#tuck your toes under and lift your hips up and back

[backpainsolution]

Yoga for Back pain Relief

here are some yoga poses that can help relieve back pain:

Child's Pose (Balasana): Start on your hands and knees and slowly lower your hips back toward your heels, stretching your arms out in front of you. This pose can help stretch and lengthen the spine, providing relief for lower back pain.

Cat-Cow Stretch (Chakravakasana): Start on your hands and knees and alternate between arching your back up towards the ceiling (cow) and rounding it down towards the floor (cat). This gentle movement helps to stretch and strengthen the muscles in your back.

Downward-Facing Dog (Adho Mukha Svanasana): Start on your hands and knees, tuck your toes under and lift your hips up and back, straightening your arms and legs. This pose helps to stretch the entire spine and relieve tension in the back.

Cobra Pose (Bhujangasana): Lie on your stomach with your hands under your shoulders and slowly lift your chest up, keeping your elbows close to your sides. This pose helps to strengthen the muscles in your back and relieve pain.

Sphinx Pose (Salamba Bhujangasana): Lie on your stomach with your elbows under your shoulders and your forearms on the ground. Lift your chest up while keeping your lower ribs and pelvis on the ground. This pose helps to strengthen the spine and relieve tension in the back.

Remember, it's important to listen to your body and not push yourself too far in these poses. If you experience any pain or discomfort, stop immediately and seek advice from a yoga teacher or healthcare professional.#mobility#anklemobility#calfworkout#calvesworkout#calves#shinsplints#mobilitytraining#mobilitywod#mobilityexercises#stretch#stretches#stretching#stretchingexercises#stretchingroutine#statenisland#newyorkcity#loumystretchandgrowth#stretchandgrow #movementismedicine#movementculture#movementheals#movementismedicine#workoutathome#hamstringstretch#prehab#rehab#legstretch

[snowballseal]

Sleepy Affection

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You're tired. Sylus is the best cuddle partner. Lots of soft love here. That's it.

Word Count: 1061

Note: Self indulgent really, I have a hard time with burnout and sleeping in general, but I know cuddling with this man would solve all of that. Sorry if I overused adjectives.

---

Days as a hunter are long. It’s a part of the job, always being alert, always willing to help when the need arises. And you love it. You love being awake before the sun rises, and the exhaustion in your limbs as you walk home. It satisfies the restlessness in your bones.

But still, it’s hard to not hit burnout eventually.

You can feel it weighing down your body as you step out of headquarters. The sun is just rising over Linkon, and you narrow your eyes up at the sky. Of course you worked through the night. It was that or let your paperwork drag into your weekend. Maybe not the best decision. You sigh, rolling your shoulders. Every muscle in your body aches for sleep.

You don’t want to go home, though. It would be too quiet, too empty. If anything, you would probably end up staring at your ceiling, impossibly restless despite how tired you are. And that sounds absolutely awful.

Before you can think too hard about it, your feet are carrying you towards the transit center. To the one place where you feel safe, despite all the reasons you shouldn’t.

---

The N109 Zone is strangely quiet in the early morning gloom. The streets are nearly empty, the only sound coming from the electric buzz of the overhead wires and the snuffling of a stray dog on the corner. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if being a criminal makes you allergic to the day. Or maybe they’re all vampires. An amused hum dances past your lips at the thought. Perhaps they’re not after the aether core in your heart, but your blood.

One man seems to be at least.

By the time you reach Sylus’ place, it feels like you're walking through a light fog. Or stepping into a dream. The home greets you with a pleasant warmth that eases the tension in your muscles. Music drifts through the halls, distant and fuzzy with that old quality that vinyl has. Like a siren song, it draws you deeper into the dark comfort of the manor.

Right to your sleeping dragon.

Even while he’s sleeping, Sylus looks…dignified. Ethereal even. The soft light peaking through his curtains casts a glow on his features, dancing across his white lashes, making them almost look like snowflakes. Your eyes trail over the relaxed line of his jaw, the contours of his chest and shoulders. He lies so still, you could almost believe he’s a statue, if not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He just looks so…perfect.

It’s hard to believe that this is Onychinus’ feared leader. 

Toeing off your boots, you tread carefully to the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, the sheets soft and silky under your fingers. Sylus lets out a low sigh at the movement, red eyes flickering open ever so slightly before falling back shut. Without a word, he shifts and lifts the sheets for you to crawl in next to him.

His warmth draws you in, just like his wispy, old music. You can’t resist it, not that you want to. It’s all the invitation you need to tuck yourself as close as possible, like an exhausted little kitten looking for a safe place to sleep. Sylus immediately draws your leg over his hip, long fingers kneading lazily at your thigh. Every part of you presses against his addicting warmth, drawing a content hum from your lips, completely pliant under his touch. He could do anything to you right now and you wouldn’t complain. But there’s an almost reverent feeling to the way he holds you, the way he traces shapes along your skin and presses gingerly into your wound up muscles.

It’s a rare moment of pure gentleness. No teasing quips. No haughty smirk. Just you and Sylus, the air between you thick with something so incredibly tender. You stay like that for what feels like forever, time lost to soft touches and quiet sighs. Neither of you are willing to break whatever spell has fallen over the room. 

Soon enough, though, the weight of your eyelids becomes too difficult to fight. You tuck your face into the curve of his throat, the scent of his cologne washing over your senses. It’s spicy and warm, like worn leather and rum, just so perfectly Sylus.

You wish you could stay like this forever, floating pleasantly on the edge of sleep with him. Just with him. An indescribable fondness curls somewhere deep in your chest.

“I missed you,” you admit into the crook of his neck, your voice thick with sleep and something vulnerable.

“Mmmm, I was wondering why you crawled into my bed in the middle of the morning.” 

He wasn’t, really. You both feel it whenever you can’t see each other for too long. It’s like the worst feeling of homesickness. He won’t admit to it, but you can feel it in the way his arms curl possessively around your waist, like he never wants to let you go. You slide a hand up to his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin, the steady thrum of his heart under your palm. You’ve missed this. Sylus shivers at your teasing touch, those red eyes finally flickering open again to look down at you, half-lidded and unfocused. You hold his gaze, trying to memorize every detail, every fleck of color, the dark gleam of fondness in their depths, matching your own. This is the real Sylus. Gentle and kind, passion burning just below the surface. The one only you get to see. And you love him more than you’ll ever be able to explain.

You curl your arms around his narrow waist, forehead pressing against his chest, “Is it okay that I came?”

You already know the answer. Still, Sylus humors you.

“I would have it no other way,” he rumbles lowly, lips brushing against your hair. “Now rest, sweetheart, I can tell how tired you are. We can talk in the evening.”

You hum, eyes finally falling shut, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

And just like that, you find it impossible to stay awake any longer, lulled by his words and the sound of his breathing. Every nerve, every worry, washes away, leaving you to fall into the darkness you’ve been craving, dreaming of the weekend you can spend together.

---

Honestly took so long to write. I wanted to moment to feel soft and more drawn out, don't know if it worked. But I hope y'all liked it :)

[uluvjay]

Hands to yourself - L. Norris

Lando Norris x fem! Reader

In which I said i would write riding lando in his Miura so here it is :)

Warnings?; Smut, car sex, pretty much public sex, unprotected sex( a big no no), cursing, kissing, breasts play, light fingering, sorry for any errors I missed!

You knew you were a goner the second he pulled up outside of the restaurant dressed head to toe in black, his new monster had sat on his head, playboy hoodie covering his upper half, while he wore cozy joggers.

You had already seen the videos circulating while you were at dinner with friends and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t already feel wetness forming between your legs before he even picked you up.

That’s how you ended up in an empty private car park, your dressed pushed up around your hips as you bounced on his cock in the driver’s seat of his vintage Lamborghini.

“Fuck lan.” You cried head tucking into the crook of his neck, hips rocking back and forth as pleasure filled your body.

His large hands gripped your ass tightly, kneding the flesh as you continued your movements on top of him. The little grunts and moans escaping his mouth cause your cunt to get even wetter around him, his cock getting slicker and slicker with each bounce.

Lando grunts at the feeling of your breasts rubbing against his firm chest, taking note that you aren’t wearing a bra under your dress he pulls the top down exposing the bare skin to him.

His lips wrap around your left bud, tongue flicking against it while his teeth nip at it lightly, drawing whimpers from your throat at the added sensation.

“Taking my cock so well baby.” He cooed as he switched to your other nipple, one of his large hands moving up to roll the other between his fingertips.

You panted above him, legs slowly growing tired as you continued to fuck yourself on him, his thick cock hitting that spot deep inside you on every bounce.

Lando growled deeply as he felt his climax approaching, dipping a hand between the two of you brought his fingers to rub at the sensitive bud between your thighs.

“mmf-lando!” You cried out, the mixture of his thick cock and fingers sending your body into pure ecstasy as the band in your lower stomach had finally snapped.

“That’s it baby, come for me. Come for me like the good girl you are.” He praised smirking at the way your thighs were shaking violently around him.

He took control after that, hands holding onto your hips so tight you knew there would be bruises tomorrow as he thrusted up into you.

A squeal of overstimulation breaking free from you as his cock pounded into you at an ungodly speed, hitting all the right spots as he chased a high of his own.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, gonna fill you to the brim baby, fuck you nice and full.” The Brit rambled.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to reply, to overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you so deep, having his warm body so close to yours, breasts rubbing against the cotton of his hoodie every time he thrusted inside of you.

You could feel his hips stuttering as he came, a deep growl filling the car as his head dropped back against the leather head rest. His hips thrusted a few more times before finally stilling, keeping himself buried inside you as he pulled you from his neck and placed a searing kiss on your lips.

“mm, fuck that was good.” He smirked, green eyes locked on your blown out ones.

You giggled as his words before giving him one more peck and lifting yourself off of his softening cock, whining as he slid out.

Situating yourselves you both fixed your clothes and messy appearances, you could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head as you used your camera to show you where all your smudged makeup was.

“Baby?” He called softly.

“Yeah?”

“What got you so worked up that you couldn’t wait till we got home?” He smirked, eyes taking in the foggy windows of his car.

“I-I’m not even really sure..I think it was a combination of the outfit and car, this one is one of my favorites and we haven’t had a car sex moment in a while.” You shrugged cheeks turning scarlet.

“Just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself huh?”

“No, I truly couldn’t.” You smiled bashfully as you leaned forward and gave him one more kiss before rolling your window down.

“Now let’s get home so we can continue this In the shower.”

“Yes ma’am.” He laughed before restarting the engine and pulling off.

-

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

There’s a learning curve that comes with being married to someone who wasn’t human. Even more so when it was an arranged marriage and you were sort of just tossed into it.

Your husband was a good man though, a towering 8.5ft tall monster with elephant-like tusks and a whole culture you were still learning, be he took care of you well.

The first time you got your period living together he had no idea what was going on, but happily waiting on you hand and foot. Making sure he brought you pain medicine, snacks, and rubbed your aching joints.

The second time, he walked in on you desperately rubbing your clit to relax some of the cramps away. You were embarrassed beyond words, not that you hadn’t already slept together, but it was still quite the situation to be caught in.

