#weak stomach is called like... hot sauce or something

[bugs-in-situations]

we are now realizing that since we've switched fire & poison magic around, that means anti-bugaria probably has fire medals instead of poison stuff. lighting jay on fire is a strategy now

[jeon-ify]

- 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 - 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ! ⋆·˚ ༘ *

synopsis: in which the way you look after showering gets your husband worked up.

genre: romance, smut, 18+. mdni.

warnings: dilf yunho!!!!!! yunho is in his late 30s-early 40s here, nudity implied, kitchen sex, swearing, breast play, making out, female reader, big!dick yunho, hand kink, finger sucking (yunho AND reader!!) tit sucking, cervix fucking, choking kink, breeding kink, if i missed anything let me know ! :3

song for the chapter : into it - chase atlantic

happy reading !

the coconut and lime scent of your conditioner floods the first floor of your home, sending your husband into a faint distraction. the scent runs up his nostrils, up to his brain, and straight down his cock. the music you’re playing blares through your phone in the shower, your husband hearing it through to the second floor.

“I BEEN CATCHIN’ PLANES FOR THE FUN OF IT,”

you sing out extra loud, your husband pausing his speech to apologize for the background noise.

you took an everything shower today, so you already made dinner before showering— considering you’d be exhausted.

somehow, yunho put the pieces together, finishing dinner and making it the right way. you didn’t expect yunho to be so generous tonight— but here you are, standing over the stove and nibbling little pieces of the food while you waited for yunho to finish from a call he was wrapped up in.

you looked around the kitchen out of boredom, looking for things to do before you dived into the food. the way yunho’s shirt sat so pretty onto your body, riding up your thighs as your pink panties peak through the ends of the tee made your man so painfully distracted— holding himself back from fucking you over the piping hot stove.

yunho watched how the ends of your hair weren’t fully dried and how it dripped onto the back of your calves, dripping down your shiny legs. he also watched how your— his— tshirt rode up your legs anytime you reached up somewhere or bent to get something. his eyes did not leave your body.

you were still stood over the stovetop, taking little bites of the greens. you moan in how good the food is, a blend of paprika and garlic seasoning, along with the sweetness of the teriyaki sauce that yunho drizzled everywhere.

but even through the layers of seasonings he put into the food, your scent still broke through it all.

“yeah, sounds good. i’ll put in the CRA request like we mentioned previously, and i’ll email you the forums. just let me know when you need it. was there anything else i could assist you with today, mr. song?” the man on the computer responds and the call comes to an end.

you stare at how attractive he is when he’s working— all the business talk that made no fucking sense to you, but he understands it like his own language, and that in itself makes you weak.

“doll, what do you have on? it smells good.” he finally decides to speak after what felt like hours of him admiring from behind his computer screen.

a much older man admiring your hygiene is something you never thought you’d see, but yunho was drooling on the laptop beneath his fingertips.

“it’s your favorite lotion,” you look up at him through damp eyelashes and flushed cheeks, watching how his nostrils flare with every breath he takes.

it takes yunho everything in his body to not pick you up and throw you over the counter and pound a baby into your small belly. he’s much older than you are, but when he met you, he knew you’d be his companion.

“yu, this smells really yummy. you did a great job, baby.” you walk over to yunho on the other end of the table, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind him. he holds onto your hands and throws his head back onto your stomach, looking up at you.

“sweets, the last thing on my mind is dinner. let me taste you, little girl,” his soft and mature voice makes your legs quiver with excitement as yunho takes your hands in his, bringing your middle and ring finger to his mouth, sucking on the digits. you gasp in response, watching how desperate the middle aged man underneath your touch grows weak at your feet.

“i can never get enough of you. wanna fuck you all day.” he stands up to face you, bringing his lips to yours. he sucks and nibs at your bottom lip to gain quicker access to explore the rest of your mouth. you deepen the kiss, the faint taste of cigarettes cloud your small mouth, making you whimper in desperation. he slides a hand between your thighs, thumb rubbing against your clit. you’re not sure if your juices make a patch on your panties or if its from your shower. nonetheless, you are so fucking turned on right now that the last thing on your mind is dinner.

“what have you done to me, pretty girl?” he feels as though you’ve casted a spell on him. everything you do makes him feral; weak in the knees. but somehow, you make him a man.

“i’m just here, yunho. don’t give me all the credit,” you gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pushing into your tight wet cunt. he gasps in sarcasm, exploring your face as he uses your cunt to soak his fingers— bringing them up to your mouth.

you feel his fingers curl into a ‘come here’ motion, your breath hitching as he pushes against your walls. your eyes roll, grasping his forearm as he speeds up his motions. you cry out and beg for him to slow down, but he doesn’t listen.

“so pretty. look at these lips, let me kiss them.” he brings his lips to yours in an open mouthed makeout, gasping for air as he pulls away with a deep-dimpled smirk. your pussy convulses around his long fingers, as your husband groans in response.

your thighs clamp shut in an attempt to calm yourself down from how aggressively his fingers ruthlessly ravish your cunt. yunho, reaching your cervix from how long his fingers are, takes in a deep breath at how fast he’s been moving. “yu- ohh— fuck! please— i’m cumming, please i’m gonna cum!” you chant begs along with his name as if it were a mantra, feeling the way his hard cock presses into your backside.

“yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? now let me feel you cum on my cock.” he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking himself dry of your juices. you whimper in need of him inside of you. he lines himself up with your entrance as you’re bent over the counter across from the stove.

he pushes into your soaked pussy deeper, feeling his dick throb ruthlessly inside of you already. lucky for him, he was able to hold himself for almost half an hour on end while he fucks you.

“s-sir, it’s so big! i don’t think i can take y-“ you pull away from his length, feeling like you’re being ripped in half by what feels like 12 inches. he runs his hand along your back from underneath the t-shirt, in an attempt to calm you down and keep you around him.

“tiny girl, you can take me. you’ve let me fuck my cum into you hundreds of times. what’s changed, dollface?” he almost makes you cum from his voice in itself, but you decide to push back while he stays still, waiting for you to adjust to his size for what feels like the millionth time throughout your relationship.

he begins pounding into you at a quicker pace, pulling and tugging at your bare nipples from underneath you. your mouth hangs open as yunho brings his large hand to your throat to wrap itself around it. you grit through your teeth, wishing you could just cum.

you don’t feel like you want to cum, you feel like you’re going to squirt all over his body. “talk to me, baby. what’s it feel like?”

he’s being so fucking annoying and making you focus on anything else other than your orgasm, but you only moan and cry in response.

“i— ‘s too much.” whimpering and shaking in a headlock, you grasp onto yunho’s arm to get a breath of air. from the way his muscular arm wraps itself around your throat makes you cum over, and over already.

yunho gets another quick scent of your lotion and conditioner, making his cock twitch in your cervix.

“i’m almost done baby, give me another one— fuck, you smell so good. the fuck are you doing to me, baby?”

he pounds into you again, harder this time— tugging at your panties to pull you back onto his hips, planting himself deeper in you.

“nngh, oh my god!”

“oh, but i’m the one making you cry like this. give it to me, fucking milk me dry. gonna spill all my cum into your tiny stomach. let me give you my babies, hm? how’s that sound?”

he bends over so his chest is against your back as he nips at your ear. his tongue licks up your tears, planting a kiss on the end of your right eyebrow. his thrusts slow down as he holds you in place to shoot his load right into your baby maker.

“oh my— fuck! yes, so good!”

you cry out in relief that you finally got to spill out your cum onto yunho’s still cock. he lands a sharp slap on your ass before pulling you back up and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“so pretty when you cry for me. should keep a picture in my wallet.”

yunho gets down on his knees before you, licking up your thighs where your juices dried. your fingers run through his pretty softly gelled black hair.

he licks up all of your juices near your heat, using his fingers to push back the cum that threatens to drip from your pussy. your eyes roll to the back of your head as yunho places a kiss on your lower stomach, traveling up beneath your shirt to suck a generous amount of skin on your tit.

“yun— you’re sucking too hard, fuck!” he sucks and bites your nipples as if you were his lifeline,

he slaps the area he sucked on, making you gasp out in surprise. “keep my cum in you until after dinner, i’ll fuck more into you.”

so you sat at the other end of the table with your thighs clenching and unable to think about anything other than your husband pounding a shit ton of babies into you.

————————

🌷🤍🎀

well? dilfyunho anyone?????

[thedilfdiaries]

Watermelon Sugar

Dbf/neighbor/daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,522

Summary: At the annual neighborhood barbecue, you can't ignore the sparks flying between you and Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. What starts as playful flirting leads to a secret, steamy encounter that leaves you both wanting more.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, unprotected p in v, m! oral recieving, soft but dom daddy!Joel, Joel calls reader baby and sunflower, use of daddy, light choking, hair pulling, and spanking. And a lil aftercare. Reader has hair and wears a bikini.

Notes: I've been slow over here and a little inactive due to adulting ughhh, but thank you all for your love and support 🥰 I truly appreciate all of you! tysm @joelslegalwhre & @evolnoomym beta reading for me. Smooching you both forever. Divider by @saradika-graphics

You stand in front of your mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The annual neighborhood barbecue is a tradition you've always looked forward to, but this year, it feels different. Ever since you can remember, Joel Miller has been a fixture in your life—a man who could make you laugh with a single look and who always seemed to know when you needed a friend. But lately, the glances you exchange feel charged with something new, something you're not quite ready to name.

As you dab on a bit of perfume, you catch your dad's voice in the hallway, calling out that he's heading over to Joel's early to help set up.

“Be there soon!” You yell back.

—

As you step out of your front door, the warm summer breeze brushes against your skin, carrying with it the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meat and freshly cooked burgers from the neighborhood barbecue, hosted by none other than Joel Miller - your dad's best friend and neighbor, the one youve had a crush on forever. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as you walk towards his house, knowing that he will be there waiting for you.

Your heart races as you approach the familiar scene; tables filled with food and drinks, kids running around playing games, and adults chatting animatedly under the shade of trees. You spot Joel standing near the grill, his broad shoulders moving up and down as he expertly flips burgers on the sizzling hot coals. His tanned skin glistens with sweat from all his hard work preparing for today's event.

"Hey there!" Your dad calls out when he sees you approaching. "Just in time! We were just about to start eating."

You take a moment to admire Joel's form; how strong yet gentle he looks handling those flaming hot coals like they were nothing more than pebbles in a stream; how those little black shorts sit on his body just right, how that white baggy shirt hangs over his big broad shoulders hugging his thick neck just right. Damn it. Why does he have to look so good?

As you draw closer, the heat from the grill is almost as intense as the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of Joel. His head looks up for a moment as he sees you approach, a wide grin spreading across his face.

You take a plate from the stack and start to serve yourself, trying to keep your hands from shaking. The array of food is impressive: potato salad, corn on the cob, fresh fruit, and an assortment of desserts that would make any food lover weak in the knees. But your focus is on the grill, where Joel is now plating a burger that looks like a work of art.

"Here ya go, sunflower," he says. The nickname, worn in like a favorite pair of jeans from years of use, still makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. "I added a secret sauce.” He whispers, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Tell me if it's as good as I think it is.” He winks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.

As you take the burger from Joel, your fingers touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You try to brush it off as static, but deep down, you know it's more than that. You take a bite of the burger, and the flavors explode on your tongue. The sauce is tangy and sweet, perfectly complementing the grilled meat's smoky flavor.

"Mmm," you moan, closing your eyes in appreciation. "This is incredible."

Joel's eyes light up with pride. "M’glad you like it." His eyes follow every movement of your lips, every chew, every swallow. It's as if he's savoring every moment of this interaction.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest, telling yourself it's just appreciation for a good meal. But deep down, you know it's more than that. Joel has always been kind to you, always looked out for you, but now, as your eyes lock in a silent understanding, you sense something different. Something forbidden.

"So, you really like the sauce?" he inquires, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite the summer heat.

You nod eagerly, your taste buds still dancing from the burst of flavors. "Mhmmm! What’s in it?”

Joel chuckles. "That's top-secret information, darlin', Ain't gettin’ it outta me that easy."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you walk behind the grill and up to Joel. “How about we make a deal? You give me the secret sauce recipe, and I'll show you something I know you wanna see.”

"Alright, you've got my attention."

Slowly, with deliberate grace, you begin to lift your shirt just enough for him to catch sight of the vibrant pattern of your bikini top beneath—your fingers deftly move towards one side strap of this bikini top; teasingly pulling at it as if contemplating revealing even more than intended

"Fuck - " he breathes out, quickly shaking his head to compose himself before grabbing your arm to stop you. "Your dad's right there, the hell you doin'?”

With a mischievous wink, you let the strap snap back into place, leaving just enough to his imagination. "Maybe later then," you tease “If you wanna see the rest come find me Mr. Miller.”

Joel watches you step back and saunter away towards the pool, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. The playful sway of your hips is hypnotic, and he can't help but stare as you make your way over to the pool. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of desire that's clouding his judgment. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, turning his attention back to the grill, but the sizzle of the meat does little to drown out the sound of your laughter carried in the breeze.

He glances over at you, watching as you settle by the pool, your legs dangling in the water. You're a vision, your hair catching the sunlight, your smile bright and inviting. He tries to focus on the task at hand, serving people, and making small talk, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. He can't help it; you're like a magnet, drawing him in against his better judgment.

He watches as you reach for a slice of watermelon on your plate, its vibrant red color promising a burst of sweetness. The juicy fruit is cool and refreshing in the summer heat. As you take a bite, the watermelon's juice is so abundant that it escapes your lips, trickling down your chin.

In an attempt to catch the runaway droplets, you quickly bring your hand up to your face. But in your haste, another stream of juice breaks free, trailing a path down your neck and disappearing into the valley between your breasts. The sensation of the cool liquid against your heated skin makes you gasp softly, making Joel groan under his breath. He watches you with an intensity that borders on feral. His grip tightens around the spatula he's holding as he takes in the sight of you, flustered and trying to contain the watermelon's sweet rebellion. His mind races with images he knows he shouldn't entertain—images of him licking away those sticky trails left by nature's candy on your skin; his hands following suit to ensure not a single drop is wasted; his lips tasting every inch they cover until there's no trace of watermelon left.

His body reacts before he can stop it—a sudden twitch in his pants that thankfully goes unnoticed by everyone else due to his strategically placed apron tied securely around his waist. He takes a deep breath to regain control over his runaway thoughts while simultaneously adjusting himself discreetly under the cover of fabric.

Taking the opportunity to step away from the grill, Joel grabs a cold Corona from the cooler, the bottle sweating as much as he is. He approaches you but stops for a split second to watch you. The sight of you lying there, your body still glistening with juices, makes his heart race.

"Thought ya might be thirsty," he says, handing you the beer, his voice deeper than usual.

You look up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Took you long enough," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice as you take the beer and sip it.

He sits down beside you, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're playin’ with fire, y’know that sweetheart?" he warns.

You just smirk, leaning back in your chair, your gaze locked onto his like a little puppy.

"You keep lookin' at me like that, and we're gonna have a problem," Joel says, his voice a low rumble.

"What if I want a problem?"

His intake of breath is sharp, and you can see the effect your words have on him. His jaw clenches, and there's a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—something that tells you he's teetering on the edge of control. You watch as Joel quickly gets up from his chair and walks away. He rounds the corner of the house before disappearing.

You wait for a moment before you put your beer down beside the one he left and casually stand up to follow him.

Around the side of the house, away from prying eyes, Joel is leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The moment he sees you, his eyes darken.

"What are we doin' here?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close the distance between you, your body brushing against his. "Something we both want," you reply confidently, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

He captures your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "This is wrong," he murmurs, though the conviction in his voice is wavering.

"Does it feel wrong?" You challenge, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through his shirt.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, his gaze dropping to your lips. Then, with a groan of surrender, he closes the gap between you, his mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve as if he's memorizing you by touch. You respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. The taste of him, a mix of beer and the sweet tang of barbeque sauce, drives you wild.

Suddenly, Joel breaks the kiss, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "We can't do this here," he says, glancing around to make sure no one has followed you.

You nod, your breath hitching as you realize the gravity of what you're about to do. "Then take me somewhere we can," you whisper back, your hand slipping into his.

With a groan that sounds almost pained, Joel takes a step back, pulling you with him as he leads you away from the party and towards the detached garage at the end of the driveway. His grip on your hand is firm, almost possessive, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

The inside of the garage is cool and dimly lit compared to the bright sunlight outside. It's filled with tools and gardening equipment—a testimony to Joel's many hobbies. The door lightly closes shut behind you, sealing out the world and the sounds of the party. The air is thick with the scent of oil and wood, a heady mixture that only adds to the intoxicating atmosphere. Joel wastes no time, pressing you against the cool metal of a parked truck, his body a solid wall of heat against yours.

"You've been drivin’ me crazy all day," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Teasin’ me like that in front of everyone."

You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, and it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

His lips crash onto yours once again, demanding and dominant. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. You can feel his stubble rough against your skin.

"You're playin’ a dangerous game, baby," he murmurs against your mouth.

He spins you around roughly, pressing your chest against the truck's hood. You can feel the cool metal against your overheated skin. His hands tangle in your hair, giving it a gentle tug that sends a jolt of pleasure and pain straight to your core.

"Tell me whatcha want," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"You," you gasp, arching your back to press closer to him. "I want you, Joel."

He rewards you with a slow grind of his hips against yours, the friction making you moan. "You want me to fuck ya, sunflower?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes," you whimper, your hands gripping the edge of the hood for support. "Please, Joel."

He chuckles darkly, his lips tracing a path down the side of your neck. "Beggin’ already? I thought you liked playin’ hard to get." You feel his teeth nip at your skin as he speaks. Your body trembles with need, your breathing coming out in short bursts. You don't understand why this feels so right, but you don't question it anymore. "Stay still," he orders, his voice firm.

You force yourself to comply, your body trembling with anticipation. He takes his time, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow patterns on your skin. When he finally reaches beneath the fabric of your bikini top to palm your breast, you can't help but let out a moan of relief.

"That's it," he encourages, his thumb circling your nipple. "Let me hear how much you want this."

His other hand slides down your body, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. You're already so wet for him, and when his fingers brush against your clit, you can't help but buck your hips.

"Fuck, you're so responsive," he groans, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You're panting now, desperate for release. But he denies you, pulling his hand away just as you're about to tip over the edge. "Not yet," he says, his voice stern. "You don't come till I tell ya to."

He spins you around once again, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you. "I wanna see you baby," he says, his hands tugging at your shorts. "All of you."

You help him undress you, your hands shaking with need. Once you're standing before him in nothing but your bikini, he takes a step back to admire his handiwork.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Now, get on your knees."

You do as he says, the concrete floor cool against your skin. You hear the zip of his pants and then them falling to the ground along with his boxers as he steps forward, his hands fisting in your hair guiding you to his cock. "Open up," he commands, his voice gruff. "Show me how much you want this."

You part your lips obediently, taking him into your mouth. He's big and hard, and the taste of him is intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, eliciting a groan from above and then take him entirely until he's hitting the back of your throat.

"That's it, sunflower," he praises, his hips thrusting gently. "Just like that."

You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you take him deeper. His grip on your hair tightens, and you can tell he's struggling to last. "Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says, his voice strained.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under your touch as you bob your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The salty taste of his arousal mixes with the lingering sweetness of the watermelon, creating a heady combination that has you moaning around his length.

"Feels so damn good baby," Joel groans, his voice echoing in the quiet garage. His eyes are locked on yours, filled with a raw, unfiltered desire that sends a thrill through you. You feel his thighs quiver under your hands, and you know he's close. But before he can reach his peak, he gently pulls you away, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop.

"Up," he commands as he pulls you to your feet, his hands roaming your body once again. He unties your bikini top, letting it fall to the ground, and then he's cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. "Tell me you want this," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me you want me to fuck you baby."

"I want it," you assure him, your voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

With a growl, he lifts you onto the hood of the truck and with a hunger in his eyes that matches your own, Joel hooks his fingers into the sides of your bikini bottoms, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly begins to peel them away. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. He tosses the bikini bottoms aside, his hands returning to grip your thighs, spreading them apart as he steps closer.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he murmurs approvingly, his fingers tracing the seam of your cunt. You can feel yourself growing warm at his words, but you don't have time to feel self-conscious because he's leaning in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as his fingers continue their exploration.

One finger circles your entrance before pushing inside, making you gasp into the kiss. He adds another finger, stretching you deliciously as he establishes a rhythm that has you writhing on the hood of the truck. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusting fingers.

