#cw for some impure thoughts about a then-minor

[workingforitallthetime]

drawn arrows unseen

part 15 / previous installments/tags

Mason plays nine games, and at morning skate before the tenth game, they make him lead the stretches. The clatter of his teammates’ tapping sticks fills the circle. He’s staying in Anaheim.

It’s harder to follow the Pats in his new time zone, but Mason manages it. He watches the fuzzy WHL stream when he can, and he sees his share of media coverage about next year’s presumed 1OA draft pick and his incredible shot and his dedication to hockey and how he’s only 5’9 but he’s sturdy with those thick hockey thighs, and that’s when Mason usually makes himself close the tab.

He keeps texting Connor just the same as ever. Hockey stuff. Draft stuff. Being Connor’s friend from the safe remove of his phone feels allowable. It also feels a little fraudulent, but it’s not like Mason’s going to stop talking to him. Maybe their texts are less frequent this season, but Connor’s got a lot going on. Anyone who follows hockey can tell that.

One afternoon a text from Connor catches Mason at home, on an off day in the middle of a homestand. He wonders later if Connor planned it that way.

hey this is going to come out soon so turns out I’m an omega

Mason’s hands go numb around his phone. It’s really happening. Kent was right. Mason was right, or his nose was. He can’t tell himself any more that maybe this is all some fucked-up mistake. He can’t think of what to say back, or make his thumbs work to say it. Another text from Connor appears before Mason can unfreeze, and he immediately feels guilty.

R u surprised? 

Sweat pricks at the edge of Mason’s forehead. How the fuck is he supposed to answer that? Yeah no your scent’s been driving me crazy all year, bet you didn’t think this could get any more fucked up huh! No way. Connor’s got enough to deal with already. He makes himself type kinda, and hits send. Thanks for telling me, he adds.

He stares at his phone. ok, Connor says. And then

Have you

A fragment, like Connor meant to rewrite or delete it instead of hit send. But it’s an opening Mason has to take. Connor’s going to find out sometime. If Mason doesn’t say it now it’ll only be worse later. His hand shakes as he thumbs Y and sends it. Another fragment. He should keep typing. He can’t make himself.

Instead, a reply from Connor pops up. 🅰️?

Heat roars through Mason’s belly at Connor calling him alpha, even in emoji form. Suddenly he feels more confident, ready to take charge of the conversation. Did the beard give it away?

Connor’s typing bubble appears. Then it goes away. It comes back, for a long time. But after another pause, all that appears is ya😂.

Idk why it’s not out yet, Mason says. Guess nobody cares about anaheim. He’s been bracing himself, knowing it wouldn’t take long once they reopened locker rooms to the media. But all of their very few beat reporters are betas. Trevor’s buzz hasn’t been enough to bring the national broadcast through town yet this season.

But this conversation should be about Connor, not him. r u ok? Mason asks.

just getting used to it

you could talk to owen, Mason suggests.

haha that’s what kent said

Heart pounding, Mason immediately swipes over to his text thread with Kent. Did u say anything to connor? 

No but u should. 

Mason can practically see Kent rolling his eyes as he types it. He’s halfway through a response when the texts on his screen are replaced by an incoming FaceTime.

Connor.

The same photo of Connor that’s always been in Mason’s phone, the two of them at U18 worlds, medals around their necks and trophy held between them. Mason opens the call and the photo is replaced with Connor’s face, a little narrower and sharper than it was a year and a half ago. The panic Mason felt at the FaceTime alert is washed away by the relief of seeing Connor, the anticipation of hearing his dry voice. 

“Hi,” Mason says, embarrassed at the fondness that manages to pack itself into that one single syllable. 

“Hey.” Connor’s wearing an old white t-shirt with a collar that’s stretched crookedly. The tips of his collarbones show underneath its edge. “Just thought I’d call. Probably should have in the first place, but.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Mason’s body autopilots him through his apartment while his eyes are glued to Connor. He closes his bedroom door behind him even though there’s no one else at home.

Connor sighs, frustrated. “I don’t know.” He looks so young.

The room behind Connor is nondescript. Mason can see the edge of the doorframe, the anonymous seam where the wall meets the ceiling. Probably their apartment in Regina.

Mason scoots back on his bed to sit up against the wall. The last time he saw Connor looking anything other than perfectly self-possessed was that first practice in Texas, holding his stick too tight. Mason knew what to do then. He doesn’t now.

“How’d you find out?” Mason regrets the question as soon as it’s out of his mouth. It’s not like Connor’s going to say I scented you and it was game over.

Connor’s eyes shift to the side, evasive. “It was pretty obvious.”

Mason wonders if there’s an omega equivalent of his own experience. For a split second he pictures Connor waking from a dream, slick pooling between his legs, and then he makes himself stop thinking.