“You know, I can help with that too” he shrugged and sat down the snacks he was bringing for you.

“It’s fine, it’s messy” you shrugged and stopped.

“I don’t care. You know I don’t mind blood” he responded.

“It’s fine”.

“Will it help you feel better?”

“Yeah”

“Then let me” he pushed.

You were not entirely sure what he had in mind, but he seemed pretty eager to help.

“Ok” you conceded.

He wasted no time helping you undress and peppering you with little kisses before settling down to kneel between your legs.

“Oh no no no, you really don’t have to” you began.

“I want to” he said as he lifted your hips up so he could tuck his tusks under you.

You felt his tongue immediately on your clit, the pressure and movements you liked, even better you felt the vibrations from his purring against your clit. He continued, working you over until you were a mewling mess. Once he was satisfied he slipped his tongue between your folds and then pressed into your entrance.

Within minutes you were already close. Between his large tongue giving you a pleasant stretch and the vibrations of his purring. You reached down to pull in his hair, needing to touch him any way you could reach, which only encouraged him more. His tongued was constantly against your g-spot and you enjoyed how every time he seemed to try to explore every inch of you.

He came from a species that did not normally go down, tusks got in the way too much, but once he learned it was an option he made sure to learn how to for you. It was always somewhat of an inelegant affair, his mouth open too far, drooling, no technique, but he did make up for it in sheer enthusiasm.

Your toes curled and you felt the familiar build and release as tingly waves of pleasure diffuse from head to toe. It was nothing intense this time, but he continued well after you finished, making sure beyond a doubt you were sleepy and satisfied.

He finally surfaced, leaning his head against your thigh and looking up at you with such a soft expression, “Feeling better?” he asked.

“For sure” you sighed and affectionately scratched his head.

He got up and went to go clean himself up and returned with clean sheets for the bed after everything. After settling down in bed with you he pulled you up against his chest, your back to him, and put his hands on your tummy, the best hot water bottle for cramps.

You fell asleep easily like that, feeling satisfied and cared for, and happy knowing you could probably swap a few doses of pain medicine for some time with your husband.

(Note: I kept it general, but the husband is from my ongoing Arranged Marriage series in my pinned post!)

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Paring Eddie Munson x Reader 

Summary In the wake of a storm, you seek out Eddie because he gives the best hugs and may be the only person in Hawkins who has the answers you need [fluff, 2.1k]

A/N Eddie didn’t come back wrong. Not in the way you’re thinking, at least. But he does hear things from time to time…

The sweet scent of wet earth lingers inescapably as you pedal, bike wheels whirring softly as they weave around potholes filled with rain. The familiar stillness that follows every storm has settled over Hawkins. Cool droplets fall from tree branches onto your skin, contrasting the warm fall air. With the wind at your face, the heaviness in your chest begins to lift as you travel further from home. 

When you arrive, rain drips from the Forest Hills entrance sign. The old, chipped wood has survived years of vandalism and wear. Puddles of water have collected on the gravel road, and colorful toys have sunken into muddy portions of front yards. The closer you get to Eddie’s trailer, the more you hear muffled music permeating from within the four walls. 

The lights are on, visible through the curtains. It isn’t until you’re close enough to dismount your ride that you realize you’re hearing Ozzy Osbourne. Eddie’s voice passionately joins in as the chorus circles back around, a smile pulling at your lips as you rest your bike against his trailer. 

The moment you knock on the door, he quiets. There’s brief shuffling, then purposeful footsteps until he’s finally swinging it open. The way his eyebrows shoot up at the sight of you is comical. A guitar solo pours out to greet you as well. 

His curly hair is pulled back in a low, messy bun and a black pair of pajama pants ride his hips. Every time you see him, there seem to be more designs inked across his pale skin. They’re down his arms, splayed across his chest. The dragon was your favorite of them all. Snaked along the side of his rib cage with its mouth bared, shielding a splotch of scars. 

“You’re goin’ off the rails, huh?” There’s a playful lilt to your voice as you quote the lyrics back to him, tilting your head. 

His cheeks flush as he opens the door wider for you, your perfume wafting as you walk in. “Every day of my life—fuck me, I can’t believe you heard all that,” he groans, running a hand down his face. 

After shutting the door, he turns off the stereo. You sigh as you toe off your vans and take a relaxed look around the small space. With Crazy Train having come to an end, you can hear the TV quietly droning about the possibility of more rain. 

For as much as there was that changed in the world, this place seldom did. With its warm lamplight and eternal coziness. The air smelled of pine, underscored with smoke. Even the mug shelves and baseball caps hanging on the walls have stood the test of time. 

When your eyes meet again, he offers a boyish grin that settles under your skin. “Wasn’t expecting your pretty face today.” He tucks some wispy flyaways behind his ears. 

“Sorry I didn’t call first,” you say. “I just needed to get out of the house...needed to see you.” Eddie doesn’t miss the brief shadow that flickers in your eyes, as though another thought is protesting from a cage in the back of your mind. 

As much as he’s tempted, he doesn’t coax it out. “Nothing wrong with a good ol’ change of scenery.” He lifts his brows in that charming way of his. “Not that this is the Four Seasons or anything—” 

Before he knows it, your arms are around him. A hum vibrates through his chest as you tuck your nose into the warmth of his skin. As he hugs you in return, the remaining tension melts right from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. Once he’s sure you’re feeling better, he starts rocking from side to side until your smile slips through. 

You try to pull away, but he only squeezes tighter. “Eddie,” you whine through a giddy laugh. 

“Nope, you’ve gotta commit now,” he quips. “I don’t make the rules, angel.” Hearing that, you relax into him, exhaling at the playfulness and familiarity of his embrace. 

“How do you do it?” You murmur into him like he’s some sort of magic. 

He smooths his palm up your back, gently massaging at the base of your neck. “Do what?” 

“Make everything better,” you whisper, feeling the rest of your worries dissolve under his touch. 

A weak chuckle rumbles through his chest as he pulls back to look at you. The honesty in your eyes makes him feel like he’s an imposter. Like he’s somehow got you fooled. “I don’t know about everything...” 

Life has been different since the Upside Down. There were scars from that day that were never going to fade, engraved beyond skin deep. It was the voices from before, the rumors and taunts, that made him feel like he was that same punk teenager who corrupted everything he touched. Like being himself was innately wrong. 

It was hard to believe that someone like you genuinely enjoyed his company, found him helpful, thought he was good. But he was getting better about it because he didn’t make it this far for those old voices to hold the same power. These days, new voices echoed around him, not confined to memories but strikingly real, intimately near. Never unkind, just disembodied and drifting through the in-between. 

They didn’t scare him anymore. He learned when to listen and when to tune them out. Something was bound to follow after he crawled his way back to the land of the living. Nevertheless, he’s grateful for a second chance at life. If things had ended any differently, he never would’ve seen how much better things could get—or cross paths with you. 

You think for a moment before speaking up again, “Then we’ll agree to disagree.” 

Eddie takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb, eyes flitting over your face in awe. You grow shy under his gaze, and that’s when he leans in to kiss you, his plush lips soft and slow. A satisfied sound rises in your throat as you trail your hands along his waist, feeling the different textures of his scarred skin beneath your fingertips. 

Caught up in the warmth of your mouth and the pleasant stirring in his gut, he doesn’t feel you pull the elastic from his hair, letting it cascade down over his shoulders. However, he smiles at the feeling of your fingertips gently scratching his scalp. 

“I got something for you,” he eventually whispers, pecking your lips one last time before heading to his bedroom. 

Butterflies dance in your stomach as you trail after him, toying with the hem of your shirt. You take a seat on the foot of his bed, watching him saunter to his nightstand, humming under his breath. Your eyes drift to the dagger tattooed between his shoulder blades, the blade descending a short way down his spine. 

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, turning back around with something hidden behind his back. Eddie snickers as he approaches, your eyes adorably shut. It’s a contagious sound. The bed dips as he takes a seat, his thigh pressing against yours. 

He taps your nose with something soft, prompting you to open your eyes. 

It’s a small stuffed ghost with two black buttons for eyes, and an even smaller one for a mouth. You’re quiet as you take it from him, thoughtfully turning it over in your hands. Shaped like a comma, it has two adorable arms raised up from the sides. Faint stitching is visible along the perimeter like it was homemade. Eddie shifts and scratches the back of his neck, unsure how to interpret your silence.

A smile finally breaks across your face. “He’s adorable. Where’d you get him?” 

Eddie runs a relieved hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna believe me, but Wayne and I went to visit Ruth in the nursing home the other day. You remember her? The lady who used to live a couple trailers down.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “They happened to be having one of those activity days where someone comes in to lead a craft or whatever…“

“And you stayed?”

He kisses your cheek. “Bingo.” Then his voice grows fond. “All I could think about was making one for you.”

Warmth spreads throughout your chest. “I’m gonna name him Ghostie.“

The distant sound of a car door shutting makes you jump and look towards the window. Eddie almost laughs, but stops himself at the way your shoulders slump in dejection. Like you’re upset at yourself for reacting.  

He leans in, talking carefully, “You alright?” You shake your head in dismissal, but his attentiveness doubles down. “Talk to me, Goose.” 

The reference makes you smile, and you nudge him for it. “I’ve just been a little on edge.” There’s something else you want to add, but don’t. Eddie’s ready to prod it out this time around, but you’re quick to tap his nose with the stuffed ghost. “I might just be going off the rails like you and Ozzy.” 

He huffs an amused breath. “Not gonna let that go, huh?” 

“Never.” 

•••

The rain starts back up again. Slowly, before pattering down harsher against the roof. By then, you’ve already eaten dinner and settled on the couch for Beetlejuice, the sun long set. Eddie’s arm rests over your shoulders as you lay asleep in his lap, Ghostie tucked into the crook of your elbow. He had a feeling things would end up this way.

When he shakes with a chuckle at yet another wacky scene, you stir. He doesn’t realize until you shift with a soft hum. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he practically coos, squeezing your shoulder. 

“How dare you laugh and be amused.” Your voice is soft and groggy in that way he adores.

“I know, I’m awful,” he agrees with feigned gravity. “Gotta go turn myself in. Tell the kids I love them.” You snort as you sit up, snuggling into his side with Ghostie in your lap. 

The lights flicker as a strong gust of wind blows outside. A concerned furrow forms between his brows at the way you gasp and stiffen. This jumpiness is unlike you. He rubs your arm in hopes of loosening you up, but darkness promptly envelopes the room. You can hardly see aside from mere outlines. 

The sides of the trailer creak as the wind continues, a bit fiercer than before. Eddie curses under his breath at the inconvenience, while you’ve grown even more rigid and silent. There’s a false glimmer of hope when the lights briefly flicker, but darkness soon prevails again.

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures, pulling you closer. “Wind’s just disturbing the lines. They’ll be back on in a second.” The lights flicker before dying out again. 

Tears well in your eyes. Your voice wavers as you speak, “Eddie?” 

