#that he convinced them to follow along with his plan

[biteyoubiteme]

txt without protection

warnings: unprotected sex, creampies, mentions of choking, cockwarming?, orgasm denial, breeding kink, marking, fingering, birth control mentioned?, ummmm prob forgot some sorry >< wc: 2.7k (400-600 words each) an: well hello >< this is eh but yeah no one asked for this I just can't help myself lmao sooooo hope you enjoy <333 [m.list]

yeonjun .ᐟ

wears them because he knows it makes you feel more comfortable. He would do just about anything you suggested, condom, no condom, he couldn't care less so long as he had you. But even if you were on birth control, you feared getting pregnant, especially early into the relationship. But as time went on, the two of you got so secure that it slipped your mind more often than not. “We don't have a condom.” The swift reminder was enough to make sure yeonjun knew the boundaries; he didn't push to go any further than getting you off with his fingers or his mouth, less worried about himself when most of his pleasure came from seeing you get off.

But it never helped you to see him so understanding, so comforting, without a blink of an eye, it made you tempted each time to say it didn't matter anymore. Especially when it was after a long night, Yeonjun's hands on you, guiding you back to the elevator of your hotel. His soft kisses pepper along your skin, and he's quick to take off your clothes, moaning while you tug him free from his jeans. And for the first time, it's yeonjun to remind you that he's forgotten the condom, left at home without thinking, but you don't pull away. “I don’t care,” the words said between kisses, Yeonjun's reassuring questions only solidifying your decision.

He would give you anything you wanted, but as soon as he slipped in, he knew he wouldn't be able to pull out. Because for the first time, he wasn't chasing his high vicariously through you, but solely focused on himself only after half a thrust in. It was almost like it was the first time all over again, his amazement at the way your body took him in, eyes locked on the place the two of you met, his hand pressing right down over your pelvis until you started to squirm. “You take me so fucking well,” his stomach flexes with each drag of his hips, hair handing in his eyes and he curses. The feeling makes him dizzy, dragging him down to the beginning of something he will never come back from. And when you finish, back arching off the bed, he can't help but follow right after.

But it's the sight of your cunt leaking his cum that does it for him, still high off the feeling of you but pulled right back in by the view. He's quick to collect everything he can, pushing his fingers back into your still pulsing body, getting you off on his fingers without realizing it was happening with how distracted he was just watching his cum being pushed back in, over and over. His cock was already stirring back to life with the visual alone, “I don't think ill ever get tired of this,”

soobin .ᐟ

fully knows he has a breeding kink and tries to hide it at first, but not well. Uses condoms the first few times you're together because he feels it's the right thing to do, but you know almost instantly that he didn't want to.

As soon as he was in you the only thing he could think about was taking the condom off, all of his dirty talk consisting of, “fuck imagine how it would be raw-” “god, if I could fill you up I would,” “I'm going to fuck you so hard the condom breaks,” still makes you beg for him to fill you even when he wears one. But he is not impossible, he does not beg you to take it off, does not try to convince you that it would be better without one, he is unbothered if you plan to have him wearing condoms for most of your relationship so long as he gets to fuck you. he rolls it on with no complaint.

You know how badly he wants it, and you couldn't even deny you wanted it just as badly. His whispering promises to keep you stuffed full replaying in your mind over and over as if he were speaking your thoughts right out into the open between the two of you. So many times you almost told him to pull out and get rid of the thing, make well on all his words, and just do whatever it was he wanted. But you liked it so much better when you finally told him he didn't need one, “If you stay still, I'll let you put it in without a condom.” You watched the way his breathing jumped, his eyes not leaving yours as if looking for the trick in the words.

You only wanted to see how long he would last before taking over. And he started off so well, sitting against the pillows, head rolling back as you finally sank down onto him, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to swallow down his obscenely loud moans. He was holding onto your hips like a vice, fingerprints sure to be ingrained in the soft skin from how tightly he kept his hands. He was straining so hard not to move, panting with desperation, trying to grasp a single breath in his lungs before he died because that's what it felt like, dying because he couldn't move. “Does it feel good?” you asked so sweetly, brushing his hair back from his forehead, already coated in a fine layer of sweat. And he nodded, trying to as he clenched his lips closed, eyes falling shut as he tried not to think about how warm and wet you felt wrapped around him, everything he had ever wanted handed to him at what cost?

He wanted to be good, but the second you clenched around him, he couldn't stop himself. He only moved your hips just enough to feel the way you reacted, your lashes fluttering as he found the right spot. It was in that look that he didn't care anymore, flipping the two of you over and pummeling into your waiting cunt. “Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned, arms wrapped around you, one hand at the back of your neck tucking you into his shoulder while the other was holding your ribs pushing your chest as close as he could get you. He didn't even care how embarrassing it was to finish so fast because he was fucking his first load right into you in no time, still hard and not stopping. Your soft whimpers keep him going, his thrusts matching his words, “fuck, imagine if I got you pregnant,” “god I'm going to fill you to the brim with my cum,” “I'm going to fuck you so hard everyone is going to know you're mine,”

beomgyu .ᐟ

the night the two of you met had been messy and drunken, condom well forgotten, and since then, never even brought up. And it wasn't as if they weren't around, the box in his nightstand drawer unopened and collecting dust. And it was in one moment when you teased him about needing to wear one that he was taken aback, “Why would I?” The look he had made you giggle, the pure concern written on his brow enough to make the teasing worth it. “Maybe as punishment for annoying me or just cause I said so,” it had been all fun and games, you liked it too much when he came inside you to actually suggest him wearing one, but his jaw clicked nonetheless.

He had you pinned to the mattress in seconds, hands working over your body, pulling off your clothes just to suck marks onto your neck, your chest, your stomach. He wanted you worked up, clawing at him back, trying to tug him closer when he started to prod his tip right against your entrance before pulling away. “No, no, no,” because he was leaving the cradle of your hips, your arms and reaching out for the nightstand, “it was a joke- I'm sorry, please gyu just fuck me-” because you had never felt so empty, seconds away from having him only to be left with nothing.

He didn't even argue, just slotting himself right back where he belonged, sinking into your warmth, both of you moaning out into the empty room. He would get so close to you, his hand around your throat, keeping you in place as he taunted you, “You feel how perfect we fit together?” all his slow thrusts building up as he questioned you, “You were made for me, don't you think?” you nodded too lost to the feeling of him pressed right against that sweet spot to form words.

He knows when you're close, feels it in the way your body starts to flutter around his, whimpers turning to gasps right before he pulls out. Any longer and he would have spilled everything, cock throbbing and begging to be back in you, sticky and bumping his stomach as you cried out. “Beomgyu!” your knees pulling in as if you could have stopped him from pulling out.

He wants to tease you more, make you watch him fuck his hand until his cum is spilling onto his fingers but he knows even touching himself a little bit when he was this close would end him. “It's just like filling a condom, you don't get anything. Isn't that what you said you wanted?”

“No, I'm sorry, please,” because your orgasm was already rolling away from you, your nerves right on the edge. “Maybe I should punish you for even thinking about me putting on a condom.” your fingers reached down to try and rub at your clit, his hand quick to tug it away, “no, your pussy is mine and if you think for one second you could tell me how I use it you're mistaken,”

“I'm sorry, I'm sor-” he doesn't even let you finish, pushing all the way in without warning, hips snapping into yours. Both of you cum hard enough to see stars, the slick sounds of him fucking his release back into you making your head roll back. And the next morning, you find that unused box of condoms waiting at the bottom of the trash like it never existed in the first place.

taehyun .ᐟ

the safest boy around, paranoid on the worst of days. He is dedicated to wearing a condom, making sure to always keep one on him, just in case. And when you start to bring up the question of maybe not wearing them anymore, since you’d been on birth control for nearly the entirety of your relationship. But he had responded with a simple, “Maybe,” as if you had asked him if he wanted to eat out instead of staying in for dinner.

You had dropped the topic all until the two of you were on the couch one evening, the lazy makeout turning into fumbling hands at waistbands. You were only a few feet from the bedroom, the nightstand stocked up, and yet still not close enough to want him to break away from you for even a second. And when he did try to pull away, you were quick to pull him right back, sinking your hips down on him, arms wrapped right around his shoulders, fingers twangling in his hair. His nose bumped along your cheek as he muttered, “I know what you're doing,” his hand sliding down your back, cupping your ass as you shake your head in confusion, “doing what?” breathless and not caring if you got caught.

But he knew you too well, and your little act. With the position you had taken, trying to keep him in place, you forgot one little detail: the fact that he was so strong and could lift you, flipping you on your back and pressing you into the couch cushions with nothing but his hips. His mouth hot at your ear whispering, “If you're good, I'll give it to you.” his fingers slipped into your panties, circling your clit just enough to have your response be a whimpered promise. And he will have you right on the edge of believing him, stripping you down and making you beg for his cock while his fingers are shoved deep into you, bulge rutting against your leg, a pretty wet spot of precum already dotting the fabric of his underwear.

If he were mean, he would get up and still grab the condom, make you roll it down over his shaft like a punishment before apologizing with fucking you but that would be underestimating the neediness that was eating him alive. So instead, he would promise not to put it in, give you almost exactly what you wanted, rubbing his tip right over your clit over and over until he was grinding his cock right against your slick folds. Your whining is so loud, the pleas desperately clawing at him, enough for him to shove his fingers into your mouth, the taste of you still on them as he quieted your words.

“Just the tip and I'll pull out.” It's a weak attempt at holding onto some control, but the second he just pushed in just enough, he knew it was a bad idea, his arms trembling to hold himself up, to keep himself steady when you're rolling your hips to get him in deeper. And just as he's about to finish, he's too lost to even care about a condom because instead of pulling out he pushes all the way in, triggering your orgasm just in time to take all the cum he's now spilling into you without a drop of regret.

kai .ᐟ

always uses one, makes sure to keep them at both of your places and has pulled away with that sad puppy dog look once he's realized he forgot to bring one with him to your small trip. His face flushed and hair a mess as he apologized. And it's so sweet the way he cares, knows that he would rather sacrifice and set the barrier between the two of you instead of worrying about pregnancy scares.

But now the two of you are far too gone to really care, already stripped down to your underwear, grinding on him while you promise it's okay, “you can pull out,” your whispered words pressed to his ear so tempting even when he knows himself. Because Kai didn't know if he would be able to stop himself the second he felt your wet cunt without anything in between the two of you. He already found it hard enough to not completely blow his load fast with a condom, but without? Felt impossible.

But you were dragging your hips just right, drawing his mind into every direction as you begged with whispering words of, “Please Hyuka, I need you,” It was enough to have him questioning if condoms were ever really needed because once he finally slipped in, feeling just how warm you were, just how close you could be, he was a goner. You had never seen that look on his face before, not so blissed out in nothing less than a second, brows close together, his mouth opened in a silent moan. His hips had a mind of their own, lost to anything but the feeling of you until he was sloppily fucking into you tucking his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed to your pulse as he moaned with every drag, completely flush with every part of you.

And he almost didn't remember, almost. Because it was as the words were leaving his mouth that he was on the edge of his orgasm, that he realized he was far too close to filling you up with little room for remorse until after his high had washed away. So he tried to pull away, even when he didn't want to because he wanted to do right, but it was you who locked your legs around him, pressing the heels of your feet into his back to keep him right where he wanted to be. “No, please, I wanna feel it, please-” and he can't stop himself, his body melting into you before he starts to tremble, a low groan rumbling against your chest as he spills everything he has right into you. Even you're surprised with how long you feel him pulsing inside you, his whimpers so sweet as apologizes unable to stop his slow final thrusts to make sure all of his cum is pumped deep into you.

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[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi! I see your OC Oscar LeColéreux is studying Patent Law. as someone who is literally right now studying patent law, I can tell you that (in the USA), that's not a thing. to be a Patent Agent or a Patent Lawyer, one must first have a technical background (i.e. a degree in science/engineering). Patent Lawyers then go to law school, Patent Agents don't. regardless, both must pass the Patent Bar Exam, administered by the USPTO. this permits them to assist in Patent Prosecution, the process of applying for a patent, including appeals and post-grant proceedings before the USPTO's PTAB. Patent Lawyers can also represent patent holders through litigation in federal court. now that my trap card activation is over, what is Oscar's technical degree in? will he go to law school?

So all of The Lads (All the dogs in this post) have completed their undergrad degrees and are in grad school. They're in the same fraternity, which is to say: they're all renting the same house near campus and convinced a national engineering fraternity to count them as a chapter and help them with the rent and groceries.

Oscar's undergraduate degree is in Materials Science Engineering and he was planning on becoming a research chemist but quickly discovered he liked arguing with people and picking apart contracts more than being exposed to major industrial hazards. He's currently in the law program at College University along with his fellow engineer-ishes.

(more under the cut)

Oscar, Alexander, and Issac are all have proper engineering undergraduate degrees and are following engineering-related pursuits. Ewan is cutting it fine with an interdisciplinary engineering degree and now getting fully into the humanities. Ujin shouldn't even be there because his undergrad was in education, but that guy could talk the devil into piety so convincing the frat rep that his presence benefited the organization was a breeze.

It should be noted that this is a fantasy universe where the world is populated by anthropromorphc talking animals, so they are not, strictly speaking, in the united states of America, so I can play it a bit fast and loose with the laws and academic processes. They are, functionally, in the furry version of Danville from Phineas and Ferb: not a fixed geographic location, but a small city with any geographic feature or cultural center or political issue is required for the story.

College University is likewise an academic institution so much as an excuse for the characters to spend time together, like how nobody in Ouran High School Host Club ever goes to class. They've got a sportsball program and a law school and the art department regularly explodes and anything else that might be needed for the narrative.