“How about you?”

Mason scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, also obvious.” What would it be like if he could just say it? Most insane wet dream of my life, popped a knot. Would Connor ask him more? Would he stay on the line as Mason told him about the dizzying sensitivity of his knot swelling in his hand and what it might feel like swelling inside Connor, would he murmur geography questions to Mason while he…

He's seventeen. Mason wrenches his thoughts away and changes the subject. “Has anybody given you a hard time?”

“Nah.” Connor’s voice is wry. “I mean, I’m getting chirped, obviously. Like, Val…” Connor rolls his eyes like never mind, and Mason makes a mental note to check the Pats roster for who the fuck Val is.

“Are you worried about the draft?”

Connor shrugs. “Not much I can do.” The indifference seems more practiced than genuine. “Maybe Fantilli beats me out after all.”

“Fuck that,” Mason spits. “You’re better than he is.”

“He’s not an omega.”

“That we know of,” Mason counters.

Connor laughs. “I’ll keep you updated if I find out anything next month. Breaking news.”

World juniors. Mason’s been trying not to think about it. “You guys should have a good team.”

“You’re definitely out?” Connor’s blue eyes bore through the screen at him.

“Yeah, not an option.” It’s the right thing. But that doesn’t stop Mason from wanting to abandon his NHL contract and run straight to Connor.

Connor has a funny look on his face. “They probably wouldn’t let us room together anyway, eh.”

“Yeah.” It hurts to say it. “Guess those days are over.”

(next)

[angel-of-the-moons]

pavitr who can reads minds and he accidentally reads reader mind and it's just full of horny thoughts abt him ngl

Okay okay this one is like such a neat idea because I remember in the comics (I haven't read in forever) that Miguel could do this! So... Omfg poor Pavitr!!!

Intrusive Thoughts

Pavitr Prabhakar x Spider-Person!Reader

Because I'm tired of repeating myself: PAVITR IS AGED UP IN THIS FIC

TW/CW: Horny thoughts, NSFW, bit of smut, our poor boy was not prepared.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is shorter than my usual fics, but like asdfghjkl omfg it was fun.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

He wasn't sure why he developed this power. Miguel seemed at a loss and told him maybe it was a delayed mutation brought on by his spider bite.

Miguel had been coaching him on how to control the influx of thoughts that bombarded him, how to tune them out, how to focus on specific thoughts in particular. It honestly made it easier in some ways to fight, not just relying on his Spidey senses.

But... He couldn't help but be curious... He wanted to know what you, his partner (in every sense of the word) thought of him.

Pavitr was not prepared for that.

Your brain was...

He expected the innocent thoughts, how you thought his smile was cute, what were you going to make for dinner, etcetera...

But what he didn't expect to hear or see?

The thoughts swirling through your brain about him and you, naked. Doing... All sorts of things. Together or alone.

The thoughts of him pressing you down into your bed, fucking you relentlessly from behind as he kissed your shoulder.

You on top, riding him like your life depended on it.

In the backseat of your car, you grinding your hips down on his, feeling him twitch inside of you as your muscles squeezed him like a vice.

On the couch, biting into the cushions to stifle your moans and cries as he fucked you.

Him laying you on the table, on his knees, using his mouth and tongue on you until your brain couldn't work and your vision blanked out on you.

In the shower, pinning you to the wall as he slides in and out of you, the hot water slicking your skin and helping him glide in and out of your greedy hole.

The sweet, charming things he'd moan and hiss through his teeth and into your ear.

Pavitr Prabhakar was not prepared. He was thankful he was wearing his mask, otherwise he was positive someone would have taken notice of the bright red pigment that had taken over his tanned skin.

You were sitting in the cafeteria of HQ, eating your lunch, pretending to read the book in your hand, looking so innocent despite the impure thoughts that were at the forefront of your mind.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Miguel tapped on his shoulder.

"Yeah, that's why I don't read minds unless it's necessary." He said, leaning down to Pavitr's level to talk quietly to him.

"I--I can't even--" Pavitr sputtered. "How did you--?!"

"You've been standing there, ramrod straight for almost ten minutes. I can hear your heart rate up." Miguel sighed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. He didn't seem too uncomfortable by the subject. Just how many times as he heard thoughts like these from other people?

"And yeah, lesson for the future, don't read your lover's mind in public. Things are going to shock you." He patted Pavitr on the shoulder, a bored expression on his face before he walked away.

When Pavitr looked back at you, you were staring at him. Oh, so innocent-looking.

When you'd disposed of the rubbish of your meal, Pavitr whisked you away to speak to you privately.

"Pav? What's wrong?" You asked curiously.

He checked the area, making sure nobody was listening; before gripping your shoulders and giving you a light shake, his voice sounding almost traumatized and shell-shocked:

"WHY ARE YOU SO VILLAINOUSLY HORNY?!"