"Joel," you moan, your hands fisting in his shirt as pleasure builds within you. "Please..."

He chuckles against your mouth, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. "Please, what?" he teases, even as he adds another finger, filling you even more. "Tell me what you need."

"I need... I need you inside me," you pant out, barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he's playing your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Joel's eyes darken at your words, and he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and needy.

You ready for me, sunflower?" he asks, positioning himself at your entrance.

You nod eagerly, your body aching for him. "Yes, please."

With a groan, he pushes forward, filling you in one slow, deliberate thrust. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out at the intensity of it. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groans. "You feel even better than I imagined."

As the initial shock of your union subsides, Joel begins to move, his hips setting a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust is a sweet invasion, a claim that leaves you breathless and begging for more.

"Look at me," Joel commands, his voice gruff with need. You lock eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze searing into your soul. "Who do you belong to?" he asks, his pace increasing with each word.

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with implication. You know the answer he wants, the answer that feels right in this moment. "You," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I belong to you, Daddy."

A shudder runs through Joel at the sound of the word Daddy falling from your lips. "That's right," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed vigor. "You're mine, sunflower. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Daddy," you moan louder this time, surrendering yourself to him completely.

The words, once taboo, now feel like a secret language between the two of you. With each thrust, Joel reaffirms his claim on you, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases his release.

"Harder," you beg, your nails digging into the flesh of his back. "I need more."

He responds with a growl, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the garage, mingling with your cries of pleasure and his grunts of exertion. "Is this what ya need?" he pants, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Yes," you cry out, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. "More... I need all of you."

In response to your plea, Joel reaches up and wraps his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your heart race and your head spin. The sensation of being restrained by him sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It's a thrilling mix of fear and excitement that heightens the pleasure coursing through your body.

"You like that baby?" he rasps out, his eyes searching yours for confirmation even as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You like it when Daddy chokes you while he fucks your pretty little cunt?"

You nod as much as his grip will allow, your breath coming in short gasps as stars dance behind your closed eyelids. "Yes," you manage to choke out.

The world around you seems to blur into a haze of pleasure and desire as Joel continues to claim your body with an almost feral intensity. His grip on your throat remains firm, yet gentle enough not to cause harm, serving as a potent reminder of his control over you. The sensation of his fingers wrapped around your neck only adds to the overwhelming tide of ecstasy that's building within you.

"Come on, sunflower, come for me." Joel grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Wanna feel this pretty little pussy squeezin’ Daddy's cock.”

His words are the final push you need. With a cry that echoes off the walls of the garage, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, causing your entire body to convulse with the force of it. Your inner muscles clamp down around Joel's shaft, milking him as he continues to drive into you with powerful thrusts.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Joel isn't done with you yet. He pulls out, leaving you feeling momentarily empty, but before you can protest, he's flipping you over onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax as he roughly pulls you up, positioning himself behind you.

"You think we're done?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I ain't even close to being finished with this sexy body of yours."

His hands grip your hips tightly as he lines himself up with your entrance once again. With one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely and causing you to cry out in a mix of pleasure and surprise. The new angle allows him to go even deeper than before, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat.

"Fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he sets a brutal pace that has the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the garage. "You feel so fuckin' good like this."

One hand releases its grip on your hip and tangles in your hair instead, pulling it just hard enough to tilt your head back and expose the long line of your neck. His lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and nipping at it as he continues to pound into you from behind.

"Such a good girl," he praises between thrusts, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Takin’ Daddy's cock so well.”

His other hand comes down on the curve of your ass with a sharp smack that makes you gasp and push back against him for more. The sting of the slap only adds to the overwhelming sensation of fullness as he drives into you again and again. Each smack is followed by a soothing caress that sends shivers down your spine and makes a heat pool low in your belly once more.

"You like it when I spank this naughty little ass?" Joel asks wickedly as his hand comes down on the other cheek, this time eliciting another moan from deep within you. "Answer me, baby girl."

"Yes," you manage to gasp out between thrusts, your body shaking under his relentless assault . "I love it when you spank me, Daddy.”

The sound of your admission seems to spur Joel on even more. His thrusts become wilder, more uncontrolled, as he chases his own release. The hand in your hair tightens, pulling your head back further, forcing you to arch your back and take him even deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

"That's it, baby girl," Joel growls, his voice ragged with desire. "Come for me one more time."

His words are all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge once more. Your body convulses beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around his shaft as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

Joel lets out a guttural groan as he feels your orgasm milk his own from him. His hips stutter against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his release. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, marking you his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, the only sounds in the garage are the ragged gasps of your breathing and the pounding of your hearts. Slowly, Joel releases his grip on your hair and hip, his hands gently caressing the skin he'd so roughly manhandled just moments before.

"You okay, sunflower?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with concern as he carefully withdraws from your body.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you manage to say, your voice shaky but filled with a satisfaction that you've never felt before. "I'm good. More than good."

Joel chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck. "You're more than good, baby girl. You're incredible."

He helps you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you to steady you when your legs threaten to give out beneath you. His eyes scan your body, taking in the marks he's left on your skin—the redness where his fingers had gripped you, the faint handprint on your ass, the love bites that dot your neck and shoulders.

"Let's get ya cleaned up," he says, his tone gentle as he leads you over to an old sink in the corner of the garage. He turns on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before wetting a clean rag and using it to gently wipe away the evidence of what just happend.

You watch him, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the tenderness of his actions. This is a side of Joel you've never seen before—a side that's caring and attentive, a side that makes you feel cherished and loved.

Once he's satisfied that you're clean, he helps you dress, his hands lingering on your skin with each article of clothing he helps you into. When you're fully clothed again, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"You're so beautiful, sunflower," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Inside and out."

The warmth of Joel's embrace and the tenderness in his voice make your heart flutter with a mixture of joy and trepidation. You're standing in a moment that feels both surreal and more real than anything you've ever experienced.

"Joel," you say, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your encounter, "what does this mean for us now?"

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that takes your breath away. "It means," he begins, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently, "that I can't ignore these feelings any longer. It means that I want to be with you, truly be with you, in every sense of the word."

Your heart leaps at his words, but reality quickly sets in. "But what about my dad? What about everything else?"

Joel nods, understanding the weight of your concerns. "I know it's complicated," he admits. "And I don't have all the answers right now. But I do know that I can't go back to pretending there's nothing between us, that you're just my best friend's daughter.”

You smile at that, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "So... where do we go from here?"

"First," he says with a grin, "we get back to that barbecue before your dad sends out a search party." He gives you one last lingering kiss before stepping back to survey the scene. "Then we figure this out together—away from pryin’ eyes and family gatherings."

With a nod of agreement, you follow Joel out of the garage, your hand securely tucked in his. The world outside seems different now—brighter, more vibrant, as if your encounter has somehow altered your perception of reality. The sounds of laughter and music from the barbecue drift towards you, a stark contrast to the intimate silence you've just left behind.

As you approach the party, Joel gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll take this one step at a time," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the noise of the gathering. "Okay?"

You nod, grateful for his presence and his promise. Together, you reenter the party, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the secret you now share with Joel.

Throughout the afternoon, you catch each other's eyes from across the yard, exchanging knowing smiles, and subtle touches whenever possible. Your dad, none the wiser, chats happily with neighbors and friends, his laughter mingling with the sounds of summer.

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden glow over the neighborhood, you find yourself standing next to Joel by the grill once more. He hands you another beer, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent gesture of affection.

"So," he says, nudging you gently with his elbow, "how's that secret sauce treatin ya?"

You can't help but chuckle, the memory of your earlier exchange bringing a flush to your cheeks. "I think it's safe to say it's the best sauce I've ever had," you reply with a wink, taking a sip of your beer to hide your smile.

Joel laughs, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I don't know about that," he teases. "I might have to give you a few more samples before you can make such a bold claim.”

But before you can retort, your dad saunters over to join you by the grill. He claps Joel on the back affectionately and turns to address both of you.

"You two look like you're up to no good," he says with a smile. "What are you plotting over here?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words—does he suspect something?—but Joel seems unfazed as he throws an arm around your dad's shoulders with brotherly affection.

"Just discussing some top-secret barbecue business," Joel replies smoothly, giving your dad a reassuring squeeze before releasing him and turning back to tend to the grill once more.

—

Eventually, as the crowd begins to thin and the night grows deeper, your dad announces that it's time to start cleaning up. You join in, helping to gather plates and cups and fold tables, all the while feeling Joel's gaze on you.

Once the last of the guests have said their goodbyes and the yard is returned to its peaceful state, your dad claps Joel on the back, thanking him for another successful barbecue. "You outdid yourself this year, Joel," he says with a smile.

Joel returns the smile, though his eyes flicker to you for a brief moment. "Always happy to host," he replies, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of emotion that passes between you two.

Your dad turns to you, his eyes tired but content. "I'm gonna head home, kiddo. You coming, or are you gonna help Joel clean up?"

You glance at Joel, who gives you a small nod, understanding the silent question in your eyes. "I'll stay and help out, Dad," you say, your voice calm and composed. "You go get some rest."

Your dad chuckles, shaking his head. "Always the responsible one, just like your mother. Alright, I'll see you in the morning."

With a final wave, your dad heads off down the street, leaving you and Joel alone under the starlit sky. The moment his figure disappears into the distance, the air between you seems to crackle with anticipation.

Joel steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and intimate.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... processing everything, I guess."

He reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "We don't have to figure it all out tonight," he says softly. "But I want you to know what happened between us... it wasn't a one-time thing for me."

Your heart swells at his words, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "It wasn't for me, either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading into insignificance. Then, with a shared look of understanding, you both begin to tidy up the remaining mess, working side by side in comfortable silence.

When the last dish is washed and put away, and the yard is once again pristine, Joel takes your hand, leading you to the porch swing. The night is quiet now, save for the distant sound of a dog barking and the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

You sit down next to him, the swing creaking slightly under your combined weight. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both look up at the stars.

As you sit there, nestled under Joel's arm, the stars twinkle above, casting a serene glow over the quiet neighborhood. You feel a sense of peace and contentment that you've never experienced before, a feeling of being exactly where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful tonight," you murmur, your head resting against Joel's shoulder.

“It sure is," he agrees, his voice a soft rumble. But when you tilt your head back to look at him, you realize he's not looking at the stars. He's looking at you. His eyes trace the contours of your face, drinking in every detail as if to memorize you, to etch this moment into his memory forever. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, a silent indication of the smile he wears in his heart, a smile that reaches out to you, enveloping you in its embrace.

"Joel..." you begin, unsure of what to say next. There are a million thoughts swirling in your head, a million questions about what the future holds for the two of you.

He seems to sense your unease and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We'll figure it out, sunflower," he assures you again.

You take a deep breath, letting the comforting weight of Joel's arm around you anchor you to the present moment. The uncertainty of the future looms ahead, but for now, you choose to bask in the warmth of his affection.

"I know we will," you reply.

Joel's smile is soft. "That's my girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Brave and beautiful.”

The gentle sway of the porch swing and the rhythmic chorus of crickets lull you into a state of peaceful tranquility. Your eyelids grow heavy, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you find yourself succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Joel notices your drowsy state and smiles softly, his eyes reflecting a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Come on, sunflower," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your weary senses. "Let's get you inside." With surprising gentleness, Joel scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stands from the swing. You let out a sleepy protest but quickly settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he carries you into the house.

He navigates through the darkened rooms with ease, making his way to his bedroom. He lays you down on the bed, pulling back the covers so he can tuck you in.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he moves around the room, turning off lights and setting an alarm for the morning. When he's satisfied that everything is in order, he begins to undress, shedding his clothes until he's standing in nothing but his boxers. The sight of him—all hard planes and toned muscles—makes your breath hitch in your throat despite your sleepy state.

Joel catches your gaze and chuckles softly. "Like what ya see?" he teases gently as he slips into bed beside you.

You nod, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "Always," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's eyes darken at your confession, but he makes no move to act on the attraction that still crackles between you. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Get some sleep, sunflower," he says softly, his fingers tracing a gentle path down the side of your face.

You nod again, snuggling deeper into the covers as Joel turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The bed shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, the heat of his body a comforting presence in the cool room.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel Joel's arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, and he lulls you into a deep, peaceful slumber. In the quiet darkness of the night, with Joel's protective embrace surrounding you, you feel safe and cherished. The worries and uncertainties of the future fade into the background, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging and you know this is exactly where you were meant to be.

[horoscope1078]

:)

Ferran burst through Pedri’s front door, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and a look of mild panic on his face. “How is he?” he called out, his voice echoing through the quiet apartment.

Pedri’s best friend, and Ferran’s hopeless crush, you, appeared from the kitchen holding a bowl of steaming soup. You raised an eyebrow at Ferran. “It’s just the stomach flu, not the plague. You didn’t have to sprint over like it’s a life-or-death situation.”

Ferran ignored your teasing and dropped his bag onto the floor. “Where is he? I should’ve brought, like, I don’t know, ginger tea or... something. Does he need anything?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale. He’s in his room.” you replied with a smile, motioning toward the hallway. “But brace yourself. He’s being dramatic.”

The two of you made your way to Pedri’s room, where the young midfielder was sprawled across his bed like a fallen soldier. His hair was a mess, his face pale, and a bucket sat ominously by his bedside.

“Finally...” Pedri croaked, clutching his stomach as though he’d been fatally wounded. “My rescuers. I thought I’d perish alone.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Ferran said, crossing his arms.

“You look terrible.” you chimed in, setting the soup on Pedri’s nightstand. “Eat this. It’ll help.”

“I can’t eat.” Pedri groaned dramatically. “I’ll die if I eat.”

“Then don’t eat. That’ll make things easier.” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“Wow” Pedri said, his voice heavy with mock betrayal. “This is the woman you’re in love with, Ferran? Her bedside manner is atrocious.”

Ferran froze like a deer caught in headlights. “What?” he spluttered, his cheeks burning.

Pedri smirked, clearly enjoying himself despite his misery. “What? Did I say something wrong? My bad.”

You glanced at Ferran with a quizzical expression, then back at Pedri. “Is the fever making you hallucinate? Because I’m starting to think we should call a doctor.”

“No fever, just vibes.” Pedri mumbled, suppressing a laugh that turned into a weak cough. “Anyway, Ferran, you’re blushing. She’s going to figure it out, you know. Just confess already.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you.” Ferran said hastily, grabbing a pillow from Pedri’s bed and gently shoving it over his friend’s face.

“Mmph!!” came Pedri’s muffled protest before Ferran relented.

“Seriously, though, are you two finally going to get together, or am I going to have to set you up while I’m half-dead?” Pedri asked, his voice slightly strained but full of mischief.

Ferran turned to you, his hands raised defensively. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

You just laughed, a soft sound that made Ferran’s stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the flu. “Ignore him.” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s clearly delirious. Let’s just focus on making sure he survives the next 24 hours.”

“Oh, so you admit you’re ignoring the elephant in the room?” Pedri wheezed, clutching his blanket. “How convenient.”

“Do you want me to dump this soup on your head?” you threatened, holding up the bowl.

Pedri groaned and leaned back against his pillows. “Fine, fine. But for the record, I’m right. And you two are boring.”

Ferran muttered something under his breath and pulled up a chair by the bed. “How about we talk about you instead? Like how you ended up getting sick.”

Pedri pointed accusingly at Ferran. “It’s your fault.”

“Mine?” Ferran said, genuinely offended. “What did I do?”

“You dared me to eat that stupid hot sauce at the team dinner.”

Ferran blinked. “That was two days ago.”

“And now I’m dying. Cause and effect.” Pedri said solemnly, waving a weak hand in the air.

“I don’t think that’s how stomach flu works.” you interjected with a laugh.

“Don’t take his side.” Pedri grumbled. “Traitor.”

As the hours passed, the three of you fell into an easy rhythm, Pedri alternating between whining and dozing, you alternating between nurturing and sarcastic, and Ferran trying his best not to combust every time your hands brushed while you tidied up or handed Pedri water.

At one point, while Ferran was distracted fluffing Pedri’s pillows, Pedri stage-whispered to you “He’s obsessed with you, y'know. Talks about you all the time. It’s unbearable.”

Ferran dropped the pillow on Pedri’s face again.

“What was that?” you asked innocently, pretending not to hear.

“Nothing!” Ferran said quickly.

“Everything...” Pedri groaned from under the pillow. “He’s hopelessly in lo..”

Ferran snatched the pillow away just as Pedri dissolved into another coughing fit.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re awfully jumpy today, Ferran.”

“Just tired.” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

By the end of the day, Pedri was visibly better, well enough to start texting their teammates about how Ferran had nearly fainted when you smiled at him.

“Why are you typing so furiously?” Ferran asked suspiciously.

“Oh, just telling Gavi how you..”

“Give me that!” Ferran lunged for the phone, but Pedri held it out of reach, laughing weakly but victoriously.

You sighed, shaking your head as you watched the two of them wrestle. “You guys are impossible.”

Pedri smirked at you. “He’s impossible. I’m a delight.”

“You’re an instigator.” you corrected.

“And yet” Pedri said with a grin “you’re still here. Wonder why that is.”

You didn’t answer, but the faint blush on your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by Ferran, who was suddenly feeling a lot more hopeful.

As the evening wound down and Ferran packed up to leave, Pedri gave him a sly look. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”

Ferran groaned, grabbing the nearest blanket and throwing it over Pedri’s head.

But as he glanced back at you, catching you smiling softly at him, he couldn’t help but think that maybe Pedri’s meddling wasn’t so bad after all.

---

Did y'all miss me? ;) I was busy and out of fiction ideas until learning Pedri got stomach flu. Hope he's okay now.

[feedybot]

The Tipping Point, PART 1/2

Chapter One: Just a Little Extra

You’d been on a “health kick” for about a week.

Again.

This time it was a Mediterranean thing—olive oil, fish, vegetables, whole grains. It actually wasn’t bad, at first. You’d meal prepped like a pro on Sunday, filled the fridge with colorful containers and planned your workouts on a little whiteboard stuck to the freezer. You felt good. You felt in control.

But then came Thursday.

You walked through the door after a long day, stomach growling, feet aching, the smell of garlic and butter already hanging thick in the air. You barely managed to get your shoes off before you called out.

“What’s cooking?”

Your husband’s voice floated in from the kitchen, warm and cheerful. “Something special. You’ve been working so hard lately, I figured you deserve a treat.”

You hesitated in the hallway, toeing at the tile floor. “I was gonna have the salmon and quinoa thing I made…”

There was a pause, followed by a sizzling sound and a smell that made your mouth water.

“Babe,” he said gently, stepping out with a grin and a wooden spoon still in hand, “that can wait till tomorrow. This? This is fresh.”

You peeked past him into the kitchen and saw a bubbling pan of creamy pasta on the stove—ribbons of fettuccine tangled in a thick sauce, glistening with cheese and butter. Toasted garlic bread waited on a tray beside it. And a little bowl of Caesar salad, as if it made the whole thing balanced.

It was your favorite.

You opened your mouth to argue… then closed it again. Your stomach made the decision for you, rumbling audibly. He chuckled, kissed your forehead, and gently took your bag off your shoulder.

“I’ll pour the wine.”

You sat down with a sigh. “Just a little,” you said, but you already knew the meal would be anything but.

—

One plate turned into two. The salad disappeared quickly—mostly to justify the second helping of pasta. The bread was warm and crusty, the butter soaked deep into its golden surface. You told yourself you’d just have a bite. Then just half.

Then it was gone.

By the end of the meal, you felt full in that slow, drowsy, too-comfortable way. Your belly pressed lightly against your waistband as you leaned back, wine glass in hand, feeling flushed and guilty and—somehow—happy.

He watched you with a quiet, unreadable look. His hand slipped to your thigh under the table, his touch gentle and reassuring. “See?” he murmured. “You deserve to relax.”

You wanted to protest. Say something about calories, or your whiteboard schedule, or the promise you made to yourself. But all that came out was a soft, sleepy hum of agreement as you leaned into his shoulder.

Chapter Two: Slipping Slowly

You did try again.

Friday morning, you woke up feeling that familiar pit in your stomach—not hunger, but regret. You told yourself it was just one meal. You still had time to turn the week around. You laced up your sneakers, chugged some water, and headed to the gym with determination in your step… and the pasta from last night still sitting heavily in your belly.

The workout was slow. You pushed through it, sweating harder than usual, your movements a little sluggish, a little less precise. You avoided the mirrors.