“I’m here,” he assures. “I’ll go grab a flash—”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” 

Now it's his turn to still. It’s not a foreign question, not by a longshot. It’s one that was peppered throughout his childhood, and always returned in the later half of every year when the nights began to grow a little longer. It’s the sound of your voice that sets it apart this time around. You’re not seeking an answer for fun or on a whim. You’re searching for a second opinion. Deep down you knew, out of every other soul in Hawkins, he’d have one to give. No one came back from the Upside Down without a few ties that lingered. 

He’s quiet for a while, the sound of wind and rain filling the space between you. 

“It’s not a matter of belief,” he finally says, swallowing hard. “If something’s real—God, Satan, ghosts, whatever…” he pauses. “It’ll keep existing whether you believe it does or not.” 

“So do you think…are ghosts real?” He can’t see your attentiveness, but he can hear it. 

He chuckles humorlessly, blindly taking your hand in his so you know he’s not making fun of you or messing around. 

The two of you start talking at the same time, “I—” 

“Can feel them,” you breathe. “At my house. It started a few days ago after you left.” 

Like he may have left them behind.

The lights stutter back on as the TV bursts back to life, somehow picking right back up. Eddie reaches for the remote and turns it off, his finger lingering on the button. When his attention settles back on you, there’s a sense of disbelief in his dark eyes, like he’s looking into a mirror for the first time in a while. 

“Feel them?” he slowly repeats, searching your gaze for more. 

“Hear their voices... like soft whispers,” you continue. “So I know they’re real.” 

There’s a thoughtful beat of silence.

“Me too.” 

- 

Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think. 

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[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.3k - boothill finds you digging around in junk and then offers you a gift he hopes you won't refuse... [plsdontflopplsdontflopplsdont-]

the heavy metal clinking of boothill's foot steps clank their way to your shop's door. an all too familiar door he'd always find himself going up to whenever he was in need of repair- big or small. the swiveling security camera you keep at your entrance blinks with red-lit life and moves to start following his movements as soon as he enters it's field of vision.

who knows if you're ever actually paying attention to the camera feed or not though. you can be careless like that. sometimes you're just out- couldn't be bothered or could care less about the remote feed linked directly to your phone. other times, you're so focused on some project you neglect it entirely.

based on the sign hanging on your shop's door he was familiar with- it seemed that this time in particular you were out.

boothill didn't need to know how to write- much less read well- to take a wild gander as to where you had wondered off to. putting his spring loaded and metal jointed hands on his slim waist, his chin dips with an amused chuckle and shake of his head. the cowboy lifts the toe of his mechanical boot and twists his body fully 'round; his spurs scrapping across the ground during his lazy about-face. with one foot in front of the other and thumbs hooked through the hollow crops of his trousers, the galaxy ranger makes his way towards the junk yard.

it would never occur to the standard person to spend their free time digging around a scrap yard filled with junk thrown out for a reason- but you were anything but standard. if you weren't tinkering around in your shop or finishing up a repair or commission, you were scrounging around the grounds for material or 'hidden treasure'... which was key for just slightly more valuable junk.

a typical haul for you would be a few pieces of scrap metal you could use for wielding, the rare unstripped screw or loose gaggle of bolts, and all sorts of wire. if it saved you a few credits by finding material instead of buying them, you weren't one to argue with free trash.

passing under the wire-metal gate leading into the fenced-off territory, his thumbs still tucked into his pant legs, his ears stay sharp. listening for any sound of you digging around in some heap while his head swivels back and forth to try and catch a glimpse of you.

"ey, sugar, you around!" boothill shouts, one of his hands detaching from his hips to cup around his mouth. he wanders further in, gets more ground, before calling out the same sentence a second time. shaking his head in bewilderment on how far in you had gone digging, he goes even further still and tries calling out a third time.

"here!" you finally answer back. your voice echoes around him, bouncing off the scrap metal and spooking the rats and other critters that call the junk yard home. his head turns in the direction of your voice, the way his body leans towards it before his feet start carrying him that way never took notice in his own mind.

eventually, he makes it to you. squat down to the ground, under the rusty remains of some poor saps long eroded escape pod from whatever solar system they crashed in from. he crosses his arms, then his ankles, leaning his metal shoulder on the ruined dome you were digging under.

the ranger had no idea how long you had been out here, but judging by the half full bag you kept on your shoulder and the grease sticking to your neck and exposed skin he could guess it's been a bit. he chuckles when you dig out a rusted, broken pipe of... something, before tossing it over your shoulder with a disappointed click of your tongue and looking up at him. your cheeks had some gunk on it too, probably from you wiping the back of your gloves on it.

"fancy diggin' around in junk?"

"it's not all junk."

"the fudge it aint," he scoffs. to him, it absolutely was all junk. "this aint called the dang junk yard for nothin, sugar."

"it's a scrap yard."

"stubborn-bottom." you move to stand up, clapping your gloved hands together before taking them off so you could use your hands more freely. "good to see ya took my advice and startin' wearing some forkin' gloves around here." he eyes around at all the rust and sharp metal. "gonna get tetanus or somethin', and we can't have that."

"im liable to get tetanus from you before anything else," you joke so straight-faced it didn't feel like a joke. his crossed arms drop along with his jaw and his stance straightens as he uncrosses his ankles.

"ey', i aint as forkin' filthy as you pretend i am, and you know it." you shrug with a half smirk that was so dismissive he was tempted to keep arguing. you push the goggles you were wearing over your eyes to avoid getting anything in them and possible irritation onto your forehead. seeing the contrast between your sweaty, grease and dirt marked skin and the clean skin that was protected under the goggles had him scoff. "yer filthier than i am, by the look of things."

you roll your eyes and move to climb out of the rusty treasure trove of junk you had deemed no longer having anything of value. reaching out, boothill offers you his hand. you take it easily as he starts pulling you up and out to stand in front of him. your hand drops from his when you stand safely in his bubble, and he isn't sure if you know how close you are or not.

your nose is always so focused in tinkering around or messing with work that you can't always... read the room so to speak. its endearing, until it gets frustrating anyway.

"so, what're you here for this time? need something fixed again- i swear if you already burned through that new servo i replaced a month ago, im going to take off your arm and you won't get it back for a week."

"well, that's awful sweet of you." you knew by his dry tone and sneered lips that exposed his sharp teeth that the word sweet was definitely supposed to be a different five-letter word starting with 's'. one that his broken beacon (which you refuse to fix out of entertainment) wouldn't allow him to say.

"seems like an appropriate consequence to me, considering i don't charge you for repairs."

"i ain't here for not goose-dud repair," he hisses. "i had planned on givin' ya somethin', but based on your sweet attitude i aint so sure about it now."

"you brought me something?" he nods. "from a different solar planet?" he could see the curiosity start to ignite in your eyes. he nods again. you stuff your gloves into a pouch in your pants that he swears you've sewed another pocket into, before you're marching away from him and towards the entrance he had marched from at the beginning of this search. "well come on, let's get a moving!" you shout over your shoulder.

his synthetic voice chuckles at your back. eagerly waltzing after you.

boothill soon finds himself sitting with his knees apart and comfortably lounging with his arms on the back of your worn-down, two-cushioned couch the moment you two got back to the shop. he had taken himself to your quote- reception room, as he waited for you to unload your finds from the junkyard (meaning you just took your bag, flipped it upside and let its content spill out unceremoniously onto your worktable before you would eventually sort through it at a later time).

the tapping of his metal toes against your floor echoed dully against the rug under the sofa as you soon made your way to stand in front of him, hands on your hips and an expectant look in your eyes. flicking the brim of his hat cheekily to get a better look up at you, he lifted his chin.

"my attention is yours," you dramatically sigh, hands flaring to your sides before bouncing back against your legs.

"im flattered, sugar," he jests back. still, he shifts. the small pouch he had strung to his belt that was home to his array of extra fire rounds was soon detached from him. the string of which was used to tie it to him previously, hangs lazily from his metal fingertips. with a raised, semi-skeptical brow, you carefully take it off his hands.

"if this is some sort of prank," you warn. his hands raise in the air with his elbows still resting comfortably on the back of the cushions he was leaning against, gesturing that he meant no harm.

slowly- cautiously- you pull open the bag and remove two different items that had been nestled safely inside.

tossing the now empty bag onto the couch next to boothill's leg, you took each item into one hand and looked between them. one was a small crystal that was no larger than the center of your palm. shining a swirling color of green and blue, you could only imagine that it would look even prettier properly polished and with a light shining behind it. in the other was a small box, one that could be opened with a rusty lid. giving it a small rattle revealed something to be inside. doing so revealed a small robot that had been covered in rust, missing a robotic arm and wires spilling out from under the cracked and broken screen that would most definitely have acted as it's face.

"what's all this?" you ask softly. boothill stands from his lackadaisical lounging on your sofa to come and waltz up to your side. he pointed at the robot sitting sadly in the container he had brought him in first.

"i found this lil fella and thought you'd have a gas fixin' him right up. as for that," he points to the crystal of dual-swirling shades next, "accordin' to my scanners, that there's a pretty dadgum power source." boothill takes the small crystal from your palm and hovers it just above the robot. "it suits him, don't it?" he chuckles.

in truth, the slightly dingy looking crystal shard was too magnificent compared to the busted and rusted robot. but, with a bit of work, repair and love, perhaps the color of the crystal really would look nice against polished sheet metal.

"i figure givin' you somethin' else to tinker with would be more... enriching than just your usual forkin' machines." and it could keep you company, but he didn't say that out loud.

when you would get it working like he knew you could, maybe you'd stop and think about him while he was away chasing his reality out as a galaxy ranger. if you could just spare a single thought towards him every day because of a small robot and shiny rock? he'd be tickled pink.

"he's cute," you whisper gently and boothill wonders if you know you said it out loud at all. he chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup the designed dents atop his cowboy hat. taking it off his head, he gently drops it onto yours, gaining your attention back from the gifts he had given you.

the way you lift your eyes to look at him- filled with something akin to excitement and fondness- and gently cradle the small rusty robot with his hat now shadowing your face, he could almost hear the wires in his chest running on turbo. he'd had to cool down asap before he overheated or crashed.

taking a step back- for his own sake- he leaves his hat on your head before patting your back.