[joshusten]

honeysuckle (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy is having not-so-wholesome thoughts about his recently turned roommate-to-lover.

NSFW CONTENT!! (minors dni pls!)

(suggestive, making out, dirty thoughts, implied sexual content at the end)

3.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: idk man guy is horny and theres a lot of horny stuff but it's not SUPER explicit (i think) and plsplsss im asking for feedback bc this is the first time writing something this suggestive hope u enjoy!! OH also as always theres probably grammatical errors and guy might be OOC]

A HUGEEE thank you to the wonderful @slushiepizza for all the amazing suggestions and support throughout writing this fic!! this rlly would not be finished without ur help thank you for ur service in providing quality guy/honey content SHAKING U RN ILY!!!

Guy is a daydreamer.

Ask anyone who knows him, from his grade school teachers to his apartment neighbors, and they can attest that Guy never seems to run out of topics to talk about. Never a dull moment, much less a dull idea to mull over when he’s around.

In fact, his imagination is something he prides himself in. After all, as an aspiring writer, it’s what gives the very soul of all of the stories he wants to share with the world—whether it’s the exciting plot of a potential novel he has been writing (and rewriting) all night throughout the week or an epic fantasy he was able to make up on the top of his head and narrate to the kids by the playground of the middle-school he makes deliveries to.

Guy is a daydreamer. 

And it might be the very trait that would be the root of his current predicament.

Slow hands, languid movements

“Does this feel good, Honey?”

Heavy breaths, sharp gasps

“You can get r-rougher, babe. I can take it…”

Warm bodies, warmer lips

“M-mhm, Guy…”

Fuck. Their lips…

“Guy?”

Fuck.

“Guy!”

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Guy? You with us, buddy?”

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

“Wh-wha-what? H-hi! Yeah, of course I am. I am here. On the earth. Present. With you guys,” Guy cleared his throat awkwardly after seeing the unconvinced, deadpan looks on his co-workers' faces. Rosa specifically had her brow raised in suspicion to which Guy responded with a nervous smile. “Uh, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” The woman repeated, “Is your constant staring into space! You almost burned the dough if it weren’t for me keeping an eye on you! I’m used to your head in another world but you’ve barely said a word for the past few hours!” The others nodded in agreement. 

Rosa's hard eyes softened, “Is everything okay with you? Something botherin’ you or what?”

Right. Dough. Pizza. He’s making pizza. He’s kneading dough. The flour clinging to his hands suddenly felt heavier, the scent of basil overwhelmed his nose and the chattering of the customers increased in volume but that meant that everything was starting to make sense. He took in his surroundings, which were quickly clearing up for him, to finally decipher that he was still in Max’s, in the kitchen and it was still his shift.

Definitely not with his recent roommate-to-lover and definitely not in their dimmed bedroom, straddling them on their bed with a delightfully sinful expression painted on their face as his shaky hands slowly creep up between their—

Oh my god.

The very thought of them already leaves Guy's legs feeling like jelly. These daydreams had been a problem for him for quite some time. It wasn't like it was a crime to get all hot and bothered over his partner! Yet, lately, an unexplainable sense of shame builds inside him whenever his mind wanders to more…impure scenarios with them. 

Because despite what anyone might think of him and how he jokes about it, he's a little scared of being intimate with someone—no—with Honey.

Oh fuck, someone asked him a question.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a lil’ tired, I guess.”

And he isn’t lying, really. The fatigue of making pizzas and serving tables was no joke and, with all the very interesting fantasies occupying his mind, his shift slightly just got more difficult to get through than what he was used to. (Thank god he's not on delivery duty right now. He's self-aware enough to know he would get into an accident with his current situation)

His co-workers still looked suspicious but accepted his answer nonetheless, hurriedly going back to their tasks to avoid the wrath of their manager. The man let out a sigh of relief as he resumed his own tasks for the day.

As his grueling shift came closer to an end, he was more than ready to take the apron off and get the absolute fuck out of that kitchen.

—

Guy might actually be the first person in all of Dahlia to dread coming home to an apartment that he shared alongside his (literal!) dream partner who was waiting for him after a long, tiring day at work.

Honey, who was all bundled up in a blanket on the couch, paused the show playing on the T.V. to face their boyfriend and properly greet him, “Hey, welcome home. How’s work?”

“It was shit. Did you eat already?”

He saw them already heading their way to their small kitchen, reaching for something in the refrigerator. “Yeah, I left some for you in the fridge. We can heat it up if you want?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I ate back at the restaurant. What are you watchin’?” But before he could get a reply, Guy’s body stiffened when he felt a light shock from where Honey had suddenly touched his upper arm. 

Light touches.

Heavy panting.

Hot air.