Later, back home, you snapped open one of your meal-prepped containers, trying not to think about the way it looked next to last night’s feast. Dry grilled chicken, couscous, and broccoli. It filled you, technically—but it didn’t satisfy you.

Your husband walked by, kissed your cheek, and didn’t say a word.

But that night, he offered to order in.

“Just for fun,” he said casually. “No pressure. You’ve had a long week.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sticking with my meal plan.”

He nodded, accepting, and disappeared into the living room. You sat there alone, fork in hand, chewing a piece of roasted carrot that tasted like cardboard.

And then the smell hit.

Thai. Your real weakness. Rich coconut curries, sticky rice, those little crispy spring rolls that always came steaming hot and perfectly golden. You tried to block it out, but it was hopeless. When you peeked into the living room, he was already on the couch with the food spread out in front of him, looking up at you like he was trying not to smirk.

“You sure you don’t want just a bite?” he asked innocently, holding up a spoonful of glistening, spicy sauce.

You crossed your arms. “You’re evil.”

He grinned. “You say that like it’s a no.”

You lasted maybe five minutes before sitting down next to him, pretending you were just “tasting” it. The curry was sweet and velvety, the rice soaked in it perfectly. One bite turned into two. Then you took a spring roll. Then you asked for your own spoon.

Somewhere between the last dumpling and the end credits of the movie, you stopped pretending you were resisting.

That weekend followed the same rhythm—moments of resolve, immediately followed by tiny indulgences. Pancakes on Saturday morning, “split” fries at lunch that mysteriously disappeared almost all on your side of the plate, popcorn with butter during movie night. You told yourself you’d start over on Monday. Always Monday.

By Sunday night, you were laying in bed with a soft belly and a strange, quiet feeling that mixed guilt with something almost comforting. His hand slid under your shirt, over your stomach, and he kissed your neck softly.

“You looked really happy this weekend,” he murmured.

You didn’t answer, not right away. You just closed your eyes and let yourself be held, trying not to notice how snug your shirt felt across your chest—or how easily he touched the new softness you were starting to carry

Chapter Three: The Quiet Creep

You didn’t notice the changes at first. Not really.

Your clothes still fit—for the most part. Maybe the waistbands left a slightly deeper mark when you peeled them off at night. Maybe your bras needed a little more adjusting lately, and you’d started favoring the ones with stretchier bands. But nothing dramatic. Nothing alarming.

Besides, you’d always fluctuated a little. A few pounds here, a few there. It was just how your body worked. You were used to the ebb and flow.

What did change, quietly, was your appetite.

You started to crave more. Your little meals didn’t cut it anymore—not after the week of rich sauces and takeout splurges. You found yourself adding an extra spoonful to your plate. You stopped skipping dessert. You started looking forward to your husband’s surprise snacks and spontaneous cravings.

He made it all so easy.

Sometimes, he brought home pastries in the morning—just one for you, “because I passed your favorite bakery.” Other nights, he’d surprise you with something baking in the oven, always timed perfectly for when you walked through the door: rich, cheesy casseroles, gooey mac and cheese, buttery roast potatoes. You still worked out sometimes. You still thought about being healthy. But the effort felt less urgent now. Less important.

And honestly? You felt more content than you had in a while.

There was something comforting in letting go a little. The pressure to be perfect, to follow every food rule, to constantly strive for that someday body—it had always left you stressed and unsatisfied. But now, your husband looked at you like you were already enough. No, more than enough. Like the extra softness only made you better.

One night, you caught your reflection in the mirror as you stepped out of the shower. The change was still subtle—your belly a touch rounder, the curve of your hips a little fuller. You turned side to side, studying yourself with curious detachment.

You didn’t hate what you saw. You didn’t love it, either.

But when he came in behind you, slid his arms around your waist, and kissed your bare shoulder, you felt something shift.

He didn’t say anything—just rested his hands on the new softness, gently, almost reverently, and met your gaze in the mirror with a small smile.

You looked away first.

Chapter Four: Denial, Served Warm

You didn’t weigh yourself.

You told yourself it was a healthy choice—not obsessing over numbers, not letting a little digital screen dictate your self-worth. But really, you knew better. The scale sat in the corner of the bathroom, untouched, gathering a faint layer of dust.

Instead, you judged things by how your clothes fit. Or at least, how they used to fit.

Your favorite jeans had quietly migrated to the back of the drawer. The high-waisted pair with the stiff waistband? Forget it. You’d started reaching for leggings more often, oversized hoodies, anything soft and forgiving. You told yourself it was just for comfort, that you were bloated, that laundry day had limited your options. Every excuse, soft and soothing, wrapped around you like the blanket you kept pulling over your body when you collapsed on the couch after dinner.

Because dinners… had changed.

They’d become events.

He made them feel like rituals: candlelight, music, a bottle of wine, second helpings before you could even ask. You’d always had a decent appetite, sure, but lately it was different. You weren’t just eating because you were hungry—you were eating because it felt good. Every meal he made was so rich, so delicious, and he never held back with the portions.

And you never refused.

You didn’t even notice how often you went back for seconds. Or thirds. You didn’t notice how he lingered, watching as you cleaned your plate, smiling softly, always ready with more. You didn’t think too hard about how often he touched your hips now, let his hand rest on your stomach after dinner, or kissed the corners of your mouth like he was tasting the last bite.

But deep down… part of you knew.

You just didn’t want to face it.

One morning, as you got dressed for brunch with friends, you pulled on a blouse you hadn’t worn in a while. It used to be loose—your go-to when you wanted to feel effortlessly cute. Now, it clung around your middle, the fabric tight enough to pull slightly between the buttons. You tugged it down and looked in the mirror, trying to smooth it out, trying not to frown.

From behind, he appeared, arms looping around you.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmured against your ear, his hands resting right where the shirt felt the tightest. “Seriously.”

You gave a weak laugh. “It’s a little snug.”

“I like it,” he said, voice low, lips brushing your neck. “Everything about you lately feels… softer. Happier.”

You didn’t respond. Just stared into the mirror as he held you there, his fingers slowly moving over the new curves that weren’t there a few months ago. The ones you’d been trying not to notice.

You wore the blouse anyway.

And at brunch, you ordered the French toast.

Chapter Five: Numbers Don’t Lie

It happened on a Tuesday morning.

You’d just finished a shower, hair wrapped in a towel, steam still clinging to the mirror. You were running late, but something pulled you back into the bathroom. Your eyes drifted to the corner, where the digital scale sat, neglected and silent.

You stared at it for a long moment. Heartbeat rising.

You hadn’t stepped on it in… months?

Your stomach was still warm and heavy from last night’s dinner—creamy mashed potatoes, roasted chicken with thick gravy, and two slices of homemade apple pie, courtesy of your husband’s sudden “baking phase.” You remembered how full you’d felt afterward, how tight your waistband had gotten, how he’d smiled when you let out that soft little groan and leaned back, stuffed.

You’d laughed it off. You always laughed it off.

But this morning, the bloated feeling lingered. Your thighs looked fuller. Your belly curved out with a softness you could no longer write off as water weight. And now, standing there in nothing but a towel, you could see it—truly see it.

The roundness in your face. The faint roll forming beneath your breasts. The way your hips had widened just enough to shift how your towel tucked in.

You took a deep breath and stepped on the scale.

157.4 lbs.

Your breath caught.

You blinked. Stepped off. Stepped back on.

157.6 lbs.

You couldn’t remember the last time the number had been that high. Maybe never. It didn’t feel real. Not until you stood there for a long minute, towel loosening around you, reality sinking in like a weight on your chest.

You hadn’t just gained a little. This was… real. Measurable.

And yet, even as the number echoed in your head, another memory crept in:

Your husband’s hands on your waist last night, gently guiding you back for seconds. The way his eyes darkened as you finished the last bite. How he kissed you afterward like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He didn’t seem to mind. In fact… he seemed to like it.

That night, you made a salad for dinner.

He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly as you prepped your plate. When he sat down with his own serving—generous, creamy, full of roasted chicken and croutons—you noticed he’d added a little extra to yours too. Some shaved parmesan. A drizzle of olive oil. A thick slice of buttered bread on the side.

“Babe,” you said, hesitant, “I was thinking maybe… I should cut back. A bit.”

He paused, fork in hand, eyes warm. “Cut back?”

You nodded, trying to sound casual. “I weighed myself today.”

His lips curved into something unreadable—half concern, half something else entirely. “And?”

“I’ve put on a few pounds.”

He reached across the table, took your hand.

“You look incredible.”

You wanted to argue. Say something logical. Sensible. Instead, you let him squeeze your fingers, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and tried to ignore how the bread was still warm… and how hungry you suddenly felt again.

Chapter Six: Mirror, Mirror

You waited until he left for work.

The second the front door closed and the lock clicked, you were already peeling your hoodie off. The living room still smelled faintly of breakfast—bacon, syrup, cinnamon-sugar toast—and your stomach gave a lazy churn, still half-full from the meal you’d eaten out of habit more than hunger.

Your hands were trembling before you even made it to the mirror.

You’d avoided it lately—never stopping too long, never letting your eyes linger. But today, you faced it. Stripped off the hoodie, then your leggings, then your tank top. One by one until you stood there in just a bra and panties. Bare. Exposed. No more soft lighting. No more flattering angles.

No more denial.

Your breath caught.

Your belly, once soft but subtle, now pushed gently forward—round, undeniably heavier. The waistband of your panties pressed into your skin, leaving a faint red line across your hips. There was a crease forming below your navel now, one that deepened when you shifted. You reached down and touched it, fingers trembling, tracing the unfamiliar curve.

Your thighs had changed too. Fuller. Plush. They brushed together now when you stood still, a faint rub that had become normal but you’d never really noticed. You turned sideways. Your backside jutted out more, your bra digging in slightly at the band.

You raised your arms and watched how everything shifted—the way your belly gave a soft jiggle, how the flesh under your arms was a little looser, a little softer than you remembered. You grabbed at your love handles with both hands, pressing into them, trying to reshape them, contain them.

They didn’t go anywhere.

Your chest, once barely filling your cups, now threatened to spill over them. Your favorite bra had started leaving marks. You’d blamed the dryer. You’d blamed swelling. You’d blamed everything but this.

This body.

Your body.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It came out shaky, broken. You turned, trying to find an angle that didn’t feel like someone else’s reflection—but it all looked unfamiliar. Heavier. Wider. Real.

You dropped to the bed, half-dressed, heart pounding. Your hands went to your stomach again, almost without thinking, cradling it. You sat there, feeling the weight of it settle into your lap, heavy and undeniable. You pushed against it. It pushed back.

“How did this happen?” you whispered.

But you knew.

You knew.

Every meal, every bite, every moment you’d shrugged it off and let him take care of you. The way he’d encouraged you to skip workouts, the desserts that had become routine, the casual grazing that seemed so harmless at the time. It had all felt so innocent.

Hadn’t it?

Or… had he known exactly what he was doing?

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A text from him: “Thinking of you. Hope you’re relaxing today. I left a little surprise in the fridge.”

You sat frozen for a long moment, your stomach flipping—not from hunger, but from something deeper. Something almost like dread.

Then you stood up. Slowly. Still staring at yourself in the mirror.

Because for the first time, you didn’t just see the change.

You felt it.

And it scared you.

Chapter Seven: What You’ve Been Feeding Me

You didn’t open the fridge.

You couldn’t. Not after what you’d just seen in the mirror. Not after sitting on the bed in your too-tight underwear, holding yourself like a stranger. You ignored his text. You didn’t even reply. You just sat, stewing in a mix of disbelief, confusion… and something dangerously close to betrayal.

You didn’t want to believe it.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop spiraling.

The subtle portion increases. The constant temptations. The way he always brushed off your concerns with a compliment or a kiss or another warm plate full of something rich and impossible to resist. It had all felt so loving. So natural.

Now it felt calculated.

By the time he got home that evening, you were waiting.

He walked in with a smile on his face, a paper bag in hand, the kind you knew carried something indulgent. “Hey, babe—guess what I found at the bakery? Those little custard tarts you—”

You cut him off.

“Sit down.”

His eyes flicked up, surprised by your tone. But he obeyed, setting the bag on the counter and pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. You stood across from him, arms folded tightly over your chest, still wearing the oversized hoodie from this morning—but now you felt everything under it. The heaviness. The tightness. The truth.

“I weighed myself.”

He said nothing. Just looked at you, calm. Neutral.

“I’ve gained… over twenty pounds. Twenty. And you never said a word. Not once.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You’ve looked beautiful every single day.”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, voice cracking. “You knew. You saw it happening. And instead of helping me—instead of encouraging me to stay on track—you just kept feeding me. You wanted this.”

Silence. He didn’t deny it.

Your heart raced. “You planned it, didn’t you? You knew I couldn’t say no forever. You were just waiting for me to give in.”

He exhaled, slowly. Leaned forward on his elbows, eyes soft but steady.

“You were miserable before.”

You blinked. “What?”

He spoke slowly, carefully. “Always stressing over what you ate. Counting calories. Starting over every Monday. You hated your body no matter how hard you tried. And I hated seeing you like that.”

You swallowed. Hard.

“I never forced anything,” he continued. “I didn’t hide vegetables or slip butter into your smoothies. I just gave you the freedom to enjoy things. And yeah… maybe I hoped you’d let go a little. Maybe I wanted to see what would happen if you stopped fighting yourself all the time.”

You stared at him.

“So you wanted me to get fat?”

He flinched slightly, but didn’t deny it. “I wanted you to feel safe. Safe enough to eat. To be full. To let yourself have what you want without guilt.”

You felt heat rise to your face—anger, shame, confusion, something molten and messy.

“You should’ve told me,” you whispered. “You should’ve asked.”

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

That stopped you. The room felt thick with silence.

He stood slowly, came around the table, and placed his hands gently on your hips. They settled higher than they used to. You felt the warmth of his palms against the new softness there.

“I love this version of you,” he said quietly. “But it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want now.”

You looked up at him, breathing shallow. You could feel the weight on your body, the pressure of your belly against the inside of your hoodie, the way your thighs had begun to subtly touch even standing still. All of it.

“So what happens now?” you asked.

His answer came without hesitation.

“That’s up to you.”

[helpinghanikan]

Wanna talk about it?

Carol Danvers x reader

for @mxqdii

AN: Wrote this super quick because I have stuff planned for tomorrow. Hopefully this was what you were looking for.

It’s amazing how quickly everything tends to stick together or pile up throughout the day. One little thing in the morning, before you even got dressed, and it just goes down hill from there. By the time you’re finally able to head come there’s a weight on your being too heavy to be carried alone.

The drive back home was made in relative silence. Sometimes, when the day kicks your ass, it’s too much effort to even turn the radio on. This quiet made it that much more impactful when your phone dings in the cup holder.

‘Im making din see you soon’ You dared to read, although this is not recommended to do while driving.

You didn’t need to see the name to know it was Carol. Not only from her inability to text properly, but from how suddenly she announces her arrival. The only time your phone’s connected was when she was within the Earth’s atmosphere. Any other time you want to talk to her, and some massive amount of tech is needed.

It’s nice to know Carol is near, it’s not enough to help with today’s burden. You do start driving just a bit faster, though.

Music could be heard through your house’s front door. Had it been anyone else you would have grumbled about the volume pumping through the door. Dad rock was great and all, but not after a long shift and before a warm meal.

“Carol?” You asked before the door is open all the way.

Instead of Carol you are greeted by orange hair and a bad attitude. Goose stretched and blinked slowly as you entered fully. Giving you a look as if to wonder why you were here, in your own home, and interrupting his nap.

He seems pleased when you give him some scratches. Although not technically a cat he sure did purr like one.

“Carol?” You called again, shoes off and coat gone by the time you reach the kitchen.

In another universe Carol would be a wonderful wife to always come home to. Dad rock playing from the counter, oven steaming from cooking noodles and tomato sauce, and the promise of a warm night in.

Carol smiles at you through the steam. Her smile is too powerful to be stopped by something so weak as boiling water. Although it faulters as you get closer, and she can start to see the fatigue in your eyes, she’s still waiting for you.

Without thinking, almost as if under possession, you step up behind her. Around Carol’s stomach, cheek against her back, and a tight squeeze that will never be enough.

“Hey, Babe,” She says, leaning her weight back just a bit to give a semblance of a hug back.

Her voice is warm and welcoming like hot chocolate. Her smell is slightly mechanical and earthy that one could get drunk on. Although her muscles are pronounced and something to be proud of, this doesn’t stop you from squeezing her close. Hugging like she may disappear into beautiful light you let go for even a second.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asks, stirring a pot as if you weren’t using her as a stuffed animal.

A dark part of your mind tells you to keep quiet. That it wouldn’t be fair to complain to Carol, to THE Captain Marvel, about the shitty day you were having. Not when this woman had traveled several thousands of miles to make you spaghetti. Especially not when whatever small problem Carol could be having was twelve time bigger than yours.

Carol has a heat to her like a furnace on fire. Sometimes, if Carol weren’t careful, she could actually burn the people around her. Although this has never happened to you the threat was still there. So you stay as close as you can, nuzzling into her back sighing as the heat relaxes your muscles like a warm shower after a long walk.

“Not right now,” You mumble into her back, “I missed you too much.”

You could have fallen asleep like this. Standing up and everything, but it was the clicking of the stove the ruined your serene moment. Granted, this was to replace with an even better moment as Carol turns around to hold you properly in a hug.

Every bit of chill or cold that might have lived inside of you was now gone. It was replaced with warm love you’d never forget the feeling of.

[ladytauria]

4 and 50 for kisses! Jaytimkon or some combo of?? And here! for luck! a kiss on your hand for you my friend!

🥰 thank you, leo <3333

i changed up one of the prompts a little~ mostly just the order tho. uwu i hope you like this!

>> AO3 <<

Jason hums absently to himself—his own, unique melody, blending the song his mother used to sing while doing dishes with the one Alfred hums, occasionally,  in the kitchen, or whistles in the garden. Sauce bubbles in front of him. The scent of it tickles his nose, making his stomach gurgle inaudibly. He lifts the spoon to his mouth, tasting.

Hm.

Needs more spice.

He sets the spoon aside. Tim is perched on the counter, right in front of the spice cabinet. Jason arches a brow at him. “You plannin’ on movin’?”

He gets a small, cheeky smile. “No.”

Jason rolls his eyes—the effect ruined by the way his lips twitch—and steps between the spread of Tim’s knees, reaching around him. Tim moves his head just enough to let Jason open the cabinet door, shifting back into place as Jason rises up, one hand on Tim’s hip.

Their lips brush in a brief, fleeting kiss; breath mingling.

Jason finds what he’s looking for through memory alone. It’s not hard. He has a strict organization system for his spices, to his boyfriends’ endless amusement.

As soon as he lowers, he sets the cayenne aside in favor of splaying both hands on Tim’s sides, nudging Tim’s head back with his nose before kissing him again, on purpose this time. Tim’s hands bunch into the front of his apron—a silly, frilly thing Kon bought him as a joke but which has become one of Jason’s favorites. It pulls taut around Jason’s neck, the pressure making him melt, fingers tangling in Tim’s shirt.

Kon enters the kitchen. Jason is aware of it, distantly, his hind brain picking up on the distinctive sound of his step but categorizing it as a non-threat. Neither he nor Tim acknowledge it—not until Jason starts, a little, as Kon presses up against his back, strong arms locking around his waist.

He melts again immediately, sighing into Tim’s mouth as Kon kisses up the column of his neck, and as much of his jaw as he can reach.

Tim is the one to break away. Jason is breathless, a little weak in the knees, the solid press of a boyfriend on either side of him feeling like all that’s keeping him upright. Kon presses one more kiss behind his ear—and then he presses tighter against Jason’s back, pushing him further into Tim’s chest. Kon kisses Tim over his shoulder.

It’s a gorgeous sight.

They kiss lazily, like they’ve got all night; like Jason isn’t sandwiched between them. It’s— There's something… Jason doesn’t know if he can call it hot, because honestly, he thinks he’d be perfectly happy if it didn’t turn sexual at all, but—

There’s something appealing about that, about the idea of being held between them for hours, as they trade slow, lazy kisses over his head.

A thought to indulge later, maybe. If he finds the courage to ask for it.

When Kon and Tim finally break apart, Jason finds himself pulled into another kiss—this time by Kon, his torso twisting to make it easier.  He’s got one hand fisted in Tim’s shirt—the other in Kon’s.

Tim is the one to kiss his neck, now, and everywhere else he can reach.

It’s overwhelming in the best of ways. Kon pulls away—and then there’s Tim again, stealing what little breath he has left.

