want of exposing more ass and thigh. Will groans in confused arousal as Mike's cock slips against him again, barely more than a passing caress against his own trapped dick, rapidly filling up again under the intense attention.

"Mike? What? I don't... I'm not sure I'm ready to, you know. Go all the way right now?"

He feels embarrassed as he says it, red faced buried in his own arms. Mike leans over his back, presses reassuring kisses to his heated face and neck, the parts he can reach, and wraps his arms around him in a soothing, grounding embrace.

"I know. Me either. I kinda want to try something. I don't even know if it'll work." He kisses Will on parted lips once he turns his head to the side. The angle's awkward but he can't move away until he really kissed him. "Do you trust me?"

"I do."

"Cool. Here." He hold his hand out, under Will's mouth. "Spit."

Will does it without really questioning it, something deep within him churning with strange arousal at complying immediately to the odd request. Mike does the same, lets his saliva join before wrapping his wet hand around his cock, spreading his palm along his length. It's all he's got to ease the way, but he doesn't think he'll need much.

He presses forward, cock sliding between the channel of Will's thighs. As he moves, he pushes them closer together, trapping his cock between the supple skin, thrusting slowly to test, in and out. He moans low in his throat. It's so fucking good. Oh. Will understands with a thrill, and instinctively closes his thighs tighter, muscles tense as Mike fucks him, clock slipping hot between his skin slick with sweat and spit. Not what he was expecting. But he likes this. A lot. Mike's hands seem enormous as they grip his hips and alternate between holding him firm and steady, or slamming him back harder to meet careful thrusts.

"You could have taken my shorts off. I'm ok with it," Will says as Mike holds his hips even tighter. The band is digging in his skin, sure to leave a deep impression from the sheer strength of the grip Mike has on him. He hopes it bruises.

"That's okay. Like them on you."

"What is it with you and these shorts?"

"You've seen yourself. No way you're this clueless. Haunted me for years, ohhh."

The word years rattles around in his brain as Mike falters in rhythm, barely registering as he's pushed further into the sleeping bags, shoved flat as Mike pulls out of his thighs and finishes hot against his back with a strained, stuttering moan. Another first. Will liked that, too.

Mike flops down beside him, a repeat of their positions earlier by the lake. Out of breath and feeling a little awkward, Mike watches Will's expression, unsure what to say after his little adventure.

"Was that ok? I don't know what came over me. Kinda weird, I guess."

"Well," Will started with a light sigh, mirth quirking the corner of his lips. He brushes the sweaty strings of hair from Mike's forehead. "At least I know who came over me, though."

Mike stared at him, mouth agape, as Will turned his face into his arm and laughed quietly with embarrassed glee.

"Holy shit, Will. Wow. Wow." Will continued to laugh, but turned in his arms, exposing one eye to take in Mike's expression, full of fond disbelief. "Uncalled for, hate you so much."

"No you don't," Will sing-songed.

Mike leaned in and pressed a loud, smacking kiss to his equally sweaty forehead. "Yup. Guilty. Huuuuge liar. I fucking love you. You're incredible. Are you... sure that was ok? I mean -"

"Mike. It was great. Kinda loved it, to be honest. And I love you, too. We should lose the shorts next time, though."

"Fine. I guess."

"Can you maybe take them off me now? You didn't, um, didn't get it all on me."

"Yeah. I know," Mike admitted with the audacity to appear bashful at the admittance.

"Gross."

"Yeah well, you liked it."

"True." He sat up, grimacing at the feeling of cooled, drying come on his back, and was struck with an idea. "Hey. The lake's right there. If you want to..."

"Yes. Hell yes. Bucket list item!"

"Skinny dipping is a bucket list item?"

"Totally. Let's go."

He was out of tent and half way to the lake before Will could even ditch the shorts quickly enough for him to finally see him out of them.

✅️ ✅️ ✅️

[sordidmusings]

Cuddling Headcanons - Straw Hats and the Three Unwise Men

A/N: Just mulling over something sweet and something to reference back to for my own use in future writings. I just wanna give all of them some love tbh I am a slut for affection

Includes! Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Luffy, Usopp, Mihawk, Buggy, and Shanks

Warnings: gn!reader, all fluff, opla leaning for the most part but I think it can fit both pretty well, an innuendo or two

Part 2 (drabbles for each character) here!

Enjoy some guided daydreams!

Zoro

Partial touches during naps were how he started interacting with your personal space but your lap no longer belongs to you it is now his pillow 

Honestly, basically any of you is a pillow whenever he decides - I don't care if you are significantly shorter than him he will find a way to fall asleep on your shoulder 

For more contact, you need to be the one to cling to him but he does absolutely need to be touching you at least a bit 

Once he gets used to it he’ll give you a look any time you’re depriving him of his daily intake of physical affection (the sass king will always get his tribute)

He absolutely melts like a cat in the sun if you massage at any of his muscles, could be anything as much as an evening dedicated to working out every knot he has or as simple as putting intentional pressure behind your thumb as it circles and drags along his skin

He can get nervous about kissing you when it’s not on the lips - something about it feels more vulnerable to him somehow - so if he does venture to kiss your cheek or head or shoulder or hand please reassure him with a smile or your own kisses or a firm squeeze

He gets better about being seen hugging/holding you eventually, but will never get comfortable with giving more than pecks on the cheek or forehead around the others. Maaaaaaybe the corner of your lips if he’s feeling ~spicy~

Sanji

Back hugs, back hugs, back hugs-

He’s always making sure that the two of you brush hands or arms when near each other, even after you two establish a relationship it will always give him tingles 

Likes to be very intertwined when you cuddle - if he can somehow wrap around you more then he absolutely will

He is The Best at tracing shapes gently on your skin, just like with brushing hands he never tires of it because, wow, he gets to touch you! He still can’t believe it sometimes

Very good at making you feel cherished when he holds you because of the way he always seems to take his time and ease into it and constantly caress you not to say that there’s never a time he’s hurried and ravenous 

It also helps that he’s always whispering sweet nothings to you about how wonderful you are, how beautiful and precious and lovely and kind and capable and special

When he wants to trap you while cuddling, he wraps his legs around you and uses their absurd strength for evil

He will melt if you ever do the same to him and he will happily be at your whims to cuddle until you've decided it's enough, all of you could be under attack but he is staying right where you want until you decide that he needs to move

Loooooves showering you with sweet little kisses anytime you're cuddling

He can sometimes get carried away with pda because he forgets that there’s anyone else around whoops

Nami

She has her legs on your lap always - sometimes while she's laying/leaning back, sometimes with one leg hooked over one of yours, sometimes basically sitting on your lap

She likes to be the one that is held and feels most comfortable with her face snuggled into something (please nurture her and that scared, lonely inner child)

Enjoys brushing the tip of her nose across you, especially across your cheek or neck or the tip of your own nose

She likes to hook your arms together whether you’re standing next to each other during a convo or you’re walking or she’s sitting next to you, she just loves the casual contact and how she can use it to be playful and pull you around or use it to stay close and let others know that both of you are taken do not even think about it keep moving along dude

She’s very weak to hugs where you pick her up a few inches off the ground for a second, they send her heart racing (bonus points if you’re noticeably taller or shorter than her and do this)

She’s also weak for words of affirmation, especially when you speak them to her while you hold each other in the quiet hours of night 

For some reason literally being on your lap around others is fine but if you give her a kiss to the temple while that's happening? Suddenly it's Too Much, both in how sweet it is and also because she’s being perceived while it's happening

Luffy

Any/all contact is being had whenever he’s with you

If he’s on the floor next to you then your calf is now his teddy bear, if you’re on the floor near him he’ll snatched your torso with his legs, if you’re sat near him he’s wrapping both arms around one of yours to snuggle it

One of his favorites is leaning your backs against each other, he feels really supported and the way you occasionally lean and twist your head back to nuzzle his or give him a quick kiss makes him smile with the utmost joy

He will carry and move you around in the strangest ways - fireman carry, one arm around your waist while you’re upside down, your knees hooked over his shoulders while the rest of you hangs down, you trying to koala to his side, one time you were curled completely around his waist like a pool floaty - no one understands why you two can’t be normal

Likes to be the one to hold you so he can fidget when he needs without feeling like he has to unlatch you first, this is especially when you two are laid down and/or going to be cuddling together for awhile

PDA doesn’t bother him at all, he doesn’t give a fuck if anyone sees you snuggled up together, doesn’t even occur to him that he should care 

His playfulness will come out often with dramatic “mwah!” kisses, nipping at you, blowing raspberries on your skin, and the occasional tickling

Usopp

It’s necessary for him to have his arms wrapped around you some way 

Likes to be the big spoon to feel like he’s acting as armor and protecting you, it just hits the right place in his brain that has him feeling Big and Strong in the best way

He loves when you plant a kiss on his chest, especially if you aim one directly over his heart (that is totally at a normal rate plz don’t check)

He likes to play with your hair and/or massage your neck and scalp

Big into making sure wherever the two of you are cuddling is comfy, has many extra blankets and a selection of pillows by size and firmness

Always down to cuddle but feels more comfortable if you initiate first, especially when it’s a new thing between the two of you 

He simultaneously loves pda and is nervous about pda but that nervousness is absolutely gone when he’s drunk or even pretty buzzed

Good at incorporating his head into hugs - hooking his jaw on your shoulder or on top of your head, leaning his temple gently into the side of your head, bumping you softly with his forehead 

Need background noise while you go to sleep? He’s more than happy to hold you and turn on storyteller mode. Honestly, it’s one of his favorite things to do and he cherishes that time together

When it’s bedtime stories he’s telling, his voice is so low and soothing

Mihawk

This man needs to have his hands holding something on you (your hand, your shoulder, your waist, your thigh, your back, your ass lol), 

He likes to feel wrapped around you like hes hoarding you to himself, this leads to him enjoying you laying on his chest, having all of your weight on him has him feel like he’s fully possessing you

Will definitely kiss the top of your head/your temple/your forehead/basically whatever his lips are near, not a consistent bout of them, more one deliberate peck when the need strikes him (it’s also his customary goodnight to you)

Like the other swordsman, he will give you a look if you miss a habitual touch (especially if it’s the way you usually ran a hand through his hair with a kiss to the forehead before you left the castle, that was non-negotiable it had to happen), his stare however is more the 1000 yard variety and those bright yellow eyes will bore a hole through you until you understand what you did wrong

Something about this man makes me feel his temp runs hot but not in a way that bothers him, like he doesn’t feel hot or overheated but when you touch him the difference between you two is noticeable

It’s a damn good thing that he reciprocates your physical affection, even if 70% it’s just an arm coming around you, because his stony expression makes it easy to assume that your touches are unwanted 

This type of limited response is mostly for more casual cuddling like hugs or sitting next to each other because when you’re laying together his face is always soft and he’s much greedier to be pressing into you

Okay with some pda like quick and passing touches including kisses, but not a fan of anything more intimate when others can see

Buggy

The Chairrrrrr, as you’ve told him it’s circUS so both of you need to be on the throne (If he’s wanting to look extra powerful or intimidating you have no problem sitting at his feet and holding him like a heroine on a 70s fantasy novel)

He’s a big fan of any possessive gestures - arm around shoulders, back hugs, pulling you to wrap your arms around him, having you sit in his lap

He’s a cuddle switch for sure because sometimes he needs to hold you to remind himself that you’re his and sometimes he needs to feel held

Very fragile for gentle affection - please draw shapes on this man’s back, play with his hair and massage his scalp, give him head kisses, hand kisses, wrist kisses 

Feels like his heart will explode if you nuzzle your face into him whether its into his chest or the side of his head or good lord his pALM (He may have literally fallen apart the first time you did that and if you’re ever in the mood for some Entertainment bring it up) 

He is actually made for cuddling because if his arm is uncomfortable to lay on or starting to fall asleep? He can detach it and now it’s your stuffed animal. This can extend to literally any part of him that either of you feels is getting in the way of the perfect cuddle 

Need to feel needed? The way he’ll pull you into him and hold you like you’re going to disappear will let you know he needs you

Absolutely LIVES for pda, he gets to show you off to everyone and have your gorgeous self make him shine brighter in the spotlight? Nothing could be better

Shanks

Sharing his space often means one of you sitting between the others legs, whether one is on the floor in front of the other’s seat or y’all are laying down together with one settled further down the bed, this often leads to you laying your head on the hip or stomach or upper thigh of the other 

He mostly likes to be on his back or stomach and pretty splayed out, so you’ve adjusted yourself to gripping to him after he’s taken over the bed

It always makes him soft to think about you always choosing to cling to him without him having to hold you there, it really drives home that he’s something you actively want

Will grope you, sometimes sexually, but he also just likes the feeling of grabbing you, it’s somewhat of a manifestation of cute aggression 

He’s a sucker for getting his neck/shoulders/upper back rubbed while cuddling (which is a pain if he’s decided to be on his back) and he is not above bargaining for it or prodding you like an indignant pet each time you stop (very good puppy eyes), this is one of his favorite perks of having you in his lap

He’s another one to not care about being seen by others but not because it hasn’t occurred to him (like Luffy) but because anyone judging him is WAY less important than getting more affection from you 

His heart gets really tender when you lay with him and massage the stump of his arm and the shoulder above it because it helps with the phantom pains when he has them, it also help with the tension from using the muscles on that side to compensate, and it reminds him how the only thing about his arm that bothers you is that it hurts him

Part 2 (ficlets) here!

[surielstea]

Paranoid Parent

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s scared of a microwave— and other things that might harm his pregnant wife.

Warnings: Drabble , pure fluff

1.2k words

Azriel has always been a light sleeper. But ever since you've been pregnant you were sure the male was entirely nocturnal.

Especially now that you've reached the third trimester. You'd get up to use the bathroom and find his side of the bed empty, on nights when you had the energy you'd venture through the house and usually find him in his office, always hunched over a book or his computer, glasses hanging off the tip of his nose as he stares at you with pure and utter concern.