“Oh, f-fuck, Guy. Do that again, hon. Please. Don’t stop, don’t—”

“ —think I didn’t hear you, mister! What do you mean your day was shit?” If Honey had noticed their boyfriend flinching at the mere tap on his shoulder, they didn’t comment on it. 

“U-uhm,” He coughed and shrugged lamely to hide his reaction. “Just the usual stuff.” The man put down all his stuff on the nearby coffee table. “C-can I just lay on your chest for a while? If it’s okay with you.”

Despite Honey’s aloofness, they can recognize when their partner is truly in need (And who could say no when their boyfriend’s usual chaotic self sounds so adorable being shy?) The gentleness in their gaze was enough to calm Guy’s frazzled mind, even just for a bit, before sitting on the sofa and patting on the empty spot beside them, albeit looking quite unsure on how to comfort him.

“C’mere. Do…do you wanna talk about it?"

Guy simply shakes his head before letting himself crash onto the couch and into his beloved's (with the second "e" pronounced!) welcoming arms—or, at least, what welcoming might look on Honey. He can feel the rigidness of their posture, remembering how awkward they can be with physical touch, yet here they are, going out of their comfort zone just to make sure he feels better. 

It makes him guiltier to know why he was acting like this in the first place.

“Can you…talk about your day instead, Honey?” 

They rolled their eyes with a fond smile, “Fine, but don’t think I’m letting go of it that easily, m’kay?” 

As Honey recounts the events of their day (which honestly isn't much), their stiff demeanor eventually relaxed to the point where they were more comfortable with absentmindedly giving affection, unaware that they’d been playing with Guy's hair for the past few minutes. The gentle massages on his scalp were a much-needed distraction for his mind.

That is until he felt a sharp tug from Honey in an attempt to untangle their fingers between his messy locks.

Fistfuls of hair.

Skin on skin.

Arched backs.

"Fuck, keep doin’ that, Honey. Oh–” 

“—shit! Sorry about that. Did I pull too hard?” Honey was already moving their fingers away from his head before Guy quickly (a little too quickly) halted the movement. Guy guided Honey’s hand back to its original place on his head, squeezing ever so slightly.

“No! It's okay, Honey. Just…keep it there.”

Honey gives him a knowing smirk, “You are acting so weird, you know that?”

“Just indulge in a poor man’s wishes, will you?” Guy dramatically lamented, really wanting to avoid the conversation and go back to relaxing and getting some rest. 

“Whatever you say, man,” They replied, resuming from where they left off with their story. 

As much as Guy would love to listen, his focus started wandering elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep. 

The ticks of the clock, the scent of Honey’s body wash, the number of their eyelashes.

The texture of Honey's soft blanket.

Messy sheets.

Desperate thrusts.

Sweat dripping.

"Oh god, G-Guy, I think–I think I'm g-gonna–"

"--come?"

"H-huh?" Guy hadn't realized how hard he was gripping the throw pillow on his lap. At this point, he’s going to expose himself one way or another if he keeps being out of it. He tried his best to compose himself, hiding his distress behind a laugh. "S-sorry, Honey. Could you repeat that?"

Honey did a face, softly chuckling for a bit, before repeating their question. "I said; 'I'm gonna go buy a gift for Ollie’s birthday tomorrow morning, do you wanna come? It’s your day off tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Of course. I’d love to, Honey!”

Honey stared for what felt like forever before making a face again, this time, looking like they had just been enlightened by something and letting out a snort that was so adorable, Guy almost forgot why he was avoiding their gaze.

"Pfft– Guy, you—" Honey said through their stifled giggles (that was a tell-tale sign of the belly laughs they only share with him and no one else). They never got to finish the sentence, trying but, ultimately interrupting themselves with their own laughter.

He smiled, happy to see them show this much emotion towards him when to others they tend to be more closed off (albeit, a little confused about what caused it so suddenly). “I'm what, Honey? Hey! I'm what? Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re—pfft!” 

Familiar playful slaps targeted his thighs with a faint sting he’s too far used to. He notices that their smile had their teeth showing, too busy laughing to cover it with their hand like they often do. 

Guy’s crumbling.

He knew his desires were seeping through the cracks and it took all of his willpower to resist tackling them then and there—to feel every inch of their body and give them every last bit of pleasure they rightfully deserved. But he can't. He shouldn't.

So, he opts for a kiss on the cheek instead. 

Something sweet enough to mask how hard his mind was reeling with overly aggressive affection. As he continued with his fleeting, featherlight attacks on Honey's face, his lips felt the smile that their mouth formed (accompanied by an out-of-breath “Guy, that tickles!”) and he found that pulling away was more difficult than he thought.

After a while of innocent pecks and bubbling snorts, Honey raised a hand to wipe a tear from their eye. They were looking directly at him now, eyes soft with their lips slightly parted and panting from laughing too hard.