Kon bites into his shoulder, worrying a mark there. Jason moans embarrassingly loud against Tim’s mouth. Tim grins, slipping his hands behind the apron and under Jason’s shirt to toy with the curls on his belly.

Jason’s head spins, dizzy with desire and the sweet, heady feeling of being loved. He sinks into it, into them—

A loud hiss breaks the reverie; all three of them tensing at the sudden sound. He flinches away from Tim, jerking his head toward the sound so quickly he hears his neck crack.

His sauce is splattering; droplets hissing and burning on the stove.

Jason swears. Fuck. He forgot about the sauce!

[ 50 Types of Kisses ]

[nyxnightshade1332]

Expectations When Expecting (Book 1)

Chapter 10

Chapter 11:

Yuu wasn't very fond of using knives, having almost cut off her finger at a young age when her uncle had allowed her to try peeling a chestnut. She hated it yet found that it was the easiest way to actually peel a chestnut.

She huffed, blowing on her fingers as she peeled a still-hot chestnut that hadn't quite cooled off.

"Ha! Weak." Ace stated, blowing on his fingers as he attempted to peel the chestnut in his hands, putting the knife down to go rinse his hands in cold water.

"Says you? The guy using cold water?" She grumbled, allowing the knife to glide across the skin of the chestnut. Once it did that, Yuu peeled the skin and placed the nut onto the plate.

Ace grumbled something, watching the others peeling the chestnuts with magic.

.

.

.

Yuu refused to admit the sudden nausea that hit her had happened because of the sweet scent of milk, chestnuts and sugar and the heat of the room.

Trey had instantly noticed Yuu's pale complexion, allowing her to go sit outside for a bit while her dizziness subsided.

Currently, the young woman was sitting outside, resting her head on the wall and praying that no spiders would climb onto her. As hard and raspy as the stone wall was, Yuu liked how cool it felt. She kept her eyes closed before she heard the door open behind her.

"You okay, Yuu?" Deuce.

She gave a short nod. "M'fine... Heat made me dizzy though." She muttered.

"Yikes. I brought you water, if that'll help." Deuce said, offering her a cool water bottle, which she took gratefully.

Opening it, she took a sip, hoping that it would settle her stomach. Yuu finally sat up, giving Deuce a weak, yet thankful smile.

"Sorry if I caused any trouble." She said, "Apparently, I can't handle sweet smells in hot temperatures."

Deuce nodded sympathetically before speaking again.

"Are you okay now?" He asked, watching Yuu take a sip of the water. She nodded, relieved at the coolness of the water.

"Yeah. I think I'm fine now." Yuu nudged the blue-haired boy. "Let's go back in before Ace chews us out."

.

.

.

"I just need to add butter and sugar to the chestnut paste..." Trey's voice rang in the kitchen as Deuce and Yuu entered. "and a sensible splash of oyster sauce."

Yuu did a bit of a double take, freezing as she thought about what the boy had said. "That's my secret ingredient!" She heard the tall boy remark.

"What the-" She mouthed before Ace and Deuce snapped themselves out of the shock.

"Oyster sauce?!" They yelped.

"Yep." Trey confirmed. "The umami of the oysters gives the cream a deep, savory flavor."

Yuu pressed her lips into a line, looking at Trey to see if he was joking in any way.

"I use this one here: Walrus-brand Young Oyster Sauce." Trey handed the two boys the bottle, seemingly forcing himself not to smile.

"All the best bakers use it in their tarts." Trey smiled, making Yuu sigh in relief. Oh thank goodness. Now I know it's a joke.

"Really? But isn't oyster sauce like, super salty?" Deuce asked.

"Some folks put chocolate into curry, don't they? Maybe it's the same idea." Ace shrugged, accepting the answer.

Unsurprisingly, Trey didn't last much longer, bursting into near hysterical laughter for a good two minutes. Yuu rolled her eyes, a small smirk forming on her face. As stupid as it was, Trey's laughter was somewhat contagious.

"I'm totally lying! No one in their right mind would put oyster sauce into a pastry." He finally revealed, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Called it!" Said Yuu, proudly. "Gotta admit though, you had me in the first half, not gonna lie."

"What?! So you were just yankin' our chain this whole time?!" Ace cried, bewildered at having fallen for such an obvious prank.

"I mean, if you'd used your brain, you'd have realized how ridiculous it was! Let that be a lesson to you. Don't believe everything you hear." Trey said, a very slight lecture being given.

Yuu nodded. "He's right. It's best to not be so oblivious." She agreed.

"Henchman?!" Grim yelped before pouting, turning away from her. "Feh. And here I thought you humans were actually somewhat decent."

"Aww c'mon Grim!" Yuu giggled, amused at Grim's sulking form. "I didn't do it to be malicious.

She smiled, walking over to Grim, kneeling to be able to look him in the eye. "Tell ya what? If you forgive me and you promise to behave, I'll design a batch of butter cookies just for you."

Grim's eyes widened at the mention of food. "Really?!" He turned to look at her. "Deal!"

She extended her hand to the cat, and shook his paw. She heard Trey chuckle behind her.

"Alright!" Trey clapped his hands, effectively getting the group's attention. "Next, I'll put in the cream... Oh!" Trey seemed to pause, looking a little sheepish as he turned back to the group.

"What's wrong?" Ace hesitantly asked, clearly worried about having to be put to work again.

"You guys gathered so many chestnuts that we may have overdone it with the chestnut paste." Trey laughed awkwardly, clearly hinting at the need to go buy more cream. "I don't think we have enough cream to mix in." He informed them.

"Then I'll go buy some. Do they sell it at the school store?" Deuce asked.

"They sell pretty much everything, so... probably." Trey shrugged, adding, "Can I have you pick me up a few other things?" Wow. He's taking advantage of the situation.

"I need two cartons of milk, two packs of eggs, some muffin cups, five cans of fruit..." Trey listed, writing on a pad of paper before handing it to Deuce.

"I don't think I'll be able to carry all that back..." Deuce muttered, turning to Yuu. "Hey, Yuu, could you come with me?"

She gave him a small smile, somewhat relieved at being given the chance to leave. "I've never been to the school store before, but... Sure." She agreed, fighting back a laugh as she heard Ace protest from next to Trey.

"Then I'm comin' too! I'm getting dizzy from all this stirrin'. I need a break!" Grim complained, taking his spot on Yuu's shoulder.

She sighed, before gesturing for Deuce to lead the way. 

Chapter 12

[shorkbrian]

Kirishima is a chubby chaser, what can I say.

The moment he sets eyes on you he’s hooked, practically salivating as you giggle and walk with your friends down the sidewalk, so much skin bared to the hot hot sun and his wandering gaze.

Would it be creepy for Kirishima to do a 180 and follow you? Yeah, but luckily the man has confidence to cross the street, march right up and start flirting instead. 

It’s such a bold, creepy move, the big man crossing into your path and flashing you a smile and a wink, a “Hi cutie!” being the first thing out of his mouth. If your friend wasn’t with you, you’d feel threatened by the man. Even now, in broad daylight on a busy street, you’re quite intimidated. 

He just wants to take you home, right then and there, something wrong with that?

Somehow his boldness makes you agree to a coffee date, and then a picnic, then a movie. More and more dates until you know him well enough to call him your boyfriend, and he calls you sugar and baby and puddin’ and anything sweet that he can think of.

It makes him weak in the knees when you wear clothes that show off your skin, even if it’s just a little bit of shoulder or little shorts that make him want to grab you and start biting at your thighs until they’re covered in marks. 

The man acts on his impulses sometimes, jaw dropping when you come out of your house wearing something attractive. He can’t stop himself from circling an arm around your waist, letting a hand wander to fall on your ass and squeeze, chuckling when you squeak and bat him away with hands smaller than his.

When he gets you in his car, he’s leaning over to face-plant onto your thighs, growling and sucking on them like they’re covered in his favorite sauce while you shriek and pull at his hair.

“Kiri! Stop it, that’s-! Too much, we’re-we’re in public!”

“Lemme eat baby, just want a quick snack.” He’ll joke, mouth still brushing against your thighs. It’s a good thing you’re old enough to not live with your parents, explaining why it looks like your legs are bruised and littered with bite-marks would be difficult.

The first time you build up the courage to say “yes” when the man breathlessly asks to fuck you, Kirishima lights up like the literal sun. He bounces off the bed where he’d been holding you to his side, kissing all over your neck and collarbones, idly rubbing himself off against the softness of your thigh as you let your hands wander over his muscles, his biceps.

“I-.......I’m nervous...” You admit hesitantly. What if the redhead sees your bare skin and doesn’t like it’s shape? What if he thinks you’re ugly, or gross, or he gets soft the moment you slide off your shorts? You can’t stand the thought of rejection, not now, not from Kiri.

But the man coos, strides back over with long, athletic steps to grab your face, squishing your cheeks so he can steal a kiss. “We’ll take it slow, yeah?”

Lube is fetched, lights are turned off, Kiri shucks off his clothes and bundles under the covers while you watches, nerves eating your insides, flushing your cheeks, twisting your stomach and making you feel tingly and strung-out.

As soon as you push down your shorts, Kiri’s hooking your leg over his hip, lube-covered fingers coming to stroke flesh hidden by your panties while he distracts you with more kisses, words of praise.

“You’re so hot.”

“God, you’re so soft all over, makes me wanna eat you up, grab you ‘n never let go.”

“Just know you’re gonna make me feel so good, you’re so pretty and all warm.”

He preps you well, enough to have your head swirling and toes curling before he deigns to shift closer, let you feel the drooling tip of his cock.

“Deep breaths baby, relax.” And then he’s sinking inside, inch by torturous inch. It doesn’t burn, it doesn’t hurt, just feels.... uncomfortable. Unusual. 

But not bad.

Soft and sweet, that’s how he makes love to you, gentle kisses and hands filled with strength. You’re often insecure - what if he’s turned off by your inexperience? Would he be happier with someone that was fit like him? Are you even good enough to be sleeping with him? but Kiri never stops, insatiable when it comes to your body.

God, you’re just so plush and fuckable, Kiri can’t stop himself from gettin’ all hard just thinking about you, how you’d feel so good in his hands all squishy and soft.

He gets so excited even just making out with you, kisses turning sloppy and messy as he pants into your mouth, desperate and wanting. He’ll drag your hand down to rub at his bulge between his legs, pushing his hips up into your hand while you blush and squirm in embarrassment. 

You’re embarrassed and maybe a bit uncomfortable, but it’s hard to focus on that when Kirishima’s whining like a needy baby, pressing your hand down even harder on his cock, wet spots forming through his underwear, soaking the fabric. You can feel how big he is, feel every twitch and every throb of blood as his dick pulses underneath your hand.

Kirishima’s other hand will be tracing groping at your ass, struggling to ground himself as he ruts against your fingers.

Or he’s wrapping his arms around you from behind, kissing at the side of your neck and pressing real close to rub his hardness against you, make it clear what he wants, what he needs.

But he always tries his hardest to stay gentle in his thrusts, even though it’s clear that he has experience, hips that are used to this movement, used to sex and driving into a warm little hole again and again while he growls and nips at plump flesh.

He’s not gentle after he snoops through your computer, through your phone, checking your texts, reassuring himself that he’s the only one you’re talking to. Kirishima didn’t find anything to make him doubt your loyalty, but what he did find made his blood boil straight down to his dick.

“You been holdin’ out on me.” Comes his thick words as he swings his hips, pounding into your gushy, overworked cunt.

Little cries escape your mouth on each thrust, thighs struggling to snap shut around his bulk, but only succeeding in trapping him closer against your heat. 

“Don’t try ‘n run, you ain’t gonna get far.” Kirishima grins, sweat dripping off his brow.

The way you moan out teary pleads make his cock pulse inside you and fuck, Kiri’s never thought that he’d be into this kind of thing, but seeing it on your computer browser worked him up into a frenzy.

“Who would’ve known that such a sweet little thing - fuck - is actually a nasty little - unh - freak?” 

The words cause your tears to overflow - that and the brutal way Kiri’s bullying his cock into you, even though you’ve already cum, body shaking and trembling  while you gasp and choke through the sensation. 

There’s no relief, no respite. Kirishima’s found the porn you like, the sites you visit late at night and blush over, idly wondering how it’d feel to have someone treat you like the fucked-out girls and cock-drunk boys moaning before your eyes.

He’ll edge you, again and again with his tongue and fingers until you’re sobbing, begging him to let you cum, all shame and dignity removed as the single thought of getting release remains. Kiri’ll fuck you then, pushing in slow and steady, tease you until you’re practically clawing at him in desperation, wailing for him to go faster, to make you cum. The only thing that’ll get him to break is when you cry that he’s not taking care of you. 

Then he’s making you cum so much that your body goes numb, no longer buzzy and electric and twitchy from riding the edge of orgasm for so long. No, now you’re shaking and struggling to form words, mind as mushy as your soft little cunt.

Kirishima is buying you clothes - skimpy little outfits that you’re far too ashamed and insecure to wear, but he forces you into them anyway. “Just for a second, you’ll look so good!”

It truly is just for a second, because then the clothes are getting shredded as Kiri pushes you up against the mirror, little groans falling from his lips and against your throat as he slides home, deep into your pussy.

Now that he knows he doesn’t have to be gentle with you, Kirishima isn’t afraid to indulge himself a little. After all, you can take it, right?

[fruitcoops]

A Coops Sid's date. Pure fluff

Coops Wedding Part 3 is here! Post-wedding food (finally) and heading home together. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, as always <3

Preparations II Part 1 II Part 2

TW for flirty Coops

Sid’s was quite empty for a Thursday night in the summertime, which Sirius was eternally grateful for as they headed to their usual booth, slinging jackets over their chairs and tangling their legs together under the table with identical sighs of relief. Remus reached across the tabletop and laced their fingers together, tracing the lines of Sirius’ palm without looking away from his face.

His once-perfect bowtie hung loose around his neck, crooked even when untied; Sirius tugged one end, skewing it a bit more. “Cutie.”

“You are,” Remus said with a slight smile.

Just as Sirius was about to fire back with something equally sappy and romantic, a shadow fell over the side of the table. “Hey, guys, what can I get for you?” Nate asked as he dug his notepad out of his apron. “The usual?”

“Sounds great. How’ve you been, Nate?”

Nate shrugged. “Not bad, not bad. The summer rush is helping me save up for grad school, which is nice.” He gestured to their suit jackets with his pen. “Special occasion?”

“Yeah, we just got back from a wedding,” Remus said casually.

“Really? Whose?”

“Ours.”

Nate’s pen clattered onto the table as his jaw fell open; he glanced between them, speechless, and Sirius bit his lip to hold down his laughter. “You—your wh—you got married?”

They shushed him in unison and he held both hands over his mouth. “It was a small ceremony, just friends and family. We’re waiting to see how long it takes the media to find out.”

“That’s incredible,” Nate whispered, sniffling. “Oh my god. Fuck, congratulations.”

Sirius grinned, feeling the happiness bubble up in his chest again. “Thanks, man. It’s still sinking in, to be honest.”

“No, yeah, absolutely.” Nate shook his head for a moment before picking his notepad back up with a quiet huff. “Jesus. This is amazing. Pizzas are on the house for the newlyweds, okay?”

“Aw, Nate, you don’t have to—”

“It’s restaurant policy,” he interrupted, already moving toward the kitchen. “I can’t break the rules!”

“That’s not a rule,” Remus muttered as Nate disappeared behind the swinging doors. “That kid’s about to get the nicest tip of his goddamn life.”

“Mhmm.” Sirius guided Remus’ face back to him with a finger under his chin and kissed him slowly, sighing at the softness of his lips. He tasted like champagne, with a little bit of sweetness left from the wedding cake. “Sugar.”

“Is that a new nickname?” Remus asked as he transferred some weight to his elbows for a better angle.

“Could be. D’you like it?”

“Hmm.” A warm palm covered the side of Sirius’ neck. “It’s not bad. ‘Sweetheart’ works fine for me, though.”

“How about ‘husband’? ‘Husband’ sounds pretty good. Mon mari.” Remus blushed and tilted his face to the side, rubbing their cheeks together for a moment. “Quoi? C’est bien?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was hiding a smile. “You know I’m weak for the French.”

“I do.” Sirius kissed the inside of his wrist lightly. “Hey, that’s the second time I’ve said that today.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. First time was better, though.”

Remus laughed and pulled him in for another kiss, combing the pads of his fingers through the curls just above Sirius’ ear. They stopped when the kitchen doors creaked open, but kept their foreheads together until Nate arrived with their food.

“Enjoy,” he said, practically glowing with excitement as he handed them napkins and utensils. “Congrats, again. I’m really happy for you guys. Have an amazing night.”

“Will do.” Remus smiled as he hurried back to the register, then reached for a slice of pizza and practically shoved the entire thing into his mouth. “Fucking hell, this is good.”

Sirius groaned in agreement, letting his eyes fall closed as the soft crust warmed him from the inside out. “This is the best part of my day.”

“Is it?”

“Yep. We’re married, we’re done with the party, and now there’s actual food to eat.” He held his fingers up to count. “Checking all my boxes.”

“Good point.” Remus stole a piece of pepperoni off one of his slices and Sirius made a noise of protest, only to pull a face when Remus set a bit of pineapple on the edge. “What? It’s a fair trade.”

Sirius glared playfully at him over the next slice, then hurried to catch the long string of cheese that slid free from the rest of the slice with a muffled yelp of distress.

“Do you need a hand?” Remus asked, clearly amused as he passed him an extra napkin.

“Uh-uh. I got it.” It took a second, but Sirius managed to get it all into his mouth without snorting pizza sauce through his nose as they both broke down laughing. “Another successful mission.”

“You’ve got pizza grease on your lip,” Remus said, reaching over to dab at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.”

“Thanks, love.”

They ate in relative silence for a few minutes, too focused on the hot food that they could finally enjoy without interruption; Sirius glanced at the wall clock and was astounded to see they had made it over ten hours since their last proper meal. No wonder he was so hungry.

“It felt weird sleeping alone last night,” Remus remarked once their plates were clean and Sirius wasn’t in immediate danger of getting hangry.

“I know, right?” Under the table, Sirius ran the side of his foot up Remus’ calf. “Super strange. We haven’t slept separately in months.”

“Mhmm.” Remus’ pupils dilated, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the low light. “It was fun staying the night with the cubs, though.”

“Yeah?” Sirius pressed a little harder on the inside of his knee and Remus gripped his napkin.

Amber eyes flickered around the restaurant before settling on Sirius. “Baby. What are you doing?”

Sirius shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Remus raised an eyebrow and Sirius’ breath hitched as a hand squeezed the top of his thigh.

“I think we should head home.”

“Good plan.”

Thanks to Nate and his made-up rules, there was no bill to settle, but they left a tip anyway and made sure to say goodbyes to the familiar staff as they headed back to the car. If Sirius let Remus go through the door first for the express purpose of coping a feel without being seen by the other patrons, that wasn’t anyone’s business but their own.

“You are such a—” Remus’ teasing insult was cut short by hands curling into the front of his shirt and pulling him over the console as lips connected to his own in a far less chaste manner than before. “Well. Alright, then. Home?”

“Home,” Sirius confirmed, grinning as he started the car. It was impossible to not feel smug when he managed to bring that particular shade of pink to Remus’ neck and ears. Despite the anticipation in his stomach, he took the longer route, watching the shining lights of the city turn Remus’ face every color of the rainbow. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Remus glanced over and rested his temple on the window, tracing a small circle on the back of Sirius’ hand; a small smile tilted his mouth in that perfect, off-center way. “We’re married. That’s super fucking cool.”

“It is,” Sirius laughed. His cheeks were starting to hurt in the best way. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”

“And I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

They reached the house a few minutes later, and Sirius’ heart leapt when he saw the front steps. “Wait!” he called, scrambling out of the car and grabbing Remus around the waist before he could go to the front door.

“What?” Remus asked, looking mildly alarmed until Sirius swept him into his arms. “Wh—really?”

“Please?” He pressed a quick kiss to Remus’ nose, then another to his forehead, again and again until Remus was laughing too hard to speak. “Please, please, please—”

“Okay, okay!” He draped his arms around Sirius’ neck and held on tight as he walked up the steps. “Do you have the keys?”

“Back pocket.” Remus reached around to get them and Sirius jumped when he felt a light smack as well. “Oh?”

Remus just kissed his cheek and unlocked the door, pushing it open with one hand. Hattie was having a sleepover with the Dumais’ for the night, thankfully; Sirius shuddered to think of what would happen if she collided with his legs in this vulnerable state.