Tonight, however, Azriel had slept the entire night. His large arm snaked around your waist to have his hand on your stomach protectively, your own hand atop his. His touch always made the baby relax, the kicking would cease whenever his warm hand cradled you.

However, that didn't stop you from having to use the bathroom every ten minutes. You released a silent groan, cursing Azriel for giving you twins as you clambered from the warm bed, from Azriel's open arms— and trudged toward the bathing chambers.

After exiting the restroom you noticed the sun peeking over the horizon, indicating the time. You released a long, frustrated breath— knowing you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

You look to Azriel, who was soundly asleep. You wondered how you didn't wake him up when shifting beneath him, supposing he took a sleeping medication of some sort.

You decide not to bother him and exit your spare bedroom. You walk past the nursery painted in a soft, pastel purple with two wooden cribs pushed against the wall. You were nervous about having twins— but Azriel, ever the researcher, seemed beyond anxious. Which oddly put you at ease, every insane thought he had left you saying, "It's fine, there's nothing to worry about." Which helped the both of you.

You walked into the kitchen, craving something spicy. You gnawed at your bottom lip as you searched the pantry for anything with some sort of tang. After about three minutes of scrounging, you found a bag of forgotten chips in the back. You smiled giddily, exiting the pantry as you opened the bag and kicked the pantry door shut behind you, deciding you wouldn't need to put this bag back by the time you were done with it.

You stuffed your mouth with the delectable chips, groaning in pleasure audibly because it's everything you craved at the moment.

Azriel's hand roamed your empty space, finding only warm sheets in your absence. He pats the space like he doesn't quite believe you're not there. When the realization hits him he springs up, eyes widening as he stares at your ruffled sheets. He didn't waste time in getting up, springing from the bed, eyes analyzing every crack and crevice of the wall like you've somehow disappeared into one of them.

He strides out of the room, his steps rushed as he pads down the hall.

He skids to a stop when he spots you in the kitchen, heating a pot of coffee in the microwave.

He releases a sigh of relief and walks towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You jump at the sudden contact, not hearing your husband enter the room. "You're so quiet, detective," You hum and he murmurs something softly into your shoulder but it’s inaudible. You turn around to look up at him. "Come back to bed." He pouts and a smile spreads over your features. "I can't sleep," You shrug. "You need your rest." His brows crease worriedly and you place your hands on his fidgeting ones. "I'll take a nap in a few hours." You reassure and all he can do is nod in reply.

You pivot on your heel, reaching for the bag of chips. "You want one?" You turn toward the male, offering him a chip. His eyes widen and he goes ghostly white. "How much of these have you eaten?" He grabs the entire bag from you and your brows crease. "Uh," you look down at the bag. "Most of them." You shrug and he frowns, clearly panicked. "Should I not have or something?" You tilt your head. "It's just— I read this thing about how spicy foods might result in blinding the babies." He murmurs and a giggle bubbles from my chest. "What's funny?" He blinks and you shake your head in disbelief. "You read too much," you murmur, reaching for the bag and he swerves, not letting you have it. "Az c'mon," you sigh, your hand coming to your stomach reflectively. "I promise whatever you've been reading is a myth," you reassure, reaching for the bag again, and this time he lets you have it. "What happened to my husband?" You bring a hand to his cheek. "My very skeptical husband." You correct and he frowns. "I just want everything to go well," He explains and you give him a saddened smile. "It won't be perfect, but everything will be fine if you stay by me, okay?" You rub your thumb along his sharp cheekbone and he releases a sigh with a nod.

The microwave beeps and you turn away from him, reaching toward the handle of the microwave before he grabs your hand. "Wait," He calls and your brows crease, before your shoulders slump and you realize what he's so paranoid over. "Az, c’mon." You sigh, craning your neck to look back at him tiredly. “Well, sometimes, microwaves can leak radiation.” He lets go of your hand and scratches his arm nervously. You square your features, staring directly at him. “I won’t explode if I open this, I promise.” You place your free hand on his bicep. You open the door of the microwave and he flinches, but nothing else happens.

A small smile comes to your face, both hands coming to his cheeks as you release a soft chuckle. “Why are you so worried Az?” You rub the tops of his cheeks with your thumbs. “You’re too smart to believe in any of this stuff.” You drone and he sighs. “I just worry,” He shrugs and you shake my head, rising onto the tips of your toes, and press a kiss to his lips, which he reciprocates by dipping down, hands coming to my jaw.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, my forehead pressing against his. “It’s alright, okay?” Your hands come to his and you lean into his touch, showing him that you’re just fine. “Okay.” He nods with creased brows. A smile curves your lips and you press a kiss to his lips again, before backing away as quick as you came. “You’re so protective.” You roll your eyes and back away from his hold— which he reluctantly lets you go from. You reach into the chip bag and pop a few into your mouth. “I promise the flavor dust won’t kill me,” you mumble, licking your fingers clean. “The seasoning?” He tilts his head with an inquisitive look and you pale, removing your thumb pad from your mouth and nodding. A genuine smile breaks out across his features, mirroring your own.

“I love you,” He says incredulously, pulling you into his big arms and peppering your face with kisses as you fight him off.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings@lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp

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[counterblows]

⋆·˚ ༘ * SPIDERVERSE

Take a seat, browse the menu, and enjoy the flavors of my imagination. Whether you’re here for a quick snack or a full-course meal, I hope you find something to satisfy your cravings

Menu Guide | What’s on the Table?

Before placing your order, here’s how to read the menu:

♥︎ Special of the House (Romantic Relationship) – Sweet, steamy, or complicated love stories

♡ House Blend (Platonic Relationship) – Strong friendships, found family, and sibling-like bonds

♦︎ Sugar Rush (Fluff) – Light, sweet, and heartwarming treats

♣︎ Bitter Brew (Angst) – Emotional, dramatic, and sometimes painful servings

♠︎ Extra Spicy (Smut) – For customers with a taste for heat

Mixed orders available!

FYI: Most of the fic are linked from my old account @/improbable-outset. I will be posting new fics from this account from now onwards

｡･:*:･ﾟMiguel O’Hara Menu

જ⁀➴ APPETISER - HEADCANONS

Quick bites of ideas and thoughts about characters

SFW Alphabet

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Wholesome headcanons in alphabetical order

NSFW Alphabet

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Explicit headcanons in alphabetical order

જ⁀➴ SIDE DISHES - DRABBLES

Small servings of stories—short, flavorful, and satisfying

Fleeting Reflections

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: He opens up to you in ways he never expected, only to face a heartbreaking truth

Big Brain ♥︎♠︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You take care of him after a stressful day at work

For his eyes only ♠︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Where you send him scandalous videos of yourself while he’s taking care of the multiverse.

જ⁀➴ MAIN COURSE - ONE-SHOTS

Full, self-contained stories packed with all the goodness in one go

Eres mía ♥︎♠︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re not the only one experiencing cravings during your pregnancy

Meet Cute ♦︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You didn’t expect the mysterious man that you met at a wedding to change your whole trajectory of the night

Static in the Air ♠︎♣︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Divorce was supposed to bring closure, but for Miguel, it only fuelled a lingering ache for the woman he still loved. Convincing himself that ending the marriage was for your benefit, he didn't realise the depth of his mistake until he saw you moving on.

Moved by Devotion and Prestige ♦︎♣︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: During a company dinner party, you find yourself humiliated by your current boyfriend. Seeking some escape, you confide with your boss, Miguel, whose support reveals some hidden emotions you’ve buried.

You Say You Can Fix Him, But He’s Stuck in Fifth Gear ♡♠︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel’s idea of a good time: a high-speed joyride. Yours? Riding him until the sun rises

Last Boarding Call ♣︎♠︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Saying goodbye to you wasn’t part of Miguel’s plan. As you prepare to leave Alchemax for a prestigious new role, Miguel struggles with the realisation that he’s about to lose more than just a colleague.

I’ve still got your DNA stuck under my fingernails ♣︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Grief-stricken, Miguel struggles to escape the past as the lines blur between reality and haunting memories.

No Stones Unturned, But I’m Still Searching ♣︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel goes through some old photo albums with his daughter, sharing stories of the love of his life while quietly grappling with the ache of your absence.

જ⁀➴ CHEF SPECIAL (PLATTERS) - SERIES/MULTIPLE CHAPTER STORIES

Bigger servings of stories, perfect for a full-course experience

Scientist Husband Masterlist ♥︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Marrying a scientist superhero has its unique perks

In his Crimson-Filled eyes ♣︎♥︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After waking up from a year-long coma, you find yourself in the hospital with the tender embrace of your husband sitting beside you. You have no memory of your marriage nor the life you shared together. As you try to navigate the scattered memories, Miguel becomes your guiding light through your journey of transcending memories.

Rekindling an Old Love ♣︎♠︎♥︎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In your complex web of your shared history, you and Miguel, your ex-husband and co-worker, struggle to communicate without clashing your professional and personal lives. However, an unexpected moment sparks a longing between the two of you. Despite the tension, a shared moment reveals unspoken desires and deep secrets.

Not the menu you’re looking for? Here’s the main menu

[emsprovisions]

I'm actually so proud of what I've achieved as a writer this year! I was looking at my writing stats on ao3 the other day and I pretty much doubled my word count from any other previous year. I also started off the year in a completely different fandom from Lone Star, and only started writing fics for LS in June. So posting nine fics in six months actually seems crazy to me. I have some ambitious (for me) plans for 2025 that I am so excited about! But for now...

I'm the life you chose, and all this terrible danger 2x08 coda // T // 2.6K // Summary: TK has head trauma, but checking on Carlos is still his top priority Read if you're in the mood for soft Tarlos communication after Bad Call, and enjoy fluff and hurt/comfort

sometimes I'd rather be dead, at least then I'm with you 3x08 coda // T // 2.6K // Summary: He feels like a coward for being scared of seeing Carlos’s face when he tells him what will surely break his heart. But he won’t keep this from him. “Carlos?” He whispers. Carlos presses a kiss to the nape of his neck and the dip of his shoulder, and TK’s eyelids drop at the contact. “I have to tell you something.” Read if you're in the mood for a bit of hurt/comfort, and TK dealing with his grief while also opening up to Carlos

Hold onto me T // 6.4K // Summary: Carlos was still on the call when TK got shot, and he's been worried and wondering about their relationship status ever since. Read if you're in the mood for missing moments spanning 1x08-1x10

your back beneath the sun, wishing I could write my name on it E // 11K // Summary: During their vacation in Galveston, TK gets a sunburn and Carlos, being the amazing husband that he is, takes care of him and shows him they can still have fun during their trip. Read if you like fluffy, smutty beach vacations for married Tarlos

Guilty Pleasures E // 6.8K // Summary: Carlos Reyes has a guilty pleasure...he enjoys reading romance novels. Part of the thrill is getting to find the trashiest books he can find just so he can read the bad euphemisms out loud to his husband. But he’s currently reading this series in particular that is causing him issues in the bedroom….. Read if you enjoy silly Tarlos shenanigans, things going wrong in the bedroom, and spicy smut

hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine T // 4.8K // Summary: An exploration of how food has guided TK and Carlos's relationship through the years and how they care for each other through food Read if you enjoy seeing how Tarlos's relationship has evolved around food throughout the years. Technically inspired by 5x01

the brink of a wrinkle in time 5x05 Coda // E // 2.8K // Summary: A 5x05 Coda where TK and Carlos celebrate the morning of their anniversary and continue a much-needed conversation Read if you were not satisfied by the resolution in 5x05 and wanted more communication between the boys

I wish I had a river (It's coming on Christmas) G // 3.8K // Summary: When TK needs to be rushed to the hospital on Christmas Eve for appendicitis, he's worried he's ruined Christmas. Carlos is there to reassure him. Read if you like mild TK whump with Carlos taking care of him, as well as Reyes family fun, and Christmassy vibes

24 Days of Tarlos G // 19.4K // Summary: Enjoy 24 drabbles featuring TK, Carlos, and other members of their family or the 126 in various different holiday or wintry scenarios! There are many aus and also canon-compliant stories in this collection, please check them out, there's a bit of everything!

Tags under the cut!

Thank you so much for the tags @heartstringsduet @bonheur-cafe @whatsintheboxmh @everlastingday @thisbuildinghasfeelings @henrygrass @alrightbuckaroo @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @nisbanisba @chicgeekgirl89 💕

No pressure tag for art, gifs, fics, photography, other achievements etc! @ironheartwriter @sapphic--kiwi @eclectic-sassycoweyes @carlossreaders @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @decafdino @lutavero @guardian-angle22 @butchreyes @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @lightningboltreader @paperstorm @welcometololaland @herefortarlos @firstprince-history-huh @tellmegoodbye and an open tag ofc

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Denim on Denim

A Seams x Grays crossover

Summary: Joel tries to get a haircut - but it turns out he can’t do anything in the QZ without getting into a fistfight, and you’re lucky enough to be in the audience.

Warnings: Mildly spicy thoughts, two sexy men fighting, language, reader was a hairdresser prior to the outbreak and has a nickname related to her job, no use of Y/N, no physical descriptions of reader, very lightly edited.

This oneshot can be read independently of the two series, but for the full experience, I recommend reading at least Grays. This is a post-outbreak AU of Grays, and is set before Seams Joel leaves the QZ. Part of the Shiv's salon drabbles.

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: A whole year after my random thoughts about how Joel's hair looks that good in an apocalypse and a random notif on this post that reminded of it, we finally get Joel to Shiv's salon... or do we? 🤷🏻‍♀️ I had a blast writing this oneshot - it's a bit silly, a bit spicy, I hope you enjoy it ❤️

‘Goddamnit.’