Lips. Their lips.

“Guy, you good?”

A man can only have so much self-control before he breaks.

The next few moments felt like a blur. A hitched breath, a tightened grip. His lips hungrily meet theirs and the moan he immediately lets out was almost pathetic. But he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the pleasurable weight grinding down on his crotch. 

They felt so good. Everything felt so fucking good. The spinning in his mind paired with the aching throb of his cock were all too much to handle that he can’t even tell if this was real or if it was the same fantasies that had been torturing him all day.

No. It’s real. It’s all real.

Despite the haze in his surroundings—despite all the noise—the only thing occupying Guy’s thoughts were the whimpers coming out of Honey that were better than anything he could have ever dreamed of. 

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, the friction against his growing bulge breaking down any sense of sanity he had left. Guy squeezed their thigh a little harsher than intended, making Honey loudly moan out in surprise.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth, lapping up all the sounds he managed to coax out of them. Honey’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging like last time with more intent than before and it dragged out a needy whine from his throat muffled between their lips.

Unfortunately, the breathlessness he was experiencing isn't the same type he feels when he's around Honey and he remembered that humans do, in fact, need oxygen in their system. He pulled away from them for a quick breath, taking pleasure in how they desperately chased his lips with a soft whine, before immediately aiming at their jaw, sucking, licking, and biting skin as it trails down on their neck. 

Honey is quick to respond, their fingers ghosting the hem of his work uniform before sliding them up, keeping his squirming body steady by grabbing his waist with one hand as the other roams to his chest, the shirt riding up with it and they feel his heartbeat speed up against his ribcage.

The sensation leaves Guy lightheaded. He swore he could see stars, especially after their warm palms stroked past a particular spot he didn’t even know he was sensitive to. The action had him writhing under the weight on his lap and Honey’s sudden thrust against his clothed dick brought out a stuttered gasp from him with his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

“Shit, baby,” Honey whispered, the strain in their voice evident as they grind down harder just to hear Guy’s wanton moans one more time. “So fucking needy.”

Hot breaths.

Bare skin.

Intoxicating scents.

This felt like Deja vu.

Guy had seen this before. He dreamt of it so much that it felt like second nature for his body. During nights when his partner hadn’t been home yet and he was feeling oh so, lonely—so desperate. Nights when his imagination had gone truly wild, the same scenario that he had been replaying over and over again. The one where he would have them in a panting mess.

He vividly remembers what goes next. The movement is practiced—etched into his memory. Every bone, every nerve in his system practically has it memorized in its core. 

He pins them on the arm of their sofa, the air is hot and heavy. One final passionate kiss, one final slip of his tongue, one final grind between their legs, and his hands would reach down, down where they needed him the most to—

“A-ah, Guy, w-wait!” 

And just like that, Guy’s mind snaps back to reality. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.”

“No, no, I’m really sorry. I–” He hurries to back away, pushing off his body and sitting upright with an arm’s distance away from an equally disheveled Honey. Fuck, they looked so pretty with their lips swollen like that. His eyes guiltily avoided the abundance of purple marks he wasn't even aware he left on their neck. Shit, focus!  “I don’t know what came over me. I’m–”

“Guy, it’s okay, I like it!” Honey cuts him off, not allowing their boyfriend to give himself to blame for something that didn’t even need his apologies. “I like it a lot. I was just…worried. Ever since you came home you were acting kind of off and I don’t want you to go through with this when I feel like something’s bothering you.”

Honey reaches out to him with concerned eyes, which should probably be an indicator for Guy of how odd he has been acting as of late. Their fingers find his knuckles, gently tracing circles on them as they patiently wait for his response.

Guy never knew his heart could beat faster, given how…intimate their latest activities were, but here he is, out of breath and falling in love all over again.

“I-I know this is kinda weird and I’m being really weird and everything is weird right now but I…uhm. Well, I guess you were right about me being all bark but no bite after all, eh?” He cringes at the way his voice cracked at the end and clears his throat for the nth time today.

“Okay, what I’m trying to get to is that…I've…been thinking about you…in a not-so-wholesome way for a while now. And I know, I know, this isn't new. I've flirted with you before and you already said you were okay with it, even with the raunchier ones but I'm just…"

Guy nervously looks away to the side, his eyes downcast to avoid Honey's curious stare. "This feels like a whole new thing now that we’re actually together and it really means a lot to me. Us. You're actually one of the best things to ever come into my life and I don't want my lack of…keeping it in my pants…to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner."

The deafening silence that followed his vulnerable confession might possibly be one of the worst things he ever had to experience. Then, a sudden giggle tore through the tense atmosphere.

Honey was laughing again.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh but w-was that the thing that’s been bothering you?”