The world itself doesn't even have a name, but of various anthropromorpic universes, this one leans more Beastars than Zootopia- there's birds, reptiles and even fish people, social tensions that arise from the radical differences in body types and break along different axes of power than you might expect, and the whole thing is a metaphor before it is a setting. To resolve the two big problems of any anthro universe:

Where does the protein come from? There are animals in this universe, some of which are farmed or hunted. There was an outbreak of Anthropomorphization that caused the existence of these animal-people like 50,000 years ago. There are no humans, except in the speculative fiction written in this universe. The issue of "What counts as a person?" regularly comes up for debate, and is often a political wedge tool, so the definitions of personhood vary widely across time, location, class and culture.

How does everyone continue their genetic line? Any Anthro can produce issue with any other anthro (barring individual fertility issues), but they are rolling the dice on what kind of creature the resulting offspring will be. Two rabbits are most likely to produce more rabbits, but there's a solid chance they'll produce a chinchilla, a lesser chance of having a swan, and a remote-but-still-possible chance they'll give birth to a hybrid anthro like a rabbit-duck, and an even remoter but still possible chance of making a hybrid with species not seen in either parent, like an eel-horse. Ujin's parents are rats. Most of his siblings are rats, except for his oldest sister, who is a marbled polecat. The more disparate the two parent species are, the less predictable the resulting offspring. An elephant can marry a trout and have a baby tyrannosaur. A notable exception is hybrid/hybrid pairs, which consistently produce single-species offspring, usually from the selection of species available in both parents. A hybrid/single-species can produce superhybrids, (sometimes called Tribrids, but this process can continue well past just three species). Another OC in this universe is a Jackayote, the result of the union between a Jackalope (jackrabbit/pronghorn antelope) and a coyote. 2.1: Nobody in-universe calls themselves by breeds or subspecies. Most of the time they identify more with a broader taxonomic group: all The Lads are all Canines, as are what we'd call wolves, foxes, jackals, tanuki etc. and being more specific than that is pedantic and weird. Knowing your specifc specific species is only important for your medical history or if you're going to have kids. In fact, touting around your specific species in public is seen as over-sharing and kinda suspect, like a guy who is a little TOO into his ancestry. Some groups will distinguish themselves if there is a notable practical difference: Fruit Bats include the Fruit so that a well-meaning host doesn't accidentally serve them crickets, and bears are the same because there's a big dietary difference between polar and panda bears. Cats typically call themselves "purrcats" or "roarcats" because Max, a 4'11" Purrcat has very different accessibility needs than her Roarcat cousin Tony (tiger, 7'2") Birds can be outright secretive about their species, with "singers" keeping their exact taxonomy a secret except among other birds. Birds of a feather flock together, and there's strength in numbers for this historically persecuted group.

--- Anyway, the real answer to this ask is that you probably shouldn't worry too much about the greater worldbuilding here, because all of this is in service of a smut comic.

[papagabu]

AMY’S CHARACTER BIO: METAL BREAKERS AU

NAME: Amy Rose

AGE: 28

SPECIES: Hedgehog

HEIGHT: 3’4”

WEIGHT: 85 lbs

OCCUPATION:

Head of Humanitarian resources.

PHYSICAL STATUS:

Amy is physically fit; although her role rarely requires combat, she prefers to stay prepared. She makes routine visits to the training hall to keep her body in top condition for any unexpected encounters with bandits or Metal Empire patrols. 

MENTAL STATUS:

Amy is mentally stable, faring fat better than her found family and acting as the voice of reason when Tails and Knuckles falter. Though the wasteland and her role have made her more stern, her kindness, compassion, and drive to help others remain unchanged.

COMBAT EFFICIENCY:

Amy is a ruthless and highly skilled fighter, wielding her Metal Breaker Hammer with both strength and precision. The hammer is a custom made weapon designed by Tails, forged from a chaos energy infused alloy that makes it nearly indestructible. The face of the hammer is tuned to a specific energy frequency engineered to counter the unique properties of Metal Spawn armor, allowing it to tear through enemies that are otherwise impervious to conventional weapons. In addition to her natural combat prowess, Amy received training in the martial traditions of the Echidna warriors, under Knuckles’ guidance (though to a lesser extent than Tails). This has given her a solid foundation in disciplined combat techniques, complementing her already formidable strength.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Amy is the most social member of the inner circle, so she naturally has the most connections. As head of humanitarian resources, she maintains ties with leaders of settlements across the wasteland. Her closest relationships include Big, Rouge, Kit, Surge, and Cream. Her long standing bond with Tails and Knuckles has grown into a familial connection, with Tails as her troubled younger brother and Knuckles as her stoic, protective older brother.

BACKGROUND:

Amy was once a young girl searching for her place in the world, trying to understand where she belonged and who she was meant to be with. She turned to tarot cards for guidance, which led her to Little Planet in search of her destined knight in shining armor. There, she met Sonic the Hedgehog, who she believed was the one the cards had spoken of. She was instantly captivated by his bravery and skill as he fought through the robots that had overtaken the peaceful planetoid. Enthralled, she followed his journey, cheering him on and giving him a few surprise hugs along the way.

However, her adventure took a dark turn when she was suddenly kidnapped by Metal Sonic and taken to Robotnik’s factory. There, she was used as bait in a trap meant to lure Sonic into a final showdown with Metal Sonic, a battle Robotnik and Metal believed would be Sonic’s last. But Sonic triumphed, defeating Metal Sonic and rescuing Amy, who greeted her hero with another unexpected hug. He then stormed the factory, destroyed the Egg Spinner, and foiled Robotnik’s plan to seize control of Little Planet. As the factory collapsed, Sonic grabbed Amy and rushed her safely back to earth, vanishing before she had a chance to properly thank him.

Amy didn’t return home after that encounter. Still convinced Sonic was her destined love, she continued to follow him, eventually arriving at Tails’ workshop just as Sonic had come to meet the young fox. This marked her first meeting with Tails. While she could tell he found her infatuation with Sonic a bit silly, he treated her with the same kindness she showed him, and they quickly became friends.

Her time with Sonic and Tails here was brief however, as Tails' scanner suddenly detected a distant energy signal. As the two prepared for an unexpected new adventure, Amy offered to help and asked to join them aboard the Tornado. But Sonic gently persuaded her to stay behind.

Amy's breath caught in her throat. Her legs felt like they would give out from under her as she stumbled forward, eyes locked on Tails' limp form. Questions tumbled through her mind, but none of them reached her lips. She was too stunned, too afraid to even ask where Sonic was. Knuckles approached her, his gaze heavy with unspoken sorrow as he laid Tails gently on the ground. He explained that Tails and Sonic had been attacked during their mission, blindsided by something neither of them had anticipated.

Amy stayed at Tails' workshop while Sonic and Tails were off on their adventure, determined to take care of the place until they returned. She spent her days cleaning, organizing Tails' workbenches, and keeping everything in order, wanting to be there to greet Sonic with a smile the moment he came back. After three long days, the sound of the Tornado's engine signaled their return, and she rushed outside, eager to see them. But her excitement quickly turned to shock as a red echidna stepped out of the plane instead, carrying a bloodied and barely conscious Tails in his arms. His right arm was gone, hastily bandaged with vines and leaves, leaving Amy horrified and confused about what had happened, and why Sonic wasn't with them.

Knuckles explained that Tails and Sonic had been attacked, and he barely managed to catch Tails before he bled out or hit the ground. He wasn’t sure what had happened to Sonic, but they assumed he was either dead or captured. Amy's heart sank as she tried to process the news, unable to accept that Sonic was gone. He was always so strong, so unstoppable. But Knuckles’ solemn expression left no room for doubt. Whether dead or captured, Sonic wasn’t with them. Amy wanted to collapse, overcome with grief, but the sight of Tails, injured and barely holding on, kept her grounded leaving her no time to mourn the possible loss of her true love.

Despite her sorrow, Amy stood strong for Tails, who was now unable to fight for himself. She stayed by his side, helping him recover, and once he could stand again, she joined him and Knuckles on a harrowing journey through a world collapsing under the Metal Emperor’s iron grip. They fled from city to city, dodging destruction, aiding civilians, and watching society unravel with each passing day. 

Years passed, and Amy’s role shifted from a hopeful girl chasing destiny to a leader carrying the weight of countless lives. Alongside Tails and Knuckles, she helped found the Metal Breakers, a resistance force born from the ashes of what once was. The group became the last spark of rebellion in a darkening world. While Tails led as their chief strategist and scientific mind, with his lab assistant Chris at his side, Amy took charge of humanitarian resources, ensuring the survival and well being of every soul who dared to stand against the Metal Empire, as well as the innocent lives of those roughing it through life in the wastelands.

Through it all, Amy never forgot Sonic. Her love for him remained, buried beneath duty and resilience. But it was her found family, Tails, Knuckles, and the people who now depended on her, that gave her purpose, strength, and a reason to keep fighting.

[nglgfics]

Unspooled

(Fluffy story as requested by tashi-3: Noel comforting reader who has a bad night)

Masterlist

You hadn’t planned to leave. Not really. It wasn’t a statement. It wasn’t a decision. It was just something your body started doing before your mind caught up.

One moment you were standing there—drink in hand, posture polite, face fixed into something close enough to pleasant. And the next, you were moving. Past the bar. Past the strangers. Past Noel, wherever he was. You didn’t even look.

The club was a crush of heat and light and voices that never landed. Music thumped low through the floor, more rhythm than song. The kind of place that rewarded performance. You’d tried. You’d smiled at the right people. Laughed at the secondhand jokes. Said things you didn’t mean because they were easier than silence. But it didn’t stick. None of it stuck.

Everyone else seemed fine. Sharp smiles. Bright eyes. Quick confidence. They floated across the space like it belonged to them. And Noel—he didn’t float, but he knew how to stand still and still hold attention. His presence did the work for him. He looked comfortable, or at least convincing. He belonged here.

You didn’t.

And the longer you stayed, the louder that fact became.

It started behind your ribs—tight and creeping. Then your fingers went cold, drink untouched. Your jaw clenched. You could feel yourself smiling too hard and not enough all at once.

You told yourself to hold on. Just another five minutes. Just wait until Noel came back to you and gave you a reason to stay.

But he didn’t, and your breath started catching at the wrong angles, and you were terrified—genuinely terrified—that someone would look at you too closely and see it.

So you left.

No one stopped you. No one looked.

You slipped past a curtain near the back and found a service hallway—narrow, fluorescent-lit, quiet in the way that only backstage spaces ever are. The air smelled like spilled mixers and industrial cleaner. There were crates stacked along the wall and a speaker case shoved out of the way like someone meant to move it and didn’t. You sat on it. Elbows on your knees. Shoulders drawn in.

The stillness hit hard.

Your eyes stung from the effort of holding something off. Your mouth tasted like nerves and stale prosecco. You pressed your hands flat to your thighs, grounding yourself in the texture of denim, the weight of your own presence.

You weren’t angry. You weren’t upset with him.

It was just too much. Too many people. Too much space you didn’t know how to take up. Too many words you didn’t know how to say in the right way.

And underneath it all—quieter, but harder—was the fear that sat in your chest like a stone:

He probably wouldn’t come.

Maybe he hadn’t even noticed you’d gone.

Or maybe he had—and decided not to follow. Maybe he’d take your exit for what it looked like: a quiet slip out of something you didn’t want to stay in. Including him.

You weren’t sure what answer you expected.

You only knew what it would confirm if he didn’t come.

So you stayed where you were. Still. Contained.

Not to be found—just to see if he’d look.

And you told yourself not to want it. Not to turn this silence into proof of anything.

But you already felt it sharpening.

You heard the door creak before you saw him.

Your spine straightened—reflex, not hope. A preparation. You didn’t look up. Not yet.

Then his voice behind you, low and even. “Didn’t see you go.”

You looked over your shoulder.

Noel stood in the doorway, framed by flashes of club light spilling from behind the curtain. He looked exactly as he had inside—rolled sleeves, tamed hair, faintly amused—but something had shifted in the way he was watching you. Less performance. More focus.

His expression was unreadable. Calm. That didn’t make it easier.

“I didn’t want to interrupt anything,” you said. The words came too quickly, too measured, like you’d rehearsed them without realising.

“You didn’t,” he said. “I just hadn’t clocked you’d gone yet.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t soften. Just stayed there—still, watching.

You turned forward again, eyes fixed on the scuffed wall ahead, the dim strip of fluorescent buzzing faintly above. You were suddenly aware of your posture—how carefully composed you looked for someone who’d just come undone.

“You didn’t have to come,” you added, quieter this time. Like the words weren’t quite yours.

“I know. I came anyway.”

Still no movement. No comforting tone. No urgency.

You weren’t sure if he was thinking or deciding. Or neither.

“I wasn’t trying to make a point,” you said. “I just— I couldn’t stay. Not without starting to disappear into myself.”

“Didn’t look like you were making a point,” he said. “Looked like something cracked and you needed air.”

You glanced back at him.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t trying to decode you. He was just… present. Entirely, infuriatingly present. Like he’d made up his mind before he’d even walked out here.

And he was staying with that decision now, without flinching.

You swallowed. “I figured you’d stay. It made sense.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Was that what you were hoping for? That I’d stay?”

“No,” you said, quickly. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to be followed. I just… assumed you wouldn’t come after me.”

A pause stretched between you—thin, but loaded.

Then he stepped forward. One step. Not aggressive. Just deliberate.

“Right,” he said. “Because I seem like the type who’d hang around in there while the person I actually care about’s out here alone.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it again.

You didn’t have a reply. Nothing that wasn’t an apology you didn’t owe.

He stepped again, slower this time. Like he could see how close you still were to folding in on yourself.

“I came out here,” he said, “because you weren’t there anymore. Not because you embarrassed me. Not because I needed to say the right thing. Just because I noticed—and I didn’t want to pretend I didn’t.”

That stopped you.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even kind, exactly. It was plain. Direct. And somehow, that hit harder than if he’d tried to comfort you.

You exhaled, finally. Long. Shaky. Controlled.

You didn’t say thank you. You didn’t move. But something inside you shifted.

Something let go.