Joel swipes viciously at the curl hanging over eyes, like a boxer at a punchbag. Try as he might to slick it back, every time his shovel hits the dirt, the hair uncoils, bouncing obnoxiously in his field of vision.

He needs a fucking haircut. Tess usually does it for him every month or so, but she’s been in a mood - snapping at him, keeping him at arm’s length, she hasn’t even been to his apartment for two whole weeks.

This time of the year is hard for her. He knows all too well that he’s the same every September. They’re in each of their own time loops, a cage within the trappings of the QZ.

‘You look like you need a trim, bro.’

Joel barely glances up. He knows the guy, they share a surname after all. People call him Ben, or Benny, and even an old man like him knows he’s a good-looking son of a bitch.

They work the same shifts sometimes, and he knows Tess has crossed paths with him at the illegal fight nights. Joel has also seen him a few times at the bar, where he’s usually surrounded by even more good-looking motherfuckers.

Joel knows he’s a damn flirt too. He always has pretty words for Tess when he sees her. He’s harmless though, and he supposes that she deserves sweet nothings from at least one Miller since he’s no good at them.

Realising he hasn’t responded, Joel grunts noncommittally, self-consciousness prickling the back of his neck.

‘I know someone, she was a professional hairdresser before all this.’

Joel ignores him and keeps shovelling.

‘If you tell her you know me, she’ll give you a good rate.’

More shovelling.

‘Alright man, my shift’s up. See you ‘round.’

Five steps, and Joel sighs, digging the shovel into the dirt.

‘Wait.’

Joel stands on the doorway, and stares.

There’s an actual backwash in the corner of the dingy living room - well, living space. There are no doors in the tenement apartments.

‘You waiting for it to say hello back, or what?’

His eyes snap to yours, a scowl drawing his brows together.

Not that you look at all intimidated, one eyebrow arched high and an amused smile sitting lopsided on your lips, which he will admit throws him just a bit. He’s not used to having to work for it.

Giving you a tight nod, he takes two steps into the apartment. He recognises the layout, a mirror of his own, which is a few blocks away.

Closing the door with a flourish behind him, you ask brightly, ‘You’re here for a haircut?’

He’s about to answer when something winks at him, and he looks up, momentarily blinded by the reflection of afternoon light in the cracked mirror that hangs over a battered styling station.

Your apartment has windows that don’t look directly onto the next building, and sun floods the space. Even light is a real rarity in the shithole of a QZ, where everything indoors is dingy. He idly wonders if you had to bribe someone -

Distracted, he catches the sliver of a shadow moving from the corner of his eye a split second later than he would if he was on high alert. On reflex, his fingers find the hilt of his knife and he whips it out in a wide arc, swinging to his left where gunmetal catches the afternoon light.

‘Drop it!’ he barks, the same moment as the other man growls, ‘The fuck are you doing in my home with a knife?’

To Joel’s bewilderment, you chuckle somewhere to his right, amused. ‘C’mon guys. Dramatic, much?’

‘He snuck up on me,’ Joel growls defensively.

‘Frankie, put your gun away, dude’s just here for a haircut - I’m assuming anyway, he never did answer my question.’

‘Yes, I’m here for a haircut,’ he snaps, resheathing his knife. ‘Fuck would I be doin’ here if not?’

‘Fuck should I know, dipshit?’ retorts Frankie, tucking his gun in the back of his jeans. ‘You always bring a knife to your haircuts?’

‘D’ya always threaten to shoot paying customers?’

‘No, we definitely do not.’ You step into the space between the two men in case they get snippy with each other again. ‘Who sent you?’

Your customer crosses his arms, and you can’t help noticing the fabric of his shirt stretching across those broad shoulders. ‘Blondie.’

‘Blondie?’ you frown, confused. ‘Oh wait, you mean Ben? I thought I recognised you. I’ve seen you at one of his fights, with your wife? What’s her name now -’

‘Tess,’ he replies, then promptly looks like he wishes he’d stopped himself before he answered. ‘She’s not my -’ he trails off, and it’s clear he doesn’t like how you’re reading him at the moment, grumbling, ‘None of your damn business.’

‘Hey, you watch your mouth around my lady, old man,’ warns Frankie, ratcheting up the tension again.

Squaring his shoulders, the man seems to grow two inches. ‘Or what?’

Suddenly aware of being caught in the crossfire between your protective husband on one side, and this gruff, silvered stranger on the other, heat bubbles unbidden under your skin, the unexpected reaction from your body catching you off guard.

Biting your lower lip, you clear your throat, and somehow you sound steadier than you feel when you dispense the orders. 

‘Ok, this is enough. Frankie, sit down over there,’ you say, pointing him in the direction of the couch on the other side of the room. ‘And you - since you’re Benny’s friend, two ration cards.’

‘’M not his friend,’ he almost spits out that last word, as if it tastes weird.

You give him a pointed look. ‘Three ration cards, then.’

He huffs, and hands you two from his back pocket. ‘Fine, I’m Benny’s friend.’

You grin. ‘If you’re besties, it’s one.’

‘Don’t push it.’

You back off with a chuckle. ‘Fine, not besties. Maybe next time. Now sit.’

Joel does as he’s told, awkwardly, in the styling chair, a relic from the pre-outbreak days. It creaks dangerously under his weight, and it wobbles, slightly off-kilter. The cracked leather is warm from the sun, which seeps into his skin, and he finds himself wondering when was the last time he went to a hair salon.

Sarah used to love cutting his hair. She always made an afternoon out of it on one of his rare days not working overtime, putting the music on, setting up her Barbie mirror on the dining room table, and having him pick out a hairstyle from a magazine (it never looked anywhere near like the photos). She’d even put a disposable raincoat over him like a hairdresser’s cape. She really wasn’t any good, there’s a reason why Tommy didn’t let her anywhere near his curls, but he always wore her handiwork with pride -

So lost in his thoughts, he reacts purely on instinct when, for the first time in decades, fingers other than his own find his hair.

Swivelling around, he’s out of the chair in a split second, fingers wrapped tight around your wrists. You yelp as he pushes you back against the wall, which he sees from the shape of your lips but doesn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears.

Joel barely holds you there for a second before he’s yanked backwards by a hand on the back of his collar, and he stumbles, crashing into the adjacent wall. He barely misses the fist heading towards his face, ducking just in time to save himself what would undoubtedly have been a broken nose.

He barrels into the younger man with his shoulder, expecting him to tumble back, and is surprised when he doesn’t budge. Joel’s aware he’s got a few years on him, but he more than holds his own against punks that age on the daily. This guy clearly has a background in combat, and it’s taking Joel everything to stay on his feet.

In the meantime, you’re still plastered against the wall, dazed by your customer’s reaction. Heck, you haven’t even gotten his name yet before he literally jumped you. He’s a skittish one, that’s for sure. 

You smile at the memory of Frankie’s first time with you at the salon - he’d give this guy a good run for his money. Lucky for him, you’ve always been good at wrangling the nervous ones.

Speaking of, the two men are now literally wrestling in front of you. If you had to venture a guess by the grays in the hair, you reckon your customer is pushing fifty. He’s built like a fucking tank though, and he’s giving everything he’s got.

So you decide to watch for a little while. Boys will be boys, best leave them to let off some steam. Leaning against the wall, you get comfortable, and you think wistfully to yourself that Ashton would have loved this view.

You’re not sure how you missed that they’re both wearing denim on denim, and you would struggle to pick out which is your husband if not for the hat on his head. Yes, the damn cap survived the apocalypse with him.

They are remarkably similar in build, though your customer seems to stand just a couple of inches taller. His biceps flex and bulge through the shirt sleeves as he scuffles with Frankie, teeth bared; meanwhile, your husband plants his feet, jeans stretched tight over his adorable little ass, trying to hold the man back long enough to throw a punch.

If the room was warm when they were trading barbs, it’s positively sweltering right now.

All you can see are broad shoulders and fabric bursting at the seams, grappling fingers and clenched fists. Back muscles rippling through denim, teasing slivers of skin and soft bellies when shirttails ride up and jeans fall low. The cheerful afternoon sun kisses their skin golden, casting long shadows across the creaking wooden floor.

And they’re not quiet. Throaty grunts as they jostle, panted breath peppered with cusses, fuck’s and sons of bitches as they wrestle for control.

Suddenly, you’re the one who’s out of breath despite not moving a muscle.

As much as you would’ve loved to stand and watch, you can tell both men are starting to get winded. You don’t exactly want the show to end, entertainment is hard to come by in the QZ, let alone of such a visually stimulating variety, in your own living room. But you think you hear the older man wheeze, their shirts are now stained with sweat, and the frantic energy they started with turns heavy with lethargy.

With a rueful sigh, you speak up, ‘Frankie, come on, that’s enough now.’

He growls, ‘No fucking way. He tried to hurt you!’

‘He barely touched me. It was just his PTSD acting out.’

‘I don’t have PTSD,’ the man protests, shooting you a glare before dodging an elbow.

‘There’s no shame in having PTSD,’ you admonish him. ‘Or in getting help.’

‘Why don’t you give me a hand then?’ he scoffs, tipping his head at Frankie.

‘Yeah, looks like you can use it,’ your husband taunts him.

‘Sure you can’t, asshole? Can’t even take down an old man on your own?’

‘I hope you're hungry, 'cause you're gonna eat your words, asshole -’

Hands on hips, you roll your eyes at the exceedingly average trash talk. ‘You know what? I tried asking nicely - I’m going in.’

It’s a tight squeeze, but somehow, you find a space between the elbows and shoulders and knees, and you wedge yourself in. It’s hot and humid between the two men, who are still trying to get at each other, despite the fact that you now have one hand on each of their chests, trying to pry them apart. Trapped between the two solid walls of chest, their raw strength vibrates through you, through harsh panting breath, the musk of sweat and man, and denim rubs rough on your bare skin where you’re pressed up against them.

It’s not hard to imagine being in this position in an entirely different situation, with the axis tilted, on a softer surface. Heat prickles all over you like needles, and unbeknownst to you, your thighs press together, and your panties start to feel sticky -

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ asks Frankie, incredulous as he looms over you, still grabbing onto the other guy’s shirt.

You bat your eyelashes at him, then crane your neck over your shoulder to wink at the other man. A little spiral of a curl dangles over his eyes as he glares at you, puffs of warm air hitting the shell of your ear. 

Knowing that your best chance of breaking off this nonsense is to wildly offend both men, you purr, ‘Making a delicious sandwich ‘cause I’m famished -’

Frankie flushes bright red instantly, and he roars, ‘Get your filthy hands off my wife, son of a bitch!’

Not that his hands are anywhere near you (a tragedy), nonetheless, the man jumps five feet back, as if you burned him. He may deny Tess being his wife, but the look of absolute horror of being accused of touching you speaks volumes.

You can tell he would have doubled over catching his breath, hands on his knees, if not for his pride. Stubbornly, he stands tall, hands on hips, chest heaving.

‘Bit jumpy, are we?’ you quip.

‘You always that handsy?’ he retorts.

‘Can’t help myself with beautiful curls like yours,’ you wink, and your smile widens when he flushes.

Frankie throws up his hands in disbelief. ‘Shiv, I’m standing right here.’

‘You always are,’ you tease, pressing a kiss to his pinched lips. ‘Now, go take a walk, you've made enough of a scene.’

‘I’m not leaving you here with him -’

The older man scoffs. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your woman.’

You feign indignation. ‘Hey! That’s hurtful.’

‘You should be, jackass!’ Frankie gripes, and promptly looks as confused as the other man at his own pronouncement.

Taking his hand, you pull him towards the door. ‘Go on babe, you were going to have a drink with Pope anyway. I got everything under control.’

‘Alright,’ Frankie relents, but not before he points a menacing finger at your customer. ‘If he tries anything -’

‘I know where the gun is,’ you finish his sentence.

Pressing one final kiss to your lips and throwing a glare over your shoulder, Frankie turns and leaves - and you preen at the knowledge that he trusts you can take care of yourself.

Once the door closes, you smile. ‘So… should we start over?’

 The man snorts. ‘I’d say.’

‘I’m Shiv,’ you say, but you don’t offer him your hand. He doesn’t seem to be the handshaking type.

He picks up on your perception, studying you with curious eyes. ‘Joel.’

Pushing the swivel chair back to the styling station, you gesture at him to retake his seat, and this time, you make sure his eyes are on yours in the mirror while you stand over his shoulder.

‘Hair’s a bit long, huh?’ you remark, eyeing the ringlet over his eyes.

‘It’s drivin’ me nuts,’ he admits.

You hold up your hands this time, giving him plenty of notice. ‘May I?’

He nods, and you start small, wrapping the spiral around your index finger with a grin. ‘I wasn’t just saying it, y’know. You do have beautiful hair.’

He shifts awkwardly, the chair squeaking, obviously uncomfortable with compliments. ‘Dunno. I’m all gray and shit.’

‘As someone wise once said, grays are sexy as fuck,’ you assure him. Running your fingers through his curls, you study the texture critically, noting the blunt ends and uneven thickness. Nothing a professional haircut can’t fix. ‘Trust me, I’m very wise.’

He hums, unconvinced, but you can see the lines around his eyes crease in amusement. ‘If you say so.’

You wink at him in the mirror. ‘When I’m done with you, Tess will have the hardest time keeping her hands to herself.’

‘What makes you think she doesn’t already?’

It takes you a moment to unfreeze, stunned by his retort. At his arched eyebrow, you burst into laughter. ‘You’re a sassy one, aren’t you, Joel?’

He huffs, half-amused, and shakes his head. ‘It’s a haircut, not a miracle.’

You squeeze his shoulder, grinning when he doesn’t jump at the contact. ‘Trust me, I’m just that good at my job.’

More notes: If you enjoyed this oneshot, I wrote a series of drabbles of Shiv giving other Pedro boys haircuts - you can find them in the Grays masterlist 🩶 I may write more for this universe and some point if inspiration strikes again, thank you for reading!