They moved closer to their boyfriend, that's currently sporting a comically betrayed look on his face. “I've noticed your hard-on already, Guy. And don’t worry, I've been…thinking about you like that too for a while now.”

Guy wished nothing more than to get swallowed by the ground beneath him.

“I–What the fu–YOU—!” Guy sputtered, not quite sure if he should feel relieved or embarrassed at the moment but one thing stuck to his thoughts, Honey felt the same.

“Honeeeey! You can't just say that and—I can’t believe you would—! Oh, you have no idea how much I've been through today!”

“I'm sorry!” But their shit-eating grin says otherwise and Guy can't help not to get mad anymore with that face. “Besides, it was kinda cute seeing you all flustered for once. Serves you right, you brat.”

“Oh wow, I’m the brat in this situation? You…torment me and now you degrade me with such scornful slander?” The man places a hand on his chest melodramatically. “I’m heartbroken, Honey…and still hard!”

"Hm…Well, then," Honey's half-lidded gaze directs itself to Guy's lips. The sultry tone of their voice tickles his brain in the best way possible. "Do you want me to—"

Guy lets out a surprised squeak as his back suddenly hits their sofa with a forceful 'thump!' Their hand is placed on the side of his head, fingers twisting around his curls. The other found its way on his thumping chest, carefully sliding downwards at an antagonizing pace.

"—lend you a hand? After all, I must’ve been quite the headache for you, in more ways than one." 

“Oh no,” Guy started, easily maneuvering their positions to have his partner on their back “No, no, no, you’ve been teasing me for far too long, Honey.”

“Let me," He drags his hips across theirs and he revels in the way Honey chokes on their breath. “Handle this. Is that alright with you, baby?” He wishes he could take a picture of this moment. Seeing them writhe under him was a sight he never wanted to forget.

Honey gulps before their lips form a nervously excited grin. Their pupils are blown wide in anticipation. "You better get to work then, Guy." 

Then, they slowly lean towards Guy to whisper their next words to his burning ears, “And don’t worry about being rough, hon. I can take it.”

Guy is a daydreamer.

But no daydream can ever compare to the reality he's going to be experiencing right now.

[choocokookie]

hi hi!! okay so the reader has a pole in his room and micah sees it and asks if its just for show? and the reader goes hell no and micah gets front seat row to reader being able to hold himself upside down with just his thighs? And his reaction is like holy shit how can you keep getting sexier?

Gahhhh I don't know but MICAH. man.

I had some problems understanding the ask, but I tried to make something good. Hope you like it.

A sexual dance with the intent to capture the heart of your prey could easily kill a man… However, Micah wants more than anything else in this world to be captured by such a trap. Please, show your moves to him and make your lover completely surrender by your spells.

cw: gn reader, suggestive content, pole dancing

minors dni

The moment Micah Yujin saw the pole you had in his room, nothing besides the image of your silhouette using such a thing to perform the most diverse acts rules his mind. Just picturing you - who is already the most beautiful man in his eyes - in the middle of such a situation can already make the man with white hair locks crazy.

As much as he was received with a no in the moment he expressed his desire to be rewarded with such a sweet view, you couldn’t keep your answer for much time… After all, how could you possibly deny something like that to the man who makes your heart beat faster, to the man you wish you could do the most inappropriate things you could ever think of? A little taste of the things you are able to do surely wouldn’t hurt you, much the opposite… you would adore to watch your beloved one staring at you, with an expression of desire stamped over his facial features.

Slowly walking to the pole as Micah sat on the couch with a tricky grin over his soft lips, you took a deep breath and suspended yourself in the iron bar. Holding yourself towards the cold metal using nothing besides your strong legs, you were able to see your lover's smile growing wider and wider as his cheeks slowly became hotter than ever before. 

You looked just so gracious… yet, it was impossible to deny that such a lewd image awakened something inside the messed up heart of such a guy you were right in front of. How were you able to look just so hot? How were you able to make the man of golden greedy eyes think your image was more seductive than ever? But… the real question is: how prettier you would be able to get? As much as your little sample was already delivered for the perverted mind of Micah, he couldn’t anyhow avoid thinking about you there, seductively dancing in front of him, just like a fallen angel.

Bringing his hands to his face, he tried to cover the same, as a failed attempt to somehow calm the feelings that consumed him like fire. Gosh… he wishes so badly to just jump at your direction and properly treat you with kisses all over your skin, marking his presence over your body. However, you quickly snapped him out of such an impure thought after calling his name… Without thinking twice, he stood up and went in your direction, thought, it would be impossible for a while for him to rip out of his mind such a view… That cocky smile he carried everywhere he went right now was replaced by a sweet and nervous laugh.

Forgive him, Angel… he is a complete pervert for you.