“Ready?” Remus asked quietly, snuggling closer against his chest.

Sirius took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold, careful not to knock Remus into either side of the frame. He had crossed that little line a thousand times, maybe a million, but as they entered the dark house in dance-wrinkled suits with matching rings on their fingers, he felt a new chapter in the story of their life open up. The first of that particular volume, in fact.

He had the feeling it would be a good one.

[haechanokeh]

Sincerity is Scary

[Sad ending] [Continuation & Happy]

synopsis: haechan and you are best friends who couldn't admit their feelings which frustrates them both and the people around the two of you

content: college au! haechan x reader

word count: 1.9K

warning: none

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

You spit your coke - that didn't taste like one and coughed. you glared at haechan.

"what did you put in my coke?" you huffed. haechan gave you his innocent look.

"i don't know what you're talking about." he pouted.

"you put soy sauce in it right? i knew i should not leave my food and drinks when you're around." you said throwing tantrums.

haechan laughed and threw his arm over your shoulder and shoved a cold wet can of coke into your cheeks.

"here, drink this." he said, cooly. you rolled your eyes.

"you wasted money just to annoy me, seriously." you grunted.

"it's worth it though." he chuckled.

someone coughed and both of you just realized that you're with haechan's friends which your friends now.

"i thought you two forgotten we're with you." renjun used his sarcastic voice.

"both of you literally have your own worlds." jaemin added.

"i really don't understand why you're not dating here dude." jeno teased.

"what? hell no!" you said in unison.

you looked at each other, silently hurt. both of you felt awkward and haechan removed his arm from your shoulder. you opened the can of coke haechan gave.

haechan friends- renjun, jaemin, and jeno noticed the awkwardness between you. at first it was cute but it has been 3 years, they've been watching both of you and it was clear to them that you like each other. but what's stopping you and haechan from admitting it?

fear of the possibility of being wrong that you have mutual feelings for each other or that what happens if love vanishes because you'll never know. haechan is your childhood friend and your parents are really close there was a time you used to take a bath together when you're still toddlers. basically, you're so close with him and it'll be wasted.

you were lying on your stomach on haechan's bed while scrolling through your phone as you try to distract yourself from menstrual cramps. haechan is playing with his friends through his computer.

you shoved your face and groaned in pain because your menstrual cramp is an asshole! it was sever when it comes, it can make your head throb and your body is very weak. haechan heard you, the other side of his headphone wasn't covering his other ear. he looked back to check on you. he caught you massaging your abdomen.

"y/n?" brows furrowed in concern.

"hmm?" you just hummed.

"are you okay?" he worriedly asked, his hands were on the keyboard but he's not doing anything reason for jeno calling him out.

"haechan, what the hell dude?!"

"not really." you admitted. your in pain it was evident in your voice, face, and body.

haechan quickly removed his headphone and leave his gaming chair to go to you. you turned, your back is lying down now. haechan was staring at your hands on top of your lower abdomen.

"cramps again?" haechan knew how badly it gets when you're in menstruation. you nodded, you're almost tearing up.

he pitied you, he put his hands larger than yours and slightly rougher on top of the back of your palm. he's giving you a massage without directly touching your abdomen.

"you should've told me. wait here, i'll prepare the hot compress bag." he said and stood up.

"you have hot compress?"

"well, ahm.. mom bought it. wait here." he was lying, he bought it himself because he was traumatized 4 months ago where your cramp strike when you were in his house. that was the worst cramp that you ever experienced and it was in haechan's condo. since then, haechan stored napkins and bought hot compress.

haechan took care of you and he gave you his whole attention. he forgotten his game, left his computer open and friends hanging. but his friend already knew that you're always haechan's priority. haechan waited for you to sleep. it became a habit to you to sleep on haechan's arm and he's not bothered even though sometimes he couldn't feel his arm anymore because of numbness. he was jist staring at you as if you're the most precious thing he owns...

haechan saw his computer.

"sht." he cursed, he forgot he's playing. since you're already sleeping, he carefully removed his arm under your head. he went back to his seat and wore his headphone.

"sorry dude, y/n is not feeling well."

"your girlfriend?" jaemin teased. haechan just chuckle... bitterly.

"why don't you date her already?" jeno said.

"haechan, seriously you two look like dating already. why don't you just make it straight already?" renjun said.

haechan went silent. he couldn't count anymore how many times they tell this to him, but for him it was very hard. it wasn't easy, simply because it was scary. he thinks the same way with you, it's just scary of what's the difference of your relationship as friend vs lovers, that if it didn't work out because it's better to be just friends, then what will happen next? will you still become as comfortable with him? will he become as close to you as he used to? it's scary because both of you don't know what will happen so you both chose to hide it and keep it that way.

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

it's your university's foundation, there will be a night party. you went inside with haechan but women quickly eyeing at him. who wouldn't? he's wearing a black leathered jacket, ripped jeans, and his hair that is quite long made him more four times sexier.

"haechan, i'll just get a fruit punch. do you want some?" you asked slightly louder than your normal voice because of the noise.

haechan who's enjoying the band's performance, gaze down at you and shook his head.

"no thanks. want me to come with you?" he asked. you just shook your head saying that he doesn't have to. he just nodded and went back enjoying the performance.

you left him and go to the catering buffet just to grab fruit punch and quickly went back to where you left him but you stopped from walking when you saw him with another girl, standing beside him where you left. they were talking intimately, and it was painful. imagine jeno punching your stomach, yes! with those arms and strength, that's the scale of pain.

unware, the three boys- renjun, jeno, and jaemin watching the drama while munching the shared bag of chips.

"she will cry." jeno bet.

"nah, she will push the girl." jaemin contradict.

"tsk, no." renjun grabbed a handful chips from the bag earning a glare from the two. "she will confess." jeno and jaemin eyes bulge out for renjun being ridiculous, at least for them.

"her? that's not gonna happen." jaemin said. renjun rolled his eyes.

"as if she will push the girl jaemin, y/n isn't like that."

well they all agreed and returned watching the drama while eating chips. yeah, they are eating chips in the room with a catering service.

you walk, heart-pounding loudly and hands shaking while holding the cup. you silently stood beside haechan hoping that he will notice you, unfortunately, he didn't. you disappointedly sipped on the paper cup.

you were silently and listening to their conversation- well you are trying your best because the loud music made it harder for you. they were like getting to know each other kind of questions.

you're getting annoyed so you sneakily held haechan's hand. he quickly whipped his head down to you. he gazed at your hands then to you who looking straight to the band. when haechan realize it was you, warm electricity traveled in his whole system. the random girl saw everything, so she concluded that you and haechan are dating.

"well, I have to go to my friends... ahm bye." the girl nervously and quickly walked away. haechan didn't mind her, he was just staring at you.

"is she gone?" you looked up to face haechan who was seriously looking at you.

for some odd reason, his expression made your heartbeat fast not in a fluttering way but it made you nervous.

"let's talk outside." he told you sounding a little disappointed. both of you walk while holding hands.

and the 3 guys? saw that and was jumping on their feet and slapping each other in excitement.

"dude, dude! they will finally date!" jaemin said

"finally my frustration will end now." renjun said, he sighed in relief hands on top of his chest. "but why do i feel something ominous." he said feeling unease.

"don't jinx it." jeno groaned.

you and haechan were outside the hall, away from the crowd and noise. haechan let go of your hand and face you.

you were looking nervous and he.. he's sad and disappointed.

"i will never date a friend." haechan directly told you that you didn't expect to hear.

the atmosphere was tense and it's like the heaven and hell compressing you made you feel so small. you were deeply hurt but you didn't allow haechan to see that. you masked it with a laugh.

"why are you telling me that? wah... you think i will date you? yikes." you were laughing and it looked so real. you badly want to cry but don't want to. you were disappointed that you were right. you're just too close, his actions to you are equally no different to a friend.

haechan? like he was hurt. he was asking himself why did he say that? it wasn't real but he was also asking himself, why did you say that? it was written all over your face no matter how many emotions and expressions you put in your face, you were deeply hurt.

"well, i thought you were falling for me already." he grinned. you rolled your eyes.

"in your dreams." yeah, only in dreams.

"let's go back?" haechan asks holding in the pain in his chest. you gave him a smile.

"you go back first, i'll just go to the toilet." holding back your tears. the toilet is in the opposite direction from the room.

haechan just nodded and left you, parting ways. you turned your back and released every single emotion as you walked quickly towards the toilet room.

haechan with a heavy heart went back to the room. his friends approached haechan, hugging him and playfully pushing him.

"congrats dude!" renjun said cheerfully. haechan's forehead creased.

"what?"

"dude, you're finally dating y/n!" renjun said. but they saw haechan's face, it doesn't look like you were dating already. their smiles fell and turned into disbelief.

"what?! how?!" jeno exclaimed.

"just, i don't know." he shrugged.

"it's your fault, you jinxed it" jaemin amused that it was really jinxed by renjun. renjun gripped his own hair in frustration.

so why did haechan lie?

he realized that his world is small because the only person in it is you and that's not good. but he never wanted to lose you. at the same time haechan with the same reason that he always says in his mind. if things don't work out, someone will definitely leave. he couldn't bear that.

does it make sense? no. he's just convincing his self that this is why you don't like to date y/n.

sincerity is hard to give especially if you overthink things. as the song said, questioning why can't we just be sincere? it so easy but why is it hard for us? well, there are times that when we choose sincerity we ended up being vulnerable. the idea of being hurt is scary but you know what either way it's painful but it was extra painful when you became sincere because you know you became true to yourself but weren't accepted.

there will be another part, continuation but for people who don't like sad ending life me 😿

[donutloverxo]

No more waiting

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - Part two to Pink Lady.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - Andy is determined to wait. But will he be able to?

Warnings - 18+ only smut (m/f), professor/student relationship, unprotected sex, dom Andy, many mentions of spanking but no actual spanking, sir kink.

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 3320

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You groaned as you tossed out yet another piece of clothing. Professor Barber had asked you to come to his house, so he could give you ‘private lessons’. Obviously, you had no interest in actually studying. Especially with a man who looks like Andy Barber. You intended on milking the time you did have with him by getting what you wanted.

You settled on a tight skirt that hadn’t fit you in years. It was sexy enough to be enticing but innocent enough that you could claim plausible deniability.

You are not trying to tease him. You would never! You’re just wearing a normal skirt and taking lessons like the diligent and sincere student that you are.

You whistled lowly, pulling over in front of his house, impressed by the sheer size of it. He was an actual adult with a big, sophisticated house in the suburbs. The most valuable thing you owned was a Louis Vuitton bag an ex gave you.

You couldn’t be intimidated. Not now, when you were in this deep. Checking your lipstick one last time you rang the bell, holding your books up and eagerly waiting.

After a minute he opened the door. Leaning over the frame and examining you.

You felt butterflies pool in your stomach at his casual loungewear. His sleeves rolled up, exposing his tones arms to you and those dark jeans hugging him so perfectly. You really couldn’t decide if you preferred this or those business suits.

“You’re late.” he scolded you as you rolled your eyes. Of course that’s the first thing he'd say to you. “What have I said about rolling your eyes at me?” he cocked his head to the side, as if daring you to provoke him.

You hummed in thought, “I don’t remember.... Oh yes!” you beamed as if you’d had an epiphany “to do it as often as I can!”

He stared you down for a moment before shaking his head as he chuckled. “Get in here. What am I going to do with you?”

You were about to be a smartass some more, cooking up a dirty response in your head, just to see how far you could push him but then he put his hand on your lower back. You felt shivers run up your spine, goose bumps all over your skin as you squirmed under his touch.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, shutting the door behind you.

You gulped as you nodded, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I’m just here to study.” You laughed to ease your own nerves.

“Go sit on the table,” he instructed.

You pulled out a chair, placing your books on the dining table. He sat in front of you, nursing a beer. “Let’s start. Where do you struggle the most?”

“Can I have one too?” You were about to take the bottle from him to take but he swatted your hands away.

“Absolutely not. You need a clear head to study. And we both know you can’t handle your alcohol.”

You scoffed incredulously, “I can so! And if I can’t have it then neither should you.” you puffed your cheeks before mumbling “beer tastes gross anyway.”

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s not forget, I’m doing you a favor here.”

“I know, maybe I could thank you for it.” you licked your lips. Thinking of his heavy cock in your mouth, the biggest you’ve ever had, it was a challenge to deep throat him. You weren’t one to just give it away for free and not expect anything in return. But... anything for professor Barber.

“That’s cute,” he said condescendingly, giving you a fake wide smile. “Now start studying or I’ll have to spank you,” he warned.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you giggled shamelessly, not really understanding how that would be a punishment, but then opened your book when he gave you a stern look.

He got up and walked to the stove check on his sauce. He just needed to get away from you for a moment and take a breather.

He hasn’t thought this through.

His original plan was to tutor you and get your grades up. So that you could graduate and he could ask you out without endangering his job and reputation. He intended to keep his hands to himself till then. One slip up and you both would have to face grave consequences.

The blow job in his office - was a mistake. Although it was too good to be something he mourned or regretted. He should’ve said no but you knew just to push his buttons. Just like the ridiculous schoolgirl skirt you were wearing tonight. Or how your tight shirt and cleavage left nothing to his imagination.

Worse of all was that fucking red lip. He hated that you had tasted him and he couldn’t even kiss you. What he wouldn’t give for just a quick peck.

“Mr Barber,” he heard you call for him and groaned as his cock stirred at your chirpy tone. He loathed just how far gone he was for you. You, sitting up so sweetly with your breasts pushed up together, certainly don’t make it any easier.

“I’m all done. Can we get on to the fun part now? Pretty please?” you cooed batting your lashes at him.

“The fun part is studying - keep telling yourself that and you might actually like it.” he suggested and you rolled your eyes again. He had half a mind to bend you over the table, lift up your skirt and pull down your panties, even though he was pretty sure you weren’t wearing any, and teach you a lesson. “Careful. Or they’ll get stuck up there.” He tapped your forehead with his finger.

“I meant the actual fun part.” Boldly, you reached over and palmed his crotch through his jeans. Not really surprised to find him aroused.

“Stop,” he gritted as he grabbed at your wrist with a bruising grip. “I told you, we’re not doing that. Not till you graduate or I’ll lose my job.”

“What about what we did in your office?” you pouted.

“That was a mistake. You left me no choice.”

You frowned, “Right. I overpowered you because you’re so weak and helpless.”

“Enough. Now study and then we can have dinner.”

“And then we have dessert?” You wiggled your brows suggestively.

“No. Then you drive back to your dorm.” he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes and sat across you, working on his cases. Maybe that would inspire you to actually get some studying done.

“Do you not like law?” he asked after over an hour.

You hummed as you heard him. Too engrossed in studying, you didn’t even register his words. You didn’t remember the last time you had concentrated so well. “Meh. It’s alright I guess. I wouldn’t wanna go to law school though.”

“Then what do you want to do?” he dropped his pen leaning back on the chair, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I don’t know. I guess what you do sounds nice,” you mumbled making notes with your glitter pens.

“Being a DA?”

“Yeah. It just sounds so hard though. Like going to law school and then being an intern for years and then working for like eighty hours a week...”

“Anything worth having is always hard to achieve.” he stated. Aware of how the same applies to his situation. He wants, no needs you, but if he wants to do this the right way - he has to wait.

“I guess you’re right.” you agreed.

After going over your notes and quizzing you, he was satisfied with your progress. He set the table for dinner.

“Good job,” he smiled, feeling his heart swell with pride. “See, you put your mind to something and you can absolutely achieve it.”

You squinted your eyes, “No spanking then?”

He chuckled “Nope. Not for now. I’m your tutor, that’s all.” he said more so to himself, to remember, to have some self control, it will pay off.

“Oh my gosh!” you moaned as the creamy tangy sauce burst your taste buds “I can’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t ramen.”

He shook his head “You need to eat better to study better.”

“But I don’t know how to cook!” you whined.

“Then I guess I’ll have you teach you that too.”

He helped you pack your things up, moving as slow as a sloth. Not wanting you to leave just yet. He couldn’t have enough of you. Maybe he’d ask you to stay in the guestroom. He had a perfectly good excuse, it was late. But he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to keep his hands off of you.

“Goodbye then. I’m going to quiz you tomorrow. Don’t forget.” he said walking you to his door. He turned to see you blinking up at him.

He never thought he’d be so smitten with someone so different than him. All his life he dated women his age or older. They suited his old soul much better, none of his relationships really went anywhere, maybe he was too cautious to actually let someone in. To open up enough, to reveal his true self to anyone.

But you were unlike anyone he had ever met, it was as if you were exotic. So bright - almost blinding. So young and sweet. You made him feel things he never thought he could. You could be the proverbial ying to his yang.

“Yeah yeah, I remember,” you waved him off. Still salty that you didn’t get to do any of the naughty stuff you had planned. “Is there something on my face?” You touched your cheek when you caught him staring at you. Letting out a shaky breath and cowering under his predatory gaze.

“I’ll try harder next time!” you panicked, assuming you did a bad job at studying. You tried your best. What else were you supposed to do? The idea of a spanking sounded more scary than sexy to you now.

“Fuck it,” he gritted as he crashed his lips over yours, grabbing your waist and your hip to still you. He invaded your mouth with his tongue, taking his time to explore all your nooks. Sucking your bottom lip between his lips before releasing it with a smack he pulled away. Both of you heaving and trying to catch your breath.

You threw your arms around his neck, pressing hot and quick kisses “I thought we were going to wait,” you said against his lips.

“I can’t. I thought I could. I’m only a man, you know?” he sighed as he pulled you in, exploring your body with his hands “What do you want to do?” As impatient as he was, he would never force himself on you or do anything without your permission.

“I just... I - ” Your cheeks instantly heat up as you stutter. As naughty as your filthy mind was, it had to choose this moment to betray you. “You know, you know! Oh my god,” you smacked your forehead “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning down to suck your earlobe “say it.” He peppered butterfly kisses on your jaw and down your neck. Sucking thoroughly on a spot that made you moan.

“Fine!” you huffed. Feeling his fingers ghost over your inner thighs. “Professor – sir, will you please fuck me. As in put your man missile in my special princess place.” you said in a mock seductive tone.

“Don’t sass me.” he groaned, pushing his erection into you, he put his hands on your shoulders to turn you around, lightly smacking your butt he urged you to go upstairs. “Come on, hurry up. We don’t have all night.” You did have all night but his patience, as it often did with you, was running thin.

You made yourself comfortable on his bed, working on his belt and unzipping his pants. “I’ve never been this addicted to a cock before, professor,” you husked pulling him out of his underwear and licking a firm stripe up his slit, his hand holding onto your head. “I hope you know you’re special.” you beamed at him through hooded eyes. Wrapping your lips around his weeping tip, about to swallow him whole but he pushes your head away.

“Right back at ya, honey. Now,” he laid down on his back beside you as you stared at him, so adorably confused, “come sit on my face.”

“What?!” you unintentionally screamed -in delightful horror. It had always been a fantasy of yours, so downright dirty, and you have a chance to do it with your dream man? You would be a fool to turn him down, but you were anxious, that beard between your thighs would be a bit too much for you to handle.

He didn’t give you any time to think about it, grabbing your hips and swiftly placing you on top of his head, “Oh!” you yelped at the coarse feel of his whiskers against your pussy. You held onto his short silky locks for support as he worked on steadying you “That’s - ” you were cut off when he wrapped his mouth around your clit, sucking it harshly.

“You’re already so wet,” The vibrations from his words sent a jolt up your spine “And you’re not wearing any panties,” he tutted before diving back in, determined to not stop until you’re seeing stars.

“Are you really surprised - holy shit,” you gasped as you felt his tongue prodding at your entrance before slipping in. It was so strange and new, the velvety warm feel of it was almost too good. “Oh, I’m gonna come.” you whimpered.

“No,” he pulled away “you don’t come without permission. Is that understood?”

You frantically nod your head, under any other circumstances you would’ve argued, who the hell does he think he is to deny or control your orgasms? But you were putty in his hands and desperate to have that sweet release. “Please, sir, can I come?”

“May I come.” He corrected you “You need to learn some manners.”.

And you had to supress the urge to call him names, “May I come, sir? Please.” you said breathlessly as he lapped you up.

“Yes, you may.”

You sobbed, his fingers digging into your ass and his tongue working magic on you was too good all at once. A string of curses and loud moans left your mouth, your climax hitting you in waves of pleasure, you held onto the headboard as your legs turned into jello.

“That was amazing,” you panted, mewling as he nipped at your sensitive flesh.