He sat beside you slowly, like he didn’t want to disturb whatever fragile thing had just settled between you. The speaker case gave a low groan beneath your combined weight. He left space—enough that you didn’t feel surrounded, but not enough that you felt alone.

Neither of you spoke at first.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Just cautious. A peace offering in itself.

Eventually, still watching the far wall, you asked, “Do you actually enjoy nights like this?”

He let out a breath. Not quite a sigh. “Enjoy’s a big word. I can move through them. There’s a rhythm I recognise. Familiar faces. Same noise. Same games. After a while you get good at reading the room before it reads you.”

You nodded. “I wanted to. I really tried. But I couldn’t keep myself in it. After a while it felt like I wasn’t even in my body anymore.”

He glanced sideways at you. “Yeah. I saw that.”

You looked down at your hands, twisting a ring you didn’t even remember putting on. “You didn’t come after me straight away.”

“No,” he said. “Didn’t want to chase you if space was what you needed. But I kept watching the back door like a sad bastard.”

You glanced at him. “And then?”

He gave a faint shrug. “Then I realised I didn’t want to be in a room you weren’t in.”

Your mouth opened slightly, but no answer came. Just the breath of it.

“I know I left,” you said. “But I wasn’t walking out on you. I just couldn’t be in it anymore.”

“I figured,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I didn’t take it personally. I’ve bailed on nights before. Sometimes that’s the only thing that keeps you from fracturing completely.”

You let that sit for a second. “I think I always expect that when I go, no one follows. Not even out of malice—just because it’s easier not to.”

He nodded once, quiet. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

You turned toward him now, properly. “So why did you?”

He didn’t blink. “Because you were still in the building. And because it mattered that you knew someone noticed.”

That landed hard. Not dramatically. Just honestly.

You looked away, blinking down a heat that came too fast.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you said. “Someone who needs managing.”

“You’re not,” he said. “You’ve got limits. That’s not the same thing.”

You pulled your sleeves down over your wrists. “But what if it doesn’t stop? What if I panic every time, and you always end up following me out of rooms?”

“Then I follow,” he said. “Or I don’t. But we talk about it. And we figure it out. I’ve done the whole thing where you stay, smile, pretend you’re fine—spent years with someone where that was the rhythm. Never really knew what page we were on. Not doing that again. I’d rather leave early with you than sit through that kind of night.”

You stared at him then. Really stared.

There was no dramatics in his voice. No performance. Just the clarity of someone who meant it, and didn’t feel the need to dress it up.

“I’ve left people without warning,” you said softly. “Because it felt safer than explaining.”

He nodded, slow. “And did they ever come looking for you? Try to understand why you left?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He held your gaze. “Then maybe that’s the part that changes now.”

You sat with that. Not ready to call it trust. But something close.

After a beat, he stood, stretching his legs, letting the quiet hold between you without breaking it.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here before they put one of my songs on.”

You let out a short breath, surprised by the laugh that caught at the end of it.

He held the door without comment. You didn’t hesitate this time.

And when you stepped out of the hallway beside him, it didn’t feel like you’d walked away from something.

It felt like you’d walked into something else.

By the time you got back to his flat, the city had quieted. It always surprised you—how quickly the night thinned out once you left the noise behind. No neon. No shouting. Just streetlights and the low click of keys in a door.

He let you in first. No big deal. No invitation. Just his space—yours, for now.

You kicked your shoes off by the door and dropped your jacket on the arm of the couch. He went straight to the kitchen and came back with two glasses of water and the last of a packet of chocolate biscuits, which he dropped onto the bedside table without ceremony.

“This is what you get,” he said, setting it down like it was nothing. “Five-star. All the crumbs you can eat. No extra charge for the ambience.”

“Top marks,” you murmured. Your voice was soft, but something like a smile touched the edge of it.

He peeled off his shirt and pulled on something softer, older. A washed-out T-shirt with a frayed neckline and faded print. He moved like someone who knew this space—who trusted it, and by extension, trusted you in it. Nothing performative. Just lived-in.

You changed in the bathroom, slower than usual. You weren’t rushing to escape your reflection. The silence out there felt earned now���not empty, not loaded, just calm. Like the air had changed since the corridor. Like you’d passed through something and landed somewhere steadier.

In the mirror, you didn’t look pulled apart anymore. Still pale, still tired, but no longer brittle. Just quiet. Just here.

When you came back, the bed was already turned down. The lamp on his side cast a low amber wash across the sheets. Noel was under the covers, propped on one elbow, the duvet pushed low around his hips. He looked at you like he had earlier—without expectation. Not soft, exactly, but open. Unguarded in his way.

You slid into bed beside him. The mattress dipped, the sheets cool. Neither of you rushed.

He shifted slightly, enough to look at you without crowding. “You alright now?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Better now.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just let the pause settle between you.

“Thanks for…” you started, then paused, unsure how to word it without making it sound smaller than it was. “For not doing that thing where someone says all the right comforting things—‘It’s okay, take your time,’ all that—and then disappears like that’s what you need most. Like space fixes everything.”

You glanced over, just enough to meet his eye.

“You stayed. Even when I didn’t really know how to ask.”

He huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Didn’t seem like space was what you needed. Just looked like everything got too loud, and you needed someone who wouldn’t talk over it.”

You swallowed. Let that sit with you for a second.

Then you shifted—inch by inch—closer to him, careful but sure. He met you without hesitation, one arm coming around you like it was already meant to be there. His hand rested low on your waist, not pulling, not pushing. Just warm and steady.

You pressed your face to his shoulder. He smelled like clean skin, faint cologne, something cotton-soft and familiar. You let yourself breathe him in.

“I didn’t think I could do this,” you said quietly. “Let someone in again. Not this soon. Not without thinking about the last time—how much it cost. I kept telling myself I’d take it slow, keep things safe, but… I didn’t expect you to feel this close already.”

You glanced down. “And part of me still keeps waiting for the moment I have to pull back. Just in case.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just traced a slow, thoughtful line along your back with his thumb.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he said eventually, voice low and steady. “You don’t have to explain everything, or keep it together for my sake. I’m not asking for that.”

He paused, his hand still resting lightly at your back.

“But if you need to pull back, or breathe, or run for a bit—just don’t shut me out. That’s all I care about. Let me know what’s going on, even if it’s messy. Especially if it’s messy.”

He glanced over at you, not pushing, just steady. “Just keep me in the loop. That’s it. The rest we figure out.”

Your eyes closed. The tightness you hadn’t even noticed in your chest began to unravel, slow and quiet. You let your body soften into him.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Just the rhythm of breathing. The quiet between you no longer felt fragile.

Eventually, he shifted slightly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Barely there. Just enough to be felt.

You moved in closer, tucked into the curve of his side. Your leg brushed his under the duvet, and he didn’t react. Just let it happen. Let you settle where you needed to.

His hand stayed right where it was. His breathing stayed slow. His body stayed still, like he’d made a decision not to move until you did.

And when you finally fell asleep—warm, safe, heart quiet—he was still there, holding you like it didn’t cost him a thing.

[partiallysame]

The 141 teases Gaz about your pet name for him and now you gotta fix it

Soap heard you call Gaz “Kyle Baby” once. One time. And he gripped his grubby hands on the name. No longer calling him Gaz or Garrick. Only Kyle baby. He did it so much the rest of the 141 picked up on it. Ghost saying “here you go Kyle baby” when handing Gaz anything and Price even referred to him as “Kyle baby boy” once and Soap hit the ground laughing so hard. Did it bother Gaz? Yes absolutely but the worst was when he was trying to explain the name to the 141 over drinks one night. Each large man had one too many to drink and were a giggling mess as Gaz fought for his life defending you and “Kyle baby”

“What are ye just a wee lad?” MacTavish was losing his shit over his own comment.

“Noooo” Gaz whined back “she says it different. Says it all sexy like” This immediately prompted all three men to repeatedly say ‘Kyle baby’ in their sexiest (drunkest) voices. “Fuck you lot. If you heard it you’d know. The way she says it, it’s like she’s just asking me to take her to bed and the pretty bird knowwwsss it too. Uses it against me she does.”

Unbeknownst to his team, Kyle had texted you to come get him (come prove his point). When you texted you were there, Kyle ran out front to meet you. You thought he was getting in the car but he was pulling you towards the bar’s entrance. Trying to explain what he wanted you to do.

“Kyle Garrick. You want me to what?”

“You know loves. Just say it like you do when you want me to give it to ya good.” That comment earned him a slap on the arm.

“You want me to seduce your team? Am I understanding that right?” His large drunk frame is looking down at you, giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes he knows you can’t resist.

“Not seduce. Just say their names and work the lads up a little. Been teasing me for weeks about ‘Kyle baby’. Need them to understand. At least just MacTavish. Stupid fucking bloke won’t let it go.” He had pulled you into his chest as he tried to convince you to go along with his plan. You just stared at him but with a final “please baby. I really will give it to ya good if you do this.” Rolling your eyes you agreed and were immediately pulled into the dark bar. Kyle situated you on an empty stool and motioned for you to stay.

“MacTavish.” Kyle had his hand out pointing to his squad member. “The little lady’s got something to say to ya.” All of a sudden the soldier is walking towards you and this is real. Cursing yourself for agreeing to this because what the fuck are you supposed to do.

“What can I do ye for” Johnny was standing in front of you and you motioned for him to sit on the stool next to yours.

“Heard youve been making fun of my Kyle” You stood up to stand in front of him, making the height difference much more in your favor.

“He tattle on me did he?” Soap cocked his head to the side, curious about where this was going. Stepping a little closer so your body was just in between his (man)spread legs.

“You know Johnny. If you had a girl at home willing to suck your cock” Soap choked on his spit the second the vulgar words came out of your mouth. “I don’t think you’d be complaining about any nickname she chose for you.” Soap was trying to regain his composure but the look in your eyes shifted, all of a sudden these big innocent bedroom eyes were staring at him as you leaned in a little more to get closer to his face. “Right Johnny baby?” The breathyness of your voiced paired with this barely heard whine coming from your lips made his mind go blank. It took every ounce of self control he had not to just take you right there in front of the whole fucking bar, your boyfriend included. You stepped back away from him and turned to Kyle who was already laughing at the look on Soaps face but absolutely lost it when you shook out your body like you had the chills and followed it up with “ugh yuck I didn’t like doing that.”

Soap is crushed, sulking behind you. You just flipped his whole world upside down, whispered in his ear like sex incarnate and then turned around to complain that it inconvenienced you. He never once used “Kyle baby” again.

(Do I only write at soap’s expense? Yes. I wanna tease him so bad)

[flwrkid14]

Famous streamer Danny and his secret boyfriend:

Okay, but picture this: Danny Fenton is this massive streamer—like, he’s the guy everyone watches for chill vibes, chaotic gaming, and somehow getting sidetracked talking about conspiracy theories in the middle of a speedrun. His streams are a mess of ghost jokes, random facts about space, and way too much energy for someone running on three hours of sleep and coffee.

And then there’s his boyfriend—who the fans only know exists because Danny’s way too in love to not talk about him. Like, every stream, without fail, Danny’s casually dropping hints. “Oh yeah, my boyfriend brought me coffee, isn’t he the best?” or “I was playing this game with him last night, and he kept getting us killed, but he’s cute so I let it slide.”

The thing is, no one has ever seen this boyfriend. Not once. No name, no face, nothing. And at this point, it’s basically part of Danny’s brand. His fans are in the chat, spamming questions like, “Who is he?” “Is he another streamer?” “What’s his name?” and Danny’s just laughing it off every time, like, “Eh, maybe I’ll introduce you guys one day.”

The fan theories are wild. People have made entire reddit threads trying to piece together clues about who this mystery guy is. Some think Danny’s boyfriend is a celebrity. Others are convinced it’s someone famous in the gaming world, but no one has any proof. It’s like the internet’s biggest mystery, and Danny’s just sitting there, fully aware of it, leaning into the chaos without giving away a single detail.

Meanwhile, Tim Drake—yes, that Tim Drake, Gotham’s resident CEO of WE and vigilante—is just chilling in the background. He’s the boyfriend, obviously. The one who makes sure Danny actually eats between streams and sometimes joins him off-camera to play co-op games. But Tim’s got no intention of revealing himself. He likes the anonymity, the whole “mysterious boyfriend” thing. Plus, with his whole double life as a vigilante, staying out of the public eye (more than he already is) isn’t exactly a bad idea.

But the best part—Danny’s fans? They’re convinced his boyfriend is some kind of superhero or vigilante. The way Danny talks about him—like he’s always busy, never around during certain hours (because, you know, Tim’s out patrolling Gotham), and the fact that he’s never once shown up on camera? It’s practically begging for wild speculation. And Danny? He’s just letting them run with it, saying stuff like, “Oh yeah, he’s totally saving the world right now, can’t make it to stream today.”

So now Danny’s got this massive online following, all obsessed with his mystery boyfriend, while Tim’s just quietly in the background, living his double life and probably smirking every time Danny plays along with the fans’ theories. It’s lowkey hilarious, and neither of them is ever planning to set the record straight. They’re just having way too much fun with it.

[splinterclan]

It's finally done!!! This pmv took a lot longer than I planned it to but I'm happy with how it come out :) This is Come Along: Splinterclan's Separation.

Youtube version

Story explanation beneath the cut!

Oakclan was a large and prosperous group of cats lead by Palestar and his mate/deputy Swiftminnow. They ruled over the other clans in the forest, backed by their numbers and the rich territory they controlled (and the strongest warrior in the clan: their daughter Moorsnow, who was with kits). Palestar believed they had starclan's blessing and lead his clan without ever really having to raise a paw, until one day a portion of their territory was stripped of it's trees and resources by twolegs.

Angry and afraid at this, Palestar chose to believe that the size of their territory and the blessing of the stars would protect them from the twolegs. Only one cat who had more experience with twolegs, a warrior named Whorlfang, disagreed, but she couldn't dare bring up to Palestar.