"get to it," he softly tells you. you mutely nod, an excited smile breaking out over your lips as you trot towards a different room. it was a small private work space you retreated to for personal projects. boothill was one that was usually allowed inside since this room was where he would get his tune ups most times.

with boothill following your back, he watches you trot to your work bench. you gently set the robot's box down and remove it from inside. the crystal you submerged in a bowl that you soon fill with polish to let it soak. it took all of ten minutes before you're surrounded by tools and wires and equipment made for digital repairs. all the while boothill remade his comfort in a worn-down rocker you kept in the corner, content on staying put until he was forced to leave. whether it by your or by his next bounty.

he couldn't very well leave you with his hat either, even if it looked better on you than him.

the next time boothill comes into your shop after that gift drop off, it wasn't a visit but a proper repair. running out of cooling agent for his internal hardware was just waiting for a disaster to happen. his synthetic-coded laugh burst into the room jollily as when he sat down on the stool he always planted his ass in for repairs, a small, shiny robot- with the cutest digital expressions and a small blue-green swirling crystal placed in the center of its chest- was waddling across your work bench. a vile of blue cooling agent the near size of his small metal body grasped tightly in its robotic arms.

it chirped happily with a digital reverb when you thank it for bringing the coolant over.

boothill was indeed tickled as pink could get seeing you already attached to the lil fella. he wondered what you named it.

a/n: smol robot go beep-boop (i love the idea of mechanic!reader just having a cute lil guy to follow them around like a puppy :(( [big thanks to @/birinboom and my partner for letting me pick their brain on what gifts boothill ended up giving to the reader bc i had no idea lol smooches <3]

[pseudowho]

The Wrong Tie

18+, MDNI, voyeurism, semi-public sex, hints of a foursome

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

It was a rainy spring day, when the rumour started that Nanami Kento and Higuruma Hiromi were having an affair. It was categorically untrue-- all a misunderstanding; but their wives wouldn't confirm that.

The faculty meeting, an all-day "team building event" was dull, a monotonous slew of games and personality tests, to drive those of a more practical mind to madness. The steady shhhhhh of rain against the windows only made it worse. Higuruma Hiromi was on the verge of sleep. Nanami Kento was lost in his own mind, reading on a tropical beach somewhere.

Kento felt the smooth slide of one small hand across his upper thigh, under the desk, and let out a quiet, involuntary grunt. His wife sat beside him, apparently interested in the presentation, and her hand slid higher, and higher, and higher. Kento felt his pulse quicken, leaning forwards on steepled fingertips, trying not to groan when clever fingers undid his zipper, and slipped through to squeeze his rapidly hardening cock through his boxers. Kento twitched his cock inside her grasp, and was rewarded with her biting her lip, her breath hitching.

Hiromi was already fantasising about his wife, sat opposite him, as sleep began to claim him. He jumped out of his seat, and excused it as a sudden, violent cough, when his wife trailed her bare stockinged toes over his lap. Hiromi grasped her foot under the table, giving a warning tickle to the arch. It did not dissuade her at all, and she rolled the ball of her foot insistently over the thickening bulge beneath Hiromi's zipper. His legs went lax, spreading, as his hooded eyes sat half-open, slack-jawed and humping involuntarily against her foot beneath the desk.

"Alright everyone...a ten minute break, and then we'll meet back in here. There are snacks in the staffroom."

Neither couple could last. Everyone flurried from the room, with all but four hurrying for the best choice of snack.

Kento dragged his wife into the nearest store cupboard, deep, dark and narrow. She giggled at the manhandling, and felt herself lifted into a shelf near the end. "You dirty little minx," he rumbled against her throat, rucking her blouse aside to drag one breast out, pawing at it, kneading and licking. She laughed, happy to be used, and threw his jacket and tie to the ground as he tucked her skirt around her waist, and began to hook out his heavy, pre cum wettened cock.

The door open and closed with a brief snippet of sunlight, and a slam, and Kento heard Hiromi's voice, and his wife's giggling; "Trying to get me to cum on your foot, in the middle of a meeting? You fucking menace. Only one place I'll be cumming, and it's a little bit more discre--"

"Higuruma."

"Oh, Nanami-- shit."

"Shit."

"Shit."

A moment of silence. A quiet shuffle as Hiromi pressed his wife face down, bent over, to the shelf that Kento's wife sat on. Kento scowled, unable to see in the dark. His cock throbbed, stroking between his wife's plush, wet folds; he was desperate. Hearing how Hiromi moaned, cursing as he rolled his wife's skirt up, and slapped her on the arse, he was just as pent-up.

"...we share the cupboard."

"Fuck yes we share the cupboard, Nanami. These two need to be taught a lesson."

Kento couldn't hold back any longer. Listening to Hiromi shred his wife's stockings at the crotch, and shove her panties aside, sent a shiver through him. Kento leaned over his wife, who was still suckling at his throat, and planted both hands on her hips before slamming into her to the hilt, with a husky, ragged moan. She squealed at the sudden, sharp fullness, and Kento clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Want to fuck with me in work hours? Fine. You're the one with my cum dripping down your thighs all day."

Hiromi laughed, landing one more sharp slap to his wife's arse, before dipping his cockhead to her entrance, and sinking inside with agonising tenderness. She whimpered, gasping, clutching at the shelf in front of her. Hiromi doubled over her, his belly to her back, mocking her gently.

"Aren't you two going to be a lovely matching pair? All full of cum with nowhere to go."

While it wasn't definitely a Wife-Fucking-Competition, it hardly seemed coincidental, how each man found his wife's throbbing little bud with devastating accuracy. How, when Kento slammed his wife so hard onto his cock that she sobbed and begged for mercy, Hiromi reached forwards and grabbed his wife by the roots of her hair, growling against the back of her neck like a man possessed. How, when Hiromi made his wife squeal, Kento tried to make his wife squeak louder.

At one point, the wives held onto each others' hands for dear life as their husbands dragged them through their orgasms, over hot coals.

"--that's it-- fffuuuuck, sound so pretty," Hiromi cooed to his wife, two fingers underneath her and rolling over her clit as she tried to scoot away, mewling and overstimulated, "-- ah ah ah, we're done when I-- haaaah, shit-- say we're done, sweetheart-- gonna fuck you-- fuck you stupid-- hold onto something--"

Kento held his wife gently by the throat, squeezing just hard enough, as his thumb and forefinger rolled around her clit, that her peak spread, electric, through every single nerve; "--that's right...beautiful. Can feel you milking me, shit-- gonna cum right in your belly...just where you like it. Won't need-- f-fuck-- so good-- won't need lube later...just fuck this seed right back into you, hmm?"

Kento didn't want to admit that hearing two women become whining messes around him was something of a buzz. When he came, it was with violently competitive satisfaction, as Higuruma had spilled his seed just moments before. Hiromi didn't give a fuck; he was lost in the sound of Kento's cock squelching into his wife's aching pussy. Kento never took Higuruma for such a whimperer. Hiromi never knew Nanami could fall apart like that.

Both men spilled more seed than they ever had, the testosterone thick in the air. Their wives almost regretted their misbehaviour-- almost. Each wife stood on shaky legs, trying to stop drips of cum running past the hems of their skirts, while Hiromi and Kento dressed in a hurry, breathless and trying not to laugh.

They made it back to the meeting room in time, the wives entering first, trying not to stagger into their seats. Kento and Hiromi entered after, mostly straightened out. They were busy trying to look normal. Neither of them noticed how eyes flickered to their flushed faces, Kento still quietly panting, Hiromi with a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Eyes flicked to their chests, and back up to their faces. The next stage of the meeting was awkward, at best.

Gojo approached Hiromi at the lunch break, and Hiromi almost spat out his coffee when Gojo leaned into him, and whispered; "...why are you wearing Nanami's tie, huh? Anything you two need to tell us?'

Hiromi's horrified, pale face shot down to another man's leopard print tie on his chest, then shot up, searching for Kento. Kento looked across the room, his face impassive, but his eyes screaming...in an unusually muted black tie.

The wives had noticed, earlier. They enjoyed their lunch, chatting and blushing, with cum still cooling between their legs, pretending they knew nothing.

[castiwls]

so it goes - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'Gettin' caught up in a moment, lipstick on your face'

Requested; anon

Notes; reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

It wasn’t often you found yourself getting a moment alone anymore. Hunting had seemingly taken over your entire lives and left you with little time to enjoy the other things in life.

It had been so long since you had eaten anything which didn’t come from a box or a takeout bag that you’d almost forgotten how calming it could be to cook your own food. The smell alone left you floating into your own little world, your worries seeming to melt away the longer you moved around the kitchen.

Grabbing a tomato you carefully sliced it, humming to yourself as you did. Placing the knife down you carefully scooped the pieces into a bowl before. As you moved the feeling of two arms wrapping around your waist pulled a small gasp from your lips.

Placing your hands on the counter you let out a breath feeling lips press against the shell of your ear. “What are you making.” Sam smiled pressing another kiss to your cheek. “Nothing fancy.” You shrugged leaning into his chest with a content sigh.

Sam humed moving his hands to your hips. “Smells good.” He smiled. His hands rubbed slow circles into your hips as you continued to chop vegetables. Sam rested his head on your chin allowing himself to relax as your movements swayed him slightly.

Your food had quickly become one of his favourite things and he’d truly missed it more than he’d admit. He’d missed the domesticity of it all. How normal it was in a world where almost nothing was normal.

“Okay.” You clapped your hands. “Now we wait.” You turned in his arms, moving your own around his neck. Sam’s gaze was soft as he smiled down at you. “What.” You laughed feeling slightly nervous under his gaze. 

“Nothing, nothing just…” He shook his head. “I love you.” He smiled tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The tips of his fingers grazed the back of your head as you felt a quiet sigh leave your lips. “I love you too.” You smiled - a warm feeling slowly building in your stomach.

Sam’s hand moved to cup the back of your head. His hand gently massaged your head as his gaze dropped to your lips. “I missed this.” He sighed. The last few weeks had been nothing short of hellish yet all that seemed to fade away as the world seemed to narrow down until everything seemed like background noise.

The only thing that mattered to him at that moment was you. 

“It’s been a while.” You laughed quietly. He nodded in agreement before leaning in to press his lips against yours. A small noise of surprise escaped your lips at the sudden movement. Sam smiled against your lips as you felt his hand slowly slip from your hair down to your hip.

Your own hands looped around his neck as you pushed yourself up slightly on your toes. “Wait.” He murmured against your lips pulling back slightly.

You furrowed your brows tilting your head slightly. “Wha-” A yelp left your lips as you suddenly felt yourself get lifted from the ground and placed on the counter behind you. “Better.” He grinned rubbing his nose against yours.

“Better.” You grinned using your grip on his neck to pull him in. A quiet laugh escaped him as your lips met his. Sam’s hand squeezed your hip as you moved a hand to the nape of his neck.

Falling into your own little world, time seemed to float away until a loud ringing noise broke through the silence - the food was done.

You both jumped, Sam, pulled back his eyes wide as he looked around for a moment before his eyes landed on the timer. Oh.

“Well. That's one way to ruin the mood.” You shook your head jumping off the counter to turn off the oven.  Sam laughed leaning back against the counter, watching you. “We always have later.” He shrugged a smirk playing on his lips.

[euphoricfilter]

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober day 14

[day fourteen: face sitting]

pairing: namjoon x f. reader

tags/ warnings: pwp, touched on insecurities, face sitting, namjoon’s a munch, grinding, pleasure dom joon

notes: smut essentially straight under the cut. also unedited so if there are mistakes no there aren’t <3

kinktober masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

There was the raw sort of lustful want from Namjoon at the mere thought of your thighs caged around his head, face pressed into your sodden pussy.

His cock stirs in his underwear as he watches you pull a shirt over your head, eyes flickering down to your ass; underwear clinging to your skin. Ever so pretty, Namjoon’s fingers itching to sink into your skin.