[raeny-thorns]

Minors/ageless bios DNI

Cw: smut

No thoughts, just a perverted Simeon undressing Mc with his eyes everywhere.

In the grocery store, at RAD, the HoL, the list goes on and it's not subtle. His lids getting heavy with lust, his fingers trembling and stretching to lift the hem of your clothes. He's needy, really.

Imagine teasing him. Dropping something at your desk just below his seat. Crawling underneath to fetch it, taking extra care to lightly brush your head against his thighs while you're there. When you look up to see him, he's flushed and breathing heavy.

The poor angel just wants a little help.

Maybe you'll both stay until after class to help him with some "work". Relieve him at his desk and he tells you about wanting to undress you. Who knew an angel could be so dirty? So impure?

Or in the nearest broom closet where he'll grip and trace your body. His fingers, reaching for the closest way to take you. His lips spilling shaky praises.

[casstelia]

i need to talk about something

CW FOR GROOMING, RACISM, ABLEISM

this has been eating at me for four years.

for proof: https://imgur.com/a/TJQye4Z

for the longest time i've bottled this up. at this point, i'm not even sure if it's considered grooming or not. but it affects me badly. and i need to talk about it. 

crt, aka strawhatcrt on twitter and on tumblr, used to be overly sexual and manipulative to me when i was a minor. 

it all started during 2016, when the pokespe fandom was going through some intense drama. between the luckyshippers being harassed for not shipping oldrival (which, honestly, whatever) and another situation with an artist i was NOT friends with or involved with in any way, 2016 was a rough beginning for the spe fandom. but that's how we met, the pokespe fandom. when he first followed me, and i followed back. 

he was 20. i was 15. 

we got along quite nicely, at first, because we both liked pokemon, pokespe, and other anime stuff. he talked to me about some of the current drama, which honestly, i didn't really care about at the time. he was just venting, so i let him. he was curious about me, asking me stuff abt my future bc i was so young, etc etc. eventually, our conversations became more personal. 

i used to talk about my issues of being a high school student, and he used to talk about his inability to get a girlfriend. he used to go on long rants abt different girls. we watched anime together and japanese shows... he used to get paranoid i was in skype with friends to the point where i had to show him my skype on multiple occassions. but, it was just paranoia. 

 eventually, he started snapping at me when i didnt respond fast enough (especially when he was venting) and would get mad if i was doing other things. one instance, he was venting while i was spending time with my family. and he got mad at me for it. but at the time, i thought whatever, or thought that i was the bad friend. he always would rant and rant, and at some points, that seems like the only thing our friendship was.

then, it took a turn for the worst. this is where it hurt me the most. he used to joke around that i was lewd because i played dating sims. i was 15, lonely, and just liked to read cheesy romance, and he pegged me down as lewd. he used to ask me how impure i was, and asked me how young i was when i first mxsturbated. he also asked me how i mxsturbated, even when i was outright uncomfortable with it. he would ask me to be his "illegal waifu" and joke about how i should turn 18 sooner than i was so i was legal. he would make sexual jokes too, and i was very uncomfortable with this kind of stuff. i had told him i was uncomfortable, and then he would make me feel guilty for my discomfort, so i would be like "oh no, it's okay". 

i was 15.

soon after, me and him started fighting over an old member-- a gold stan. the gold stan had some issues and they were very fragile, sometimes. he didn't care, though, and ended up triggering the gold stan at one point. he then proceeded to lose it in my dms after i told him i invited the gold stan. he kept getting mad at me, and i drew the line. i called him out on his shit, INCLUDING the fact that he was also talking abt sexual stuff with my friend, who was TWO YEARS YOUNGER THAN ME. she had told me she was BLATANTLY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT TOO. AND HE DID NOT BELIEVE ME. after i got mad, he proceeded to talk about how i made him cry and how he'd "think about what i said", and talked about how he felt "neglected." this fight kept being brought up, and he kept trying to turn it all on me. it hurt, a lot, and definitely fucked me up. 

i was 15 dealing with this 20 year old man throw a hissy fit because someone he didn't like was in the server. 

we started falling out after that, for the most part. i got distant, and at one point i remade my blog and my discord under a new name, "king". this was only for a month or so, before i had a breakdown and went back to him. we talked about it, and he started to guilt trip me about how i was abandoning him because i hadn't messaged him everyday. we got over it, mostly, and continued being friends. he started sending me porn, out of the blue, of pokespe characters. one that sticks out is the one of yellow sucking a mans dxck. he was pretty upset a lot about many things, and extremely unstable, and eventually it all came to one thing. he gave up his admin privileges to me, and destroyed the pokespe discord (NOT deleting it) in a hissy fit leaving me as a new admin to clean up his mess.

we started talking again too, because i was learning japanese and him, as a translator, helped me with the basics. that's when he met another friend, another girl, and we fell out. but we were still friends, up until 2019. there was a lot of drama involving him and other people, that i dont really like to talk about, as they arent included in what happened to me when i was 15. he tried to groom me. he was sexual with me. he was encouraging me to move with him. 

that's my story, anyway. this doesnt even talk about the times he used slurs, the times he was blatantly ableist, etc.

this is just my story. my experience.