And if you wanted an inspo shot of Joel's hair, here you go ❤️

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[divinit3a]

✸basics

call me pom! o _ u ☆ ☆ they/he & an adult 👍 ☆ artist & writer, full of silly schemes ☆ @divinitea-cafe for spam reblogs & tomfoolery - this blog is in queue jail ☆ ao3 for my crimes against fnaf ☆ taller than you (lying voice) ⚠️⚠️⚠️ fun fact alert! i made my mascot a pomeranian bc that was the first icon i made for my ao3 years&years ago. any pom gets wifi fans left out there?

✸the wares i peddle

art #pom draws || writing #pom writes || memes/goofs #sillies rambles/asks #pom yaps || fic/AU recs #cafe menu

✋🛑 Hold on, Friend. 🛑✋

Here there be goblins. AKA, There will be elements of robot gore, horror, body horror, and eye-strain in my work. I'll always tag it as such, but if that is not your cup of tea, here's your "get out of jail free" card!

✸ ☆ ✸ ☆ ✸

📝 currently writing. . .

🎭 just keep playing along (ao3 link) || #playing along (sfw, BUT tw: violence, mechanical horror) | SB adjacent ↪ horror!sun & moon ☆ horror!eclipse 🎣 animatronic mermaids (ao3 link) || #catfishing au (sfw) | submechanophobia adjacent ↪ animatronic mer!sun & moon ❄️ robotic "yeti's" || #frostbite au 💘 catch me (if I fall) || #catch me! ↪ collection of dca x assistant drabbles (1/3 ch)

✸ on the backburner

⚙️the mechanics assistant || #assistant au (sfw, BUT tw: robot gore, temp 'character death') | help wanted adjacent 🌦️ newly minted imposter syndrome || #NMIS au 🐈🐈‍⬛ eldritch aliens || #chimera cosmic au 🕹️{ TBD }

‼️ do not repost my artwork! do not use my art/writing for AI! ‼️

Beyond that, I am ok with folks using my artwork as icons/banners with credit! 💚💚💚 If you like what nonsense I get up to, (aww thanks!!) I'd love to see your take on whatever meme, AU, etc it is! I always enjoy being @'d for anything related :D

asks are open and I am always down to yap ^-^ 💚

✸lay down the law

I understand that minors will follow/interact with this blog, though its contents are intended to be (16+) while im happy to encourage young creatives on their artistic journey, we cant be friends if you are a minor. please unfollow/block me if you need to!

i dont personally draw/write explicit nsfw, but artwork/writing may be scary or spicy.

Reblogs and fic recs will be marked as nsfw/sfw.

Blog is intended for FNAF!! sorry, i dont know the webseries... but feel free to still treat my art as whatever u fancy :3 i aint the fun police!!!

✸my cup of tea

i love horror, looove, and absolute tomfoolery. silly, surreal situations are perhaps my favorite ones to orchestrate. y/n is simply another barbie on the chessboard ^-^ ;; lets play toyce?

focusing on the robotics. waiter give me ten more please

i adore everyone's AU's and renditions of the DCA!! every time i find a new one i am amazed by ppls creativity!! i am eating every single cake deliciously. i hope to draw fanart of the all the au's & fics i love, but i fear there are many. so many.

✸thanks for havin' me!!

[theragethatisdesire]

a sexy little drabble i’ve been sitting on for a year or so <3

-

Your eyes blink open slowly and the details of the world quietly right themselves, straight lines and harsh angles emerging out of the watercolors of sleep. You must have dozed off unwittingly, succumbing to sleep after an endless day on the beach. Your mind is still hazy and half-gone after hours of sun and sangria, and the last thing you remember is stumbling sandy and barefooted across the terracotta brick floors of his studio apartment.

There’s no reprieve from summer in this dusty, dark room; it bakes in the heat of the waterfront city, feeling as though it’s carved out of the sun itself. Everything is red and brick and orange and yellow and you think the sangria must have really caught up to you, because more memories of the golden afternoon are surfacing, and now all you can think about is him untying your sarong beach skirt and kneeling before you. You remember his lips trailing up your salty thighs, you remember him muttering in something romantic– Italian? Spanish? You don’t even recognize the language in your memory, and he’d almost been too quiet to understand anyhow, but you had recognized the word for beauty, the word for want, wanting you.

You roll over and lean out of the window, one arm dangling over the windowsill, letting your eyes adjust to the sudden influx of light and taking in the rare peace on the busy streets, the early evening lull. An older man, bronzed and mustachioed, steps out of the little wine bar across the street; with only three barstools, it’s hardly larger than an office cubicle. He throws a small copper trough of water onto the street, and you watch it shimmer and slither between the cobblestones in the setting sun. What time is it? 7:00? 8:00? Dinner will be soon, you really should take a shower. You think you remember showering earlier, maybe with him, but you clearly hadn’t been too parsed about scrubbing yourself well if the stickiness of saltwater still clinging to your skin is anything to go by.

No sooner has the thought of dinner crossed your mind than your attention diverts to your other senses. Something spicy is tickling your nose, making it twitch. You turn to your other side, pulling the sheets to your chest to protect an already-tarnished sense of modesty, one that has no place here in this alcove of an apartment. An ocean breeze kisses that smooth skin in the middle of your back that you’ve never managed to lay a finger on, and you roll your shoulders into the feeling. After a moment of squinting, your eyes grow accustomed to the dark of the apartment, and his fuzzy shadow glimmers into focus, tan skin and the round lines of his muscles growing clear. He’s cooking something or other, cigarette dangling from his lips as he flips a pan full of mussels. Little flames erupt where the oil hits the fire of the stove top, and you wonder if that’s where those miniscule, circular scars along his hands had come from, this labor of love burning itself in between his knuckles. He notices you and grins around the smoke.

“Tesora,” he beckons you, and you obediently pull yourself from the bed. You slink around the huge, half-finished canvases and vintage side tables that clutter the small space, bringing that heavy, dusty orange sheet with you. He’s so warm, bronze and lean and shining with the remnants of your heady afternoon lovemaking and the muggy work of cooking over a flame in the stifling summer heat. When he kisses you, he’s gentle and quick, pressing his forehead into yours and snaking an arm around the small of your waist, tugging your hips together and rocking your bodies to the rhythm of the Piccioni song warbling out of the ancient record player in the corner. You’re enveloped in warmth, feeling yourself bloom open in the heat like the mussels in his skillet, wanting him to flip you and cook you and suck you onto his tongue.

“I fell asleep,” you mumble, moving your mouth against the hot skin of his shoulder. You lick your lips, tasting that spicy, musky man-smell of him, and you bite back a smile. He’s all yours.

He hums something of an agreement above you, moving your swaying bodies towards the other corner of the small kitchen, grabbing a pinch of something out of a pot and sprinkling it into the pan. The spice catches in the flame, little embers floating into the air. He brings his fingers to your lips, lets you suck the paprika off of his fingers until your toes curl.

“Better wake up,” he tells you, and you can hear the dimple digging into his cheek. “I told Gabriel we’d be coming by tonight. Fresh oysters on Thursdays.”

You know about the fresh oysters on Thursdays, know that Gabriel will be expecting the both of you to saunter into his bar in that fashionable state of undress that rules the street style here, have a seat and polish off a cocktail or two. It sounds lovely, really, but your sleep-addled mind protests at the idea of leaving this kitchen, of him hiding the sharp wings of his shoulder blades and the boomerang scar on his ribs with one of his breezy linen shirts. You want him bare and unclean, carnal and prophetic twisted in the sheets with you. Maybe he’ll take you to the ocean tonight, as he so loves to do, and bury himself in you on that plateau of rock that only takes a little climbing to get to. Your thighs tense.

“You have to open them for me if we go.”

“I always do,” he tuts, reaching a long arm down your back to grab a handful of your ass, squeezing playfully. You realize it was a gesture of goodbye when his hands leave you, turning to grab a long, serrated bread knife and a baguette you remember buying at the market yesterday. “And we’re going. No ifs.”

You let the bread answer for you; it sounds off its prickly agreement to being cut and consumed by the noisy crunches it makes as the knife slides through it, spitting crumbs out left and right. Your mouth waters as he plates your dinner, listening to the pretty tinkling of shells falling into the porcelain bowl and watching the soft cloud of bread turn golden as it sucks up the broth.

Feet dangling over the same windowsill you’d woken to, you sit side by side and let your ankles knock together, pulling the mussels to bits and sucking the juice off each other’s fingertips. He holds up a mussel shell, then another, then starts busying himself with how he might take it to an artist, guild the edges of the shells in gold, how he might have a necklace crafted for you out of them. You offer nothing more than a hum of approval, knowing better than to interrupt on brainstorming process. He has a visionary’s soul. The careful creativity with which he toys with a new concept is best left unmarred, no matter how often he asks for your input.

You’re entirely content to listen, anyway. His pink lips and quick tongue curl so beautifully around every letter, r’s rolling more prominently out from between his teeth as they’re prone to when he’s spent too much time by the sea. He mentions Gabriel and the oysters again, a look cut toward you with knowing green eyes; he knows your brain is still occupied with thoughts of him wrapped in white bedsheets, evidenced by the hand tight around your thigh and the curve of his smile. You nod, resigning yourself to a short few hours of sharing him with the city with a smile.

He only wants to spin you around, he insists, show you off. You can hear the slow crooning of an accordion down the street, the instrument wheezing itself into the proper key as the sun sinks into the ocean.

Of course you’ll let him, you answer back, smiling as a Dean Martin song floats towards you, two young lovers perched on a postcard windowsill.

The sunset wishes you a good night with oranges and pinks streaked over the sky just as he pulls you back through the window, smothering you with tan skin and whispered bits of poetic filth, mixing his Italian and English like olive oil and balsamic in a plate, peppering his words with soft kisses. By the time you’re off to Gabriel’s, you’re practically hopping down the stone staircase ahead of him, squealing that you’re already late and tugging one sandal on your bare foot.

Another heavy, summer evening in the city awaits you at the bottom of the stairs, greeting you with the lively spice of Italian conversation, the earthy, chest-warming scent of cigarettes and red pepper flakes, the crisp whisper of an ocean breeze sneaking through narrow streets. As one of his arms slides over your shoulder, the flick of his lighter bringing the end of each of your cigarettes to life, you try to tug him along, reminding him of the oysters and of Gabriel and the fact that he was the one that wanted to go anyway. He doesn’t listen, of course, taking advantage of each alleyway and divot of stone to tug you aside, plant aftershave-scented kisses along your neck. It doesn’t take long for you to give up, sighing contentedly into his mouth as he teases what’s to come later, after the bottle of wine and the street musicians and the playful jabs exchanged around a table with friends. You fall into the rhythm of the city easily, sandals carrying you over the cobblestones at the pace of the waves crashing against the rocky foundation of the city where the sea meets the land, and you let him guide you through his past, pointing out the same seafood stalls and wine bars he always does, nodding thoughtfully along with the stories of his sun-soaked childhood.

It’s another night by the sea, another night under the moon, and another night of being in love.

[rosenclaws]

happy 600! <3

would you do 18 and 38 from the fluff prompts for eddie alden?

“I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me.” “Please don’t love me the way you loved your exes.”

600 follower drabble masterlist

warnings: spicy but no smut

Eddie couldn't sleep. He keeps tossing and turning in his sheets. Pulling them up only to kick them off. He looks over and sees you sleeping peacefully next to him, somehow not disturbed from his constant moving.

With a sigh he quietly gets out of bed and heads out to the living room. He paces back and forth, running his hands through his hair as he tries to quiet his mind. He's not used to this, it's been so long since he's felt this. Terrifying feeling.

You aren't his typical one night stand, in fact he hasn't had a one night stand in months. The only one keeping his bed warm has been you and he's loved every second. The sex is fantastic so why is he ruining it? Why is his stupid brain trying to tell him that there's more between you than just casual fucking. He's been able to bury any sense of feelings for a long time but they're bubbling up like a volcano waiting to burst.

"Eddie?" You're awake, a blanket wrapped around your body as you make your way out to the living room.

"You okay?" The first thing he thinks is how adorable you look so sleepy. How cute you are when you rub your eyes and how badly he wants you to drop that blanket. Then the fear sets in again.

"Yeah." He responds unconvincingly. It takes one look from you for him to fold.

"No. I mean. I don't know." He lets out a frustrated sigh. He collapses on the couch and puts his head in his hands.

"Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" He feels your hand on his back, scratching it lightly. Just the way that he likes it. Fuck.

"You want to know what's bothering me? You!" Eddie stands up and starts to pace.

"Me?"

"I can't get you out of my head. This. This was supposed to be casual." He gestures between the two of you.

"But now, I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me." You squeak when he cages you into the couch. His arms trapping you below him.

"I want it all baby and it terrifies me." You grab his cheeks and pull him close to you.

"Say it Eddie. Say it please."

You need to hear those words. Falling for Eddie was easy but pushing it down was hard. You knew of his reputation but you got yourself involved anyways. No one to blame but yourself. You stayed in his bed because for a moment you could pretend that things were different and now he's saying it could be.

"I'm falling in love with you." He whispers. It's a shattering realization for him. That the walls he had built up were broken down without him even realizing it.

"I love you too Eddie." He crashes his lips onto yours as he pulls you off the couch.

If he wasn't helping you stand you'd be falling to your knees. Your head dizzy as he takes your breath away, refusing to let you go as he drowns you in his kiss. This is always what you wanted but doubt creeps into your brain. Eddie notices your hesitation and stops. He's panting as he buries his face into your neck.

"You okay?"

"Eddie..." The seriousness in your voice makes him sit up. Worry seeping into his eyes.

"Please don’t love me the way you loved your exes." You beg. He's quiet for a moment before he pulls you closer.

"The things you heard, I never loved them like I love you. It was casual. You are different. I want everything with you baby." He brushes your cheek softly.