You got off of him, kneeling beside him as he got up, his beard drenched in your juices which he rubbed off with the back of his hand. Placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, to make you taste your own arousal, he pushed you down on his mattress and worked on ridding you of your clothes.

You pulled the helm of his shirt up “Off!” you whined. He was too far gone to chastise you so he took off his clothes, throwing them away before he got a good look at you.

He groaned at your naked form. He had thought of you while pleasuring himself more than once. He wouldn’t even be bothered to be ashamed of it. He thought of your lips and small hands wrapped around his girth, how tight and hot your cunt would feel, but most of all how beautiful you’d look when you were completely bare.

He painted a pretty picture in his head, but really, he never could do you any justice. His imagination could never be that strong.

“Is something wrong?” you bashfully averted your eyes from him.

“No. You’re just so... perfect.” he couldn’t come up with a better word.

You scoffed, “You’re just saying that. There are a million things I’d change about myself. I’m not the one who’s perfect!” you frowned. Tempted to touch his defined abs. His broad shoulders and bulky form looked ridiculously big between your legs.

“I don’t have time to argue,” He absolutely would not have you or anyone else, putting you down. Bur right now, his cock was aching to be buried in your heat. If he waited any longer he was afraid he’d burst. He lined his cock up to your entrance, watching intently as he slowly pushed in “but we will have a discussion about that, later.” he groaned as he bottomed out.

“What?” You had no idea what he was even going on about. His cock was stretching you out “It’s too big,” you cried. You felt as if you were being split in half.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can handle it. I’ll be gentle.” He was aware that he was much bigger than average. So he stayed inside you for a few moments, letting you get accustomed to his length. He slipped a hand between your joined bodies, spreading your lips open with his fingers.

“Don’t - don’t do that.” Him looking at your pussy like that, when you were so vulnerable before him made you flustered.

“Look,” he told you and you only shook your head. He sternly said your name and ordered you to look again.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, gulping as you sneaked a peek, whimpering at the sight of his girth buried inside you.

“You have such a pretty pussy you know that?” He gushed before making a ‘tch' sound and stilling your hips, stopping your pathetic attempts at wiggling them. “Wait a minute, will you?” he wasn’t done admiring you and savoring you.

“Please,” you begged as tears fell down your cheeks.

He grumbled something under his breath before pulling out of you, his tip still buried in your heat, he pushed back in forcefully.

You threw your head back, clutching your pillow tightly as his hips rutted into you. His pelvis rubbing your swollen clit every time he bottomed out.

“Can I - can I come?” you remembered to ask him even though you were too delirious to even comprehend what you we’re sayings. Everything around you slipped into an abyss. His groans echoing in the room, his bruising grip on your hip, and his cock driving into you again and again, touching all your sweet spots.

You weren’t sure you could stop yourself even if he said no. But you knew he’d never be that mean. You vaguely heard him say ‘yes' before you let go. Clenching around his length as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming anymore.

His hips stuttered, pulling his length out of you, he stroked himself above you. Your fucked out state only fuelling his aggressive jerks as spurts of his seed landed on your stomach and your titts.

He held onto your knee, swirling his cum that painted your skin so beautiful with his fingers, “Looks pretty on you,” He smeared some on your nipple before pulling it between his fingers.

“Ouch,” you grimaced as he released it. “Too sensitive right now.” you closed your eyes, already feeling drowsy.

He hummed “I’ll let you sleep for a few hours.” He used his discarded shirt to clean his cum off of you before throwing it away and pulling you in his arms. He nuzzled his nose in your hair, feeling satiated with your soft warm body against him.

“You have god tier stamina, man.” You murmured “Andy, you couldn’t even last a day. What happened to being patient? What will people say?” you giggled, burying your head in his chest.

“That’s Professor Barber to you.” he smiled, kissing your temple. Even tired, you were still a spitfire. He’d deal with all that the next day. “It was worth it.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

[kays-gmm-fanblog]

ahhhh okay. I apparently have no chill, so here's a little over 2k of under the desk blowjob

what a way to returning to writing fanfic after about four years off, lol

it's all under the cut because... yeah it's definitely rated E

also thank you @captainsourwolf for the encouragement - I'm still nervous af, but so it goes

“you have to say take a dip, man”

“take a dip”

“Really man, did you have to call out Tumblr like that?”

It’s 7pm and they’re both at their desks at the studio, finishing up some last-minute research. Of course, Rhett was used to Link doubling back with commentary on their recordings even days after they happened, and the dipping sauce episode had only been done that morning.

He smirked and offered, “Man there’s some weird shit going happening on Tumblr like every day, don’t pretend like you don’t know that. Besides, I just sent a good portion of the Beasts scrambling to worry about all the dirty things they post.”

Link shrugged, “Yeah alright, but it seemed like a weak joke. Like oh, yeah, blowjobs, funny. Very middle school of you.”

“Man, blowjobs are funny. Who do you think decided it was a good idea to stick someone’s dick in their mouth for fun? Probably that same dude that decided to try milking a cow for the first time. Just sticking his mouth where it doesn’t belong for the sake of exploration.”

“I think blowjobs predate milk, bo.” He paused for a second, considering, “Besides the desk isn’t even tall enough for that to make sense. I’d have to rest my head sideways in your lap, how effective is that? And I’d know. I was down there earlier.”

Rhett had had turned back to his computer somewhere in the middle of the bickering, but at that, he spun back around.

“Nuh uh. Not if I lowered my chair down.”

“Even then your giant slenderman legs would be poking me in the shoulders. It wasn’t a well-thought-out joke, that’s all I’m saying.”

Rhett frowned at that. There was room, Link was just being contrary to prove a point. But now his desire to win had been triggered. Plus the idea of Link under the desk was… intriguing, to say the least. He stood up from the desk and walked over to Link, grabbing the hand that was resting on the desk and tugging him toward the door. Link raised his eyebrows, even as he allowed himself to be pulled up and over, and Rhett added

“Come on, you won’t believe me until I prove it.”

Link rolled his eyes but followed behind, his wrist still in Rhett’s grasp, as they made their way down the hallway. Thankfully the part of the team that was coming in live these days had all already left for home. This wasn’t a test he wanted anyone to see, no matter who was right.

When they made their way into the studio, Rhett plopped himself into his usual seat and pulled on the lever to lower his chair to its shortest height. He pulled away from the desk a bit and gestured down, as if to say see, there’s your opening!

Link just folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Come on Link, trust me on this.”

Link paused for a second, and then chuffed out a laugh. “You have to say take a dip, man.”

Rhett smiled, “Take a dip.”

Link dropped himself to a crouch and then forward onto his knees far more quickly than Rhett anticipated, given both Link’s reluctance and the tightness of his skinny jeans. Rhett felt his dick give a twitch at that – he’d been half-hard since he’d started dragging Link over to the set, and watching his best friend crawl under the desk and prepare to simulate sucking his cock didn’t do much to help.

Link backed himself up under the desk and Rhett automatically raised a hand to the back of Link’s floofy hair, guarding him from hitting his head on the edge. He watched as the other man curled in on himself to fit fully under the desk.

When he was settled, Link looked up with a half-smile and said “Alright man, scootch in.”

Rhett moved his chair forward until his knees met the resistance of Link’s torso and then paused, unsure of how to continue. Link placed his palms on Rhett’s knees and spread his legs for him, pulling Rhett closer in the process. Rhett looked down and his breath hitched at the sight - strong, warm hands moving their way up his thighs and a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him. Link leaned in closer and bumped his chin on Rhett’s left knee, butting against him like a cat.

“See I told you, there isn’t room between your thighs and the desktop for my head” he thunked his head gently against the rim of the desk to prove his point, “Even with your chair all the way down, I’d get stuck. I’d have to tilt like this…”

At that, he turned his head at a forty-five degree angle and rubbed his cheek up Rhett’s thigh, bringing himself level with the bulge in front of him.

“Then again, it appears you don’t mind how I turn, do you? Little excited up there?”

Rhett coughed a bit and shrugged. “I mean, if you were at this angle you’d understand. Look atcha down there, on your knees for me, just waiting for me to take control.”

At that, Link smirked again and shook his head. “Do you think I don’t have control down here? Believe me, there’s more power on the giving end than there is receiving.”

He brushed a palm over Rhett’s cock and smiled at the shuddering breath that came from the man above him. He traced his way around the outline of Rhett’s growing erection, rubbing softly at the head as he passed from side to side. Rhett shifted, instinctively moving his hips closer to whatever was going to happen.

Link met Rhett’s eyes and tilted his head, wordlessly asking if he should continue. Rhett was nodding his head yes before he even realized what he was doing. There was no way he wanted this to stop. His hands curled around the bottom of the seat of his chair, doing his best to hold still in anticipation. Link’s hands moved their way toward his zipper.

“You want a hand with that, buddy?” He offered to Link, mouth dry and voice softer than usual.

“Nope, I’m good down here. You just keep your hands right where they are and behave.”

Link’s normally fidgety hands seemed pretty sure as they popped open the button on his jeans and unzipped his zipper. Rhett’s only contribution was to lift his hips off the chair as Link proceeded to slide his jeans and boxers down in one motion, until he was left sitting, bare-assed on his chair, with his dick straining up toward his stomach. Link moved his hands back to Rhett’s knees to push him away from the desk, scooting himself forward in the process so he could unfold from underneath the table.

He looked up at Rhett, admiring the blush on his cheeks and the way he couldn’t seem to decide where to hold his gaze – Link’s hands, his mouth, his eyes, or his own dick as it twitched, precome beading at the top in anticipation. The kneeling man moved his hands up Rhett’s thighs again, this time making skin to skin contact as he moved closer. He leaned over and pressed a soft, almost gentle, kiss to the rosy tip of Rhett’s dick, dotting his own lips wet with precome in the process.

He opened his mouth and Rhett gulped, unwilling to say anything and risk breaking the spell. Unfortunately, Link didn’t have the same concern. His eyes glinted and instead of moving down, he said “Told you there wasn’t room under the desk.”

Before Rhett could even process the jibe, Link was in action, mouth slowly sinking down around the tip of his dick, tongue sliding against his frenulum in a french kiss as dirty as the previous one was chaste. Rhett’s hands tightened around the chair and he let out a grunt, his legs spreading as far as they could with his pants around his ankles.

Link moved his head down further, taking Rhett deeper into his mouth and letting out a pleased-sounding hum. He rubbed his thumbs soothingly across Rhett’s thighs as he braced himself, holding the position as deep as he could for the moment and then starting to lift off again. As Link made his way back up, Rhett closed his eyes, afraid that if he watched this was going to end too quickly. Instead, it just gave him an even stronger jolt when Link’s tongue traced along a vein on the bottom of his dick as he came up for air.

He released from Rhett’s dick with a pop of his lips, looking at the slick mess he left behind, before tilting his head up to look at the man above him.

“Hey, eyes open, man. I’m down here working, the least you could be doing is appreciating!”

Rhett opened his eyes and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, letting out something that was almost a giggle. He smiled down at Link and, without thinking, reached up his left hand to push Link’s bangs out of his eyes. He caught himself before he made contact and paused, looking for permission, since was apparently supposed to be holding still.

“Can I?” he asked, waiting for an answer.

Link seemed to think it over for a second. “Yeah, you can touch. Even with both hands in my hair, I promise you I’m still the one running the show down here.”

There was no arguing with that at this point. Rhett gently brushed the hair back from Link’s face, noting the flushed skin of his cheeks and the damp redness of his lips. He released the seat of his chair with his other hand and used both hands to gently remove Link’s glasses, folding their arms and setting them securely on top of the desk for safekeeping. He returned his hands toward his body, resting them on his thighs, on top of Link’s, as the other man leaned back and started softly licking and sucking up and down his cock again.

Link’s lips drifted to the base as he tilted his head sideways and licked a hot stripe from the bottom all the way back up, laving attention at the top. Rhett felt even more precome leaking out and he moaned almost in tandem with Link as the other man licked it up. Link flicked his tongue across the slit to collect as much slick as possible before closing his mouth around the top of Rhett’s cock again. He began a steady rhythm up and down, with a pause now and again to lick around the head and meet Rhett’s eyes with a coquettish glance.

He continued making soft little noises as he went, sending vibrations shuddering through Rhett’s dick straight to his spine. Rhett’s hands gripped at Link’s until he felt the left one move away to grasp the base of his cock and work in tandem with the slick mouth moving around him.

After a minute, Link pulled off again, and with a raspy voice, chastised “I don’t think I was clear enough before.” He paused and then continued, “Put your hands. In my hair. Now.”

Rhett obeyed without a second thought, winding his fingers into the strands of hair on either side of Link’s head. He could control the pace, but not the sensation, as Link applied suction and the movement of his hand to Rhett’s erection.

As time went on Rhett felt himself building closer and closer, Link seemingly taking him deeper with each bob of his head. He felt the telltale signs of his release and tapped against Link’s head gently, moaning “I’m getting close.”

Link didn’t even stop, simply letting out an encouraging “mmm” sound and increasing the tempo of the hand wrapped around his best friend’s dick. With a loud groan Rhett released, hips stuttering at the feeling of Link swallowing around him as he came.

As he regained his senses, he found himself petting his hands through Link’s hair, even as the other man pulled off of his cock and looked up at him. Link leaned his head against Rhett’s thigh and looked up with a smile, before asking,

“Good?”

Rhett let out a bark of laughter. “So good. Very, incredibly good.”

“Even though there wasn’t room for me under the desk?”

“Okay, okay, you win.”

After a second to catch his breath fully, he rolled his chair back a bit and reached out his hands to help Link stand up. Rhett noticed a telltale bulge in the other man’s pants and he straightened up, and thought to himself that maybe they both won this one.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Weak sauce, give us SEXY lesbabes, coward

You want sexy lesbians??? Aight let's fucking go.

"Thanks so much for this, Urbosa."

"Of course Impa. The boy has been taking his fair share of vacations, it's about time you have a turn."

Impa was finally able to take a small break from everything, and what better place to relax, than a place full of pretty women? Not to mention the hot sun, and plenty of cold drinks. She took a sip of her noble pursuit, relishing in just how refreshing it was.

"I just, don't like taking too much time away from the princess. But she said I was too stressed out, so she sent me out here. Not that I WOULDN'T want to spend time with you, lady Urbosa."

"No need for formalities, Impa. You’re a guest here. One so close to Zelda, yet one I realized I don’t know very well. I know only the things everyone else knows.”

Impa watched her as she plucked a wild berry from one of the plates. She was very generous with the food she provided, and they both seemed unable to control their appetites.

“That everyone else knows? Like what?”

“That you’re young, that you function well with a kodachi, and of course the obvious one.”

“Obvious one?”

“That you like Zelda. A little more than most.”

Impa opened her mouth to protest, but her raised brow let her know that it was pointless. She sighed, hiding her blushing face in her hand.

“Okay, yeah. I do like her. A lot. Am I THAT obvious?”

“To everyone but Daruk. Told him last night, he didn’t believe me at first. He was also the last one to know about Mipha’s feelings for Link.”

“Seriously?”

“I know, that’s what I thought. Regardless, you have no reason to be ashamed. Zelda is a lovely young lady, and knights falling for the princess is a tale as old as time. If anything, I saw it coming a mile away.”

Impa wanted to just leave. She would have honestly, had Urbosa not wrapped an arm around her in clear comfort. Impa looked up at her smiling face, and Impa understood that Zelda trusted her so much. So kind, so understanding. Impa sighed.

“So it’s not...BAD that I like her as much as I do?”

“Not at all, little one. I think your only problem is you, if I can be frank with you.”

Impa folded her arms across her chest in thought, before she pulled one hand away, using it to wag her finger at some imaginary being in front of her.

“I just don’t see how she can like ME like that! I understand why she’d like Link, but I’m not HIM! I’m me! Link would know what to do here, I don’t.”

Urbosa chuckled, lightly patting the top of her head.

“You just struggle with your feelings. You’re so nervous around girls, I can tell.”

“Not ALL girls! Just...the really pretty ones.”

Impa found herself shrinking into her side as one of the many servants came in to fetch one of the plates. Urbosa shook her head as she saw Impa looking. The plight of the lesbians, she understood it perfectly.

“I understand, Impa. You know, I was a lot like you at your age. Only difference was, I never stood a chance. Don’t tell Zelda this, but...I used to be with her mother.”

Impa looked at her in shock, and she could only smile. The reaction was fairly appropriate.

“You were with the QUEEN?!”

“For a short period of time, yes. In fact, we planned on running away together upon hearing of her arranged marriage to King Rhoam. Then...something happened. She actually fell in love with him. He’s as stern as an oak now, but back in the day, he was quite the charmer.”

Impa was quiet for a moment, clearly interested in the story.

“How did you agree to be allies with his majesty after this?”

“I almost didn’t. I was about to start a war over her hand. But then she asked me to instead, stay by her side. No longer as her lover, but as her best friend. I almost didn’t accept it. But love is funny like that, so I vowed I would be there for her. Then, I vowed to be there for Zelda. So...here we are. I still love her, deep in my heart. So when I say I understand what you’re going through, I mean that.”

Impa sat there in thought, letting Urbosa take more nibbles of her fruit, before her eyes were back at the tempest.

“How...did you two even happen?”

“Funny story. I was TERRIBLY shy around her when we first met. Then my friends dared me to kiss her. I was so full of pride back then, I never refused a challenge, so that’s what I did. I kissed her. It went downhill from there. Who knows, maybe that’ll work for you and Zelda, eh?”

She nudged the little lady at her side, which made Impa blush something fierce.

“I...I’ve never kissed ANYONE before, honestly. I feel like If I tried, I’d just make things weird.”

“I could show you.”

Impa froze. No way did she just hear what she thought she heard. Their eyes met, and Impa chuckled. Clearly she was misunderstanding.

“I’m SO sorry, Urbosa, for a second there I thought you suggested you teach me how to kiss-”

“I did suggest this. You want to practice, I have a lot of experience. If you aren’t interested, that is fine. But Zelda having her first kiss is a good one...well, I’m sure that’s something you want.”

Impa opened her mouth to tell her how crazy that idea was, when Urbosa leaned down to hold her chin, lifting it up as she bent down a bit.

“You miss every shot you don’t take, Impa. I will not force you, but I fail to see why this isn’t a good idea.”

Impa thought about it. No one would know. It’d be just them. It’d be good practice for her. Not to mention...well. Who could say they kissed THE Urbosa? Arguably one of the hottest ladies out there? She dwelled on it, before meekly nodding.

“I...okay. So long as you’re patient with me, I guess.”

“I can assure you, I am a very patient teacher. Now, why don’t you go first, let me see what I’m working with?”

Impa leaned in, which was apparently funny, given how she covered her lips behind her hand. She felt her own face turn beet red.

“What?”

“You’re too tense, and you’re keeping your eyes open. Relax those shoulders, close your eyes. It’s not a fight, it’s a kiss.”

Impa took a deep breath, before nodding. There was not a thing to be scared of here. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and leaned in. Urbosa leaned in at the same time, and Impa tried not to freak out. She was sitting right here, kissing Urbosa, right on her lips! The tempest pulled away after a moment, nodding in thought.

“Not bad, but you surely need more practice. Let me show you how I kiss.”

Urbosa leaned in again, pressing her lips against hers. It was a kiss, just like before, only...way different. Urbosa’s lips were so firm, while simultaneously being so soft. Urbosa even placed her hand right at her stomach, pushing her flat onto one of the pillows she had thrown around. She held her down, all while she continued to kiss her, softly groaning into her mouth. Urbosa pulled away after a moment, carefully wiping her smudged blue lipstick as she looked down at Impa.

“Elements of surprise really make a kiss more memorable. I take it you won’t forget this one, and not just because it’s your first.”

Impa gave a light shake of her head, with the room spinning a little bit. What a kiss. Urbosa leaned down a bit, with her nose poking Impa’s.

“Now, your turn. Do it again, but add a little something to it. Go on, surprise me.”

Impa nodded, leaning her head up a bit in order to press her lips against Urbosa’s. She put a little more ‘oomph’ into the kiss this time around, even getting bold enough to stick her tongue into her mouth. The feel of someone’s tongue was something else. So wet, so warm, it made butterflies in her stomach. Urbosa pulled away with a chuckle, sensing that the little one needed to breathe. Impa cleared her throat, smearing blue lipstick that had spread over her mouth.

“So...surprised?”

“It wasn’t bad at all, honestly. It helps that you’re such a pretty girl.”

Impa could squeal. Helpless lesbian she was, the idea of a big, strong lady calling her ‘pretty girl’ made her just weak. She shook a bit as Urbosa’s finger trailed from her lips, down to her chest.