“Baby” he murmurs, deep rumble of his voice making goosebumps prickle down your arms.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, “yeah?” you turn to look at him. Body on autopilot when he beckons you over with a crook of his fingers.

Your knees sink into the mattress, hand slipping into his as you straddle his lap, pussy clenching when you press over his hard cock.

Your thighs squeeze around his hips, rocking forward ever so slightly as your panties start to slick up, hint of friction sending jolts of pleasure from your clit.

Namjoon’s hands brace against your thighs, watching down the length of his nose as you rut desperately against him, slowly working you up desperate enough. Because as much as he loved you smothering him with your cunt, you weren’t always so open to the idea.

Not because it didn’t feel good, but rather the insecurity of knowing you’d be literally sat on his face.

“Namjoon” you moan, fingers curling into the shirt he was wear, quick to lift your hips so he could pull your panties off after he taps your thigh.

His shirt rides up over his stomach as he drags your bare pussy over his honeyed skin, tacky with your leaking arousal.

“Want you to ride my face, baby” he groans, thumb pulling back the hood of your clit, pressing over the little bud.

You glance down at him, eyebrows furrowing in the slightest. And he’s sure a million thoughts are running through your mind as your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, pleasure slowly ebbing away as your hips stop rutting forward.

“Joon...” you start, voice barely above a whisper.

He hums, thumb rubbing circles over your thigh as he glances up at you, “Please, my love. Make a mess of me”

You swallow as you meet his eyes, Namjoon’s lips barely curling into smile, lazy at the corners as he feels you clench; new wave of slick wetting his skin.

“You know I’ll tell you if it’s too much” he presses on, “gonna make you feel good”

You don’t have to voice your insecurities for him to know, always so caught up in your own mind he wonders If part of the appeal is making you fall apart on his tongue. Mind so lust drunk you don’t dare think about anything else other than his tongue pressing you in places that have your toes tingling and stomach coiling in pleasure.

He lets you stew in your own thoughts for a moment, thumb pressing over your clit gently, sparking up that need for pleasure.

You push yourself up, scooting up his body until your legs cage his head, cheeks burning red as he eyes your pussy, tongue wetting his bottom lip.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” you ask, bringing his attention to your face if only for a moment before his hands are wrapping around your thighs, tugging you that little bit lower.

“I’m serious, Namjoon” you warn, “You better tell me”

“I will” he huffs, warm breath fanning over your folds, clit throbbing as he presses a kiss over your little pearl, tongue flickering out past his lips.

Your fingers curl over the headboard of the bed, toes curling as he brings you down over his mouth, lips sucking at your wet folds.

Your thighs shake a little as you try and hold the weight of your body, anxiety still pressing in the back of your mind, slowly fizzling to a phantom thought as he presses his tongue into you—hands curling around your thighs to fully tig you over his face.

He helps you rock your hips forward, moan slipping past your lips when his nose nudges against your clit. He swallows down everything you have to offer, starved of your essence as he lets it coat his tongue, deep grumble of a moan vibrating over your folds as he licks over your cunt.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, worry slowly melting to nothing but a lust filled haze as you start to use him to get yourself off. Namjoon’s cock twitching beneath the veil of his underwear at your evident pleasure, his name the only word falling out of your mouth between moans as your pleasure starts to build.

Ache in your thighs ignored as your stomach clenches, dribble of arousal painting Namjoon chin and cheeks as you rut your hips forward.

“Gonna cum” you whine, tugging his hair that little bit harder, pressing his face that little further into your cunt. Each exhale out of his nose tickles your clit, mouth tipped open in a silent moan as his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, own moan of shared pleasure sending you over the edge.

He swallows down your cum, tongue pressing flat between your folds as he sucks over your entrance, groaning at the heady taste of you. Slick and cum smeared across his lips and chin and just ever so messy.

Your thighs quiver as you try and escape his hold, pussy tingling in that slowly growing overstimulation as his lips wrap around your clit, suckling it, roundabout way to try and get you to cum again for him.

“Shit—Joon” you whine, chest stuttering for a breath, “No more”

“One more” he murmurs against your cunt, voice muffled before he’s pressing his tongue back into you, eyes closed in bliss as you leak a little more over his chin.

[racetowrite]

On a hurry

Support a disabled creator

Pairing : Carlos Sainz x f!reader

Tags : yeah that's right I have an addiction for Carlitos , afab!fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), unprotected piv (wrap it irl I am begging you)

Word Count : 1.3k

Carlos loves to take you dancing. There’s nothing in this world quite like seeing the excitement in your eyes when he tells you to wear your best dress, that he’s taking you out of the town to dance the night away until your cheeks are red and your feet ache. There’s nothing quite like your laughter as he spins you around before dipping you to the floor, your nails digging into his back, even though you know he’d never drop you. His alters definitely aren’t ones for dancing, but Carlos would dance with you every night if he could.

He loves going dancing with you, truly, but the best part of the night is always the end. Pressing you against his chest, gripping your hips and grinding your pretty ass against him, tucking his face in the crook of your neck to suck tiny bruises into your skin. He loves feeling you shiver against his front while he whispers everything he wants to do to you in your ear. Telling you how sexy you are in your pretty dress, how he wants your heels to stay on while he fucks you when you both get home. You’re soaked in your panties, and Carlos knows it.

“Are you going to let me take you home, amor?” he whispers, as if he even has to ask. As if you both weren’t going back to sleep in the same bed anyway. As if you’d ever refuse him.

You moan softly and nod, and you feel Carlos’s smug smile against your sweaty skin, before he’s wrapping a strong arm around your waist and leading you to the door. He opens the door to his Ferrari for you, helping you into the passenger seat. Ever the gentleman.

Your apartment, one you had received as a gift from Carlos, sits just a little outside the city of Madrid. Quieter, neighbors less nosy, less street vendors lingering outside the door. You love your home, except on nights like these, where you just need one of your boyfriend inside you as soon as possible. You settle in for the thirty minute drive, trying not to think about the aching between your thighs, but Carlos is ravenous. He settles a calloused hand against your thigh, running it just under your dress. You spread your thighs slowly, trying to be subtle. But Carlos notices. He always does.

“You want me to touch you, princesa?” Carlos says, chucking slightly, the smug bastard that he is.

“You know I do,” you whine, half annoyed and half absolutely desperate. Carlos reaches just a little farther lower, running a finger over the thin material of your panties, feeling how you’ve soaked through the lace. Your hips buck when he presses a harsh finger to your clit, a choked gasp escaping your throat.

“Dios, baby,” Carlos grunts, the hand he has on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white. “That needy, huh?”

“Always,” you sigh, “Always for you.” You watch Carlos’s jaw clench, and nearly cry when he takes his hand away from your clothed pussy.

“Take your panties off and spread your legs,” he grunts, leaving no room for argument. You lift your hips off the leather seat to drag your panties off your legs, toeing your heels off to take them all of the way off. You glance at Carlos, his eyes still trained on the road ahead, and, perhaps against your better judgment, drape your panties across his lap.

“Amor,” Carlos mutters through clenched teeth. “Mierda, I will pull this car over, I swear to God.”

“What’s stopping you, baby?” you ask sweetly, taunting him, goading him.

“Because I’m going to fuck you so hard you pass out, and I’m not carrying your fucked-out body up the stairs to our apartment.” He speaks like he’s threatening you, as if your cunt isn’t clenching around the suddenly unbearable emptiness inside you.

He slides his hand back over your thigh, calloused fingers finally connecting with your hot pussy. He slides a quick finger inside of you, crooking it hard until you’re gasping out a choked little moan. The palm of his hand grinds against your sensitive clit, and your hand flies up to grab at his wrist.

“Carlos, fuck, oh Jesus,” you stutter over your words, unable to from a sentence at the sudden intrusion. Carlos ignores you, sliding a second finger deep into you, right alongside the first. His fingers are thick, far thicker than yours, stretching you out. You can feel the sticky juices of your cunt dripping down, down onto the once-pristine leather of the seat. Your thighs are trembling, bucking into Carlos’s hand. You gaze up at your boyfriend through glassy eyes, greeted with the sight of his strong jaw illuminated by the streetlights through the window.

His eyes are trained unwaveringly on the road, and he looks almost unaffected by what he’s doing to you. Almost. But you notice the clench in his jaw, and with a quick once-over of his body, drawn tight with tension, the thick bulge in his slacks.

You reach a hand over to palm at him, but his gruff voice stops you. “If you fucking touch me right now, princesa, you won’t cum for a fucking week.” Your hand snaps away immediately.

“Good girl, hermosa,” he mutters. You want to scream as he plays with the spongy spot inside your pussy. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to stretch you out on my fingers, and get you ready for my cock. You’re going to fucking take it, alright? You’re going to cum all over my fingers, and then, when you’re done, I’ll take you inside and fuck this pretty pussy. Am I clear?”

You nod, but Carlos isn’t looking. You murmur out a soft, “yes,” and Carlos grins. You barely have a moment to think before he’s jamming a third finger inside you and begins to hammer them into your pussy, harsh and unrelenting. He fucks you deep on his fingers, his palm continuing to press into your clit. Your thighs are shaking, hips twitching like you can’t decide if you’re trying to get away or get closer to Carlos’s unrelenting thrusts.

You’re whining needily, and Carlos’s gruff voice fills the car, unable to hold his words back when he’s got you at his mercy like this. 

“You’re so pretty, amor. Can’t wait to get you on my cock when we get home. You’re gonna be all stretched out, bebita, this sweet pussy is just gonna let me sink right in, yeah?”

“I want you to cum all over my fingers. Wanna feel this pretty pussy clench just like you’re going to clench around my cock later.”

Carlos jams his fingers into you again, and it doesn’t take long at all before you’re throwing your head back against the headrest, gasping out a high-pitched moan, nearly inaudible.

“That’s it, princesa. So fucking pretty when you cum,” Carlos murmurs, tearing his eyes from the road to look at you as you writhe in your seat, your pretty tits pushed out as your back arches. He stops thrusting his fingers, waiting for you to finish clenching around them.

As your body finally settles, he slips his hand from between your thighs, bringing his sticky fingers to his face. You watch, mouth agape, as Carlos licks his fingers clean of your slick, his eyes back to being trained on the road.

“You always taste so sweet for me, hermosa. This is better than any race win” he murmurs, and you whine all over again, your shaky thighs snapping shut.

“What?” he asks, chuckling darkly, “too much already? C’mon, mi vida, you know that the night is far from over.” 

Your eyes widen as the car slows to a stop, right outside your apartment building. Fuck.

[blckbrrybasket]

4. “Yer Killin’ Me”

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

꒰Boot Worship꒱ - 1k

• dating, coming on readers face, semi-public sex, masturbation (m), praise

kinktober m.list

Privacy was scarce in the camp, hardly allowing for anyone to sleep with their partner, unless you were Sean and Karen of course. Most people tried to wait until they could rent a hotel room for the night or kept themselves quiet, not wanting the embarrassment of being teased the next morning.