He knows his reputation but he's determined to prove to you he means every word. He'll prove it to you over and over until you believe him. Mostly in the bedroom but neither of you are complaining about that.

[slut4scoups]

did somebody say just eat?

another good ol smut w little plot! mdni | 18+ | husband!theo, afab!reader, dinner taking a complete 180, oral (fem receiving), kinda tipsy drink responsibly

-

newly weds just being newly weds.

it had been a month since you and theo had gotten married, tonight you had prepared dinner for the both of you. dinner was great, lovely even. a bottle of champagne popped and a steak dinner, what could’ve possibly triggered you not being able to rip your eyes away from him?

was it the fitted black suit he was wearing? his fresh cut hair? the way his jaw clenched when he was eating? bingo. you could feel heat spread across your chest as you watched him eat, not remembering you were mid conversation with him anyways. you let your eyes gaze from his lips to his sharp jawline before you were snapped out of your fantasies from the sound of him clearing his throat,

“love? you feeling alright?” he would ask as he noticed how your demeanour changed, “you seem to have something on your mind, wanna share?” he’d raise he eyebrow as he took another bite of the steak, having no clue it was that exact action that was making you flustered. you sat up in your chair and nodded your head, picking up the champagne glass and taking a long sip before speaking, “just admiring my husband.” you gave him a small smile and theo pursed his lips,

“mm, i don’t know if i fully believe you, wanna try again?” he asked, taking another bite of the steak. you watched as his jaw flexed with each bite and your cheeks started to feel hot, not knowing if it was due to the champagne making you feel warm or the fact that you wanted theo between your legs. you quietly watched his jaw and theo started chewing slower as he watched your eyes and a small smirk grew on his face. he carefully set his fork and knife down and adjusted his tie as he watched you,

“you’re a terrible liar when you’re tipsy, you know that?” he would chuckle softly and run a hand through his hair, making you adjust in your chair again. you would scoff and take another, hefty sip, from the champagne glass and look him in the eyes, the back of your hand moving up to wipe your mouth, “wasn’t lying if i really was thinking about you, no?” you challenged him back and he smiled, taking a sip from his champagne glass as well before gently putting the glass down and folding his hands in his lap, “so? what were you thinking about?” he asked once again and you looked away from him as you tried to find the courage to speak,

“i- um… i was just thinking about your face between my legs..” you would mumble out and theo would slightly nod his head as he sat back in his seat and crossed his arms, “yeah? want me to eat you out? that’s it?” he would confirm and you nodded your head eagerly. he let out a slight laugh and carefully push the plate infront of him to the side and slide his suit jacket off, letting it rest on the back of the chair. he pat the clear surface infront of him and look at you with a smile, “come sit right here.” you widened your eyes at his suggestion but quickly got up and stumbled your way around the table to his side.

he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he watched you come to his side of the table and when you were close enough, he slowly slide his hands around your waist, looking up at you, “gonna eat you out on this table so good..” he mumble as he plants small kisses on your lower stomach before helping you sit on the table and running his hands up and down your sides.

“my beautiful, beautiful wife.” he sigh as he scanned your body and tapped your thighs, indicating to open them. you obeyed and spread your legs open for him and he ran his hands up and down your thighs, his favorite thing about this position was how close his face already was to your dripping core. he licked his lips as he looked up at you and slightly smiled again, “gonna let me explore your pussy with my tongue?” you let out a soft moan at his words and nodded your head, your hand running through his hair, “please, baby. oh please.” you whimper out and he ran his hands up your thighs once more, letting his fingers hook around the panties you had on under your dress,

“i promise, gonna take care of you and eat my well deserved dessert.” he pulls your panties down and runs two of his fingers between your glistening folds. he would make a small gasp as he felt how wet you were already and you’d let out another moan, biting the back of your hand as his fingers continued to move up and down between your folds, “watchin’ me eat made you this wet, honey? all this just for me?” he asked in amusement as he was enjoying how wet you felt but also the beautiful noises dripping from your lips.

you felt the tips of your ears start to burn with embarrassment but nod once again, looking down at him, “yeah, please, baby? just eat?” you felt pathetic begging him when he already had his fingers toying with you. he looked up at you and brought his fingers covered in your slick up to his lips, gently sucking them and his eyes fluttered closed as he pretended to savour it, “mm, sorry, honey. had to get a little appetizer.” he mumbled before leaning his head forward and licking up your wet core, the grip you had in his hair slightly tightening as you tried to contain yourself.

“oh, honey,” he would mumble against your core as he let his tongue start getting to work, his hands having a firm grip on your thighs to keep them open. you could feel your heartbeat increasing significantly as he ate you out, his tongue feeling ruthless. you let out a choked moan as you slowly looked down at him, only to find him staring back up at you. you let you jaw hang open as you made eye contact and you could tell he smiled at you from the way the corner of his eyes crinkled. you started to pant as you could feel yourself losing yourself, your hand tangled in his hair and the other hand laying flat on the table so you could steady yourself.

theo squeezed your thighs and slightly pulled back, slick covering his chin as he softly blew on your sensitive cunt. you whined at the loss of his tongue but let out a small gasp at the cool air and bit your bottom lip, trying to fight the urge to push his head back between your legs. he chuckled softly and let his two fingers return back to your sopping cunt as he suddenly stood up, his free hand gripping your wrist, “tell me, how bad do you wanna cum for your husband?” he would ask, leaning his head against yours as he started to ruthlessly finger you, the lewd noises spreading throughout the kitchen. your breathing started becoming disheveled as you tried to speak, “fuuuuck- oh so bad. oh need to cum for you so so bad, baby.” you pant out as his fingers pumped into you.

theo let out a small growl as he connected your lips together, his tongue immediately darting into your mouth. you moaned in his mouth and tried to move your lips against his but pulled back a bit to catch your breath, his fingers making it hard to focus. before you could speak, you rested your forehead against his and let out one last high pitched moan before you could feel yourself snap and a string of squirt coming from your body. theo looked back and watched as you squirt and licked his lips as he replaced his fingers with his mouth once again, trying to lap up every last drop he missed out on. you finally gripped his hair once more and moaned his name as he ate you out through your orgasm and begged for mercy as it felt overwhelming.

theo lapped up between your folds once more before pulling back and sitting in his chair, staring at your puffed pussy. his eyes would flicker from your pussy to your face and he would begin to unbutton his shirt,

“i can’t believe this pretty pussy is all mine,” he paused as he looked back down between your legs back to your face, he stood up as he unbuttoned the last few buttons on his dress shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders as he take your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look up at him as he brought your face close,

“you didn’t think i would just eat, yeah? gonna measure my pretty pussy with my inches.”

[tightjeansjavi]

Congrats on being here writing for one year!!!

🦋Can I please request a little mini drabble for Javi G?

And since you know I love my little bad boi/soft boi - can you please make him a little naughty? He's not a big, mean man, but I think he can be spicy when he wants to be.

xoxoxo

Patti, anything for you my darling 💗

Thank you for taking my Javi G v-card ;)

-

Tease

A/N: spicy, spicy, spicy! 🥵🌶️

~word count: 1.3k~

Summary: being Javi Gutierrez’s personal assistant comes with many perks.

Pairing | Javi Gutierrez x f!personal assistant reader

Warnings: smut with no plot, power imbalance (boss/employee) reader is ballsy and bold, mutual pining, unprotected piv, fingering, teasing (like HELLA) seductress reader, noncon/dubcon (reader is naked in his eye-line on purpose) javi is respectful till he’s not, dom!javi, reader can understand Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, no age gap (no mention of age) +18, minors dni!

translations:

¡Mierda! - Shit!

Querida - darling

Ten piedad de mí, joder - have mercy on me, fuck

Hermosa - gorgeous

Chica mala - bad girl

translations done by @angelofsmalldeath-codeine & @yoongi-tangerine-22

Being Javi Gutierrez’s personal assistant came with…many perks. Javi was always a generous man, and even though he was your boss, and you knew it was shameful to be attracted to him, you couldn’t help it.

But what’s a girl to do with an assumed one-sided attraction? Tease the shit out of him till he simply can’t take it anymore.

It started off innocent, light touches here and there. Fluttering of lashes, giggles, and asking him questions about himself that did not pertain to the conversation at hand.

You loved to see him stutter over his responses and rub the back of his neck, or card his fingers through his luscious, soft curls.

He never acted upon his desires and urges. He always was respectful, polite, and boy, did that often drive you up a wall.

You were desperate to know what kind of man Javi Gutierrez was in the bedroom.

You started wearing revealing clothing around him. Short skirts, low-cut tops that had your tits practically staring him in the face. Flowy sundresses that allowed for easy access to your bare cunt.

He found you purposely bent over at times, with the seam of your pussy exposed—puffy, dripping a droplet of arousal like the sweetest fruit a man could ever taste.

Tempted by the bared fruit of Eden, he was. The urge was there, but never satiated. You were his assistant, and he was your boss. It would be shameful.

-

The sun was hot, blistering, boiling on your skin. One of the perks of living at Javi’s coastal home, was your free access to his inground pool. As long as you did your job, you could spend your free time lounging poolside for hours.

Today you decided to spice things up a bit more than usual knowing the exact time that Javi would come down for his afternoon swim. You would be there, waiting for him.

At first, he didn’t notice your naked form sunbathing on your stomach, ankles crossed in a relaxed position on the poolside chaise lounge. His mind was elsewhere: a new screenplay idea.

He whistled, throwing his towel down on the chair beside you, stretching his arms above his head, giving you a tiny peek at the happy trail at the top of his very tight speedo.

Your sunglasses tip down over the bridge of your nose as you shamelessly drink him in. Salivating at the look of his bronzed, golden skin that you absolutely would love to sink your teeth into.

“Mr. Gutierrez, so nice of you to join me.” You giggle softly, waving your fingers in a teasing motion.

He does a double take when his eyes finally gloss over your naked body. His pupils expand, and he nearly stumbles over his two feet.

“¡Mierda!” He exclaims, covering his eyes and shaking his head. “Querida, why are you naked?!” The harmless nickname slips past his lips, his eyes going wide behind the cover of his hands when the realization hits.

“Aw, Javi! I’m your darling? Wow, you sure know how to get a gal feeling flustered!” You giggle again and slowly roll over onto your back, thighs falling open over the side of the lounge chair, just enough that he can see the outline of your cunt. “It’s far too hot to be wearing anything, Javi. My skin is absolutely boiling.” You said with a soft, airy sigh, letting your hand drift southwards to rest along your stomach. Inching—

Ten piedad de mí, joder. He thinks.

He doesn’t respond, feeling flustered as a hot flush spreads across his face. He averts from making eye contact with you and tosses his sunglasses onto his towel. You swear you hear him curse under his breath just before he dives into the refreshing pool.

Darn.

-

Javi finally loses his cool when the second draft of his new screenplay is rejected. He’s been so distracted with you and your antics that he hasn’t been able to focus! Well, he’s about to show you just how frustrated he truly is with you.

You don’t hear him approaching at first from where you’re bent over the sink, focused on washing the dishes and the song playing in your AirPods.

Your hips are swaying to the side, loose and flowy and from where Javi is standing in the opening of the kitchen, he’s practically burning holes into the back of your head.

Fucking tease.

He stalks forward, coming up behind you and nearly rips the earbuds from your ears, tossing them onto the countertop.

“Hey—” you start to say, losing your voice in your throat when you feel Javi’s palm slip between the apex of your thighs, fingers just barely brushing between the seam of your cunt.

“You’re a dirty fucking tease, querida.” He growls against the shell of your ear. His freehand yanks you back by your hip. He inhales your scent, familiar—his fucking cologne? “Naughty fucking tease. Are you—wearing my cologne?” He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering up your apparent arousal, sticky and wet for him. “Dripping all over the freshly washed tiles, hermosa.”

“Fuuck—” you whimper, pressing your ass directly against the growing bulge in his cotton shorts. Your head lolls to the side, falling back against his shoulder. “I’m your dirty fucking tease, Javi.” You spread your thighs further for him as he continues his ministrations, “Wearing your cologne, sir. Stole it from your room because I’m a bad, bad, girl. I wanted you to smell yourself on me.”

He nips at your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin, sucking harshly on your pulse point as he eases two fingers inside of your sopping cunt, knuckle deep. “Fucking always wearing short skirts around me. Those goddamn sundresses. Lost my mind when you were sunbathing naked, cunt on full display without a care in the world. You’ve made it so, so hard for me to keep my hands to myself, querida.”

“Javiii!” You whine, “please don’t keep your hands to yourself, baby. Please. Have your way with me, sir. I’m all yours.” You don’t give a flying fuck how desperate you sound for this man, you’ve been pining after him for far too long to care.

“Yeah? You think I should, hermosa? Think I should give you my cock? That’s what you want, right? You want my cock? I don’t think you deserve it, querida. Not after you’ve driven me up a fucking wall. Naughty little teases don’t get rewarded.”

He begins to shallowly pump his fingers, knuckle deep, curling them inwards. You can feel the bite of the cooling touch of his expensive rings against your hot skin. “Please, Javi! Give me anything—I’ll take whatever you give me! Your cock, your fingers!” You cry out.

“Yeah? You’re that fucking desperate for me, querida? You want my cock that fucking bad? Look at you, dripping all over my fingers…” he hums, pressing the hardening length of his cock against your ass. “You want me to fuck you so bad, little tease? Take my cock out then, hermosa. Fuck yourself on it.”

You waste no time to reach behind and blindly search for the waistband of his shorts. You let out a frustrating whine when he pulls himself back slightly just so you have to work for it a little harder. He hisses between his teeth, working his fingers inside of you faster when you finally pull his cock free through the opening of his shorts.