[dinostickerz]

CW: mentions of cg1 and trauma!! Please scroll past if you’re not in the right mindset for heavy subjects!! Stay safe!

Ok since I need this reassurance I bet there’s some out out there who also needs it so here you go: if thought you were into cg1 before you found out about age regression, you are ok. You were just trying to find the words to express what was going on and that was all you had. Especially if you were a minor, it’s not your fault. Even if your regression doesn’t always feel “pure” because of it, even if remembering the past makes regression scary now, it wasn’t your fault. You aren’t sexualizing age regression, you’re having a perfectly normal reaction to trauma. You’re not gross, you’re not impure. You’re a good kid doing the best they can with the cards they were dealt and I’m proud of you. Hang in there, it’ll get better

[deckspair]

Wavering | Ukiyo-maemi | Trial 4.6 | RE: All y’all…again

CW: Discussion of suicidal ideation; minor guilt-tripping about things uncontrollable for game/OOC reasons

“She did. She must have…pushed Kadoya-nonoka out of the way, even if that meant taking the hit herself…if I had seen her, I would have stopped myself, but I do not intend to make excuses. You are free…to think what you like, of it all, for you do no service to me.” If only what other people thought of you determined how pure you were, she thinks, then she would stay in a world of plants and routine and the wondrous admiration in the eyes of her beloved, and they would send her peacefully to the space between worlds.

“And your other question, I…already answered that, yes? I had not just been indifferent to death, I had wanted it, just to get out of here – and when I realized what this place was doing to me, I – I had to do something before it was too late, and I knew that nobody else would. And the ambivalence you cite…would it not be toward their deaths as well? They will be ‘fine’, if we do not hinder them.” People UM has deflected responsibility onto: seven.

“I wanted…to see my home again, and I thought they would want to see me too, i-if I…if I had not…but truly, whether I leave or not, I no longer have to live like this—” With doubt and confusion and moral complexity, she means. “So call me whatever you wish, if it satisfies you. I am consistent, and my one constant is purity – forgive me for believing the illusion that I could die with some of it still intact, and I shall forgive you for not making good on my offer while that was still possible. Now that I have ruined what I had…nothing else matters, anymore. Kill me, with your votes or with your own two hands. Or vote for Spider-bot, if you would like, entertain two fantasies at once: That anything better will become of me, if someone else brews the poison instead of you…and that anything better will become of you, with one face of the monster gone but not its heart.”

And she’s done, she’s done talking when that pestilent bastard decides it’s his place to speak, to come closer, to – to – to help the universe in its effort to punish her, it seems.

“D-do not…compliment me, I know it isn’t…” Genuine? But from him, that word might be perfectly fitting. Checking off the rest of her options leaves her with one: I know it isn’t an something worth praising. I know it isn’t right. Fiddling with her robe again, this time in what she hopes comes off as exasperation, she discards that train of thought. “But I do not have the same hope in these people as you do – was it not your rivalry with Junshu-genko before it was mine? – nor do I deserve their mercy, in particular. Law-n-oda was the one who was not supposed to be involved, I could not simply – confess my failure—!”

And it is that, the notion of failing in one thing only to fail in another, and a third, that brings tears to her eyes. If that is what it takes to make her feel guilt, then she feels it, crashing down on her with the force of a waterfall. Instead of answering the hug question, she simply throws her arms around him for support…her podium was farther away and off to the side, that’s all it is.

On any other day, she wouldn’t dare try to speak through the silent sobs wracking her body (for what, though, if not her own life or her victims’?), and it seems like Law – the living Law, just Law now – is the only one who would care to hear her. But wouldn’t she rather impart her ideas and instructions on a willing few? “Those are all…s-s-such odd things to ask, of someone who will d – isappear and be long gone…but if you must, please…make sure nothing I’…ve gained goes to waste.” The string unwound from around her wrist, a small bag falls to the floor behind him, with a clatter and a noticeable jingle. “Perhaps…you can fix that cloth creature? It would light up at random, and I – I do not think it was…working properly, but I carried it anyway.”

And hell, she won’t beg, she’s already made fun of Neo for mentioning it, but she does murmur into Law’s cape, the cape that had seen more of her tears than any cape should… “This never happened. If I die here, this never happened, and I meant nothing, espe- especially to the people like you.” Impure people, perhaps? Or the bonds of friendship and attachment that keep the soul from moving on… “Do not allow me to hold you back…and do not do so for me. ‘Please’.”