Arthur had been unlucky, stuck with an open tent until you two started courting. With a new streak of luck, or really realisticness, you were able to get a more private tent. It made it easier to find a safe space in camp. Behind the coarse fabric Arthur was able to let his walls down, showing you the love he couldn’t show out in the open.

From kisses to hand holding to sleeping with each other, comfort was sought in your tent. Arthur had always looked forward to coming home to you all day, especially today. When hunting he had hardly responded to Charles when prompted questions, mumbling something that made little sense back. He was obviously preoccupied with something so Charles dropped it. He had no complaints about being silent while hunting.

Charles would have never guessed that what was preoccupying Arthur was how he was going to take you that night. Two hours in, Arthur had settled on what he wanted to do with you. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it only happened on rare occasions. Arthur had to be in a certain mood for it, but after Dutch barking orders at him all week he knew he needed it.

That’s how you ended up naked under your chemise, leaking atop his boot. Your folds were spread over the toe of his boot, clit peeking out as you held the hem of your chemise to your stomach. “Fuck…good girl,” Arthur drawled, pressing his boot up into you.

The mewl you rewarded him with made it harder for him to resist touching himself. “Quiet. Don’t wan’ta be caught now, do you?” Arthur slid his large palm to the swelling bulge in his pants. He curled his hand, grinding it into himself. “Come on, I know y’can do better than that.” At his words you tilted your hips, sliding forward on his boot, carefully staying quiet.

Shaky hands came up to grab onto his muscular calf. “Arthur…” He chuckled and looked down at you, unzipping his pants. “Yeah, darlin’?” Lifting his hips, Arthur shoved them halfway down his thighs, unbuttoning the last three buttons of his union suit. “That feel good?”

You nodded, rubbing your spread lips back and forth. Sliding back, your pussy parted up over the toe of his boot. He once again pressed his boot upwards, the toe of it pinned against your fluttering entrance. “Oh!” Arthur chuckled at your low squeak, opening the fabric of his union suit to pull out his fat cock.

He turned his hand over, tucking it under your chin. “Spit.” Obediently, your lips pursed as you spat into his hand. “Good girl.” Arthur brought it back to his erection, sliding the spit over the heated skin. He wrapped his hand around himself, drawing his foreskin back to tease his thumb under his tip.

You ground down, mouth falling open in a gasp as your hips moved in a circle. When he dropped his boot back down, you jostled forward, whining. “Arthur, please.” He chuckled darkly, “Get to work, honey.” You had no choice but to listen to him, grinding down with purpose to get yourself there.

Arthur pumped his hand over his dick, licking his lips as he closely watched you. Your joint panting mixed in the air, filling the tent, quiet enough that no one else could hear. The small lantern illuminated your morphed shadows onto the walls of it, rippling as a breeze brushed past. His hand sped up, the other hand guiding your head to his knee.

Your cheek squished against him, eyes looking up at him in awe while you humped his boot. Heat seeped through your gut, arousal shining his boots with each movement. “You look so handsome.” You moaned, eyes drifting to where he was fucking his hand. Clenching over his boot, your choked breath fanned over his bunched up jeans.

“Christ, darlin’.” Arthur groaned when you sped up, bouncing on his boot. Working along with you, he took the hint to jerk himself off faster, gut tensing. “There ya go.” He encouraged you, licking his chapped lips when you whimpered. Your thighs burned from having to straddle his boot for so long, but the fizzling in your abdomen kept you going.

You were close, so close. Arthur could tell with how your rhythm was thrown up, hips moving haphazardly. Your wetness was well worked into the leather of his boot, cunt puffy from how worked up you were. Hand slowing, Arthur grunted, “‘M close.”

“Please come, Arthur please.” He bit his lip, brows knitting together. “Where ya want it?” “My face. On my face,” you rushed out, whimpering as your hands fell to the ground beneath you. The extra support gave you enough purchase to get a better angle, leather dragging under you repeatedly. 

With his lips parted, Arthur resumed fucking his fist. No words could describe how he felt when he was able to come on your face. “Close your eyes,” he warned, holding off until your eyelashes met the apples of your cheeks. Full balls tightening, Arthur groaned under his breath as a surge of pleasure crashed over him.

Thick ropes of cum landed across your face, well into your hairline. After the first shot, each spurt weakened until he was panting, free hand gripping his knee, the pain keeping him quiet. Finally, his cum slowed, dripping down onto the grass. You moaned quietly at the sensation, thighs jerking when your cunt spasmed as you came. 

Arthur moved his hand from his knee a second later, petting the back of your head while you rode out your high. “Doin’ so good, sweetheart.” He wished he could see your eyes, thumb swiping any cum away from the area of your eyes. When your eyes finally fluttered open, he smiled.

“Did I do good?” You croaked, Arthur nodding. “Perfect.” He slid his hand around the shape of your face, pressing his thumb between your lips. Your tongue welcomed the cum coating the pad of his finger, swirling around it. “Perfect,” Arthur repeated.

tags: @babybatlover, @starrgurl46, @wowzers-07, @nenukkjhj, @morgan0lw21, @kinokomoonshine, @smileyourdestiny, @skelletonscloset, @slut4ddn, @amyispxnk, @adventures-of-impala

[notyetneedcoffee]

May I?

Kinktober - Consent NSFW - Adults Only

Summary: You are careful to get Bucky's permission.

Bucky Barnes normally did not allow people into his apartment. It’s not like there was anything to see. A chair. A TV. A bed he never slept in. The light above the stove in the little kitchen was the only thing to illuminate the emptiness of his space.

“So, you’re a hoarder.” You said, deadpanned, as you stepped into the living room.

Bucky huffed a laugh as he turned on the small side table lamp. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, ah, I wasn’t really planning on bringing you back here tonight.”

“It’s okay.” You dropped your purse and jacket on the floor by the little counter separating the kitchen and living room. As you toed off your shoes, you made sure to gauge his reaction. Bucky’s shoulders lowered just a little.

“Do you want a drink or something? I think I have a few beers left.”

“Naw. I’m good.” You came closer to him, taking his gloved hand in yours. “I’d really like to kiss you again.”

His eyes brightened as he leaned forward. You rose on your toes to meet him halfway. For such a hard man, his lips were impossibly soft. His tongue touched your lips and you eagerly opened for him, matching his enthusiasm.

Pulling away a bit you tugged at his jacket. “Are you going to get comfortable?” He stilled. You smiled. “Bucky, you can be comfortable with me. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

His eyes closed and he tipped his head forward. “I want to.”

You slowly removed his gloves, tossing them beside your coat. You ran your fingers over his metallic palm, entwined your fingers with his. “I know you have complete control, but can you really feel my touch.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s different, but yeah.”

You brought his hand to your mouth and kissed his palm. Bucky stared, transfixed. You kissed the tip of his fingers. His breath increased. You lightly sucked on his forefinger. Bucky’s eyes closed and nearly imperceptible whine escaped his throat.

Bucky cupped your face with both of his hands and kissed you again. You slid your hands under his jacket, along his t-shirt. He let go of you just long enough to shed his jacket. The gleaming metal of his arm didn’t bother you. Neither did the solid pressure of it as he wrapped his arms around your waist to kiss you more.

“Doll,” He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s been a while.”

“I know.” You toyed with the bottom of his shirt where it was tucked into his jeans. “Bucky. May I take this off?” He nodded. You pulled it up, grazing your fingertips along his flat stomach, over his powerful chest, until he lifted his arms and pulled the shirt off the rest of the way himself. Your fingers lingered on his chest. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”

You reached behind you and unclipped your bra before drawing it along with your shirt over your head. Bucky panted, mouth slightly open. You took a half a step closer. “Will you touch me?”

He nodded. His right hand slid up your side to cup your breast. You drew his left hand to your skin, showing him you wanted him to touch you every way he could. Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you. His kiss became more demanding.  His hands explored your back.

“Doll,” Bucky sighed. “Damn, you feel so good.”

“Can I feel more of you?” You nipped at his jaw. He breathed a quiet ‘yes’ as you unfasted his belt.

He stared as you slipped from your pants, standing before him in just tiny white cotton underwear.

When you lowered yourself to your knees, Bucky face expressed so many emotions at once. Excitement, fear, adoration, nervousness. It went decidedly soft when you took your time unlacing his boots and removing them one at a time.

He went still as you unzip his jeans. His erection twitched as you barely brushed against it as you pushed his jeans over his hips. Jeans tossed aside, looking up at him, your hands ran up his thighs. Bucky’s eyes were wide, he chewed on his lower lip.

“Bucky,” You moved closer, so close you could smell his skin. “May I touch you?”

“Yes.” He breathed.

You lowered his boxer briefs and wrapped your hand around his cock. He let go of a shuttered breath. Thick and long. You stroked the silky skin covering the steel of his cock.

“May I,” You ran your nose along the underside of him. “taste you?”

“Oh god,” He groaned. “Yes.”

As your wet mouth wrapped around him, your felt his body twitch. His fingers stroked through your hair. You could feel his tight control beginning to wane. His hips rocked. His thighs locked.

“Fuck, Doll.” He clutched at you. “Stop. Stop. I can’t. . . Stop or this is over too soon.” You stood. Bucky’s thumb slid along your wet, swollen lower lip. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”

“Can we go to bed?”

He nodded, leading you to the other room. It was as sparse as the living room. You kissed him again before crawling to the middle of the mattress. Bucky leaned over you, looping his fingers in your underwear and pulled them down. Your legs fell open. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Please, Bucky.”

He slid his hands along your thighs, stroking slowly, moving slowly closer to your core. Long fingers stroked through your folds, gathering your wetness, teasing your clit. Bucky leaned forward with his weight on his free hand to kiss your breasts. His mouth sucked on your hard nipples, making your back arch.

Warmth pooled in your core. Still, you wanted this to be about him.

“Bucky.” You pulled him up and kissed him deeply. Giving a light shove, you pushed him over onto his back. Straddling his hips, you kissed his jaw. Nibbled at his neck. You whispered in his ear. “I want to make you feel good.”

Strong emotion swirled in his eyes. You stroked his chest, sitting back more. His hands came up to cup your breasts. You took his right hand in yours and sucked upon his finger, kissed his palm. “May I do that, Bucky?”

He nodded, visibly shaking at your words.

You reached down, stroking him, rubbing him along your wetness. His hands moved up and down your thighs. As you lowered yourself onto him, impaling yourself, Bucky moaned loudly. You rocked, loving his reaction, lost in the intensity.

“Oh god, Bucky.” You panted. “You feel so good.”

His fingers dug into the cheeks of your ass, rocking you as his hip pushed up. You braced your weight on your hands. You kissed his chest, his neck, his full beautiful mouth. Tension grew, swirling in your belly. Your eyes locked.

“Doll, ah, I’m gonna…”

“Yes,” You breathed. “Me too.”

“God, you’re amazing. Make me feel…wanted.” His gaze held you captive. “Feel so good.”

You moved faster. The coil tightened. You wanted to say things, confess things. The emotion nearly bringing tears to your eyes. His breath grew harsher, hips snapped faster. You began to quiver.