By the time the twolegs' encroachment became real for the clan, it was too late. Their camp was surrounded and razed by animal control. Cats were taken to be fixed and released, kits and apprentices were taken to never return, and elders died from the shock and movement. Moorsnow lost her mother, her kits, and her trust in her father all in one go.

At the end of it Oakclan was at a forth of their numbers and their territory was destroyed. Palestar, refusing to ask for help from the other three clans he'd once bullied, moved the clan to a dumpyard and there they struggled for survival.

Whorlfang was the only warrior to keep hope. Having been born with twolegs, she knew how to hunt in the streets and she tried to teach the others without drawing Palestar's wrath, but most refused to leave the yard. Then, the stars sent her a message -there was a place out there where a clan could flourish, far away from their old territory.

Whorlfang knew Palestar wouldn't listen so she approached Moorsnow, who was withering away overcome by grief. Whorlfang's dream gave her something to follow again and she agreed to try and help convince her father and the rest of the clan.

But Palestar only saw the plan as a usurpation to his power. He denounced Whorlfang for a cowardly kittypet wanting to run away and turned the clan against her. Left with only very few who would follow her, (a healer named Wingstep, a warrior named Myrtleflower, and Moorsnow) Whorlfang left behind Oakclan and they traveled to find the land Whorlstar had dreamed of and formed a new clan: Splinterclan.

(the kittens are Cedarkit and Pansykit, who Myrtle gave birth to along the way - whoops!)

I hope you all like this video showing more detail of Splinterclan's founding ;V; !!!! It was a lot of work lol I wish I could've added Dropletkit but the way the timelines are (Pansy and Cedar being three months older than her) I decided they'd have to have found her after finding camp. The side effects of making a story up as you go ffff just don't think about the timeline too hard!

[novelistwriter]

Phantom Owl

DP x DC Prompt

The Nightingale Family, a family of old money in Gotham, so much older than the Wayne's, their fortune lies in wait, as the ones living in Gotham have died. The Fentons are part of the Nightingale family, the Fentonightingale's were a branch of the family that were part of the magical side of the world, while the regular Nightingale's handled the scientific part of the world.

Jazz found out about the Nightingale's when doing some research for a school project, she told Danny and his friends about it and convinced them that it would be a good idea to have that as a contingency for if their Parents don't take kindly to Danny being Phantom.

Danny ended up having to use that plan, he just didn't expect to do it alone. His parents did attack him when he told them about him being Phantom, but he didn't expect GIW Agents to be hiding in their home. It took the lives of Jazz and his best friends for Danny to escape Amity and make it to Gotham.

Danny had solid evidence of him being a Nightingale, thanks to Jazz and Tucker, and was welcomed into the Manor that belonged to the Nightingale's. A Gala was planned for Danny to welcome him, and to celebrate that the Nightingale Family still lives. It's a good thing Vlad had drilled it into him about proper etiquette for Galas whenever the Fruitloop took him to one (He still can't believe that he's become a Fruitloop himself as he too has a basement lab in his Manor).

At the Gala, the oldest Wayne Boy catches his eye. He spends time with him during the gala and manages to get his number. Running the company he inherited, Nightingale Pharmaceuticals, is so much easier than his Ghost King duties, he's also got a replica portal in his basement, something he took from the Fentons along with the rest of their blueprints, that takes him to the Ghost Zone.

The Court of Owls had reached out to Danny, requesting him to he part of their organization. Danny had agreed, but mainly to gather information on them, who they are and what they've done, so he could reveal their crimes to the world, plus the many Talons that were forced to follow their rule is against a few rules the Infinite Realms has in place, and the Court need to pay.

One day, when Danny was doing something in his Manor, he could feel some people enter it. He left a duplicate in his place and went to the see who had entered his haunt without permission. What he didn't expect to find was Mr. Wayne and a few of his kids sneaking around, including the Wayne Boy he got close to, he also learned that the Wayne's are Gothams Vigilante Family this way.

[diamonddaze01]

14 “You broke what?!” With Coupsie where reader kind of distracts him with kisses and 😏😏😏 because she broke something thank you your drabbles are so cute!

uh oh

pairing: csc x f!reader | wc: 1.0k au: billionaire!cheol, suggestive | warnings: none a/n: hello nonie ur so sweet i hope u love this

The warm, golden light of the bedroom bathed you in a soft glow as you danced around to a song playing faintly from your phone. The hem of your satin slip fluttered with each sway of your hips, brushing against your thighs. It was late, the kind of late where everything felt dreamlike and lighthearted, and the weight of the day had melted away into a pocket of joy that you carried in the privacy of your home.

You twirled, your arms outstretched, pretending the bedroom was a stage meant just for you. The outside world didn’t exist. It was just the music, the warmth of the room, and the giddy anticipation of Seungcheol coming home. You hummed along to the melody, the sound barely audible over the soft shuffle of your bare feet against the rug.

But in your enthusiasm, your elbow caught something solid. A sharp thud followed. Then, a sound that sent dread shooting straight to your core: glass shattering. 

You froze mid-spin, the music still humming in the background as your gaze darted to the nightstand. Your heart plummeted.

Seungcheol’s newest luxury watch—his favorite one, the newest De Bethune—lay face down on the floor, shards of its crystal face scattered around like delicate, broken stars.

“Oh no, no, no, no…” you whispered, crouching down to assess the damage. The face was cracked beyond repair, the delicate hands of the watch bent at awkward angles. It looked as though it had been run over by a truck.

Panic swelled in your chest as you frantically gathered the pieces, as though somehow assembling them would undo everything. "He’s going to kill me," you muttered under your breath, your mind racing for a plan.

And then, as if fate wanted to twist the knife further, you heard the front door open downstairs.

"Fuck," you breathed, glancing at the shards still on the nightstand. A wild panic took over as you swept them behind a picture frame and stood abruptly, smoothing down the satin slip and wiping your clammy hands on your thighs. You plastered on what you hoped was a convincing smile just as his footsteps began ascending the stairs.

The bedroom door swung open, and there he was.

Seungcheol stood in the doorway, his suit slightly rumpled from a long day, his tie loosened just enough to make your heart skip a beat. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his sharp gaze softening the instant it landed on you.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice warm and gravelly, "what are you still doing up?"

Without thinking, you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace before pulling back just enough to capture his lips in a kiss. His surprised grunt melted into a low chuckle as his hands found their home on your waist.

"Welcome home," you murmured against his lips, tugging lightly at the knot in his tie.

His brow arched, and a teasing grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "What’s with the sudden enthusiasm? Miss me that much?"

You hummed noncommittally, pushing his jacket off his broad shoulders. It hit the floor with a soft thud as you leaned in to kiss him again, your fingers deftly working to undo the first button of his shirt.

It was working. He seemed utterly distracted, his attention fixed on you and not the broken watch hidden on the nightstand.

But Seungcheol wasn’t the type to miss details. As you tilted your head to kiss the corner of his mouth, his sharp eyes caught the faint glint of shattered glass on the floor. His gaze flicked to the nightstand, then to the guilt practically painted across your face.

“What are you hiding from me, troublemaker?” he breathed against your lips, his tone low and teasing.

Damn it.

You tried to cover your panic with another kiss, pulling him closer by his tie. "I, uh—" You punctuated each word with a quick kiss, hoping to stall him long enough for an escape plan to form. But then it all tumbled out in a breathless rush. "IwasdancingandthenIaccidentallyknockedoveryourwatchI'msosorry!"

His brows shot up. "You broke what?!"

You froze, your lips still parted mid-breath, caught like a deer in headlights. "I—uh—it was an accident?"

His hands slid from your waist to your thighs in one fluid motion, and before you could process it, he was lifting you into his arms.

"Cheol!" you shrieked, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you to the bed with that signature grin of his, somewhere between exasperated and utterly smitten.

He set you down on the mattress, hovering over you as you tried to bury your face in your hands. "I’m sorry about the watch," you mumbled sheepishly, peeking at him through your fingers.

He laughed, the sound rich and low as he gently pried your hands away from your face. "Sweetheart, what’s money for," he teased, leaning in close, "if I can’t buy a new watch?"

Still, guilt nagged at you. "It was your favorite one," you argued softly, your fingers finding his loosened tie again. "You kept showing it off to everyone."

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "And now I’ll have a reason to get an even nicer one," he said, his voice dipping lower.

You rolled your eyes, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered.

"And you’re lucky I can’t be mad at you," he quipped, his lips brushing against yours as he pinned you to the bed. His tie slipped free, forgotten somewhere near the floor. "Especially not when you’re in this little number, looking at me like that."

Your laughter mingled with his as the tension melted away. Whatever guilt you’d felt about the watch was long gone as his lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"Guess I’ll be extra careful next time I’m dancing," you murmured, your breath hitching as his hands explored the soft fabric of your slip.

"Next time," he replied between kisses, "I’ll dance with you."

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] with a s/o with a mental issues pt.2 (the big sad)

Requests with sensitive themes are reposted with names that hint at the topic but aren’t explicit, to avoid censorship. On another note, I’m taking advantage of this post to promote myself and let you know I’m working on a mini-series of Arcane posters. Right below the "read more" line, you’ll find the link to two drawings and my other socials if you’d like to follow me elsewhere! Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky |

poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | | Steb poster |

Jayce:

- The panic man, but not in this scenario.  

- He usually notices a crisis brewing before it’s too late, and when he picks up on the signs, he intervenes immediately.  

- He’ll take you out for a walk to get some fresh air, clean the house thoroughly, and make sure to open the windows to keep everything well-ventilated.  

- Breakfast? In bed. Lunch? Strategically either at your favorite spots or something he cooks himself—things he knows you can’t resist.  

- If the crisis worsens, he’ll help you with dressing, making the bed, and even brushing your teeth if necessary, without making you feel bad about it.  

- He refuses to let you languish and is convinced that fresh air, a refreshed you, and clean, fragrant clothes will help you feel better much faster.  

- Get ready for some storytelling from any fairytale book he can get his hands on.  

Viktor:  

- He completely understands what you’re going through and notices it fairly quickly.  

- Viktor will be the first to personally help you while also suggesting someone who could support you—not because you’re a burden but because he genuinely wants you to feel better.  

- There’s no shame in asking for a little help.  

- Whether you’re up for it or not, he won’t push you, but he’ll try to stay as close as possible.  

- He insists on boundaries, though. Not hungry? At least two full meals a day.  

- Struggling with hygiene? He’ll buy you wipes, and if needed, he’ll assist you with washing.  

- He doesn’t want you to neglect your tasks, self-care, or well-being for fear that it might worsen the crisis or weaken you over time.  

- If you don’t want to go out, it means you’ll watch a series together—or maybe two. He’ll work on his projects at night, but you’ll never know about it.  

Ekko:  

- Ekko notices it less quickly than the others, not because he’s emotionally clueless but because in Zaun, feeling unwell is both common and a part of daily life.  

- He’ll pick up on it when you become less communicative, when he doesn’t see you around, and when he finds you lying in bed all the time.  

- He’s the least likely to push you. Don’t feel like eating? He’ll bring a plate along with some treats he’s managed to scavenge and leave them in your room so that if you change your mind, you won’t have to get up.  

- Really hungry? He’ll cook for you personally before you even ask, as soon as your stomach growls.  

- Can’t bring yourself to wash? You’ll do it when you feel better—there’s no rush, no pressure. No matter how messy your room gets or how much you stay confined to that tiny space, he won’t make you feel bad about it. He’ll ask if you want to take a walk, visit the kids, or suggest plans to stimulate you.  

Vander:  

- The man who managed the entire Undercity, four criminal kids, the mines of Zaun, and the enforcers doesn’t back down from this challenge either.  

- His approach is to never leave you alone.  

- In the morning, he’ll dress you, comb your hair, and carry you to the bar. If he has to visit Benzo or go elsewhere, he won’t leave you alone for even five minutes.  

- His reasoning isn’t fear that you’ll get worse but rather the belief that having stimulation without exhausting yourself will help distract you a bit.  

- If possible, he’ll take you to the bridge, maybe for a picnic.  

- You’ll always have a smoothie to drink so that, even if you don’t feel like eating, you can still get nutrients. At the same time, there will always be a plate of food on the table.  

- Breakfast? Wherever you want. The other meals? In the living room or at the Last Drop, so the air in your room can be refreshed.  

Silco:

- Before you even realize you’re having a crisis, he’ll leave some pills on your bedside table with a note explaining how to take them.  

- His goons—at least the younger ones—are almost like his children, so he’s used to this kind of situation and already has everything prepared.  

- If you lock yourself in your room, he’ll respect that; you need your space. But if it goes on for too long, he’ll feel compelled to intervene, if only to make sure you’re not wasting away.  

- He’ll ask Sevika to take care of you when he can’t—though she won’t be thrilled about it. Still, the kingpin doesn’t want you to feel neglected or entrust you to someone unreliable or incompetent.  

- He’ll adjust his work schedule to spend more time with you, though his requests will often feel more like polite orders.  

- In Zaun, there aren’t good doctors to turn to, so if the choice is between letting you get a rash, an infection, or washing you himself, he won’t think twice about doing it.  

- On the other side, he becomes much more affectionate. He’ll have you sit on his lap while he’s in his office and keep physical contact constant when you’re together, so you always know he’s there for you.  

Jinx:  

- “You’ve got the Big Sad,” as she calls it, speaking as someone with plenty of problems and few diagnoses.  

- Her approach is also a way of exorcising the illness, making it less scary.  

- Her main method of helping is cleaning and decorating her lair to make it brighter and more colorful, with cheerful music playing in the background and colorful lights stolen from Piltover.  

- If you feel up to going out, she’ll take you to Piltover, where the air is cleaner, there’s more sunlight, and you can soak up some oxygen and vitamin D. If not, she’ll steal anything she can—fruit, toys—so you have something to engage with.  

- When it comes to meals, she’s not great at managing herself. She often forgets to eat, and it’s her father who forces her to have complete meals. As a result, most of the edible things she’ll bring you are cookies, chips, pizza—tasty but not necessarily nutritious.  