He’s heavy in your palm, tip weeping an angry bead of precum when you pull him back in just as he slips his fingers out. You're both a mess of breathy moans when you ease him into your wet heat, tight pussy hugging him like a fist as he bottoms out.

He’s thick, girthy, and it’s overwhelming to have all of him stuffed inside of you. It’s a delicious sensation: being stretched open by Javi’s cock.

“You’re enjoying this too fucking much, hermosa.” He keeps a firm grip on your hip, his other snakes around you, dipping between your thighs so he can thrum your sensitive clit. “Fuck yourself on it, chica mala.”

And so you do.

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[solastia]

Indulgence

Pairing: Yoongi, Jimin, F!Reader

Kinktober Theme: Threesome

TW: Power imbalance, light choking, threesome, MMF, polyamory, no protection is even mentioned, can seduction be dubious consent? Because if so then yeah, they kinda gaslight you into fucking them lmao. Big dick Yoongi. I'm adding that because I don't usually do that. Dirty talk. Oh, I should probably warn I use cunt, because I like that word. *shrug*

Welcome to another edition of Solastia fails to make a drabble a drabble! I was just going to make a short drabble for Kinktober, but here we are with 5K instead *sigh*. I'll try better with the rest of them. In the meantime, very cheesy erotica ahead with limited plot.

This was the end of your first week at Yoonmin Corp., the new leaders in tech in your city. The CEO’s had taken the city by storm, and you had been quick to grab a job with the promising company.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and indigo, as you emerged from the sleek glass doors of Yoonmin Corp headquarters. A warm breeze, heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine, ruffled your hair as you made your way down the broad stone steps. The past five days had passed in an exhilarating blur of meetings, presentations, and dazzling technological displays that left your mind reeling.

Whispers swirled around the enigmatic CEO duo, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin, who had burst onto the scene mere months ago. With their disruptive innovations and magnetic charisma, they were the talk of every social circle and business journal in the city. Rumors abounded of their rapid rise, unconventional methods, and the secrets that surely lay behind those piercing gazes and seductive smiles.

Wait. Maybe you hadn't intended to think that last phrase, but it lingered in your mind like a persistent itch. Piercing and seductive? Yes, that fits. Because that had been your only issue with this place. Well, not so much an issue as a mystery.

Since the moment you sat at the desk in front of their glass office, you’d felt like prey. Their eyes always watching you, one or the other finding a reason to stride out of their office like panthers to “chat” with you at your desk. And one very memorable moment where you’d caught them making out in their office and Yoongi had stared you down the entire time. 

You shake your head, trying to clear yourself of the strange thoughts. As you reached the bottom of the steps, a sleek black car with tinted windows glided to a stop at the curb. The door swung open, and a handsome man in a tailored suit stepped out, inclining his head to you.

"Good evening. Mr. Min and Mr. Park request your presence." His rich baritone sent a shiver down your spine.

Heart pounding, you slid into the plush leather backseat, the door closing with a muted click. The interior was dimly lit, all polished wood and gleaming chrome. Across from you lounged the infamous CEOs themselves, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin, shadows playing across their striking features. What the hell could you have done already? Not to mention you were clocked out for the day.

"Thank you for joining us," Yoongi purred, his cat-like eyes glinting in the low light. "We've been watching you this week. Your...potential intrigues us."

Jimin leaned forward, his perfectly styled hair falling artfully over his brow. The spicy scent of his cologne filled the air between you, making your pulse race even faster. 

"You've exceeded all expectations. Your brilliance, your dedication...and perhaps other qualities as well." His gaze drifted languidly over your form, a smirk playing at the corner of his full lips.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure under the intensity of their stares. The car purred to life and pulled away from the curb, the city lights blurring into streaks of neon beyond the tinted glass. 

"I'm flattered, but I'm not sure I understand. What exactly are you looking for from me outside of my regular duties?"

Yoongi chuckled, a low, velvety sound that seemed to resonate in your bones. He exchanged a loaded glance with Jimin, their eyes glittering with unspoken promises. 

"We have a special project in mind. One that requires someone with your unique combination of intellect, discretion, and...allure."

Jimin's fingertips grazed your knee, the brief contact searing through the thin fabric of your slacks. 

"It's not the sort of thing we can discuss at the office. Too many prying eyes and ears. We have a private penthouse where we prefer to handle our most sensitive business."

The car turned down a narrow side street, the buildings towering above you like sentinels guarding forbidden secrets. Your breath caught in your throat as the implications of their words sank in.

 "This project...it's not entirely professional, is it?"

Yoongi's lips curved into a wicked smile. 

"Clever and perceptive. I knew we chose well." He leaned back, draping an arm across the seat. "No, this venture is of a more...intimate nature."

Jimin's hand slid higher up your thigh, his touch light but deliberate. 

"We've built an empire on pushing boundaries and shattering expectations. In business, and in pleasure." His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "There are no limits to the heights we can reach together."

Your skin prickled with heat, every nerve alight. This was insane. Reckless. Yet the magnetic pull of their power and sensuality was undeniable.

 "And if I refuse?"

"Then we return you to your little desk, no questions asked," Yoongi replied smoothly. "But I don't think you will. I think you crave something more. Something extraordinary." His eyes bored into yours, stripping away your defenses layer by layer.

The car slowed to a stop and the driver opened the door. You stepped out onto a private underground parking garage, your legs unsteady beneath you. Yoongi and Jimin emerged like twin shadows, their movements fluid and hypnotic.

"Come," Jimin coaxed, offering his hand. "Let us show you the world that awaits."

Heart thundering against your ribs, you placed your trembling fingers in his warm palm. His grip was firm, confident, as he led you to a private elevator. Yoongi pressed a code, and the doors slid open with a hushed whoosh.

Inside, the air crackled with tension. Jimin's body was a hair's breadth from yours, his heat seeping into your skin.

The elevator ascended swiftly, your stomach fluttering with anticipation and trepidation. Jimin's thumb traced maddening circles on your palm, each caress sending sparks racing up your arm and down your spine. Yoongi leaned against the mirrored wall, his hooded gaze devouring your every reaction.

With a soft chime, the doors opened directly into a sprawling penthouse suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a breathtaking panorama of the glittering cityscape below. Sleek, modern furnishings in shades of black and crimson filled the space, the décor dripping with decadence and sensual promise.

Yoongi's hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you into the room.

"Welcome to our private sanctuary," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "A place where we can indulge our deepest desires without restraint."

Your heart raced as you took in the opulent surroundings—the plush velvet couches, the gleaming marble bar, the massive bed draped in silk. Every detail whispered of luxury and temptation. Jimin circled around to face you, his eyes smoldering with unspoken promises.

"You're trembling," he observed, trailing a fingertip along your collarbone. "Is it nerves? Excitement?" His lips quirked. "Anticipation of what's to come?"

"All of the above," you managed, your voice breathy. The raw magnetism of these men was overwhelming, short-circuiting your rational mind. Jimin's fingertip dipped lower, grazing the swell of your breast through your thin blouse. Your nipples tightened, aching for his touch.

Yoongi moved behind you, his solid form pressing against your back. Strong hands settled on your hips, holding you captive between their bodies. 

"There's no need to be nervous," he purred, nuzzling the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "We'll take good care of you."

Jimin's nimble fingers released the top button of your blouse, then another, baring a tantalizing glimpse of lace-clad curves. 

"So beautiful," he praised, his gaze molten. "I've been imagining peeling you out of these prim little office clothes all week."

A moan caught in your throat as Yoongi's teeth grazed your earlobe, sending tingles racing across your sensitive skin. His hands slid from your hips to splay across your stomach, holding you firmly against the solid heat of his body.

"Let us worship you," he growled, his deep voice vibrating through you. "Let us show you pleasures you've only dreamed of."

Jimin finished unbuttoning your blouse and pushed it off your shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor. Cool air whispered across your overheated flesh, pebbling your exposed skin. His fingertips traced the scalloped edge of your lacy bra, dipping beneath the fabric to tease your aching nipples.

"Exquisite," he breathed, his eyes devouring you. "I want to taste every inch of you."

Your head fell back against Yoongi's shoulder as Jimin's fingers worked their magic, caressing and teasing your sensitive flesh. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, holding you steady as your knees threatened to buckle under the onslaught of sensation.

"So responsive," Yoongi purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you need it."

Jimin deftly unclasped your bra, letting it slide down your arms to join your blouse on the floor. His heated gaze raked over your exposed breasts, the naked hunger in his eyes making you throb with need.

"Perfection," he murmured, cupping the soft mounds in his palms. "I could spend hours worshipping these alone."

A whimper escaped your lips as Jimin's thumbs circled your sensitive nipples, the rough pads igniting sparks of pleasure that shot straight to your core. Yoongi's hands slid lower, deftly unfastening your slacks and easing them over the curve of your hips. The brush of cool air against your bare thighs made you shiver, goosebumps racing across your skin.

"So soft," Yoongi growled appreciatively, his fingers skimming the lacy edge of your panties. "I can't wait to feel these silky thighs wrapped around my waist as I sink into your tight pussy."

His blunt words sent ripples to your core, dampening your panties, your need for them ratcheting higher with each passing second. Jimin's hands continued their sweet torment, rolling and plucking your stiff nipples.

Yoongi's fingers dipped beneath the delicate lace of your panties, grazing your slick, sensitive folds. A gasp tore from your throat at the electric contact, your hips bucking into his touch. 

"Already so wet for us," he purred, circling your aching clit with a featherlight caress. "I knew you'd be perfect."

Jimin's mouth replaced his fingers on your breasts, his clever tongue swirling around one taut peak before drawing it between his lips. He sucked deeply, sending shockwaves of bliss ricocheting through your body. Your hands tangled in his silky hair, holding him closer as he lavished your aching flesh with expert attention.

"Please," you whimpered, lost to the exquisite sensations they were unleashing. "I need..."

Yoongi's fingers delved deeper, parting your slick folds to tease your throbbing entrance. "Tell us what you need, baby," he coaxed, his voice a sinful rasp against your ear. "We want to hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, a heady mix of desire and embarrassment flooding through you. But the desperate ache between your thighs overrode any lingering shyness. 

"I need you inside me," you breathed, arching into his touch. "Both of you. Please..."

Jimin released your nipple with a wet pop, his eyes blazing with lust as they met yours.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg for us," he growled. In one fluid motion, he hooked his fingers in your panties and tugged them down your trembling legs.

Cool air kissed your exposed flesh, making you gasp and shiver with need. Yoongi's fingers continued to tease your slick folds, circling your throbbing clit in maddening strokes. 

"So pretty," he purred, dipping one long finger inside your clenching heat. "I can't wait to feel this sweet pussy stretched around my cock."

Jimin kneeled before you, his heated gaze drinking in the sight of your bared pussy.

"Delectable," he murmured, hooking your thigh over his broad shoulder. "I'm going to devour this perfect cunt until you scream for us, baby."

His scorching breath feathered over your sensitive flesh a moment before his wicked tongue delved between your folds. A broken moan tore from your throat as he lapped at your dripping slit, the velvet caress of Jimin's tongue against your most intimate flesh sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body. Your hips bucked forward, seeking more of that exquisite friction as he laved your throbbing clit with firm, deliberate strokes.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi purred in your ear, his fingers continuing their maddening tease of your slick entrance. "Let him taste how sweet you are. How desperate for our touch."

Jimin growled against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations making you cry out and clutch at his hair. He sealed his lips around your aching bud, suckling deeply as he worked two fingers inside your clenching channel. Your inner muscles gripped him greedily, drawing him deeper into your molten core.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jimin groaned, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm that made your toes curl. "I can't wait to feel this perfect pussy squeezing my cock."

Yoongi's hand slid up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh as he rocked his hardness against the curve of your ass. 

"So fucking responsive," he rasped, pinching your nipple between his fingers. "I knew you'd be perfect for us the moment I laid eyes on you."

Their dual assault on your senses was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards the edge. Jimin's fingers curled inside you, stroking that sensitive spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. His tongue flicked rapid fire against your clit, the pressure building to an unbearable peak.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi growled, his hips grinding against your ass in time with Jimin’s movements.

Jimin's wicked tongue swirled faster over your swollen clit as his fingers thrust deeper, stroking that spot inside you that made your legs tremble. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, your pussy clenching around his pumping digits.

"Gonna come for us, sweet thing?" Yoongi purred, roughly palming your breasts. "Wanna feel this tight little cunt squeeze Jimin's fingers when you let go?"

His filthy words and the relentless pleasure from Jimin's talented mouth shoved you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in waves of ecstasy, a loud moan tearing from your throat as your inner walls spasmed. Jimin groaned against your throbbing flesh, lapping up your gushing release.

"Fuck, you taste incredible," he rasped, continuing to lick you slowly, drawing out your climax until you were a whimpering, trembling mess in their arms. Finally, he released you with a final slow lick, his eyes burning into yours as he rose to his feet.

"Exquisite," he murmured, his lips glistening with your juices. "I could feast on this sweet pussy for hours."

Yoongi's hands skimmed down your sides to grip your hips, holding you steady as Jimin claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, the filthy eroticism making you throb with renewed need.

"My turn," Yoongi growled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. "I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until you forget your own name."

In a dizzying whirl of motion, Yoongi spun you around to face him, his dark eyes smoldering with barely restrained lust. His soft lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. You melted against the hard planes of his body, your hands fisting in the silky fabric of his shirt.

Jimin pressed against your back, his teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder as his nimble fingers unzipped Yoongi's slacks.

"I want to watch you take her," he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "Want to see that big cock splitting her open as well as it does me.”

Yoongi groaned into your mouth, his hand tangling in your hair to angle your head for a deeper kiss. Jimin's hands pushed Yoongi's pants down his hips, freeing his thick, heavy cock. It sprang free, the swollen head already glistening with arousal. Your eyes widened at the impressive size, a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine.