“If you’d like, I can show you other tricks aside from kissing. Not that there’s any pressure on my end.”

Impa looked around, unsure. This wasn’t weird though, right? Couldn’t be. She nodded, a bit more eagerly than she intended to. Urbosa chuckled, and got to work. Sheikah clothes were a bit conservative, with quite the amount of layers. It took her a good minute to get Impa in just her underwear and bra. Urbosa clicked her tongue.

“I understand it’s the clothes of your people, but you dress so modestly. It’s such a shame. You have such an adorable frame.”

Urbosa’s lips trailed from her cheek, to her neck, stopping just short of her chest. She was about to pull it away, when Impa held a finger up. Her cheeks were on fire, and her amber eyes were defiant.

“Hey, YOU’RE still dressed! That’s not fair!”

Urbosa blinked in surprise, before throwing her head back in laughter. Fiery little thing. She sat up, straddling the girl at this point.

“Alright, fair point, little sheikah.”

She reached behind her, undoing her chest armor, and her bra she often wore right under that. She wasn’t surprised when Impa stared at her well endowed chest, clearly having a gay panic. To taunt the poor thing further, she stood up, peeling away her skirt, tossing her black panties right at her chest, and showing her red pubic hair. Minus her heels, she was pretty much fully nude now.

“Happy?”

“I...uh...I…”

Impa was at a loss for words. Surprise surprise. Urbosa let her get a good look, before she knelt down, and pulled away her bra. She chuckled, honestly swooning over her cute little body.

"Oh you are precious. Such a lithe little frame, and such a cute chest."

Her chest was nowhere near her size, but rather, on the small end. Not that Urbosa minded, a chest was a chest. Though Impa didn't seem to agree, given how she covered her chest in clear embarrassment.

"I-i get it, okay? I'm kinda...small, especially compared to you and-"

She was silenced by Urbosa’s finger yet again.

“Don’t put yourself down now, Impa. Women like confidence. You have a lovely body, I daresay our little princess would be fond of it. If you’d just open up a bit.”

Urbosa was careful as she held her hands, slowly pulling them away from her body. Her actions were bold, but oh so delicate, and poor Impa didn’t stand a chance in hell. She got so nervous, but she made no marks to stop her. This was all advice given to her by a stunning woman? Who was she to refuse? Any doubt in her mind was erased the second her tongue grazed over one of her breasts. That actually happened. Her body froze in surprise, but Urbosa wouldn’t let her process it; kissing and suckling at her breast with one hand, with her other hand holding her body oh so close to her.

“That’s...new. Definitely new. But I don’t think the p-princess would let me do that.”

Urbosa kept at it for a moment, smearing more or her lipstick on her body as she suckled on her, letting her talented tongue graze across her perky little nipples. By the time she decided to take a break, Impa was laying there, a shaking, trembling mess.

“And why not? I have yet to find a woman who doesn’t like this, provided they know what they’re doing. Not to mention your nipples are SO eager, it’s rather cute. Why don’t you practice a bit on me?”

Urbosa sat back up, before laying back amongst her pillows. Impa somehow made herself sit up to get a good look at her. A huge set of breasts, nice wide hips, and a pussy that looked good enough to eat. She gulped, before nodding to herself. For the princess. She crawled up to her, cupping them both in her hands.

“Geez, I didn’t know they could GET this big. Really surprised the armor holds it all.”

“I’m no bigger than most Gerudo women, actually. I do however, taste better.”

She put her hand behind Impa’s head, and pulled, forcing her face into her chest. Impa took the hint, and helped herself. She massaged at her chest, slowly and deeply, while her mouth nibbled and suckled at her tits, occasionally tugging on the nipples with her soft, soft mouth. Then Urbosa moaned. It was as sensual as a moan could get; loud, with her head tossed back in pleasure. She chuckled as her eyes met with Impa’s.

“Mmmm...you aren’t half bad. But then again, it’s been a while since I’ve had a cute little vai in my arms. You’re so pretty, sucking on me like that. You like this, don’t you? Like how you feel smothered by them?”

She pressed her chest together, stuffing Impa’s face full of prime Gerudo boob. And holy shit, did it make her twitch. Urbosa chuckled, moving her chest back and forth for a moment, before finally letting the poor girl breathe. Impa was full on panting now, eagerly suckling on her breasts in a means to please the incredible woman in her arms. Urbosa was giving her just that, letting Impa have free reign while she rubbed at her wet pussy in fast, small circles.

“Oh that’s it little vai...suck on me, make me feel SO nice and wet.”

Impa was ashamed that she could feel herself dripping on the floor, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She just knew Urbosa looked so lovely, writhing and moaning and pleasuring herself. It came to a halt when Urbosa pushed her head away, Impa caught with her tongue out.

“You really like tasting. Try this.”

She stuck her wet fingers right into Impa’s mouth, and she didn’t refuse them. She was sitting here, with Urbosa’s pussy juices being shoved into her mouth. And it tasted SO good. She held onto her hand, slurping and sucking the fingers, in a desperate attempt to get more. She laughed, letting her have her moment.

“You like how I taste, don’t you?”

“Yes, Lady Urbosa. You’re so good, and so rich...it’s better than any dessert I’ve ever had.”

“Well then. Why don’t I treat you?”

She pulled her fingers away, and Impa mourned the loss. That is, until Urbosa parted her stunning legs, lightly biting her nail as she looked at Impa oh so alluringly.

“Devour me, little sheikah girl. Make the great Urbosa cum in her own home.”

“Yes, Lady Urbosa.”

Impa practically dove right in, shoving her face right into her, with a monster grip to her big, meaty thighs.

“Oh! EAGER little fox!”

Urbosa laughed, wrapping her legs around her head, keeping her nestled right where she was. Impa didn’t know if she was doing it right, but that didn’t keep her from enjoying the rich, sweet juices she was pouring down her throat.

“Oh that’s it….ooh you’re SO thirsty for a drink. This IS the first time you’ve tasted a woman. Wait till you make me cum. It’s so sweet, it’ll flood your pretty mouth, and you’ll only want more.”

Impa believed her. It was so delicious, suckling at the folds that hung out of her, watching Urbosa grope and pinch at her own chest in an attempt to make her cum faster. Impa had no idea sex was like this. Full of discovery and interest. She pulled away for air, for but a brief moment, shaking as if she was exhausted.

“PLEASE give me a taste, Urbosa! I NEED to know how a woman tastes when she cums! Please please please!”

Impa did her part, diving right back in. It smelled...different than how she imagined. It didn’t smell like roses or candy, but smelled musky, lewd. And she loved it. Impa loved how it tasted NOTHING like she had thought they would. It was so much better, knowing the truth. Even the sounds were better. Cute moans were nice, but Urbosa was LOUD, hungry to chase her orgasm.

“I’m SO close, I’m SO close, just keep DEVOURING me!!”

Her moans were passionate, so full of emotion, it was breathtaking. But not as breathtaking as when she dug her nails into her hair, forced her nose into her pubic hair, and came. She cried out as she did so, and Impa was stunned. So much hot fluid spilled into her mouth, feeling hot as it trickled down her throat. Women...tasted SO good when they came. Urbosa swore a bit in relief, letting Impa’s soaked face finally be free. Impa sat there, panting, cum covering her face, before she spoke.

“That...was incredible. Women taste so...so good.”

Impa dove in for another kiss, which Urbosa accepted, simultaneously digging her nails into her ass. Impa moaned loudly, FAR louder than she had to anything else, and that made Urbosa chuckle.

“Hmmm...something to explore later. For now, let’s focus on something other than eating, you’re already pretty good at that, even by eagerness alone.”

Urbosa laid on her side, pulling Impa right up to her. Urbosa kissed her cheek, before she hiked one of her legs over hers.

“U-urbosa-”

Urbosa’s fingers slowly rubbed her soaked little pussy in small, slow circles. All while her other hand was cupping at her small, soft breast. She chuckled into her cute little ear, loving how it shook her whole body.

“Pay close attention to how this feels, Impa. First, we rub the outside, nice and slowly. You treat your woman like art. With tenderness, passion...a bit of awe, even.”

Impa couldn’t say anything as Urbosa trailed kisses up her neck, all while oh she oh so slowly rubbed at her outside. So slowly and tenderly, smearing her own pussy juices across her own pubic hair.

“Take this time to sweet talk her. Tell her something you like. For example, I like how you’ve never shaved. It’s the right amount of cute little hair down here, and it’s oh so precious. See? You whimpered at that.”

Impa was hiding her face in her hand, trying not to moan like crazy. The way she held her legs open, the way her hands massaged her in a way her own hands never did, even the way she whispered in her ear.

“I didn’t...know I’m supposed to shave.”

“You don’t have to, most do however. It just really shows that you have so little experience. It’s SO cute, you’re lucky I didn’t bring my guards in here, they’d eat you up.”

She even nipped at her neck, as if that’d prove her point further. Impa put her hand over Urbosa’s, trying to get a feel for that slow rhythm she was setting.

“C...can you put it in yet?”

“Mmmm...not just yet, little fox. Unless you’d ask nicely, then I suppose I could speed things up.”

Impa had so much pride inside of her, it was so difficult to swallow it all, but she made herself do just that.

“Please Urbosa...I want to know how to do this properly, for her. I want her to feel like this. Please, don’t make me suffer by not letting me feel you.”

“Oh how am I supposed to say no to that?”

Urbosa chuckled. Kissing her forehead, she finally pushed a finger in. Not too quickly, not too toughly. Just enough to get that breath of hers hitching, and her body shaking. Urbosa still kept it nice and slow, merely teasing her already soaked insides. Impa was already so ready to cum, it was just the cutest thing. Urbosa kissed her neck again, watching her shake even further.

“There we go. See how slowly I’m going? See how I’m looking for that nice, steady pace? I’m looking for something. Something very-”

She swore she saw that shiver travel up her spine. There it was. Her cute G-spot. She kissed at her nose, before keeping their foreheads pressed together.

“Pay attention. Because once you master this, I doubt any woman could keep their hands off of you.”

Once she slipped another finger inside, she began her attack. Normally she wouldn’t do this to such a newbie, but she couldn’t help it. Her pussy was so eager to learn, her body was lithe and soft, and her voice. Oh her voice. Her cries of ecstasy as she fingered her cute little pussy so quickly was enough to make a heart melt. Impa kept crying out in pleasure, squirming as she felt herself quickly being shoved right off the edge. The lewd sounds of her wet pussy only made this more tasty to the Gerudo woman.

“U-urbosa! Oh my GOD URBOSA!!”

“Look at me in my eyes. That’s it, good girl. You’re going to cum, and it’s going to feel so good. Remember it, so SHE can feel good. This is for Zelda. So when you cum, cry for her, understand?”

“Yes! Yes yes YES!-”

Poor thing was near tears. Urbosa could see her eyes get misty in lust, and with a rather adorable squeal, she came, crying out the princess’s name as she slipped into pleasure, the likes of which she had never seen. It was so much, she just sat there, limp like a fish, gasping for air. Urbosa chuckled, slowly pulling her fingers out and taking a long, good lick of them. Ah, the cum of a lovely little virgin. Such a treat.

“Now, if you do all of that, little fox, suffice to say, she’ll be putty in your hands. Assuming you’ll be alright after this?”

Impa, though trembling, gave her a thumbs up.

“H..holy shit...I...i really like girls.”

[thestarkerisobvious]

Let Me Take Care Of You

thank you @mrstarksbaby​ for this amazing art

“Do we need a safety word?”

Peter didn’t want to kill the mood, he really didn’t. But after the yogurt and the apple sauce and the milk, well, he couldn’t help it.  He was getting nervous.

In Tony’s defense, the man had said “will you let me take care of you tonight?” and Peter had enthusiastically said “yes.”  He couldn’t deny that.  Only he thought “take care of you” meant… well… a little more meat and a lot less… yogurt.  

                                                      * * *

Altogether, Peter estimated, he still had at least 12 broken bones.  Most were in that his right foot and ankle which is why he was limping so badly, the rest in his wrist and arm, which didn’t hurt much as long as he didn’t move them.  As long as he didn’t move anything on the right side, he was fine. He sat quietly on Tony’s couch, propped up on pillows and enjoying the attention, taking stock every few minutes.  All the damage on his left side, as well as his neck and shoulders and back, was gone, and his jaw had healed completely.  Peter lay back in his warm comfy spot, snuggled under his warm blanket and smiled a secret smile.  Lack of pain was good.  Lack of pain meant it wouldn’t be hard to talk his lover into doing what his lover was clearly wanting to do.

And he could tell what Tony had in mind, even though Tony would certainly deny it.  Absolutely deny it, and insist that Peter needed to rest.  But Tony was also calling him “baby boy” as he set him up on the couch with everything he needed within arms reach, and “baby boy” were words Peter only heard in bed.  

Right now Tony was in another room, arguing with someone on his phone, and that made Peter smile even more.  Tony was arguing that he WAS going to be unavailable for the next 12 hours, and there was only one reason why Tony would do that.  Not for sleep, that’s for sure.  Tony never argued that he needed time for sleep. Tony was making it clear to the unfortunate people on the phone that he’d be on radio silence for 12 hours because he absolutely had something else in mind.  And Peter didn’t mind that.  Peter didn’t mind that at all.

Right now Peter was supposed to be watching the television (maybe Netflix?  So they could Netflix and chill?  Peter grinned stupidly at the joke he had just told in his head.  Of course he didn’t want to chill... the ice and sleet of the wreck in the runway was all the ‘chill’ he needed for the rest of the year.  Now he just wanted Netflix and warm.  That joke made him grin even more.)

But he had turned the TV off completely.  He didn’t want noise now he wanted silence.  He wanted to lay back and smile and savor his sweet memories in warmth and peace.

The memory of that blinding sleet and driving snow and biting cold and Tony grabbing him and kissing him in front of the whole gang… well maybe they all couldn’t see it through the snow but... well some of them saw no doubt.  And that kiss... that was a memory he wanted to remember forever. Because, in that very instant, Tony had ended the whole should-we-or-shouldn’t we when it came to going public with their relationship.  Because after Peter had climbed his way out from under the two airplanes and onto the tarmac to walk into Tony’s arms… well… Tony’s complete lack of impulse control had ended that argument for both of them.  The cat was out of the bag… or maybe the spider was out of the… anyway they were both out of the closet holding hands and there was no going back from that.  Peter lay back on his warm pillows and under his warm blanket and smiled and savored.  

And now the phone call was over, and Tony was bringing things into the living room that he had promised... the hot chocolate.  Full of marshmallows just the way Peter had described.  

Peter didn’t object when Tony insisted on holding the cup for him, although both hands were working now.  He willingly snuggled into Tony’s arm leaned into his shoulder.  He even allowed the man to spoon feed him the marshmallows, although that seemed a little over the top.  And because Tony was talking to him so sweetly... seemed so worried that he hadn’t eaten at all... he agreed to a few soft foods.  And after that… well, they would have the next 12 hours to figure out what came after that.  Tony had mentioned something earlier about Peter being ‘too banged up’ for any extracurricular activities, but Peter was pretty damn sure he could change the older man’s mind.  Especially after that same man had kissed him in front of ALL of the Avengers and Nick Fury to boot.  Especially because after ‘dinner’ Tony was definitely going to hold him and tell him something about ‘if I ever lost you.’  And especially since Tony was ALREADY calling him ‘baby boy.’

                                                                * * *

For it was absolutely amazing, leaning in Tony’s strong arm and being held close.  Even the absurdity of being spoon fed everything, even though he had already made it clear he was better after the coco, seemed to be okay since it was Tony doing it.  

And Tony seemed to really be enjoying it. And all those “that’s it” and “good boys” were really making it hard to say no.  (The truth was, when Tony said “good boy” in bed, it really made Peter weak in the knees.  And “that’s my good boy?”  That could make him come on the spot.)

But now there was yogurt and applesauce and a cup of milk and, well, that was just strange.  And hearing those words, and feeling that thrill going through his entire body, only to suddenly be faced with a spoonful of yogurt?  Well… his body was getting seriously mixed signals and it was making him very uneasy.  He flinched and turned his head away when Tony pressed the cup of milk to his mouth… not that Tony minded the tiny spill it caused.  In fact it was when Tony started cleaning him up with the soft white dish towel (with a whisper of “Oh, messy baby”)  that Peter started to catch on.

“No milk, just water please,” was all he said at first. He let Tony hold the water bottle for him and drank obediently, then finished off the yogurt and applesauce without comment.  But when they were both done, Peter realized his stomach was in knots and that's when he spoke.

He seemed to startle Tony a bit, but the man recovered instantly and shook his head no.  “Just... just the usual safety word…” he said softly.  “Foot cramp, just like always.  And we can stop now... if you want?”

“Oh no no no…”  Peter said quickly.  Tony had looked so peaceful moments before, so content.  Now he looked worried.  Peter would do anything to make that look go away.

But there was no denying the knot in his stomach.  And if he wanted that to go away…

He took a deep breath and plunged forward.

“I just need to know what comes next,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too inexperienced.  Too naïve. Too young.  “When you said… ‘take care of you.’  I didn’t know it meant… I mean that was really nice,” he said, nodding toward the food and the spoon Tony had used to feed him with. Even though the food had made him a little queasy.  “I just… need to know.. what comes next.  I mean… what you want to do.  Next. To me.  In bed.  That’s all.”

“Nothing weird…” Tony said, but his face looked strained.  As if he HAD thought of something ‘weird’ and just now got caught.  “I just wanted…”  He looked back toward the bedroom, then turned and brought their foreheads together.

“I just wanted to carry you into the bedroom and… take care of you, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Peter sighed, smiling.  A thrill went through his entire body, and he slipped his hand behind Tony’s neck and pulled him in close.  “Oh yes, oh that sounds very nice.”

Tony kissed him then, gently and tenderly, and Peter melted into his arms with a moan.

But it still wasn’t right.  No matter how many times he told himself to relax and trust his lover, he just couldn’t do it.  For one thing Tony’s kisses were still gentle and tender, and as much as Peter enjoyed this nicer, slower pace (so different from their normal furious removal of clothing and desperate attempts to get closer until they were leaving bruises on each other) Tony’s tenderness was making him nervous and the doubts in his head were getting louder.

Because, let’s face it, Tony was into things.

Kinky things.  Complicated things. Complicated, kinky things.  It wasn’t just the infamous sex tapes AND the notorious private-plane-where-the-stewardesses-were-also-strippers AND giant beds that could hold 8 people AND the drawer full of leather instruments Peter had found accidentally.  It was just the part where they had established a safety word before they had even had sex.  There was just the simple fact that Tony was an older, experienced, famous playboy, and Peter was… well…

Peter was just Peter.

And that sucked.  And Peter had tried to ignore it and soldier on as if every single thing in Tony’s crazy past was really okay and kosher with him, but that didn’t always work out. Like when Tony once presented him with an alphabetized lists of kinks and Peter couldn’t bring himself to admit he didn’t know even know what half those words meant.  And while “take care of you” sounded like a little bit of heaven, there was also a little worried part of Peter’s brain telling him that “take care of you” might mean something more complicated.  

And he couldn’t hide his reservations.  Tony pulled back a little and looked into his face, so he charged forward.

“So… just to be clear… just so I understand…”

Tony’s face softened and he leaned in to explain.

“I want to carry you into the shower,” he whispered, stroking Peter’s face.  “get you cleaned up, maybe help you… clean up.  

“And then you’ll let me slick you up… nothing exotic… just slick you up like I always do.  

“And then… if you let me… I’ll carry you into the bedroom and do all the things you like.  Nice and gentle.  No surprises there.  Only, afterward, well…

“Well… we’ll need to shower again.  So maybe, if you’re still in the mood, you’ll let me carry you back there, and clean you up all over again.  For as long as you’ll let me, or until you use the safe word. That’s all I meant.”

Peter listened and nodded, grinning a little, maybe biting his lip a bit, as Tony described it.  By the time Tony pulled back enough to look into his face (and say, “Does that sound okay baby?”) he was grinning like a fool.

“Oh yeah, yeah that sounds good, I’d like that. Only…”

He bit his lip harder and blushed as he tried to say it. In the end, all he could do was lean up to Tony and whisper it in his ear.

“I really… really like it when you… when you say I’m being ‘good for you.’  Or telling me I’m a… a ‘good boy.’  Or ‘your good boy.’  I really like that.”  

Tony moaned appreciatively and pulled him close.

“Oh baby… you should get hit with colliding planes more often.”