- The important thing is that you eat.  

- She’ll try to negotiate with her father to skip missions for a while to stay close to you or go on them at night so you won’t notice her absence.  

Vi:  

- She doesn’t catch on too early but notices just before things worsen. She becomes very protective and more careful and kind in her actions, simply to avoid upsetting you.  

- Out of personal guilt, she won’t let you know if she gets hurt, to prevent you from worrying or feeling bad about receiving help.  

- If you drop something, she’ll immediately stop whatever she’s doing and come to you. First, she’ll reassure you that it’s okay—it happens to everyone—then she’ll help you clean up the mess.  

- She doesn’t care if you don’t wash or dress yourself; coming from prison, she’s used to such things. If you want to but can’t, she’ll help. But if you don’t want to because it’s your favorite hoodie, she won’t push.  

- When it comes to eating, though, she’s more insistent. She eats a lot, and Vander raised her with the idea that eating well is necessary to feel well. She’ll negotiate to get you to eat something—at least three times a day.  

- It doesn’t matter if it’s a small amount, not very nutritious, or not a complete meal. You need energy.  

- If you crave something specific, she’ll buy it—or steal it, depending on the cost—but she’ll make sure you get it.  

Caitlyn:  

- She’ll set up the guest room for you so you can stay at her place while still having complete independence.  

- With her job keeping her busy, she can’t take full days off to be with you, so she instructs the house staff to have your meals ready at specific times, change your sheets, and clean your room to ensure you’re as comfortable as possible.  

- To make up for her absence, she brings you pastries, slices of cake, or anything else she thinks you might enjoy.  

- If she notices you’re not eating, she’ll simply sit with you and talk about how you need to eat at least a little, asking about your preferences so she can make sure you get the meals you want.  

- In the evening, she’ll take a bath with you, washing your hair and massaging your back—both to make you feel better and to ensure you go to bed completely comfortable.  

Mel:  

- She struggles to notice something’s wrong until it’s too late or you tell her outright.  

- Her work consumes so much of her time and energy that when she’s with you, she doesn’t immediately pick up on any issues.  

- Her priority is keeping you in the light, which is why she moves you into her room with large windows to let the sunlight work its magic.  

- In the mornings, she’ll prepare a coffee, a pastry from the best bakery, and a glass of water with an effervescent vitamin C tablet for you.  

- Being a woman of science, she believes in medication, but if you’re not ready to seek professional help, she’ll at least ensure you take vitamins so your body doesn’t suffer as much as your mind.  

- The deal is that you can do what you want during the day, but someone will bring you meals (and you’ll need to eat at least half), and all hygiene routines are moved to the evening so you can do them together with her help.  

- Bath, shower, teeth, skincare, hair—you do everything together while chatting (as staff change the sheets and tidy the bed so you don’t feel burdened).  

- She’ll try to skip the least important meetings to have meals or at least coffee with you, making sure you’re not left alone too much.  

- At least three times a week, she gives you small errands to run, knowing that getting outside, walking, and fresh air will do you good.  

Sevika:  

- It might not seem like it, but despite her gruff exterior, she has a very soft heart. Surrounded by people with problems, she quickly notices when something’s wrong.  

- She won’t bring it up first; instead, she’ll ask how you’re feeling, and if you hint that something’s off, her response is, “Do you want to talk about it?”  

- If you break down while talking, she’ll hold you close, not interrupting or offering opinions. She just listens, lets you vent, and gives you something to wipe your tears. It’s not coldness—she simply wants you to process the pain at your own pace.  

- She’ll mention it to Silco, at least to arrange more regular or reduced hours, ensuring you’re not left alone for too long.  

- When she returns from a mission, she always tries to bring you something nice or that reminds her of you—a vulnerable gesture she wouldn’t usually make so lightly but does willingly when you need it.  

- She’s unbothered by smells; if you don’t wash, she won’t push you. She just wants you to feel okay. At least once a week, if you can’t manage it, she’ll wash you herself to lighten your load, turning the moment into an act of care.  

- If she has to leave at night, she’ll tuck you in, whisper that she’s heading out, and leave a glass of clean, fresh water and a sweet treat on your nightstand to reassure you that she didn’t want to leave but had no choice.  

[moonlit-tulip]

It's often noted, in discussions of the Death Note anime, that it's much weaker than the manga in its rendition of post-timeskip events partly for pacing reasons: the pre-timeskip parts of the anime adapt ~6.5 manga-volumes in 25 episodes, while the post-timeskip parts adapt ~5.5 in 12 episodes, so a lot more important detail-work is lost and the whole thing ends up feeling kind of perfunctory.

Much less often noted as far as I've seen, but nonetheless also true, is that the Death Note anime removes some important characterization-nuance from Light, starting right near the beginning, whose presence elevates the manga to be substantially better than the anime even before the time-skip.

In particular: the Death Note manga is, at its core, a tragedy in classic "character who has everything falls into ruin due to a fatal personal flaw" style. Light is a brilliant student who, in the future ahead of him, has the potential to do practically whatever he wants. He's driven to ruin by the fatal flaw of unwillingness to admit, either to others or to himself, when he's made a mistake. This flaw is an essential piece of his characterization, in the manga. And the anime pretty much entirely skips over it.

As portrayed in the manga, Light's decision to become Kira—which ultimately leads to his downfall—is made in the following way. First, he finds the Death Note, and is led by morbid curiosity to write a name in it, killing someone. Then, still not really believing it, he kills a second person too. At which point it hits him that he's killed two people. And at that point, after a viscerally-horrified breakdown about what he's done, the inability to admit mistakes kicks in, and he proceeds to rewrite his own value-system such that it yields the result that killing those people was actually okay, and in fact morally good. Because the alternative would be for him to acknowledge himself as having made a terrible mistake, and that, more than anything else, is something he's unwilling to do if he can see any other option at all. And then, having convinced himself that those two murders were good, he proceeds to reason that, if they were good, then doing more like them is good; and thus he becomes Kira, leading eventually, far down the line, to his ruin. The anime, by contrast, substantially deemphasizes this flaw of his, portraying him as much more calmly put-together through that series of events and thus making him come across as having been tempted in becoming-Kira-ward directions all along.

Similarly, in the anime, when Light leaks a bunch of information to L about his identity by using non-public information acquired via police channels, he declares that actually this was deliberate as a means of baiting L out so he can kill him, and the anime presents this declaration pretty uncritically. The manga, by contrast, presents it as an extension of that same character-flaw: Light is unwilling to admit to having actually just straightforwardly messed up, and therefore makes up a new plan to view himself to have been following-all-along, thus leading him to take more risks in his game against L going forward and thus, once again, helping him along the path to ruin.

Et cetera.

Compared with the manga, then, the anime's version of Light's characterization ends up less interesting. And, moreover, it introduces a plot hole, when the Yotsuba arc comes around! It makes it much less clear why an amnesiac Light would be so straightforwardly aligned against Kira. In the manga, this is pretty clear: a Light who never killed anyone wouldn't have rewritten his values to consider killing people to be good, and therefore would look at Kira as straightforwardly evil. And, in fact, his amnesiac self has trouble taking the possibility of his having been Kira previously, even as the evidence starts building up, because becoming Kira would be a mistake according to his value-system of the moment, and this leaves him having a very hard time contemplating the possibility of its having in fact happened! Whereas the anime, by deemphasizing Light's big flaw, makes his amnesiac-self's differences from the way he is for most of the story up to that point come across as much more out-of-nowhere, much less narratively well-founded.

So, overall, the people who talk about the Death Note manga as superior to the anime specifically post-timeskip strike me as somewhat understating things. The manga is superior to the anime pre-timeskip, too, via that extra layer of characterization and a resulting improvement both in character-interestingness and in plot-coherence. And thus I consider the manga to be very much the definitive version of Death Note from start to finish, despite the anime's relatively-higher popularity.

[wtfaniii]

I can do it alone, but he can also save me

Fem reader x Hwang In-ho / Fem reader x Hwang Jun-ho

Part 1 Part 2

"Jun-ho's girlfriend was a decorated policegirl, strong and brave, she, along with Gi-hun were taken to the games to stop them, however, there was a setback in between"

Note: Thank you for welcoming me so well on this platform! I'm still learning how to use it, sorry, Wattpad is my thing LOL But I'm understanding it more now

Warning: Maybe some drama? Some violence and discreet flirting

The reader doesn't know who is In-ho, Jun-ho refused to talk about his past with her, so she is engrossed in the true identity of this handsome man.

Well, the plan hadn't worked out the way they wanted.

They had taken away their trackers and any object, even the smallest, that they could use to defend themselves.

—Now what do we do... —Gi-hun muttered more to himself but audible to the girl in front him.

—I think the best thing to do now would be not to die —she answered seriously, the vows had been made and unfortunately, despite Gi-hun's attempts to persuade the players to withdraw, staying had been the final decision —For now we must eat if we want to win the next game —She added holding out in front of him the food the guards were giving them, but he refused to take it, he looked so lost in his own mind that she had no choice but to sigh and sit down next to him.

—Come on, open your mouth, belly full and heart happy —Jung-bae, Gi-hun's friend sitting on his right side, spoke while holding a spoon with the egg in front of his face.

—Last time I was here, many innocent people died —Gi-hun said, looking at his friend seriously. He wanted to convince him that everything he said was true and that they should leave there as soon as possible.

—Help us then.

There was a third voice that caught the girl's attention, it was number 001, the one who had the decisive vote and preferred to stay, whoever had the blue circle was a suicidal person from her perspective.

The rest of the players surrounded them waiting for some advice or positive words from the previous winner.

The girl just listened attentively to each of them, but the most interested was 001. He asked him more concise questions and spoke confidently, as if these games were not very different from the ones they played at recess when they were little.

Something that seemed curious to her.

He felt her gaze so turned it towards her so he could look the police in the eye.

Of course he had investigated her, from the moment she searched for her boyfriend on land and sea, he wouldn't say it out loud but his brother was lucky because if it hadn't been for her him would be dead under water.

Her eyes looked at him with caution and analysis, like a cat looking at a dog with distrust but ready to scratch if the situation arose.

He found it interesting.

After the rest of the players left, 001 stayed with them to continue talking until the conversation increased in tension, Gi-hun complained to him, if he hadn't voted for the circle they would have left there.

—Fine, let's stop this conversation now, there's no point in blaming each other —Jung-bae said to avoid any upcoming fight.

—That's right, now what we have to do is be prepared for the next game —She said —We have a bit of an advantage —added, looking at Gi-hun.

—I would like to join too —said number 388 jumping out of his bed.

He introduced himself as Dae-ho and the conversation changed from the winning player to the navy and the fact that both he and Jung-bae had been members.

It seemed like they would get along well and be a good team, however, the atmosphere became tense again when the purple-haired boy with the number 230 threw player 333 to the ground, being followed by 124, who kicked him in the face.

—¿Shouldn't we tell them to stop? — Jung-bae asked.

—Yes...

Seeing that neither of the two men was going to intervene, the girl stood up and walked towards them.

—That's enough, two against one isn't fair.

—You better stay out of this —Thanos pointed at her angrily, but after looking at her closely, he let out a laugh and clapped his hands, which echoed throughout the room and caught everyone's attention —I know you, you... policegirl, you arrested me a month ago.

Now she remembered it too, of course, that snobby rapper who tried to bribe her after she caught him buying and transporting drugs but she decided to ignore him and walked to 333 to shake his hand. —Get up

Before he could accept her kind gesture, Thanos pushed her back failing to knock down.

—This is not your playground, policegirl, I can do whatever the fuck I want here.

She remained silent, still with head held high, she was not afraid of him at all, she could easily defeat him but did not have time to do or say anything when 001 intervened.

—That's no way to talk to a lady.

She could defend herself, she didn't need any man to speak for her, however, that sentence seemed quite chivalrous, Jun-ho also intervened for her from time to time and that was a gesture that inevitably made her smile.

A smile that In-ho noticed.

—Is she your girlfriend? Or do you just fuck her? —As soon as he finished the word, In-ho already had him firmly held by the hair.

124 ran towards them with the intention of helping the purple-haired boy but in the blink of an eye he was already on the ground, the girl had knocked down with a kick.

With just three blows, In-ho subdued Thanos and pinned to the ground.

She silently analyzed him again, those movements were too precise to be from someone without experience, he could have been part of the police or even the navy.

They were congratulated with applause when the 230 began to gasp for air and forgiveness. As returned to their place, they both formally introduced themselves by giving respective names, a sign of trust.

Once again In-ho confirmed what thought, she was a respectable and valuable woman, one he would like to challenge more than should have for having gotten into these games.

N/A: I wanted to make a fic with a theme like that HAHA

[likeumeanit9497]

red pill | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n is keeping score of a strange game between her friends when things get a little bit out of control ;)

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (m receiving); fingering; spanking; hair pulling; dirty talk; use of boner pillz; face fucking; 18+

notes: this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since the triplets posted that one photo dump (iykyk) and i FORGOT ABOUT IT until today. when i first started writing this i couldn't decide if it should be a matt or chris fic but was obviously going through a chris phase when i started it soooo chris girlies this is for u. HOWEVER stay tuned matt girls because i plan on making a blue pill version;) anyways love y'all lots MUAH MUAH MUAH

“This is so fucking stupid.” Matt groaned, sitting in between his brothers on the living room couch, holding a single red pill delicately in between two fingers as though it was a toxin. “Bro you’re the one who came up with the idea and bought them.” Chris retorted, inspecting the identical pill in his own hand. “Yeah, and I have no fucking clue why I agreed to this.” Nick chimed in, his voice filled with misery. “Because you can never turn down a competition.” I replied cheekily from my place on the other couch, giggling at the boys’ petty arguing.