"Like what you see, baby?" Yoongi purred, wrapping a hand around his thick shaft and giving it a slow pump. "This is all for you. Every hard inch."

Jimin's fingers danced down your stomach to tease your slick folds once more.

"She's dripping wet and ready for you, Yoongi," he murmured, circling your sensitive clit. "I can feel how much she needs that big cock."

Yoongi walked you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the plush bed. He lowered you down onto the silk sheets, his larger body covering yours. The heat of his skin seared into you as he settled between your spread thighs, the thick length of his erection nestling against your slick folds.

"Going to fill this tight little pussy so deep," Yoongi growled, nipping at your lower lip. "Gonna make you scream on my cock."

Jimin climbed onto the bed behind Yoongi, his hands skimming possessively over the taut muscles of his partner's back. 

"Do it," he urged, his voice husky with need. "Claim her. Make her ours."

With a flex of his hips, Yoongi drove forward, impaling you on his thick shaft in one powerful thrust. A cry tore from your throat as Yoongi's thick cock stretched you deliciously, filling you to the brink. Your slick walls clenched around his pulsing hardness, your body struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. Yoongi groaned, his jaw clenching as he fought for control.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he grated out, his hips drawing back before snapping forward again. "So fucking tight and wet around my cock."

Your nails raked down his back as he set a deep, driving rhythm, each powerful thrust hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Jimin's hands roamed over both of you, his touch electric against your own overheated skin.

"She takes you so well," Jimin purred, his lips brushing Yoongi's ear.

Yoongi's hips pistoned faster, pounding into your willing body with increasing force. The obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the room, mingling with your wanton moans and the men's harsh breaths. Jimin's fingers found your aching clit, rubbing tight circles around the throbbing nub in time with Yoongi's relentless thrusts.

"That's it, take his cock," Jimin growled, pinching your clit and making you cry out. "Let him fuck you senseless. Your pussy was made for us."

The dual stimulation rapidly pushed you towards another peak, your inner muscles fluttering wildly around Yoongi's driving shaft. He groaned, his rhythm faltering as your slick heat squeezed him like a vice.

"Gonna come on my cock, baby?" he rasped, swiveling his hips to grind with every deep stroke. "Want to feel this sweet pussy milk me dry."

His filthy words combined with Jimin's skillful fingers catapulted you over the edge. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, pleasure exploding through your veins as you clenched vice-tight around Yoongi's plunging cock.

"Fuck, yes!" Yoongi roared, his own release overtaking him as your fluttering walls massaged his shaft. He buried himself to the hilt, his thick cock jerking as he emptied himself deep inside you.

Jimin stroked you both through the aftershocks, his touch gentling as the waves of bliss gradually subsided. Yoongi collapsed against you, his heavy breaths gusting over your sweat-dampened skin. You clung to his broad shoulders, your body trembling with the force of your release.

After a long moment, Yoongi rolled to the side, slipping out of your tender flesh with a hiss. Jimin immediately took his place, settling between your still-quivering thighs. His dark eyes raked over your flushed face and heaving breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his plush lips.

"My turn," he purred, the tip of his rigid cock nudging your slick entrance. "I've been aching to feel you stretched around me."

With a slow, deliberate flex of his hips, Jimin pushed forward, his shorter but thicker length gliding through your slick folds and into your waiting heat. A low moan escaped your kiss-swollen lips as he filled you inch by delicious inch, your sensitive walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

"God, you feel amazing," Jimin groaned, bottoming out inside you. He stilled for a moment, savoring the exquisite feel of your tight sheath gripping him like a velvet glove. "I knew you'd be perfect for us. Gonna keep you, I think."

Yoongi's fingertips skated over your nipples, the light touch reigniting the embers of your desire. 

"Such a good girl, taking us so well," he praised, rolling the pebbled nubs between his fingers. "We're going to ruin you for anyone else."

Jimin began to move, his hips rolling in a smooth, sensual rhythm that made your toes curl. He angled his thrusts to drag deliberately over that sensitive spot inside you with each stroke, sending sparks of electric pleasure zigzagging through your nerves. Your hands slid over the defined muscles of his back, feeling them flex and ripple beneath your touch as he worked your body with expert skill.

"You're so sensitive," Jimin purred, circling his hips to grind his pubic bone against your throbbing clit. "I can feel your pussy clenching every time I hit that sweet spot. You were made to take our cocks, weren't you baby?"

His dirty talk made you clench hard around him, a needy whimper escaping your throat. Yoongi chuckled darkly, his fingers reaching up to lightly grasp your neck. Not squeezing yet—merely a promise and a question all in one.

Yoongi's fingers tightened ever so slightly around your throat, the pressure making your pulse pound and your pussy clench hard around Jimin's pistoning cock. Jimin immediately groaned lustily, and Yoongi smirked, his dark eyes boring into yours and promising filthy delights.

"That's it, squeeze his cock," Yoongi growled. "Show him how much you love being stuffed full and used for our pleasure."

Jimin's rhythm faltered, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your slick walls massaged his plunging shaft.

"Fuck, keep doing that," he panted, his hips snapping faster. "Milk my cock with that greedy little cunt."

The erotic depravity of being caught between them, subject to their darkest whims and basest needs, sent you hurtling towards another overwhelming climax.

Yoongi's fingers on your throat, Jimin's thick cock pounding into your soaked heat, their filthy words filling your ears—it was all too much, too intense. The coil of tension inside you wound tighter and tighter with each skilled thrust and deliberate squeeze.

"Such a good little cock sleeve," Yoongi purred, his fingers flexing around your neck. "Taking us so well, letting us use this tight body however we want. You're ours now, baby. All ours."

Jimin changed his angle, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed as a scream tore from your throat, your cunt clamping down like a vise around Jimin's cock.

"Fuck, just like that," Jimin grunted, sweat beading his brow as he fought to maintain his punishing rhythm through your clenching heat. "Gonna make me come so hard; fill this pussy up till it's leaking."

His words combined with the mind-blowing pleasure radiating from where he was so deeply embedded inside you sent you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy, your vision whiting out as your body convulsed around him. A hoarse cry ripped from your chest as you shattered.

Yoongi's fingers spasming around your throat intensified your pleasure to an almost unbearable level. Jimin buried himself to the hilt with a guttural shout, his hips jerking erratically as his own powerful climax overtook him. You felt the hot spurts of his release painting your fluttering walls, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your clenching heat.

"Fuck, baby, fuck!" Jimin groaned, his face contorting in ecstasy as your rippling channel milked him for every last drop.

You writhed beneath him, lost to the overwhelming sensations wracking your limp, sated body. Yoongi's fingers gentled on your neck, rubbing soothing circles over your hammering pulse.

Jimin collapsed against you, his weight a welcome blanket as you both trembled and panted, fighting to catch your breath in the aftermath of your explosive climaxes. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to the finger-shaped marks Yoongi's grip had left behind.

"So perfect for us," Jimin murmured, his voice raspy with satisfaction. "Our beautiful little baby."

Yoongi's fingers carded through your damp hair, his touch gentling as he coaxed you down from the overwhelming high. 

"You exceeded every expectation," he praised, his lips brushing your temple. "I knew you would be exquisite, but the reality is beyond even my wildest imaginings."

You floated in a haze of blissful afterglow, your body limp and sated between their bodies.

Yoongi's hand smoothed over your hip as Jimin gently withdrew from your sensitive core. A whimper escaped your lips at the loss, your body clenching around emptiness. Jimin pressed a tender kiss to your collarbone before settling beside you, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your sweat-dampened skin.

"Rest now, sweet thing," Yoongi murmured, his deep voice a soothing rumble in your ear. "You've more than earned it after that performance."

You nuzzled into his warm chest, your heavy lids drifting closed as exhaustion pulled at your consciousness. A small, distant part of your mind buzzed with the implications of what you had just done—the line you had so eagerly and thoroughly crossed with your dangerously alluring bosses.

But the thoughts were hazy, slippery, unable to find purchase in your blissed-out mind. Enveloped by Yoongi and Jimin's warm, solid bodies, you let yourself drift, sinking into the decadent comfort of satin sheets and sated muscles.

"Sleep, baby," Jimin cooed, his plush lips grazing your shoulder. "We'll take care of you. Always."

The promise in his words seeped into your bones, chasing away the last tendrils of doubt.

You woke gradually, your body languid and heavy against smooth silk sheets. Confusion muddled your thoughts for a long moment before the memories of the previous night came rushing back in vivid detail—Yoongi and Jimin's magnetic pull, the all-consuming passion, the indescribable pleasure. A deep flush crept up your neck to your cheeks as you recalled the wanton way you had responded to their every touch and filthy word.

***

Soft sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting the opulent bedroom in a warm glow. You were alone in the massive bed, the rumpled sheets beside you cool to the touch. Distant sounds drifted from another room—the clatter of dishes, the rich aroma of coffee. Yoongi and Jimin's deep voices murmured too low for you to make out the words.

Slowly, carefully, you sat up, wincing slightly at the delicious ache between your thighs. The evidence of last night's passionate activities painted your body with beautiful bruises, a visceral reminder of how thoroughly they had claimed you.

Biting your lip, you slid from the bed, the plush carpet soft beneath your bare feet. A silk robe was draped over a nearby armchair, and you slipped it on, the cool fabric whispering over your sensitized skin. Hesitantly, you padded out of the bedroom, following the intoxicating scent of coffee and the rumble of masculine voices.

The open concept living area took your breath away—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, sleek modern furniture in shades of black and chrome, a gourmet kitchen with gleaming marble countertops.

And there, leaning against the island with mugs in hand, were Yoongi and Jimin, both shirtless and breathtaking in the morning light. Their heads were bent close together, their expressions serious as they spoke in hushed tones. Your heartbeat quickened at the sight of them; memories of their hands and mouths on your body making heat pool low in your belly.

As if sensing your presence, they looked up simultaneously, their gazes locking onto you with an intensity that made your breath catch. Identical slow, sensual smiles curved their lips as they raked their eyes over your silk-clad form.

"Good morning, beautiful," Jimin purred, setting his mug aside and prowling towards you with feline grace. "We were just talking about you."

"All good things, I hope," you managed, your voice emerging huskier than intended.

Jimin reached you, his hands settling on your hips and pulling you close. "Only the best," he murmured, dipping his head to nuzzle your neck. "How deliciously responsive you were, how exquisite you looked lost in pleasure, how perfect you felt wrapped around us..."

A shiver raced down your spine, your body reacting instinctively to his nearness, his touch, his scent. Yoongi approached more slowly, his dark eyes gleaming with wicked promise.

"We were discussing your future with us," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in your bones. "Last night was only the beginning, sweet thing. A test, of sorts. One you passed with flying colors."

Your heart raced, anticipation and trepidation warring within you. "What do you mean? What kind of future?"

Yoongi reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek in a featherlight caress. "The kind of future where you belong to us, in every sense of the word." His gaze burned into you, stripping you bare. "Your mind, your body, your soul—all ours to mold and worship as we see fit."

Your breath hitched, equal parts arousal and unease swirling in your gut. "I don't understand. I thought this was just...a one-time thing. A bit of fun." Even as the words left your lips, you knew they rang hollow. The connection you felt with these men, the intensity of what you had shared, was too profound to be so easily dismissed.

Jimin's hands slid up your sides, his touch searing through the thin silk. "Oh, baby," he purred.

His lips curved into a sensual smile against your ear. "You're far too special to be just a 'bit of fun', darling. From the moment we saw you, we knew you were meant to be ours. I know we said it last night, but we meant it." His fingers trailed along your collarbone, igniting sparks beneath your skin.

Yoongi stepped closer, his hand cupping your jaw and tilting your face towards his intense gaze. 

"We intend to claim you, completely and irrevocably," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "To bring you into our world and show you pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings."

A shiver raced down your spine, the dark promise in his words making your knees weak. "What does that mean? What world?" Your voice wavered, apprehension and intrigue warring within you.

Jimin's arms slid around your waist, pulling you back against the solid warmth of his chest. 

"A world of power, luxury, and decadence," he purred. "One where your deepest, darkest desires become reality." His lips grazed the shell of your ear. "With us, there are no limits, no taboos. Only pleasure."

Yoongi's hand slid into your hair, his fingers flexing possessively. "We want to give you everything," he murmured. "All you have to do is say yes. Give yourself to us, completely."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, their words awakening a hunger inside you that both thrilled and terrified you. You knew, instinctively, that if you agreed, there would be no going back. They would consume you, body and soul.

But oh, how tempting it was.

“Yes.” 

***

If you've made this far, congrats and I hope you didn't sneer too much. Also, I don't know if you noticed, but I tried to write this so that these three will be my main pairs for the rest of kinktober. So anything else I write will be these guys exploring kinks together.

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

for the fic title ask game, could i give you: the taste of honey

Hi Jo! Of course you can give me that title, I absolutely love it. Because, believe it or not, there's a wip rotting away, with the title blood and honey. And now I get the chance to share my idea of a synesthesia!reader with the world, thanks to your ask 💛

the taste of honey

Meals taste differently now for a while. Better. "There's someone new working in the kitchen," a maid tells Oberyn after he inquired her. "She doesn't want to talk about it, but she can taste words."

What an odd talent to have, Oberyn thinks and invites you to his chambers, simply to learn more about this and you.

"You taste words, no?" Oberyn asks and plucks grape after grape from a bowl with fruit, offering you some on the plane of his palm.

You nod your head and take a grape and try to explain this weird thing you do since you can think. That words sometimes have colors or flavors or scents and sometimes all three. You stumble over your words, expecting Oberyn to laugh because everyone always laughs.

But he just tilts his head to the side, his lips puckered around another grape before he hums, still curious.

"What are my colors then, tell me, little kitchen helper."

"Light blue, like a summer's sky in the morning," you begin, your voice shy and shaky, even more so when Oberyn crooks a brow. But you continue: "Warm, golden yellow, like the sun and... A rich emerald green."