“Please, oh, fuck.” Bucky’s clutched at you. “Come for me.”

You came undone. Eyes locking closed and body shaking. Bucky wrapped his arms around you tight, pushing up into you fast and hard until the moan of his release filled your ears.

You lay atop him, limp and sated. His fingers drew lazy circles along your back. “Doll,” He sighed. “You’re too good for me.”

“No,” You kissed his chest.

He smiled. “Then may I call you my girl?”   

Want more? Check out my Master List.

[falafelluva]

Hiya!!! I was wondering if you could write kenan being a girl dad. Like he come back from training with flowers for you and your daughter, and he cuddles both of you on the sofa (like being real cute)

Not sure if that makes sense 😂😂😂

Thank youuuu. x

; 𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req basically

warnings: x

author’s note: it made sense to me dw bae🫡, I hope that this is something close to what u wanted 😔👍😔👍

Kenan’s footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as he entered, balancing two small bouquets behind his back with a grin. It had been a tough day of training, but he knew exactly how to lift everyone’s spirits, especially his girls.

He spotted you on the couch, comfortably tucked under a cozy blanket, while little Leila was sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by crayons and her latest coloring project.

The moment the door clicked shut, Leila’s head popped up. Her eyes sparkled when she saw Kenan standing there with something hidden behind his back.

She pushed herself up, a huge smile already spreading across her face as she ran toward him, her small feet pattering excitedly across the floor.

“Baba! What’s behind your back?” she asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

Kenan crouched down to her level, bringing his hands forward to reveal the bouquet of daisies, her favorite flowers. Her face lit up, and she gasped, holding her hands out as he handed the flowers to her.

“Did you pick these, Baba?” she asked, clutching the daisies as if they were the most beautiful treasure she’d ever seen.

Kenan grinned, ruffling her hair. “Ja, of course. Just for you,” he said with a wink, knowing it would make her day to believe he’d hand-picked each one.

Leila turned, skipping toward the coffee table to place the daisies in a little cup of water she’d set aside. To her, it was the perfect vase, and she arranged the flowers with the utmost care.

As Kenan walked over to you, he brought out the second bouquet, a lovely bunch of your favorite flowers.

leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead as you accepted them, a warm smile spreading across your face.

“They’re beautiful, Kenan. Thank you,” you whispered, inhaling their sweet scent.

After a quick shower and change, Kenan joined you both in the living room. He settled onto the couch beside you, letting out a contented sigh as he stretched his long legs.

Leila soon noticed, bringing over her coloring book to show him the rainbow-colored picture she’d just finished. She held it up proudly, and Kenan took it, examining each detail like it was a masterpiece in an art gallery.

“Look at this, mama!” he said with mock-seriousness. “Did you see how talented our Leila is?”

You smiled, reaching over to hold the drawing. “Wow, Leila, that’s amazing! You’ve got an eye for colors.”

Leila’s grin widened, but her moment of pride was short-lived. Her face shifted as she noticed Kenan’s legs stretched out comfortably in her path.

She furrowed her brow and placed her hands on his knee, trying to push it out of her way.

“Baba, move,” she huffed, growing a little impatient. “You’re in my way!”

Kenan chuckled, feigning a sigh as he adjusted his legs. “Alright, alright. I was just trying to cuddle mama.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer.

Leila’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped between the two of you, folding her arms. “That’s my mama,” she declared, her face set in a look of stubborn resolve.

Kenan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her seriousness. “Oh, really? She’s my wife, you know,” he teased, leaning in as if to prove his point by giving you an exaggerated kiss on the cheek.

Leila, not backing down, placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t care! Mama loves me more.”

Kenan gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Are you serious? Without me, you wouldn’t even be here, Leila. I was here first!”

Leila wasn’t impressed. She tilted her head, giving him a deadpan look. “I don’t care,” she said defiantly. “Mama loves me.”

With an exaggerated pout, Kenan turned away, his back to her, as if deeply heartbroken. “Fine, then. Guess I’ll just sit here… all alone. I’m sad now,” he mumbled, crossing his arms dramatically.

You bit back a laugh, giving Leila a pointed look, trying not to break character.

“Leila, look,” you said, pretending to be concerned. “I think you made Baba sad…”

Leila’s resolve started to waver as she watched her father’s back, his shoulders drooping in mock sadness. Her eyes softened, and she shuffled closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Baba, don’t be sad,” she murmured, wrapping her little arms around him in a tender hug.

Kenan couldn’t keep up the act any longer, and he turned, scooping her up in his arms.

“Ah, that’s better! You know I can’t stay sad when I have meine Prinzessin here to cheer me up.” (My princess)

Leila giggled as Kenan began peppering her face with kisses, each one making her laugh harder, her little arms clutching onto him as he tickled her sides. Her laughter filled the room, a sound so pure and joyful it warmed your heart.

After a while, Leila’s giggles subsided, and she just rests against his chest, catching her breath. Kenan wrapped an arm around you as well, pulling you close until the three of you were cuddled together on the couch, a tangle of arms and legs and love.

Leila rested her head on his chest, one hand still clutching her crayon, her eyelids growing heavy.

Kenan leaned over, brushing a soft kiss to your forehead and then to Leila’s hair. “I love you, both of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

You nestled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “We love you too, Kenan. You’re our everything.”

[poppy-metal]

My sweet baby angel boy mdlb art who calls blowjobs special mommy kisses 🥺 begs for them every night before bed

OH THIS ONE GOT ME.

pulling his jammies down because of course you have to give your babyboy his kisses. sometimes you pretend to forget just so he'll jut his bottom lip out in a pout and look at you like a wounded puppy - "no special kisses?" and you tease him by leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose, which he scrunches.

"like that?" you ask and he shakes his head.

"no." his cheeks start to pinken and he shifts against the bed. wiggling his hips under the blanket you'd tucked him under. "down there." he glances down so you'll understand but because you're feeling mean you just hum and lift up his shirt - kiss his pale tummy which twitches under your lips.

"right here?" you ask.

he huffs - frowning. starts getting fussy because he's hard and he can't sleep when it's hard - reaches down to shove at his blankie until it's puddled around his knees and gently cups his bulge through his pajama bottoms.

"h-here." he says, squeezing himself to try and soothe the throbbing. "want mommies kisses here."

hes so cute. asking like a good boy. you draw his bottoms down until his pink cock bobs free and it's obscene - how large and thick he is, how he's so engorged his cock stands all on its own - making your mouth water.

"ohhhh." you breathe, and wrap one warm hand around his base - loving how he shudders at your touch, hips immediately rocking, like he's seeking more attention from you - like he's already trying to thrust inside something warm and wet. "of course, how could I forget my baby needs my special kisses."

he tastes clean and warm - like the bath he'd taken earlier- and faintly of salt from the pre beading at his tip - his toes curl and his golden head falls back as soon as your warm wet mouth sinks around him - bubblegum pink lips falling open in a moan -

you slurp loudly around him - knowing he loves when you get messy - and pet his hip as you begin to slowly bob your head up and down.

he looks down at you, tears lining his lashes, and you feel one of his hands slide into your hair, playing with the soft strands between his fingers - "mommy." he gasps. and some of his 'little boy' persona slips, you can see it just in the way his pupils are blown wide - hungry as they watch how your lips spread wide around him - can barely take him all the way down without gagging - "you're so warm - ohhh -"

you hum around him and pop off, stroking what you can't take all the way down - "you're such a growing boy," you tell him, gasping. your voice already a little ragged from taking him in - "can't even fit you all the way down my throat, baby. when did you get so big, huh? you like seeing mommy struggle to take your cock?"

you slide back down on it - laving your tongue on the underside of him as he grips your hair tighter and moans high in his throat. "uh -" he twitches in your mouth - "momma - fu - please -" he cuts off before he curses, good little boys don't use bad words - biting his bottom lip as his hips buck helplessly into your mouth, his balls drawing up. "s'good - so good - hh -"

when his cum hits the back of your throat you swallow it all languidly - gently sucking and sucking around him until his soft cock slips from between your lips.

you kiss his wet tip sweetly.

he'll be out like a light in five minutes tops.

and your wet needy pussy can be tended to by daddy when he comes home later.

[mikkomacko]

Thinking about a rare lazy day with mob Nico! I just love him so much and how you right him. It’s perfect!!

A/n: aww thank you so much!! You have no idea how happy it makes to me to share him with y’all 🫶

————————————————————————

The room is still dark and cool when you blink your eyes open, thrown off by how long you’ve felt like you slept. You don’t know if it’s been days or hours, what time it is at all since Nico’s alarm hasn’t gone off yet. But the sun is peeking around the curtains, brights lines of sunshine.

You’re even more confused when Nico groans, shifting closer to you and tucking his nose into your hairline. He slides heavy leg over yours, the skin of his thigh hot against yours.

Focusing your bleary eyes, you realize he’s still peacefully sleeping next to you. You can’t see his face this close, but you can make out the rhythmic rise and fall of his bare chest, the devil horn pendant that hangs off to the side, resting on the inside of his bicep.

“Nico,” you whisper, pulling back from his slightly, just enough to see his face. His eyebrows furrow, nose scrunching and he smacks his lips a couple times before settling back into the pillow.

He looks so cute with his cheek all smooshed like that, pillow lines on his skin and messy, dark hair on his forehead. You gently push his hair back, feeling bad for waking him.

“Nico baby, it’s late.”

He grumbles, rolling further into the pillow and tightening his hold on your hip. “Sleep,” he mumbles, the word barely audible through his raspy voice and the fabric of the pillowcase.

“You don’t-“

One eye flutters open, glossy and hazy as he focuses on you. “Shh, cuddle with me. Staying home today.”

He closes his eyes again, rolling onto his back and opening his shoulders invitingly. Giddy, you snuggle into his warm skin, throwing a leg over his and grinning when he rests his hand in the curve of your knee. Your fingers find his chain, tickling the warm metal and you close your eyes.

Nico sighs contently, the action lifting your head that lay on his chest. You hear his heartbeat even out again, and then you’re dozing off with him.

Hours later you wake up to him still sleeping, light snores coming from his parted lips. He must have gotten hot because he’s shoved the blankets down to his thighs and has a foot hanging over the edge of the mattress.

Laughing to yourself, you slip out from under the covers and head to the bathroom down the hall, not wanting to wake him. After freshening up you step into Nico’s slides and click the collar around the dog, letting him out into the backyard.

You stand at the edge of the patio, squinting into the mid-day sun as the dog prattles around the backyard.

“There you are,” comes from behind you, and you turn to find Nico in the open doorframe. He’s in just his briefs still, hair on the right side of his head sticking up as if he’d stuck his finger in a light socket.

“We messed up his routine,” you explain, having slept in so late you’re surprised the dog didn’t jump onto the bed to wake you both at 8 am.

Rolling his eyes, Nico walks out to the patio. “He’ll live,” he grumbles, voice rough and heavy with sleep. His hand reaches out for you, slips around your waist and pulls you into him. “I however won’t if I don’t get my good morning kiss.”

“You haven’t brushed your teeth.”

He grunts, puffy eyes trained on your lips.