Leaning forward, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket — opening up the timer app and hovering my finger over the start button. “Now hurry up and take them dummies, I’ll keep score.” I peered up at them as they gave each other tentative looks, seemingly hoping that one was going to have a change of heart. When nothing but silence followed, they all seemed to unanimously commit, dropping the red pills on their tongues and chasing them down with soda. As soon as they swallowed, I started the timer and sat back; crossing my arms across my chest with a smirk plastered to my face.

After the guys had posted the video at the gas station where Matt was talking about his idea for the sex pills, I had jokingly messaged him saying that I would gladly keep score if they really did it. Taking my message seriously, Matt had secretly gone out and grabbed three pills before inviting me over tonight. Thinking we were all just going to hangout, I was shocked when I showed up to find the pills neatly lined up on the coffee table and the three brothers pacing around the room arguing. After plenty of deliberation, Matt finally convinced Nick and Chris, and now here they were; awkwardly looking between themselves and me.

“How long do these even take to kick in?” Asked Chris, toying with the can of Pepsi in his hand. Grabbing one of the packages from the coffee table, Matt examined it for a moment. “It says thirty minutes.” He replied, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. “This is ridiculous.” Remarked Nick, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in everyone in the room. Still giggling, I stretched my legs along the couch. “Oh come on,” I whined, “Relax, get comfy, and let the games begin.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Nick deadpanned, locking his phone and throwing it beside him. “Really?” Asked Chris, turning to face his brother. Dropping his jaw, Nick made a disgusted face. “Is it for you?” Chris smirked bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m feeling somethin’.” He replied, to which Matt and Nick both groaned. “What about you Matt?” I asked, eyeing his still-relaxed frame leaning against the couch. Jutting out his bottom lip, he shrugged. “No, nothin’.” Chris groaned beside him, and I couldn’t help but notice him adjust himself slightly. “Great, now I feel weird.” He said, grabbing a blanket and swiftly draping it across his lap. I laughed and slowly pulled myself up from the couch.

“Looks like you might end up being the loser.” I teased as I began tidying up the packages strewn around the room. “I will n-” Dropping to my knees, I collected torn up pieces of packaging that had gathered at Chris’s feet. Noticing that Chris’s words had been cut short and now the room had fallen into heavy silence, I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes — which from up close seemed glassy and dilated — were on me, his mouth open slightly from his disrupted speech, and even his breathing seemed slightly rapid as his chest rose and fell.

Noticing this, Nick threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Chris are you serious? See I knew this was a fucking horrible idea.” His sharp words pulled Chris’s eyes away from me, and he winced at his brother. “I’m sorry,” He replied, his words aimed at both Nick and myself, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.” He added, seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. I giggled nervously before pulling myself back up to my feet. “It’s okay.” I reassured him before bringing the packages to the garbage; using the short walk to recover from that oddly intense moment.

As I returned, I suddenly noticed Matt fidgeting in his place on the couch, his brows knit in what seemed to be anguish. With Nick scrolling on his phone and Chris burying his head in his hands, I seemed to be the only one noticing Matt’s sudden discomfort. I chuckled as I slid back into my seat. “You good Matt?” I asked, teasing him. His eyes shot up to mine, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Uh…yeah. All—all good.” He replied, his voice thick and slightly raspy.

Glancing down at my phone, I check the timer. It had been 32 minutes since they took the pills. I smiled gently. “Right on time.” I replied, shooting him a knowing look which just made him grow even more visibly restless. My comment grabbed the attention of Nick and Chris, and they turned to look at their rosy-cheeked brother. “You too?” Nick shouted, jumping up off of the couch. Matt grimaced, shrugging his shoulders again. “It’s not like I can control it.” He replied, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Sighing, Nick began walking towards the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?” Chris asked him. “Nothing is happening to me dumbass! And I will absolutely not be sitting around you two anymore now that you’re both bricked up.” He sassed as he began climbing the stairs. “Good luck Y/n!” He called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Looks like we’re in a 1 v 1.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. I registered the look of torment on the faces of Matt and Chris, and decided that it would be in my best interest to hold back my laughter. “Let’s see who can make it to an hour.” I added. Chris grunted as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll be lucky if I make it another five minutes.” He replied, his voice also more gruff than usual. “Aww c’mon, you can do it.” I encouraged, moving to place a reassuring hand on his knee but deciding against it. As the room fell back into silence, I could hear Matt’s heavy breathing permeated by the occasional soft whine.

Although I was trying to keep things light-hearted, their overwhelming arousal was growing more and more palpable. My wandering eyes flittered from Matt’s bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to Chris’s temple coated in a sheen of sweat. As I focused on their features, it was as though their chemically-induced lust was contagious. I began to feel my own heart pounding in my chest, and I noticed a dampness in my panties that hadn’t been there before. In that silent room, all of our desires suddenly fell in sync with one another, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“I need to go deal with this.” Chris suddenly blurted out, his voice laced with urgency as his focused eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re throwin’ in the towel?” Asked Matt, his lips curling into a smile infused with what seemed to be an odd combination of arrogance and relief. Chris winced as he tried to lean forward, nodding his head intensely. I watched in painful silence as he folded his hands together and pressed them against his plump lips, deep in thought. Very slowly, his eyes were pulled in my direction.

I froze under his gaze, the look he was giving me was worth a thousand words. My brows furrowed momentarily, instinctually denying what his eyes were asking me, before I felt my body begin to react. Heart pounding in my ears, I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs; dying for some relief. “Hey—what’s going on?” Matt’s voice infiltrated mine and Chris’s stare-down. Picking up on the shift of air in the room, his eyebrows shot up. “Chris, no! That’s not how this works.” He exclaimed, turning to face his brother. Still looking at me, a smirk pulled at the corner of Chris’s lips. “We never laid down any ground rules kid.” He replied, and I felt my throat go dry.

“Well…” Matt’s exasperated voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, who said you get to fuck her?” The words sat heavy in the air around us, the reality of the situation being verbalized for the first time. I couldn’t manage to get a single word out if I tried, nor did I have the power to pull my eyes from Chris’s heady gaze. Chris chuckled, pulling himself off of the couch before slowly beginning to walk towards me. “No one,” He began, his voice suddenly menacing, “That’s up to her.” He finished just as he stopped in front of me, his frame towering above me with his tantalizing bulge directly in my line of sight.

Very slowly, he leaned down so that we were once again face-to-face. I felt my cheeks burn red from the situation I had suddenly found myself in, and the desire was radiating off of me in pulses. “What do you say?” He asked, his dilated eyes flooded with amusement. I swallowed, trying my best to re-instate my own vocal chords. Just as I was about to squeak out a response, a mindless gasp fell from my lips as Chris ducked his head down; his face buried in my neck.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but once they opened they immediately landed on Matt’s tense figure sitting on the couch. His eyes were wide open, showing me just how badly he was suffering in that moment. The sheer need radiating from his gaze on me was infiltrating my mind, but the feeling of Chris’s warm breath dancing against my neck made it difficult for anything else to matter.

A whisper-soft moan slipped from my lips as Chris’s tongue delicately swiped against my clammy skin, and on instinct my hands flew to the back of his hair. Noticing my pitiful reaction, Chris chuckled against my skin. “I think I have my answer.” He whispered before pulling away from my neck and instead resuming our mind-numbingly erotic staring contest.“Matt get out.” Chris ordered, not even bothering to pull his hungry eyes away from me. As soon as Matt groaned, huffing out a disappointed “Fuck” as he headed for his room, Chris’s ravenous mouth was on mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath from the sheer dominance of his mouth. Lips tumbling in urgency, I felt his tongue toy with my lips; begging for entrance. Obliging, I moaned softly as his warm tongue flicked into my mouth, running against my own in slow, intoxicating movements. “Chris.” I panted, my voice thick with lust as his rapacious mouth began travelling down my neck. His hands snaked up my body, taking their time along my bare legs and stomach before tugging against the hem of my bunched up tank.

“Off.” He growled authoritatively. Without hesitating, I threw the thin white material over my head and let it drop to the floor. As soon as my pebbled tits were exposed, Chris’s greedy hands cupped onto them; exploring their shape as his thumbs ran along my sensitive nipples. Goosebumps raised on my skin at the feeling of his covetous, almost controlling touch. His hands and mouth moved as though he had no control over them — as though they owned the body that they were exploring.

His mouth dropped down to my chest. Taking one of my nipples in his mouth, a deep moan vibrated against my blazing skin. I laced my fingers through his hair, tugging gently against his roots as pleasure surged through my body. “Fuck, I’m so hard Y/n.” He said roughly as he nibbled at my skin. Mouth watering from the need he was exhibiting so transparently, my legs widened subconsciously as I writhed for more contact. “Let me h-help then.” I replied, my voice airy from how breathless he was making me.

Chris immediately straightened up, standing in front of me. Holding the bottom of his t-shirt up between his teeth, he began fumbling wildly with his belt. As soon as the metal unbuckled, my hands flew to his jeans, my own desperation causing me to yank down his zipper and slip his baggy pants and boxers down just enough to allow his swollen cock to spring free. As soon as the cold air brushed against his leaking tip, Chris released a gasp of relief. “Fuck, need your mouth.” He muttered, his droopy eyes peering down at me as I took in the immeasurable size of his length.

As I sat frozen in shock, the silky skin of his tip brushed against my pouting lips, snapping me out of my hypnosis. I opened my mouth, granting him the ability to place his cock on my tongue. I looked up at him through my lashes, taking in his panicky and disheveled appearance as his desperate cock pulsed against my drooling tongue. Slowly, I wrapped my lips around his girth, sucking in my cheeks lightly; earning a sharp groan and an indignant thrust of his hips. My eyes stayed glued to his as I began swirling my tongue along his swollen ridge, his salty pre-cum dissolving against my satisfied taste buds.

His jaw went slack as he watched me, deep in a trance. His hands found the back of my head, where he laced his strong fingers through my wavy hair; seeming to put up a fight against an all-consuming urge to sink all eight inches down my welcoming throat. Just as his eyes darkened, seconds from losing all self-control, I gave him some of the relief he was dying for by slowly bobbing my head up and down his veiny shaft. A long hiss escaped his mouth, his eyes burned into the sight before him — into me — as I took more and more of him in my mouth on each movement.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his words clipped, as his hands tightened in my hair. Slowly, I noticed him use his grip on my head to help guide my movements; sliding my mouth along his cock in a steady rhythm. As I looked up at him, I noticed the tension rolling throughout his entire body — his abdomen flexed, arms veiny, face reddening — caused by the self-restrain he was so obviously practicing combined with the crushing arousal that he was experiencing. To help him, I relaxed my throat and gave up moving my head on my own. He noticed my sudden lack of movement, but after scanning my face in concern for a moment, quickly accepted my wordless offering by slowly rolling his hips.

He moved gently at first, his eyes trained on mine as though he was gauging where my limitations stood. With each thrust, he slid his cock just a little further down my throat, until finally my nose was pressed taut against the sprinkle of hair along his pelvis. He held me there for a moment, looking down in awe at the sight of every inch of him buried in my warm, wet mouth. As I began tightening my throat around his shaft, growing restless, his breath seemed to grow more and more ragged — until all at once his self-control seemed to vanish.

I gasped around his cock as he suddenly grabbed my head with both hands, keeping me completely still as he began pounding his cock down my throat. Tears began forming in my eyes from the sheer force of his movements. “G-good girl.” He breathed, his eyes focused on my pink lips as they stretched to accommodate his laboured thrusts. I tried to moan — the lust emitting from Chris as he face fucked me caused my panties to flood — but my vocal chords were stifled by his ravaging cock. Instead, I turned into a zombie: my glossy eyes rolled to the back of my head as strings of saliva poured from the corners of my stretched out mouth.

Chris’s breathing grew so ragged that it was intimidating. Each rough thrust drew a guttural moan from his lips, making my head spin with desire. Suddenly, my eyes flew open in shock as Chris used his strong grip on my hair to pull me back; my head now pressed firmly against the back of the couch as he drove his cock down my throat. Unable to breathe, I entered a foreign state of ecstasy as Chris planted one of his legs onto the couch to get even deeper access; pushing me to my limits.

Just as I was about to grab onto his leg and, with pleading eyes, let him know I needed a break, the most erotic moan I had ever heard fell from his swollen lips. “G-gonna cum baby.” He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he seemed to focus on the overwhelming build up inside of him. Flooded with arousal, I suddenly regained the ability to take his strained, erratic thrusts. “You look so fuckin’ good with my cock in your mouth.” He groaned, his words punctuated by his sharp thrusts. I released an unsteady whimper in response, staring up at his haggard face.

“Shiiit.” Chris’ voice was drawn out as he made one final thrust, letting his cock hit the back of my throat one last time before I felt his warm seed erupt; filling my drooling mouth with thick ropes of the salty fluid as his cock twitched against my tongue. I kept my eyes on his as I eagerly swallowed his cum, and watched as his glazed-over expression of bliss switched to one much more alert and hungry.

Very slowly, he pulled his still-hard cock out of my mouth with a pop. I stayed perfectly still, staring up at him with an inquisitorial look in my eyes, and flinched when I felt his thumb run along my bottom lip to collect his spilt seed before pushing it back in between my lips. After eagerly lapping up the residue, my lips were once again engulfed by Chris’s. He moaned at the taste of himself on my tongue, and his hands wasted no time before tugging down my shorts.

He detached his lips from mine, leaving me a panting mess, as his gaze was pulled to my trembling heat. Just barely concealed by my soaking wet thong, I felt my slippery walls flex around nothing from his attention alone. Chris hooked his fingers into the waistband of my thong, pulling it down my legs torturously slow as I watched his chest rise and fall. Once I was fully exposed, the cold air against my swollen clit caused me to widen my legs; begging for his warm touch.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” Chris breathed, his voice an almost-whisper, as he ran his hands along my upper thighs. Once they reached my outer-most folds, he used his thumbs to spread me apart; admiring the way my juices dripped down to his knuckles. I trembled, feeling erotically pinned down by both his powerful hands and strong gaze, dying for him to touch me. I noticed the way he was holding me so tightly, the way his lower lip was pulled between his teeth, before his eyes shot back up to mine. “Turn around.” He ordered gruffly.