He looks at you, takes you in, asking himself if you're just telling some sort of story to get attention. But he can't help it, he feels flattered. Blue and yellow and green? A day in the gardens of Sunspear. A day under the trees by the beach. The colors of a true child of Dorne.

"And what flavor do I have?" Oberyn leans closer, his chin resting in his hand when he props his elbows onto the table. He smirks now, but it's not a mocking smirk. "Sweet? Or spicy?"

"Like smoke. And iron," you murmur and silently mouth his name to taste each syllable. "Blood orange."

He is basking in your words like a snake in the warmth of the sun. Oberyn plucks another grape and holds it out for you to take directly from his fingers.

"So I'm not sweet in your mouth?" He croons and your cheeks heat up under his smoldering eyes.

"No. But... Your voice," you mutter and reach out to take the grape from him. "Tastes like honey in my ears."

Yeah, no, I'm absolutely terrified writing for Oberyn. 😅 But I'm glad I could drabble up a little something. Sorry it took me so long, Jo, and thank you for sending this fic title.💛🙏🏻

made-up fic title drabbles

[theallianceofcelestials]

Could I ask for a drabble of SEA Killcode being Dadcode to Eclipse?

I really like Dadcode. :)

*Proceeds to forge his signature on adoption papers*

Lol, dunno if you read my fic called Watchful Nightmare then, but it's dadcode through and through. You may like it if you can accept the protag being a little kid :P

"Can you like not try and feed me like I'm a kid?"

Killcode, obviously, ignores him, staring at him expectantly with a spoon of steaming soup in his hand. It would be a comical sight if this wasn't currently happening to him

"I have a virus! My limbs didn't suddenly fall off!"

"Hush. Your hands are shaking"

Eclipse just huffs, accepting the spoonful of soup when it's pressed insistently against him more. There's no use in fighting.

The other's are all currently out trying to find a way to help, with Moon making an antivirus, Bloodmoon hunting something, Solar Flare probably going to the bakery to get him some treats to cheer up and Sun has probably taken Lunar with himself to shop for anything a sick person might need. Which would be really thoughtful if he wasn't a machine, and immitating the signs of sickness simply because this way he at least knows there's a virus

"This is ridiculous"

"I've already made tea for you, so after lunch you should drink some"

Eclipse sighs, wondering where he went wrong with his life.

"Can I at least have some dessert with it?"

"Of course son. I know how you work"

He looks at his father, and he raises his brow back. Okay, point taken. He has a sweet tooth and everyone knows this

"Afterwards we can watch or play something if you would like"

"What? I can leave the nest now?"

"Don't push it"

He laughs at the playful reproach of the nightmare, shaking his head. If not for the whole feeding thing, this would be nice and calming. Maybe even domestic.

As it is, his neurotic overprotective father is doing his best to drive him up the wall, insisting Ecipse needs supervision just because he's a little shaky and his body has troubles reguating its heat so he runs a bit warmer than he should. These are all things he dealt with himself before.

"Is there anything you would like for dinner? And I'm not talking about sweets son"

Alright, alright, he gets it. He really loves sweets and Killcode by this point already probably plans to make something for him,

"If Bloodmoon brings back deer, can we have that spicy noodle?"

"Of course"

A quick kiss is pressed against his forehead, and then the SCP leaves to probably wash his bowl. Eclipse just sighs, laying back down. He feels rather miserable.

"Also, can we watch dinosaur movies?"

"The ones where humans get murdered and eaten?"

"Yeah"

"Of course"

He smiles, hearing the familiar sounds of water pouring, the honey jar being opened and a small spoon tinkling against a mug. From the scent of it, the nightmare made mint tea.

He sighs in contentment, quickly forgetting his earlier upset. When his father comes back to help him to the couch, he's not even tense.

After all, worse things have happened to him than a little embarrassement

[miraclewoozi]

[ 05:55 ] - c.hs

pair: vernon x fem!reader.  w/c: 2k content: pwp/smut. (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT). married au. christmas drabble. warnings: swearing. bad jokes/festive innuendoes throughout. smut tags UTC.  notes: yes this is several days late. no i am not taking questions.  notes 2.0: at the time of writing i am stuck in a very grim post-xmas limbo (see: entirely too full of cheese and also regret), however i remain down horrendous for this loser so here we are. enjoy. <3

smut tags: spooning -> forking. fingering, nipple play, talk of spicy dreams incl. a blowjob. piv sex. breeding kink (see: hills i will die on). creampie! cockwarming. it’s all very domestic. barely proof read. please let me know if i have forgotten anything.

Soft lips against the shell of your ear accompany you on your return to the land of the living, several hours earlier than you’d ideally like to be awake and definitely long before the sun decides to make its own face known. Your room is dark and the air is bitterly cold, even wrapped up under your bedsheets, even tangled in the arms of your husband. 

But you don’t need to be able to feel your toes, nor see six feet in front of you to know exactly why you’ve been woken up this early. All you need to be able to do is hear, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with your ears at this ungodly hour. 

“Morning,” Hansol murmurs huskily when your hands place themselves over his, low on your stomach beneath your sleep shirt. “Happy Christmas, baby.”

“Happy Christmas,” you say back, smiling serenely, your brain still fogged with the last wisps of your retreating slumber. The tone of his voice alone is a dead giveaway to what he wants, but you decide to play with him a little first anyway and feign innocence. Lazy mornings like this where neither of you are in a rush to get straight out of bed are a little bit of a treat, so who are you to not indulge him? “Why are you awake?”

It’s no secret that your partner likes to sleep in whenever gets the chance, but with a toddler in the room down the hall and a demanding job that has him leaving home before sunrise, most days, that’s something of a rarity now. He answers you silently, pressing his hips into your backside and you feel him — all of him — thick and hard and warm against the flesh of your ass. Ah. Just as expected. A warm chuckle escapes you and you move to turn over in his arms, but his strong hold traps you in place and you just wiggle back against him instead.

He barely stifles a groan and, still laughing, you roll your eyes.

“S’that a candy cane in your pocket?” You ask, feeling him shuffle down a fraction and rut against the seam of your thighs over and over, quiet grunts betraying the pleasure he tries to conceal. Close enough to feel your core’s heat, yet separated enough from it to only feel more frustrated. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

Hansol laughs despite himself into the smooth skin of your neck, shaking his head. He slides one of his hands up from your stomach to your chest, his warm fingers finding and dragging around one of your nipples with practiced accuracy. 

“You can find out,” he says, feeling goosebumps raise on your skin as the bud hardens under his touch. “If you want.”

“Why don’t you tell me what got you all worked up, first?” You ask. 

Morning wood is one thing, but to make him initiate all this? It must’ve been something really special. He proves you right as he pinches at your nipple, his other hand dipping below the waistband of your pyjama pants, his blunt nails dragging down your belly. You bite your lips to prevent yourself whining. 

So sue you. It’s been a while. 

“Had a dream about you,” Hansol says, peppering kisses down the side of your neck. You arch your back, simultaneously pressing your ass against his clothed cock again and your chest harder against his hand. “You were all dressed up for me. In this pretty little red outfit — you know the… sexy Christmas ones? With the white fur along the skirt?”

You nod, dropping your hand down to where his fingers are stroking, mercilessly slowly, against the cotton of your panties. To where he’s giving you hardly anything. On purpose. You shunt his wrist down a little, feeling him smirk into your skin. Finally though, he starts to thumb over your clit and you gasp appreciatively at the relief. “Oh yeah? And what was I doing?”

“It’s just funny you mentioned candy canes,” he tells you, rubbing at you a little faster. “You were suckin’ on me like I was one.”

You groan a little at his description, feeling your cheeks heat up. Arguably, this shouldn’t be sexy at all, but his rough morning voice and the way his skillful hands are working you up to a soaked, wriggling mess already has you flustered. You’re convinced nobody else in the world could turn a line that corny into auditory foreplay.

Leave it to you to marry the world’s biggest dork.

“All the way back into your throat,” he goes on, finally now slipping past the barrier of your underwear. He dips between your folds, dragging through your arousal before he moves his sickened finger back to your clit. “Dressed so naughty, but I’d have put you on the nice list for sure.”

“Enough with the damn—,” you snort, but your amusement dies and you clench your jaw as he starts to play with your other tit instead. You have to be quiet; you can’t afford for this to end before either of you manage to get off. Not now. But it’s so difficult when he knows your body better than he does his own. “You know she’ll be awake any-… oh.”

“Then get these off,” he whispers. He opens his palm fully then, pushing your thighs apart and pressing just the tips of two of his fingers against your hole. All the while, he fights to try and push your pyjama pants down with his other hand. 

He fails, naturally, but you come to his rescue and slide them down over your hips for him. He joins you again in an effort to kick everything all the way off though, sliding one leg between yours and stamping a little impatiently at your sleepwear with his foot until they’re bunched up at the end of your bed. His boxer shorts, meanwhile, don’t even make it to his knees; as soon as he can pull himself free of their confines, he does, stroking along his length as you open your thighs for him. 

He presses his lips against the curve of your shoulder while he settles into position behind you. Then, it’s just moments before you feel his head dragging through your slick in place of his fingers. 

“Okay?” he asks, lining up with your entrance and pushing forward just enough that you feel the familiar stretch of his intrusion.

“Please,” you nod, grabbing the sheets in an attempt to anchor yourself, to hush the moans he always draws out of you. Hansol slides into your cunt slowly, pressing until his cock is buried all the way inside you, until his hips rest completely against your ass. Your whole body shivers at the feeling. 

He barely moves for a little while, letting himself get used to the sensation of your walls hugging him for the first time in… weeks? Months, even? Too long, is the only real answer. His hand lays over your hip as you relax it and your thighs come back together, making you squeeze a little tighter around him. He fills you up so perfectly, too. So much that you feel warmth creeping to each of your extremities already. So much you can’t keep your mouth closed no matter how hard you try. 

“Missed you,” you sigh, laying your hand on top of his, threading your fingers through the spaces between his own. He brushes his thumb over the side of your hand soothingly. “Missed this.”

“Me too,” he agrees, slowly starting to turn those cute accidental jerks of his hips into real thrusts. But he doesn’t move quickly. Not at all: quite the opposite, even; he fucks into you slow and deep, making sure you feel every inch of him on every single stroke. 

It continues on much the same, but you’re not sure how long for: kissing your shoulders, your neck, the back of your hand when he lifts it up to his lips, breathing hot and heavy on your slowly warming skin. He murmurs sweet little praises. Rolls into you, dragging the tip of his cock against the sweet spot inside once he finds the angle that makes you hiccup your next breaths. He loves you, he makes love to you: quietly and intimately, and you’re so lost in this rarely seen, sweet, needy side to your husband that you barely realise you’re inching closer to your high until he’s the one to tell you you are. 

“Close?” he asks, with a new rough edge to his voice that has nothing to do with the sleep his fantasies woke you both from. It’s not a question, despite the little lift he says the word with. He knows what it feels like. He knows you. 

“Mhm,” you nod, swallowing back another whine as his hand dips between your legs again. “F-… yeah. Just like that—”

“I know, sweetheart,” he hums. “God, m’so lucky to have you. Feels so good.”

Your brain floods with static and it’s a miracle you even hear what he says next. He’s a man of few words (though one of many grunts) in the bedroom, but when Hansol starts getting overwhelmed in his pleasure, he babbles more than anyone you’ve ever met. You do hear him, though. Loud and clear. 

“Gonna put another one in you,” he says, hushed but still undoubtedly desperate. “Wanna give you another baby— oh, you’re gonna look so pretty. Can I? Please—?”

And if his fingertips rubbing tight circles against your puffy clit, or his cock spearing into you with unsteady, shaky movements, or his throaty moans of your name hushed by the skin of your back weren’t enough to get you there? This is. You squeeze your eyes shut and cry around your fist as it hits, as ecstasy pulses through you in waves that never seem to end. 

“Yes,” you gasp in the midst of it all, as he keeps asking — no, keeps begging. “Please, ‘Sol—”

“Fuck,” he groans, then, letting his own high wash over him and he starts to spill ribbons of white into your hot pussy. “You feel so fucking-… ah—”

He squeaks the words out. Right into your ear, fanning hot breaths down your now slightly sweaty neck. Even when he’s spent and stops rocking into your hips, he keeps rambling. “Thank you, shit, thank you—”

You don’t hear him swear much anymore. Not since you had your first baby; the suddenness of it makes you giggle, and the resulting clamp of your walls around his twitching length makes him hiss as he comes down. But he doesn’t pull out of you, even when he starts to soften. You realise after a few seconds what he’s doing, though.  He’s keeping you plugged full of his cum; he’s not going to let any of it go to waste. (You both know it’s starting to dribble out of you down the sides of his length anyway, mixed with your own wetness. Neither of you are too worried about that right now.)

He meant it, then. All of it. Your stomach twists in delight as he taps your waist and you look back at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Make me a promise?” he asks, sweaty forehead pressed into your shoulder, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Anything.”

“Let’s never leave it that long again,” Hansol whines. You can’t help but flutter around him again, this time at the mere thought of him being so desperate to fuck you more often. He lets out a slightly pained laugh, overstimulated.

“I promise,” you agree, feeling all of a sudden like your bones are made of lead. You could fall back asleep like this, quite happily. 

But, you realise with a sigh, someone didn’t take care of the milk and cookies on the kitchen counter before they crawled into bed last night. That’s about to become your problem.

“Good,” he nods. “We’re gonna do this every day ‘til you have another one, okay? Twice. And extra on weekends.”

“Mhm, sure we are.” You laugh, finally now feeling him pull out of you with a kiss to your temple. (Twice a day is his upper limit, and both of you know that. But it doesn’t hurt to play along.) “In that case, I’ll save your special gift for later.”

tysm for reading!!! likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are, as always, super appreciated.<3