[seanfalco]

Pizza & Blindfolds | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’verse

an oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98​

Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: Smut (Fingering, Oral - f!receiving, Blindfolds, Rough Sex)

[ masterlist ]

"Hey everyone! Who's hungry?" Lydia walked through the door after another boring interview; she’s brought a pizza back with her, knowing she wouldn't wanna get in the kitchen after the day she’d had.

"Loves of my life? I brought dinner!"

"Hmm something smells good!” her Nathan called, coming out of the room. "I'm starvin'."

“Oh, you angel,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed from the couch, pushing himself half up to watch her as she entered.

“Oh darn, I was gunna cook us all dinner in a few minutes,” Win joked from where she sat on the floor next to the couch, her guitar in hand.

"Good think I saved everyone," Lydia placed the box on the coffee table and went to the kitchen, kicking her shoes away in the process. "I'm gonna get some water, what do you guys want?" "Same," Lyddie's Nathan sat next to Win on the floor, pulling her onto his lap.

“Water sounds good— oh,” Win exclaimed as his arms entwined her.

“Well, I was gunna ask for a beer, but I don’t wanna be th’only one,” Win’s Nathan grumbled.

Lyddie's Nathan seemed pleased with Win’s reaction. The last few days the girls had been... cozy. Giving the boys a lot to watch, but not much room for proper action, so that night, he decided to change things up a bit.

"Don't worry, I'll join you then,” Lydia said, looking over her shoulder with a smile before opening the fridge to get the drinks.

“Wait, I want one too then!” Win whined with a laugh, setting her guitar off to the side.

"Make it four!" Lyddie's Nathan rolled his eyes with a grin. "If Lyds is drinking I might as well..." he murmured before pressing his lips to Win's neck.

"Alright, let's leave trying to be healthy for another night then," Lydia laughed, bringing four bottles and joining Win's Nathan on the couch. "Turn on the TV, baby," she said to no one specifically.

“You got it babe,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, grabbing the remote and turning it on to find something to watch as he took a swig from his bottle. “Got anythin’ specific in mind?” he asked, pulling Lyddie closer to his side.

Win squirmed in Nathan’s lap as he kissed her, almost spilling her beer as she accepted it from Lydia with a smile. “Nathan,” she exclaimed, somewhere between a hiss and a sigh, while making no move to actually stop him.

"What? Did I do somethin'?" Lyddie's Nathan sounded almost offended while he reached to grab a slice of pizza with a shit-eating smirk.

"Hmmm... how about a sitcom? There must be a How I Met Your Mother marathon on somewhere," Lydia rested her legs on Win's Nathan's lap, drinking slowly from her bottle.

“You know what’re you doing,” Win hissed, turning to poke him in the stomach before grabbing a slice of pizza, to hide her grin.

“Sure thing Lollipop,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, flipping through the channels as he rested his arm over her legs, idly massaging her calf with his free hand, settling on Modern Family.

"Perfect," Lydia sighed, already halfway through her first slice. "I had such a huge crush on Sarah Hyland growing up," she laughed, only half aware of what was happening on the floor.

"Me? I have no idea what y'mean..." Lyddie's Nathan leaned in to kiss Win's neck again, this time, followed by a bite. "Ooops."

“Oops, huh,” Win replied wryly, her breath catching as she pressed back against his chest, writhing slightly in his lap.

Win’s Nathan glanced down, noticing Win giggle and he frowned before glancing over at Lydia thoughtfully. Wetting his lips, he ran his hand up further along her leg, giving it a squeeze. “Uh huh, I can see why,” he mused.

Lydia gasped silently as Win's Nathan's hand reached her thigh, but she kept eating, not really understand what was happening with the boys. "It's weird for me to watch this today knowing how these kids will look in 10 years," she laughed.

“It’s a little weird, but not in a bad way,” Win’s Nathan replied, rubbing his thumb in a circle against her skin.

"Yeah, I guess not," Lydia's eyes were going from the tv to the spot Win's Nathan was caressing. Maybe he's just being affectionate, she thought to herself.

"I'm just so hungry, it wasn't my fault," Lyddie's Nathan purred before pressing another kiss to the spot he bit. "Y'look so tasty, but I'll stop..."

“You don’t have to stop...” Win murmured quietly, bringing her bottle to her lips.

"Don't have to or you don't want me to?" Nathan whispered, his hand sliding down her inner thigh. "You gotta be more specific, Winnie."

“Don’t want you to...” she whispered as if the words were being dragged from her and she squirmed again, a soft moan leaving her lips.

Win’s Nathan grinned, downing the rest of his beer before leaning over Lyddie’s legs to grab another piece of pizza, accidentally dropping the slice in her lap. “Aw shit, sorry babe,” he mumbled, wiping the stray sauce from her thigh with his thumb and bringing it to his mouth.

"Oh," Lydia's eyebrows shot up, she tried her best to ignore the feeling growing inside of her. "It's okay, Nats," she tilted her head as she watched him. Okay, that was definitely intentional... what were they up to?

“Oh good,” Win’s Nathan murmured, pulling Lyddie closer, practically into his lap, his hands playing over her hips.

"Good girl," Lyddie's Nathan murmured, going back to kissing her neck, his hands discreetly roaming her body, as if the touches were unintentional.

“You’re such a little shit,” Win gasped, but the last thing she wanted him to do was stop and it took everything she had not to turn in his lap and start grinding against him.

"Uh uh, be nice, baby," Lyddie's Nathan stopped moving his hand completely, his plan was to get Win begging for him again, he couldn't stop thinking about how hot that was back in New York.

Lydia thought about asking what had gotten into them, but she was intrigued, she wanted to see where they were going with this. Finishing her dinner, she simply rested her head on Win's Nathan's chest, watching carefully what happened between Win and her own Nathan.

“Who ever said I was nice?” Win murmured, resting her head back against his shoulder, hoping he’d start touching her again. Though she’d deny it, she was very much enjoying his teasing.

"Well, if you don't wanna be nice..." Nathan leaned back, propping both hands behind his head. "That's too bad, baby, I had something planned for us tonight."

Win froze. ‘How to play this?’ she thought. She knew he wanted her to beg and she was very close to giving in and doing so, but she had more dignity than that... didn’t she?

“Oh?” she asked, forcing her voice under control. “What did you have planned?”

"I planned t'eat you out, then have you blindfolded before I have my way with you... but that's somethin' only good girls get t'do," Lyddie's Nathan drawled, making no move to touch her still.

Win bit her lip, shivering as she felt heat rush through her. Groaning, she turned in his lap to straddle him, pouting as she faced him. “I suppose I could be good... for you,” she whispered, plucking at the front of his shirt.

Win’s Nathan set his empty bottle away as he wrapped his arm around Lydia’s waist, shifting her fully into his lap before wrapping both arms around her, his hands wandering, brushing lightly over her chest.

"Hmm" Lydia let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch. "What are you doing, Natty?" she whispered, turning to face him, trying not to let on how worked up she was.

“Who, me?” Win’s Nathan asked coyly. “Nothin’, just wanted t’be close to yeh, that’s all,” he purred in her ear.

"Uhum..." she nodded, narrowing her eyes. "I know what you're doing, Nathan, clear as day," she whispered back, shivering with his voice next to her ear.

“Oh, you know, do you? And what would that be, princess?” he mused, twirling her hair between his fingers.

"You're trying to drive me mad," Lydia chuckled, trying desperately to control herself. "I don't know what's gotten into you tonight, but I know you're trying to be a tease."

"Oh, that's better," Lyddie's Nathan murmured, running his thumb over Win’s lower lip before going back to kissing her neck, nipping at the skin and making sure to leave a mark. "Y'like that, baby?"

“Yes,” she breathed, clutching tighter at his shirt. “I feel like I might’ve created a monster by telling you my weaknesses,” she admitted, tilting her head to expose more of her neck to him.

"Yeah, y'did, but I'm havin' so much fun with it..." Lyddie's Nathan murmured in between kisses, his hands sliding to the small of Win's back and urging her to roll her hips. "Maybe a little bit..."

“Is it workin’?” Win’s Nathan asked with a smirk, mimicking his clone and bringing his lips to Lyddie’s neck, brushing her hair out of the way.

Lydia tried to fight a grin tugging at her lips, though she was very close to breaking and begging him to fuck her the way he did that one night at the hotel.

“Even a little?” Nathan teased, kissing her harder, enough to leave a dark hickie as he pinched at her nipples through her shirt.

"Fuck..." Lyddie mumbled under her breath, he knew what he was doing. She shifted on his lap, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You think you're so clever, don't you?"

“I do think that,” Win’s Nathan chuckled. “I can be pretty clever when I wanna be, usually when it has t’do with gettin’ in your knickers baby.”

"Oh, is that so?" Lydia bit her lip, running her fingers through his hair while pressing her forehead to his, fighting the urge to grind against his thigh. "That's cute, Natty..." she taunted before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, I’m cute and clever,” Win’s Nathan murmured, capturing her lips again. “What d’you say I make you feel real good babygirl? You’ve had such a long day, you deserve t’be pampered.”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” Win groaned, though there was no heat to her protest and she gave in, rolling her hips against Lyddie’s Nathan as she slipped her arms around his neck.

"I love you too..." Nathan snaked his hands under Win's shirt, blindly kneading her breasts while trailing kisses all the way up until his lips met hers.

Moaning into his mouth Win ground against him again desperately, kissing him roughly. “You—mentioned—something about a—blindfold?” she murmured between kisses. “I want you so bad, Natty,” she whined, past caring about trying to play hard to get any longer.

Lyddie's Nathan hummed in response, that's exactly the reaction he wanted. "I love how you get needy like this," he groaned. "Can you feel how hard I am, Winnie? All for you..."

“Lyddie’s not the only one who likes to be teased sometimes,” she laughed. “Fuuuck— you’re so hard,” she gasped. “You’re so hot, Nathan.”

Lyddie's Nathan took Win's hand to help her up. "Let's get you ready, shall we?" he looked pointedly at the room before lifting her up and carrying her to bed.

"Please," Lydia breathed helplessly. "I want you, Natty," she finally snapped, kissing him back hungrily, pressing her body against his. "Please make me feel good? I need it so bad..."

“Whatever you want baby,” Win’s Nathan moaned, lifting her and rolling her to her back, fumbling with her jeans.

"I tried to resist, I wanted to play hard to get, but I guess I'm not very good at it," Lyddie laughed, ripping off her shirt. "But you don't make it easy either..."

“Aw you’re good at it, I’m just better at teasin’ yeh,” Win’s Nathan joked, pulling Lyddie’s bra down so he could tease her piercing with his tongue. Drawing her nipple into his mouth.

"Yeah, a little too good sometimes..." Lydia moaned, feeling the arousal pooling between her legs. "You don't happen to read minds, do you?" she giggled, her chest heaving with desire.

“And what if I could read your mind, hmmm?” Win’s Nathan waggled his eyebrows as he reached between her legs.

"Well, that would be unfortunate..." Lydia's eyes widened in terror, what if he actually bought that power and just never told her? "My mind is a weird place to be," she exclaimed, trying to gloss over it and focus on his hand between her legs, pulling him closer, chasing his lips.

“I was only jokin’, I can’t actually read minds, but I do know yeh pretty well, at least, I’d like t’think I do,” Win’s Nathan murmured, slipping his hand under Lydia’s knickers. “My mind’s pretty fucked up as well, y’know,” he said, kissing his way down her body.

"Oh, yeah, I suppose," Lydia exhaled shakily, feeling her body relax, each kiss only making her want him more and more. "I know, I like that about you," she admitted.

“I’m glad,” Win’s Nathan mused as he kissed her over her knickers before easing them down. “Are y’gunna be a good girl for me?” he asked, tasting her.

"Yes!" Lydia gasped, looking down down to watch Win's Nathan between her legs. "I'll be so good, I promise," she whimpered. "I'll do anything you want."

“I know you will be, Lollipop,” Win’s Nathan drawled. “And anythin’?” he teased, lapping at her gently.

"Anything," Lydia sighed, stroking his hair as her mind started to wander imagining all the things he could do to her. "I'm yours to use, all yours."

"That's right, missy," Win's Nathan groaned, lifting his face once more. "Tell me exactly what you want, and I'll give it t'you. But you hafta be specific. I wanna hear you say it."

"I want you to..." Lydia thought for a second, watching Win's Nathan's face. She swallowed thickly before gathering her thoughts again. "I want you to fuck me, hard, and kiss me so I can taste you, and pull my hair like you did that one time," she whispered, carefully dancing around her own ideas.

Nathan’s grin grew and he pushed himself up, nipping at her inner thigh first, before snapping his fingers and magicking their clothes away. “Good girl, Lyddie, now come sit in my lap,” he instructed, curling his finger as he sat back, reaching for her left over beer and taking a long swig, finishing off her bottle.

"Yes, Natty," Lydia obediently moved into his lap, intoxicated by his praise and hypnotized by the sight of him drinking, watching closely the movement of his adam's apple.

As soon as Lydia straddled him, Win's Nathan pulled her in for a passionate kiss, forcing his tongue into her mouth as he bucked up into her, holding her by the back of the neck to keep her close, his other arm wrapping round her waist.

Lydia moaned into his mouth, holding firmly onto his shoulders as she rolled her hips greedily, seeking her own pleasure. "You taste so good, Natty," she murmured before their lips crashed once again.

"Thought y'might like that, baby," Win's Nathan panted as he bucked into Lydia roughly, grunting softly with each thrust. His hand on her neck tangled in her long cotton candy locks and he gave a sharp tug, forcing her head back, exposing her neck to him. Smirking at her gasp his lips found her throat as he fucked her, marking her with each demanding open mouthed kiss.

"Oh, please, give it to me," Lydia pleaded, the pain mixing with pleasure creating a confusing and wonderful sensation that grew with each kiss. "I want all of you, even the parts other people don't like, I want all of it."

Lydia had always been submissive, but Win's Nathan brought that out even more, it's like he had some sort of power over her that made her want to be used by him.

"Fuck, I love you Lollipop," Nathan exclaimed, biting into her shoulder hard as he bucked into her rougher than before, making her whole body bounce, her tits jiggling in front of his face. "Will you come for me babygirl? Huh? I need you. I need t'feel you clenching around me."

Lyddie hummed in response, af this point unable to form a full sentence. "Nathan..." was all she could manage to say as she felt her body reacting beyond her control. At his words, she let go and came undone, collapsing on top of him.

Win's Nathan buried himself as deep as he could as he came, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she collapsed atop him. Catching his breath he gently stroked her hair as he held her to his chest. "So good, Lyddie, y'did so damn good. Fuck, I love you babygirl."

"I love you too," Lydia took a deep breath, looking up to kiss Win's Nathan's neck. "You were amazing, Nats, you really do know me..." she blindly reached into the pizza box to get another slice. "Now you made me hungry again," Lyddie scolded playfully, noticing that the tv was still on.

Win's Nathan chuckled, reaching for a slice for himself as well. "Yeah, me too, you really wore me out Lollipop," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before taking a bite.

"I'll get us more beer," Lydia got up after kissing his cheek softly, glancing over her shoulder to watch him with a grin. "Next time I'll do the teasing," she cocked one eyebrow defiantly.

"Oh I would love t'see that, darlin'," Win's Nathan drawled, watching her as she walked to the kitchen, his eyes following each sway of her perfect ass.

——

Win clung to Lyddie’s Nathan as he carried her, falling back to the bed as he tossed her down with a laugh.

Looked through the dresser for a second Nathan pulled out one of Lyd's scarves. "If y'want me to stop, just let me know, okay?"

Win nodded, watching him carefully, the anticipation killing her. “I’ve never been blindfolded before,” she admitted, stretching out on the bed.

"Lyddie told me," Nathan flashed her a wicked grin. "I think you'll love it," he leaned over Win, carefully covering her eyes with the silk scarf, while placing soft kisses on her jaw.

Win grinned as soon as her eyes were covered, reaching up to feel Lyddie’s Nathan’s face. “You gunna make me feel good Natty? Because I’m ready,” she murmured, grinning.

"Good, I wanna make you scream, Winnie," he said, slowly undressing her, placing kisses in random places, watching as Win squirmed every time he touched her. "That's for being so good," he parted her legs and took her clit between his lips.

“Maybe I should be good more often if this is how you react,” Win sighed, squirming under his mouth. “Oh Nathan—“ she cried softly, burying her hands in his curls.

"I think so too," Lyddie's Nathan smiled before he dragged his tongue up Win's slit, savoring her arousal, while his hands teased her nipples. "Don't you dare come until I say so,” he growled.

“Mmm, and what will you do t’me if I come before then?” Win asked cheekily, loving to see how much she could get away with, how far she could push him.

"Then I won't touch you again for a month..." Lyddie's Nathan knew he couldn't keep that promise and it wasn't exactly a threat in a relationship with four people, but he liked to think it was.

“I don’t believe you,” Win countered, wishing she could see his expression, unsure if he was bluffing or not.

"Try me, see how well that goes for ya," Lyddie's Nathan purred before sliding two fingers inside of her. "So tight... I can't wait t'shag you senseless."

Whatever Win was gunna say melted on her tongue and all she could do was moan as she rolled her hips, wanting more. "I don't know if I could go a whole month without your touch," she whispered, her fingers tightening in his hair. "I'd miss you too much."

"I'd miss you too, that's why you tell me when you're gettin' close, right?" Lyddie's Nathan brushed his lips teasingly around Win's inner thighs before running his tongue along her skin, watching closely for her reaction.

“Yes, Natty, I’ll tell you when I’m close—“ Win whined, squirming. “Please fuck me, please touch me, I’ll be good!” she begged. “I need you!”

"Aw, Winnie baby, you look adorable like this," Lyddie's Nathan caught Win's lips in a passionate kiss, while he quickly replaced his fingers with his cock, thrusting into her mercilessly. "Like this? Is this what y'want?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, instinctively wrapping her arms around his shoulders, gasping as he filled her. "Oh, you feel so good, Nathan! Please fuck me like the good girl I am!" she cried, her lips twisting with amusement for a moment before her mouth fell open with pleasure, being blindfolded added a whole new layer of excitement to it.

"Oh yeah, such a good girl for me..." Lyddie's Nathan moaned, each thrust followed by a touch or a kiss somewhere unexpected, hoping to take Win by surprise. "So needy, so desperate... I'll give ya what y'need, baby.”

"Yes, oh please, Natty! Please! Rougher—" Win babbled, her cries descending into incoherent sounds, needy and raw as she clutched at him, feeling her climax building with each thrust.

"I'm—I'm getting close," she gasped obediently.

For a moment she almost decided to see if he really would hold to his promise. It wasn't as though she really needed him to get off, not with Lydia or her Nathan in the house, but she had meant it when she said she'd miss him. Lyddie's Nathan fucked her differently than the others. Each of her lovers bringing a different experience to their lovemaking.

"Good, don't come yet, baby," Nathan asked, despite being really close himself. He slowed down for a moment, still making sure to thrust as deep as he could. "Tell me why I should let you come, do you think you deserve it, baby girl?" his hand reached for her clit, circling it just to make things a little bit more interesting.

"Ah—" Win gasped, writhing against the added pleasure. "I've been good for you, haven't I, Natty? I could've been bad, but I wasn't. Please let me come. Please, I wanna come with you. Wanna feel you fill me up," she moaned, her voice cracking while her short nails bit into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I s'pose you were..." Nathan took a few more seconds to think, smirking down at Win. "Go ahead, baby, you were so good, I wanna see you come for me," he moved vigorously into her, his finger still teasing her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Win cried out, louder than usual as her orgasm gripped her and she tensed under Lyddie's Nathan, arching her back as he thrust into her several more times, the sensation of his finger on her clit almost too much, and completely spent she collapsed back, giving a twitch as she panted, reaching for him blindly.

Lyddie's Nathan pumped into Win a couple more times before pulling out, panting, he was exhausted, but it was worth it. "So, how was that?" He held her close, lifting her blindfold before placing a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Mmm, that felt amazing, babe," Win purred, holding him close. "I love you so much," she whispered against his chest. "I really like the blindfold, we should do that again."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Lyddie's Nathan smiled, kissing the top of Win's head. "I'll remember that... Seems like I know another one of your weaknesses now," he teased.

"Mmm, you're definitely learning them aren't you," Win mused with a small smile, tracing his jaw with her fingers. "I bet you'd enjoy wearing it while I teased you. With my mouth on your cock," she laughed, already making plans.

Tag list: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator  @spanishmossmagnolia @salvador-daley @forenschik @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @captainsheeballs