Knowing that I didn’t have the willpower to refuse even if I had wanted to, I turned around. Spreading my legs wider and bending my knees, I leaned my exposed chest against the back of the couch for support as I became more and more aware of the heat radiating off of his famished body behind me. I felt the weight on the couch shift just before I felt his hand snake up my spine to once again lace through my messy hair; the warm, wet feeling of his tongue sending aftershocks along my over-reactive skin.

His chest, now completely bare, pressed against my back as his face nuzzled against my shoulder; nibbling gently with his front teeth. Arching my back, I gasped as his free hand came around to my front; finding my clit blindly before rubbing quick circles against it. A stunned moan of relief slipped from my lips, muffled by the soft fabric of the couch, as I felt my body begin to melt under his nimble fingers. “Fuck Chris, r-right there.” I breathed, engulfed in the pleasure of his steady movements.

“You’re so fuckin’ soaked baby,” He purred against my red-hot ear, “You sure you didn’t take a pill too?” His deep voice, laced with amusement, reverberated through my scattered brain. Attempting to laugh in response, I was cut short by the unmistakable feeling of his warm tip, still glossy from my mouth, pressing against my drooling slit. “Mmm.” I groaned, writhing slowly in an attempt to pull him into me.

Noticing this, Chris chuckled menacingly against my skin. “You want my cock pretty girl?” His words shot straight to my core, and aimlessly I tried to grab his poised length in my greedy hand. Tauntingly, he pulled his hips back so his cock was out of reach. “Wanna hear you say it.” He asserted, his fingers slowing against my bundle of nerves. Whining, I turned my head so that I could see his face to my right. Lids droopy, I spoke with urgency. “Please, Chris,” I felt a string of arousal slip down my thigh, “Please g-give me your c-cock.”

With a satisfied smirk across his face, Chris kept his eyes on mine as his hand abandoned my clit. Brows furrowed from the lack of contact, I was just about to let out a dissatisfied groan when I felt the heat of his cock press against my trembling core. I watched his eyes flutter from the feeling of my folds just beginning to wrap around him, and in one swift motion, he split me in half.

Gasping, I had no time to adjust to Chris’s sinful girth before he started pounding into me. My walls stretched more than they ever had before, but welcomed his cock graciously by spilling pools of arousal along its length. “Jesus Christ.” Chris moaned in my ear, overwhelming lust clear in his voice, though it didn’t seem to reign over his powerful movements. The sloppy, wet sounds of our bodies slapping together echoed throughout the living room, their provocative recoils muddling my thoughts.

Chris straightened himself up behind me, keeping his one hand knit through my hair but placing his other on my ass cheek; pressing down so that my back was arched as much as it could be. “You’re making a b-big fuckin’ mess on me baby.” He uttered, using his grip on my ass to spread me apart; admiring the sight of his cock disappearing inside of my oozing pussy. “F-feels so good.” I moaned in response, mouth going slack as I relished in the feeling of his cock squeeze through my spongey walls.

His pace began to quicken, my cunt trembling from the new rapid pace. I could barely lift my head from the back of the couch; his cock dominated every part of me. Deep, throaty groans slipped from his mouth every few seconds, his grip on my hair tightened as he struggled to keep up his pace. “Touch yourself.” He suddenly ordered, his voice rushed and gruff. With a moan, I brought my fingers to my clit where I began to draw tight circles in sync with Chris’s rhythm.

As my bundle of nerves danced between my trembling fingers, my pleasure was profoundly intensified. “Oh god!” I cried out, my voice sounding brutish to my own ears. “K-keep going C-Chris!” I felt myself begin to crumble, my climax violently approaching. As if reading my mind, he grunts from behind me. “You gonna cum?” Unable to respond with words, I nodded my head rapidly as I chewed on my bottom lip. A sharp slap against my ass caused me to gasp, my pussy starting to convulse around his rock hard length. “That’s a good girl, cum for me baby.”

His soft words worked paradoxically with his rough thrusts and stinging slap, and I was immediately hit by an orgasm so brutal, so all-consuming, that I felt my soul drift from my body. For a moment, my body stilled, void of any sign of life, as my orgasm constricted all of my senses. I felt nothing; heard nothing; saw nothing; until a wave of pleasure, the colour of blood, came screaming at me — attacking my nerves and bringing me back to life.

My legs shook, nails dug into the couch, back contorted to the point where it looked broken, as the scream of a possessed woman spilled from my mouth. Chris tightened his grip on my hair, pulling my head off of the couch and wrapping his free hand around my mouth to stifle my uncontrollable moans. As I cried out his name into his possessing hand, his movements slowed tremendously; my spasming cunt suffocating his cock. “J-Jesus.” Chris panted from behind me, struggling to keep his composure as he slowly sunk himself into me; doing his best to drive me through my high before he lost all control.

I began to gain composure over my body as my orgasm subsided — I could feel my weak limbs and filter the words that spilled from my lips. Soft moans still escaped, however, as Chris continued to fuck me slowly; hissing between his teeth as he inched closer and closer to his own high. I felt my depleted walls continue to stretch for him, and fell into a slight hypnosis from the steady movements of our conjoined bodies.

“Turn around.” Chris’s urgent voice startled me back to my senses. He suddenly pulled his cock out of me in one quick movement, and as he did, I turned around to face him. Leaning with my back against the couch, I watched as he angled himself closer to me, pumping his red, swollen cock in his hand. After a few rapid jerks, Chris let out a deep guttural moan, shuddering before spilling his warm, milky, cum along my tits. My hungry eyes flittered between his face — eyes screwed shut in bliss, puffy lips pulled apart slightly, jaw tense — and the filthy portrait he was painting across my clammy skin.

Once a pool of his seed had collected in between my full tits, Chris released one more soft grunt before opening his eyes. They focused on his signature for a moment, before drifting up to my face; a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he took in my spent appearance. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss to my lips before using his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess he had made on my chest.

“Well, that turned out to be a pretty fun game.” He whispered, his words laced with humour. My eyes followed his gentle movements across my skin; watching as he took his time and made sure he left my skin seemingly untouched. Chuckling, all of my energy drained, I looked back up at his crimson-tinted face. “Let’s thank Matt.” I replied, laughing at the repulsed expression that took over his features. “You’re sick, kid.” He retorted, shaking his head, but I noticed the shameless smile creeping over his lips.

“I was kiddingggg,” I laughed, reaching for my discarded clothes, “Do you feel better though?” I asked, to which Chris dropped his gaze to his cock — still red and standing up flush against his stomach — looking back to me with a raised eyebrow as though he was saying, ‘What’s it look like?’. Chuckling, I grab my top and begin trying to put it on. “Sorry dude, I did the best I could.” Just as my vision was restricted by the material of my top over my eyes, I squealed as I felt Chris lift me up; bending me over his shoulder as he stood up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, my voice broken by laughter as I jokingly pounded on his shoulder. He was walking, now, and I couldn’t control my childish giggles as I tried to get my tank top off of my head. “We’re gonna go take a shower.” He replied just as I felt him begin to descend the stairs leading to his bedroom. “Maybe one more time will do the trick.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[roosterforme]

Mail Call | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.

Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon. "Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day." Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.

"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."

They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-

"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."

His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.

But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."

Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"

Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.

"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."

Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.

The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.

But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."

The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.

He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.

Daddy,

I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.

Love, Wren

Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.

Dad,

When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.

Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Love, Hawk

His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.

Bradley,

We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.

It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.

Let us know when you'll be home.

Love, Your horny wife

Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.

"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.

Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.

There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.

You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.

"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.

He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.

"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.

He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.

Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"

He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

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

Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!

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[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🌟 ̟ !! gold star redemption program. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ʙʟᴜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋ's ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇʀ

✿ ─ synopsis: you are the new manager for team blue lock and you have a great idea to make the players get along better. after all, positive reinforcement worked really well on dogs, why not men? ✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma + kunigami rensuke referenced ✿ ─ cw: smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, aged-up!characters(18+), pet names, kissing, penetrative sex, oral receiving/giving, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, deepthroating/face-fucking, non-exclusive relationships, lots of jealousy, pda, use of foul language, suggestive themes, shidou is an asshole, rin threatens murder, somewhat proofread ✿ ─ notes: okay so every is going to ignore the logistics and mental gymnastics done to put all these guys on the same team and have any of this go on, right? cool. this work was requested by @anastasiablossomlove pls enjoy!

managing team blue lock was no task for a person of average conviction. anyone with less of a spine would be easily trampled and consumed by the members, all with big personalities and even bigger egos. you took to the role with exceptional organizational skills and a positive attitude that didn’t falter, even under the cold glares of the less compliant men of the team (cough cough itoshi rin cough cough barou shouei). before the end of your first week you had drafted up detailed and individualized meal plans, unique to each of them. by the second you had worked with the coach to create special training regimes that works towards their fitness goals while providing challenge and variety. right under their noses you dug your pretty fingers into every part of team blue lock, finding every issue and soothing every conflict, turning a group of somewhat wild animals into a well functioning machine with you at its core.

and not a detail slipped your eye. you could always tell when kunigami had pushed himself too hard in the gym by the stiffness in his shoulders. honestly you doubt you would’ve been able to convince him to let you help him if he wasn’t just as sore as you predicted. but the minute your palms were pressing into his back he was groaning in relief, “you’re an angel” grumbled under his breath. he’s a bit less embarrassed the next time around, blushing while asking you to fix him like you did last time.

you quickly took responsibility for doing chigiri’s hair before every practice and game. after seeing it fall out of its style and flap wildly in his face whenever he reached top speed on the field, you decided he needed something a little more reliable to keep it out the way so his eyes could stay on the ball. though when his hair was this soft, who could blame you for taking a bit longer than necessary, brushing through the knots and gently scratching at his scalp. plus, he didn’t seem to mind all that much, always red faced and all smiles, leaning into your touch. the thank you kiss he plants on your cheek lingers long enough to leave a matching blush on your face as a token of his appreciation.

being the backbone of their system earned you respect, acknowledgement, even affection from the overly friendly members of the team (cough cough bachira meguru cough cough shidou ryusei). no one could deny the benefits of having you around, always offering all kinds of helpful advice and showed not a shred of judgment when listening to their problems. and you weren’t exactly ignorant to the fact that your constant support was causing some of your new friends to become especially attached to you. maybe to someone else it would be a bigger concern, but in your eyes, this was only another opportunity to do more for your team.

that’s why you implemented the gold star redemption program to help motivate them. it was quite simple to follow, you had a chart with all of their names along with cute, slightly wonky doodles of them, and a list of ways to earn gold stars. from goals and assists to being on good behavior, whatever way they earn their stars, team members can then cash them in for certain prizes from you. the list had looked something like this…

2 ☆ = snack or drink of your choice 4 ☆ = a home cooked meal 5 ☆ = a kiss <3 7 ☆ = a massage <33 10 ☆ = private training session <333

the objective was to give incentives towards cooperation. not to mention, it’s always good to strengthen bonds with your team members. it seems, however, that you underestimated how much of your time this new system would take up. or maybe you just overestimated how easy it would be to keep up with the greedy desires of so many egoists at once.

ever since your arrival, anyone with eyes could see that isagi yoichi carried a torch for you. you let him talk your ear off for hours about tactics and players, never tired of his company or too busy for his rambles. it gets his heart thumping obnoxiously loud in his chest. so yoichi makes it his objective to dote on you as much as possible to try to make up for all the time you spend fussing over everybody else. always staying after practice to help you or walking you home. so when you start handing out stars for that kind of stuff, isagi is already making a steady income. he considers himself a gentleman, so at first he spends his stars on meals. and he’s more than happy to eat your cooking, stirring up all kinds of wifey fantasies in his head and enjoying his lunches with you. but at night, when he’s lying in bed, the big ticket item at the bottom of the prize board haunts him. and when he can’t take it anymore, he slips into your tiny little office that you share with the coach, a self-satisfied smile on his face when he lets you know that he just finished the stat sheets you asked him to fill out, earning him his tenth gold star. enough for one private training session.

in all the times you thought about sex with isagi, you’re not sure you ever pictured it to be like this. bent over your own desk, tennis skirt bunched up around your waist, your star player too eager to sink into your pussy to even push down your underwear. they stayed tugged to the side, thoroughly soaked from the way his hips meet yours in sloppy desperate thrusts. “i knew i needed to fuck you when i saw this skirt,” he confesses, eyes fixed to the point where you connect, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you, “you’ve been tempting me all day, so be a good girl and take my cock, okay?” before you can respond he hooks a finger into the elastic of your panties to let it snap back against your skin, drawing a small yelp from you. he changs the angle to fuck you harder, deeper. you wonder if this could be the same sweet yoichi that carries your things and bashfully tells you your outfit looks good.

apparently that yoichi doesn’t exist once he’s balls deep inside you, all that’s left is the side of him you’ve only caught glimpses of when he’s dominating his opponents on the field. and if you thought that it was a chance encounter, you’re sorely mistaken as week after week isagi makes sure he earns his ten stars and you get to know just how mean he can be. his grip is always tight around your hair, whether it’s pulling and steering you into the position he wants or guiding your head down to take more of his dick. god forbid he asks you nicely for something like he always does when you’re not ‘training’. one time you even had the gall to suggest the idea to him and lived to regret it as now if you want anything from him, isagi is only accepting the most convincing of your begs. “c'mon princess, mind your manners, if you wanna cum then you’re gonna have to ask really nicely.” and no teary eyed puppy dog look will get you what you want, even when he makes getting your words out so difficult. truthfully, he never intends to be so hard on you, but having you crying and begging for his cock is the only way to soothe the devil on his shoulder that tries to tell him to take you for himself. in the aftermath, you start to recognize your yoichi again, sheepish in his apologies for how rough he was with you, kissing away the tears that run down your face. he’s lucky you’re too fucked out to charge him for them.