Giggling, you rise onto your toes to kiss him. It’s a short and sweet kiss, but it’s enough for Nico who just smiles when you settle back onto your heels.

“Mmm good morning, baby.” He murmurs.

“More like good afternoon.”

[jiminiecrickets]

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2.3k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, morning sex, consensual somno, oral/handjobs (jk receiving), thighfucking (jk receiving), praise

you wake up in the dark, early-morning chill to jungkook's soft snores beside you. his breaths are soft and even, and in the night he'd shuffled over and buried himself under your arm, using your upper arm as a pillow.

you shift slightly and his fingers bunched in your t-shirt tighten with a sleepy mumble. after a moment of stillness, he quietens, grip loosening.

you exhale slowly, pulling your arm out from under him and laying his head instead on a pillow – his pillow, brought over from his cramped student dorm to live out the rest of its days next to yours. he doesn't move, eyes flickering under his faint-veined lids.

you kiss his collarbone, exposed by the low collar of his large shirt. you trail your lips down his chest, down his stomach, down, down...

when jungkook opens his eyes, he's warm, and it's dark out. a breathy noise escapes his throat involuntarily, and a second passes before he realises and blinks himself awake.

the enveloping heat punches him in the gut. he gasps, spine arching, and meets your eyes, glinting with mischief through the 6 a.m. light. he's not wearing any pants and the blankets are folded neatly on your side of the bed, as usual.

"good morning, beautiful," you hum, licking your lips and lifting your head. "have a nice sleep?"

"g-good morning." he struggles through the words. "mmnh... yeah, but this is so much better... ah!"

you're already dressed for work, crisp white shirt tucked into your black belt. your jacket hangs over the back of the door, ready to go. "mm, that's good to hear. you certainly took your time waking up – it's nearly seven."

 he squeezes his eyes shut to stop himself from looking down at you. he wouldn't last a second longer if he did. "h-how long have you been – fuck—"

your palm glides rough and quick over his hot tip, throbbing and red. "twenty minutes, give or take. why? are you close? you better not get my clothes dirty or i'll be late, and you'll have to pay for our dinner on date night."

you're a fucking bully. he can hear the amusement in your voice as your head lowers out of his vision and the minty heat sinks down easily on his wet, throbbing cock. he shivers. it stings a little, the cold, and he bucks into your mouth, fingers digging into the mattress. you haven't given him permission to touch you.

"y-yeah," he whispers, his voice unsteady as his lashes flutter. the heat coils in his stomach, tighter and tighter with each relentless bob of your head. his whole body feels as if it's about to boil over. the pleasure is so deep, centred hot and pulsing in his belly. "oh, shit! baby, shit – hyung, hyung, 'm gonna come, gonna come – y-you gotta stop, i'll – hmmh—!"

he chokes on his moans, his toes curling as you stay still on his cock, lips wrapped tightly around his base. one hand strokes his hip, and the other squeezes his balls, coaxing his orgasm steadily out of him as he bites back his moans, letting out cute squeaks in their stead.

your slick tongue swirls around his pulsing cock, tracing the vein on the underside and flicking the slit as you gently pull off. you swallow the final spurt of his hot cum, suckling gently on the tip as he shivers and shudders. you drag the flat of your tongue up and down his shaft, even gently taking his tight balls into your mouth teasingly under the guise of cleaning him off. he hasn't looked you in the eye once after waking up, and his blush extends through his whole body, dusted pink.

"your cute little cock is so shy, kookie," you croon, watching him pant and judder as he comes down from his high. he squirms, his thighs trying to press together. "look – it's all red and embarrassed. it's okay, sweet thing – i want you to feel good."

"why are you say-saying it like that?" he whimpers, reaching down in a feeble attempt to hide himself. "i – mh – i hate you..."

"love you, too, baby." you brush off your black slacks and grin down at him, throwing him a wink as you hook a finger under the collar of your waterproof jacket, pulling open the bedroom door. light floods the cosy room. "i'll be back at six, okay? i love you," you repeat, just in case he didn't hear it the first time. he did.

"w-wait!" he struggles to his feet, his too-big shirt falling over his lap and giving him at least some form of decency. "what about you? you didn't..."

your smile turns sweeter, gentler. he can't believe he's calling you gentle – his thighs are still shaky and it feels as if his head isn't quite screwed on right. he can't say that you don't know what you're doing with that mouth of yours. "it's alright, kookie. this week, it's all about you."

"then you'd take into account what i want, right?" he pants, tottering over. he slips his hands over yours and tugs you insistently back into the room, pushing you down onto the edge of the bed. before you can object, he drops to his knees, lifting those dark-universe eyes to yours as he undoes your belt with too much ease.

you let out a sharp breath.

"what?" he blinks innocently up at you. he grins cheekily. "oh, do you think i'm gonna suck you off, too? you're too cute! no, hyung, i want you to fuck something else. something that'll get you off even faster than my mouth can."

very few things can beat his enthusiasm. he nearly tears your pants in his eagerness. he stands, swaying his hips, and smiles as he brings you down on top of him, bouncing gently on the mattress with a titter.

he links his fingers with yours and gently guides your hand down his body, over soft cotton and warm bare skin. he glides your palm over the high curve of his ass, just begging for a feel, and he gasps and giggles as you do. your hand comes to a stop over his thighs, the edge of your index finger just shy of touching his sex. he slides your hand between his legs, skin velvety soft. your breath hitches.

"mhm," he says in agreement, gaze soft with love. "want you to fuck my thighs."

"baby," you breathe.

"i like it," he whispers, dancing his fingertips over your arm. "it doesn't just make me feel good to make you feel good. i like doing this with you."

it's such a dirty thing said in such a sweet voice. your heart races.

"kook, there – there's not enough time," you whisper hoarsely, mentally cursing yourself for stuttering. "i'll have to shower after this..."

"oh, really?" he says through a pout, staring up at you with huge apologetic eyes. he pushes your hand away and turns onto his side. "oh... i guess we can't, then. well. enjoy your day at work, i suppose. your boyfriend will be here, by himself like he always is, waiting for you to come home..."

this goddamn tease.

he gasps and laughs as you grab the softness of his thighs and yank him down towards you – he drags a pillow down with him in one fist. he hugs it to his chest, squishing it against his cheek, and cants his hips higher with an excited bitten grin.

his thighs are thick, muscular, gapless when he presses them together. he moans softly when you stroke them, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath. you release a breath, cock stirring as the flesh spills out of your hands.

"is this what you want?" you ask softly, squeezing the plumpness of his ass. "been treating you like a princess, treating you like diamonds and gold – but what you really want is to be at my beck and call, is that right? to be under me, taking whatever i throw at you in full stride?"

"s-stop teasing," he whines, wiggling his ass against your cock. he nibbles on his pink lower lip. "i always tell you this is embarrassing a-and you're not making it any better... i might change my mind if you don't touch me s—!"

he yelps as you press your cock between his thighs. your cock nudges his with each thrust and he buries his moans in his pillow, cheeks growing flush and hot as you drag his hips back against yours, quick and rough.

"nngh – wait, slow down, th-they're sensitive...!"

 his thighs are slick with saliva and his own release. the higher you get to the join between his legs, the more he whines and whimpers.

this is the embarrassing part. he's already achingly hard.

the idea of you using his body like this, a simple aid to get yourself off, makes a coiling heat blaze in his lower belly, zinging up his spine. he crosses his ankles, creamy thighs clamping down around your cock. paradise.

the spongy tip of your cock nudges his balls and he mewls, hands flailing and scratching at your body in some effort for more or less. he can't tell what he wants – your balls smack his slick, shining thighs so obscenely, and the ripple bounces his whole body, and you make him feel so good.

it's almost humiliating. you're not even trying to make him feel good.

"what, my baby can't take it?" you coo, halfway between sweet and mocking. you stroke his hip, dragging his hips down to meet your thrusts. your cock, heavy and hot, slides wetly between his inner thighs. "i think you can. don't cover your mouth, love; i want to hear how good this makes you feel."

he shakes his head. he mews, muffled, into the pillow as your cock throbs between his thighs, and his body trembles as you grab his knees and press them harder together. he can't move, can't shy away. you've made sure of it.

"f-fuh – fuck, fuck," he moans, dizzy with white-out pleasure. "can't – b-baby..."

the wet rapid smack of your hips against his thighs makes him croon, hugging his pillow tighter as the mattress squeaks and the bedframe rocks. his cock twitches, precome bubbling from his slit, and he blushes dark, more than a little shy about how deeply the pleasure builds and builds.

"mmhm, pretty thing... it's alright. come for me. come with me, okay? can you do that for me?" your breath grows heavier, quicker, and he nods fervently, clawing for your hand. you offer it and he grips it tight, his breath hot against it, and moans.

the pressure is immense. he clamps his soft warm thighs around you. he cries out, a little whorishly, when you come, every pulse of your heavy cock painting his thighs and stomach white.

you groan softly, throwing your head back, and he babbles quietly, trembling with the weight of carrying that almost-high for so long. he follows you over the edge, untouched and needy, and you can't help but smile at the sound of his shaky, airy moans.

you soothe him, hushing him softly. he melts into your touch. but, because you're a bastard, you pull away, leaving him empty and hollow in the distant heat of not-quite-anywhere. you tuck yourself away, looking more dishevelled than you did when the idea popped up in your head.

"that was cute, love," you chuckle breathlessly, tucking his messy locks behind his ear. "you came without me touching you at all. your thighs are really that sensitive, hm?"

his face glows crimson, his eyes dazed and clouded with satisfaction. "shut up...! i tell you all the time they are. you don't have to keep bullying me about it." he huffs, still panting softly. the bedroom air is warmer now. thicker. "get that stupid smile off your face. 'm not letting you do that again."

"why not?" you trail your warm hands down his sides, turning him onto his back, and cradle his thighs, trembling and tensing with the buzzing aftershocks. he grumbles. "it makes you feel good, doesn't it?"

"yeah... but i don't want it to be at the expense of my dignity."

"dignity?" you laugh. "baby, i've seen you like this more times than i can count."

"well, exposure therapy's not working this time," he mumbles, pressing his flushed face into the pillow. "now go away. didn't you have work to get to?"

"fine, be like that," you tease, moving towards the closet for a new change of clothes. you don't forget to smack his ass and toss your tie at him, which he'll keep safe for you until you return from the shower. he bats it off his face with a pout. "that attitude won't get you where you want to go. after all, i've got you all to myself for a whole week – lotta things can happen in that time."

he chucks a pillow behind him in the general direction of your voice. judging by your noise of pain, he's pretty accurate. "you always have me to yourself, dumbass. now shoo – before i regain feeling in my legs."

your laughter fades as you move away and out of the bedroom. the door shuts softly and he sighs to himself in the darkness, falling backwards onto the bed. he shuts his eyes and holds in a breath in an attempt to steady his racing heart.

if that was how you chose to start off the week – something so simple, and yet you somehow managed to completely fry his brain – he was really looking forward to what else you would do to him. he would never admit it aloud, but his beating heart could never lie.