there’s not a world where you offer bachira meguru sexual favors in exchange for playing soccer and he says no. he was already gonna do that anyway, and now not only does he get to make even more of a game out of it, but his reward for winning is the cute little manager he’s had his eyes on for far too long? consider him sold. bachira knows it would be most fun for him to save up and have sex with you as soon as possible, but all of a sudden he has five and he’s itching for a kiss. one he decides to give you right before practice starts… in front of the whole team. but can you blame him? he’s already been waiting forever to feel those pretty glossed lips on his, you couldn’t really expect him to make it through the next few hours when he’s so close to getting what he wants. and you could maybe understand that, but was it really necessary to go for a full open-mouthed wet almost make out that left you panting when everyone’s eyes were already on you? you suspect not, but bachira doubles down, telling you it was of upmost importance that he got it in, else he wouldn’t be able to focus. he neglects to tell you that he overheard reo in the locker room talking about what he was gonna do now that he had five stars. shidou already made it very clear that he would be first to ten, so bachira had to be crafty in order to secure at least one first from you.

meguru was certainly one of the more needy players, right under nagi that required some form of encouragement every step of the way to get anything done. bachira usually does what you tell him to, but not without whining about deserving a prize for being good. quite frankly, you dread having to ask anything of him, because he is determined to be fully compensated for even the smallest of requests. even a task as easy as grabbing something on a high shelf was met with a cheeky smirk and a request for a kiss. and don’t think he’ll budge either, holding the item hostage if he thinks he can squeeze two out of you. it didn’t make it any easier that bachira didn’t possess a shy bone in his whole body, openly showering you in affection when the others were around, holding your hand and nuzzling his face into your collar. it was enough to make even a professional like you blush. he acted as if he was oblivious to the jealous stares of his friends, but the smug cat-like smirk he sends them and the way he only holds you tighter when you try to shyly brush him off gives him away. it may come as a surprise considering his reputation for being a bit delusional, but bachira tries to root himself in reality for once. he frequently reminds himself of the nature of your relationship and tries his best not let his imagination run wild with anything that would be beyond the boundaries you’ve clearly set. things like picturing himself taking you on dates, coming home to you at night, introducing you to his mom. they were all too dangerous to let his mind settle on them for too long.

and what better distraction than burying his face between your thighs. it’s hard to think of much when he hasn’t bothered to stop lapping at your cunt long enough to take a breath in a couple minutes. suffocating was the least of his concerns when the clench around his fingers lets him know your orgasm is just around the corner. meguru swears that your pathetic little whimpers and the slick dripping down his chin are like a straight hit of dopamine to his brain and he’s at real risk of addiction at this point. lidded amber eyes travel up to watch your expression twist into one of pleasure as you gasp out his name. now that catches his interest. when your vision clears and your brain is functioning again after that intense high, you search for his comfort as if you had done any of the hard work. but all you’re met with is that signature wild look that he gets when he brushing past the enemy team’s defense straight towards his goal. it’s your only warning that he’s far from tired and even farther from sated. “if i can keep going, so can you baby. i know you have more for me. jus’ need t’see you make that face one more time.” you have no room to protest, his tongue already finding your clit and working towards bringing you to the edge once again. by your fourth time cumming, you’re sobbing for a break and debating whether you should charge him four times over or give him a star for each one.

someone who was on board with your system from the second that you explained how it worked, was shidou ryusei. what better way to celebrate another one of his blood pumping, heart stopping performances than racing to the locker room to blow a load in his favorite girl while his teammates debrief with the coach? to him it was simple, you fuck him, you feed him, you take care of him, you spend time with him. shidou is, by all of his definitions, dating you. while some might be turned off by the idea of dating someone who isn’t offering exclusivity, he didn’t see it as much of an obstacle. not when he spent star stickers like a gambler on a slot machine, having you multiple times a week if the economy allowed it. and if he’s short a few, no worries, ryusei is quite the negotiator. it starts one week when he’s only missing a star or two, promising he’ll pay back the difference, you know he’s a good customer. it’s probably not a good idea to give in to him though, as the next time he wants a private training session, he’ll insist they’re only nine stars for him. he has made all kinds of fake coupons from 50% Off! to Buy One Get One Free! to even a homemade punch card in his own terrible handwriting. shidou was the first one to ever get a star taken away when he tried to give you an arby’s gift card in exchange for a blowjob. he didn’t try that tactic again.

the worst is when he tries to haggle in the middle of sex. your legs are thrown over his shoulders and his tip is kissing your cervix when he chooses to whine about not being able to kiss you because he has no stars left. he worked too hard to get good star credit, he can’t go into star debt!! “ and with his lips just hovering over yours, his hot breath fanning across your face, how could you say no? in a moment of weakness, you have unfortunately given an inch to shidou, infamous mile taker, and now it’s hard to get him to pay for any of his kisses, especially while he’s fucking you. you thank god that at the very least no one knows he’s been getting them for free… if only shidou would allow your life to be that easy. even worse than giving him an inch, you expected shidou to keep a secret. and you thought his big mouth was something you liked about him. until he’s using it to brag to everyone that he’s your favorite, practically your boyfriend, all because you let him get away with a smooch here and there. let’s just say you had to give out a lot of free kisses to smooth over the problem his bragging habits created.

honestly ryusei was starting to cause a lot of confusion outside of the team with his antics. what with his always hanging off your arm, giving you as much affection as you’d tolerate, calling you sweet nicknames. the people in your life were actually starting to believe you two were dating. not that shidou does anything to discourage such rumors, only grinning and agreeing every time someone mistakes you as a couple. hell, he was starting to get you confused, saying things during your training sessions that certainly didn’t fit the transactional nature of the act. “holy shit you’re so tight- love this pussy, l-love you so much. say my name. c’mon baby, say you love me and i’ll make you feel so fucking good.” and only because ryusei always makes good on his promises do you allow yourself another moment of weakness.

itoshi rin didn’t have much interest or faith in you upon first introduction. he sized you up as some nobody doing this whole manager thing as a fun extracurricular, so as long as you stayed out of his way he didn’t care what you did. with his luck, he shouldn’t be surprised that you were immediately in his way, extremely often, rambling to him about ideas and strategies that he had no intention on listening to. although even he could admit, he understood why the others were so easily charmed by you. he was wrong about how seriously you took your job. not that it changed anything. at least that’s what rin tells himself, but in reality your relentless efforts and endless dedication to supporting all of them was something that spoke to him, made him a bit soft for you. it didn’t help that you were his type in every sense of the word, your attractiveness doing nothing but make feigning indifference a lot harder for rin. your seemingly endless patience didn’t help either. you always responded in kind to all of rin’s harsh words and cold stares, never let his sour attitude deter your subtle acts of service like getting grass stains out of his uniform and making sure he stays unbothered during his yoga. against his will, he was slowly warming up to you, but you were still caught off guard when rin started cashing in his stars, even if it was just a meal. he had lots of them sitting idle on the chart waiting to be used, so you supposed it was only natural for him to get some free food out of it. but you were even more taken aback when a couple days later he requested a massage from you with insistence that he only asks because he’s been extremely tense as of late. which wasn’t entirely untrue. rin had been very tense. just not from anything soccer related like he’d like you to believe. he was tense from the stress of his budding feelings for you combined with the dread of knowing he probably will never have you all to himself. at least not with this stupid reward system in place.

he despises it. he absolutely hates going about his day knowing there are other guys, his shithead teammates, that are getting your time, attention, and affection for the price of a couple of stupid fucking stickers. he misses the days when shidou’s incessant bragging about how many times he was able to make you cum or bachira’s unnecessary details of what your pussy tastes like didn’t bother him. now his blood boils to hear them talk about you like that. that kind of anger makes it clear to him that being your friend was simply not an option anymore. which is how he settled on getting a massage from you. he would satisfy this overwhelming craving he has for you and go back to normal and be able to focus solely on becoming best in the world again without thoughts of you plaguing his mind. that was his hope going into it, but feeling your warm touch on his bare back, melting away years of untreated knots and neglected aches in his body, he could almost blush at the intimacy he feels. especially when that foreign kindness he loves so much is on display as you reassure him that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about and that you’re proud he finally put his pride aside long enough to let you help him. you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker now. no use in struggling so hard, he supposes, as some part of him knows he’s doomed to fall sooner or later. perhaps it’s time to surrender. he fought a good fight, but his greed for you was candidly too tough of an opponent.

and to rin, surrender looked like asking you when’s the soonest he could book a private training session. you don’t think you could look any more shocked. rin had a quick turn around from someone you doubted even liked you, to someone reserving as much of your time as his stars could buy. the more often he was with you, the less time you spent giving those lukewarm brats the treatment he wants reserved for him. and he wishes he gave in a lot sooner when he feels the wet heat of your mouth around his cock for the first time. how fast he would’ve folded if he knew how pretty you would look on your knees for him. rin tried to be gentle and let you set the pace, but between hissing out curses and barely biting back moans, that same greed to get more from you has his hand twisting itself in your hair and pushing down on the back of your head. he couldn’t help it. and it was so worth it to watch you choke and sputter around his length but never pull away. he knew you weren’t a quitter. “shit, feels good… don’t stop,” he all but gasps, hips instinctively jumping to reach further down your throat, grip tightening when you try to come up for air. after a long moment of breathing through your nose you relax enough to let him ease himself the rest of the way in. rin sighs in relief when your nose finally presses against his pelvis. the way you look up at him starry-eyed and full of adoration made his chest feel heavy with desire to be the only one you ever look at. it drives him crazy that any guy on the team can see you like this, and that heartache has rin fucking your face to forget it. “fuckkk. don’t look away, eyes on me, g’nna cum in that pretty mouth.”

you couldn’t deny that your new attempt at encouraging the team had its kinks. while overall the amount of arguments that broke out between players lessened to keep on good star-earning behavior, you could tell that it came with its own set of tension creating problems. you also couldn’t deny that being pulled in every direction by men vying for your attention was both very time consuming and extremely gratifying, but you think you manage it well. save for when they were already pumped up with adrenaline from a game, that is when real issues arise. especially when a player from the enemy team thinks it’s a good idea to try and hit on the cute little lady holding the clipboard. fatal mistake.

it starts with your favorite pot stirrer, bachira, calling out from his position, making everyone else on the team aware of the situation. “no shot dude, she don’t want you! focus on losing!” you’re confident you can diffuse whatever is about to go down before you notice rin leaving the ball alone in centerfield to beeline straight towards you. threats are flying from his lips on approach, quick to get in the guy’s face, planting his hands on his shoulders to shove him back. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing? i’ll kill you if you don’t get the fuck away from her.” you think maybe you have a shot of getting rin under control if you just- your eyes widen in horror as a flash moves in from your peripheral. there are no words, just shidou drop kicking this poor stranger at top speed. you cringe as you watch shidou knocks this guy off his feet, cleats first, taking rin down with him. what a way to earn a red card.

this was a fun project and request tysm!!! i just went about it in the interpretation i found most interesting, i really hope it was to your liking!!!

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hi there! Absolutely love your work, you write 141 so well. I was wondering about putting in a request. Something along the lines of doing self care with the guys- massages, face masks, bubble bath, manicure, pedicure, etc., anything to destress after work. However you want to write it, either the reader is pampering them (I’d want to spoil those 4 so bad), they are pampering reader, or they are just indulging in self care together, I leave it all in your capable, creative hands. After the week I’ve had at work I could go for some self care (reading your fics has been helping me 😊). Take care!

Oh my gosh. This is so cute. I love this. Yes, anon. Absolutely.

Written w/ gn!reader

MDNI for brief suggestive themes

When Price comes home after a long day, the two of you like to spend time in the bath together. The moment the text from John comes in on your phone to tell you he’s heading home, you’re turning on the faucet and running the hot water. Once full, you drop in an aromatic bath bomb and placing towels in the warmer. John loves reclining with you in his arm while the two of you soak. He likes to decompress like this, talking about his day and yours, enjoying the feel of you in his arms. It isn’t until the water turns lukewarm that the two of you get out. With warm towels, the two of you dry each other off, and then massage his sore muscles with lotion. Afterwards it’s cuddles in bed.

Soap always watches you indulge in self-care days but never thinks to participate until you offer to pamper him after work one day. He shrugs, not thinking much of it. You start by having him shower and then putting on a fluffy bathrobe afterward. Next is a facemask while you massage his muscles with a hydrating lotion. Johnny is perfectly content, literal puddy in your hands as you work out those knots. He moans when you manage to undo one in his shoulder. The facemask comes off, and while you want to keep pampering your man, Johnny has other plans. He wants to snuggle, and get those kisses in for a bit.

A self-care day with Gaz happens every Sunday as long as he’s home. It’s not an afternoon snooze or a few hours in the evening. It’s a full day affair. It’s morning coffee and tea in bed before cooking breakfast together and then followed by a shared shower for a bit of intimacy. After that it’s taking turns massaging each other, working lotion or oil into each other’s skin. Kyle likes to spend a bit of time grooming himself, and he insists on doing your grooming too (and that includes shaving.) Reading books or lounging around in your bathrobes in the afternoon might happen, or it might be prepping lots of snacks to settle in for a movie marathon. Either way, it always ends with the two of you disconnecting from the world and enjoying each other’s company.

Self-care and Ghost don’t exist. When Simon is trying to decompress after work, he takes a nap and then immediately orders takeaway upon waking. It’s you introducing him to self-care that changes his perspective. Even though he sighs when you drag him by the arm to the bathroom, Simon goes with you after you promise him lots of kisses and touching. It’s a shower first, the two of you scrubbing each other down, and shampooing each other’s hair. Simon steals kisses between rinses. After emerging, its oversized towels, and Simon stealing even more kisses as you try to towel off. You try to convince him to do a facemask or to trim his toenails, and while he might take some clippers, Simon is collapsing into bed, happy to watch you take care of yourself, dropping little sultry comments just to fluster you.

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