#they literally never time their gym sessions at the same time

[golgolfruit]

ZoSanLu Selfie Headcanons

Sanji would send suit selfies in various stages, I.e. shirt unbuttoned, just in sock garters

Zoro would send sweaty, loose hanging tank pulled to the side selfies, muscles gleaming

Luffy would send pics of food (Jk he’d send super bendy yoga pics in tight yoga pants)

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[caramelkoo]

kiss me? jjk.

the one with gentle hands and endless kisses

genre : husband!jungkook, "i can do it myself"!reader, "i know, but let me do it for you"!jungkook

warnings : fluff, more fluff, brief smut, words of affirmation as love language, jungkook takes care of her, oc is so relatable i cried, jungkook being the best husband ever. let me know if i missed something.

a/n : hello besties, here's a little fluffy ☁️ gift for you since im obsessed with husband koo. tysm for loving my previous writings im beyond grateful. the fact that people out there are reading what i write is making me jump from happiness. enjoy and you're loved.

"There she is, my favorite girl" Jungkook's plasters a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His sweaty body connecting with your freshly showered one but you don't mind. Not when the first thing he says is that you're his favorite girl after his early morning gym session. The phrase never fails to make you turn red.

Last night Jungkook had briefly mentioned his wish to have chocolate covered strawberries because apparently, the ones you make are his absolute favorite. So here you were, making chocolate covered strawberries for him.

"I missed you" he lifts himself up on the hard counter and leans back on his palms. He attempts to dip his index finger into the melted chocolate but you swat his hand away.

"You were literally gone for two hours and get down the counter, Jungkook!!!! You're all sweaty" you warn him.

"But you like me sweaty" he gives you the same look he hits you with when you don't let him eat the last piece of pizza. Pouty and adorable.

"No doubt about it but I'll have to clean it again, honey." when the look doesn't leave his face you speak again.

"Okay if you get down now, I'll let you fuck me in the shower" you've barely even finished the remark before he hops off the counter and runs towards the bathroom.

"I HAVE THE BEST WIFE EVER" his voice trails off.

Knowing the fact that he'll not let you live it down if you don't live up to your words, you wipe your hands and join him in the shower. You let him eat you out under the cold water and then pound into you as you struggle to keep your knees from giving out.

The loud sneeze echoes through the room as you wipe your nose which now feels like the 50th time. Tiring.

When you came out of the shower you were perfectly fine. When your nose started stinging, you didn't think much of it then too. Before you knew it, you were sneezing three times in a row with a fever which only keeps getting worse.

Jungkook had immediately wrapped you up in a fluffy blanket and asked you to take a nap as he cooks some porridge for you. At the risk of sounding selfish, whenever you're sick you're tend to crave his closeness more and more. You hate it though, you know it puts him at the risk of sickness but you can't help it. He looks cozy and so so comfy, you just want to snuggle with him and doze off.

After all, he's your safe place, your own personal haven with a gorgeous smile and warm embrace and he's well aware of the fact that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself when you're sick, perfectly capable of running yourself a bath when you want to, skilled enough to wear that piece of jewellery around your neck.

However, he'd still run a bath for you with rose petals and scented candles, still ask you to lift your hair up when he clicks the pendant close before placing a kiss at the nape of your neck, still cook for you when you're sick and kiss you goodnight before he takes you in his arms and falls into deep slumber, still whisper into the darkness that he wishes he could take away all your pain upon himself thinking you're fast asleep.

Just like now as he places the tray, the bowl of porridge on top of it alongside your medicines, a glass of water and gummy bears because he knows that you're not fond of the bitter aftertaste of the medicines.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he touches your clammy forehead before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Feeling any better, love?"

When you shake your head, his eyebrows crinkle in worry.

"I feel like throwing up but when I try nothing comes out" your lips open with a sigh.

His face gets remarkably worried. Not like he's wearing any other expression ever since you've started sniffing and stifling. You feel like shit. Earlier in the morning he's informed you about Namjoon's house warming party and was so excited to visit his best friend. Now he has to stay here and take care of your sick self when he should be with him, having the time of his life.

"I'm sorry you couldn't go to the party" your voice is brittle and you stop yourself from breaking down right there.

"Honey no, you're more important to me than any fucking party. Are you crazy? Besides, he would have poked my eyeballs out had I gone there and told him I left you here, sick and all by yourself."

The kiss that he places on your forehead is soft and tender causing you to close your eyes and bask in the love behind it.

"C'mon, get up and eat something. You'll feel so much better with your tummy full."

When you find it hard to get up all by yourself, you know it's more than just a cold now. You feel a headache coming.

Jungkook helps you sit up against the headboard as he picks up the bowl, taking a spoonful of porridge and holding it out for you to eat.

Your lips quiver and a sob threatens to break out, you hang your head low so he can't see the tears forming behind your droopy eyes but fail when your chest shakes with a sob.

Jungkook panics, quickly placing the bowl on the tray beside him, "Hey, what's going on? What's happening?"

You face him and open your arms, "Can you hold me for a while?" You're crying now. Tears stream down your face as your nose stings even more.

He wastes no time to take you in his arms, hands rubbing your back and then holding the back of your head as if he's cradling a baby. Holding you oh so gently like you might break and maybe you will. Maybe you will break because of how overwhelmed you are and how lousy you feel.

"It's alright, honey. Cry all you want, I'll hold you."

So you do, letting your head fall on his shoulder you cry out all the emotions you're feeling hoping you'd feel lighter by the time you're done. You're thankful for his silence. He understands, he always does and you understand him in return.

Your husband's hands don't stop moving for once. Constantly rubbing your back, running through your hair, gently massaging the back of your neck to release any tension. It's so funny how a tattooed hand like that which might look intimidating to strangers can be so soft and tender for you. For everyone in general, Jungkook is indeed the most gentle person you've ever known.

After what feels like eternity, you lift your head and break the hug. You lean back against the headboard as he speaks.

"Do you wanna tell me what caused that?" he asks in a careful voice.

You're still not in the space to talk so you shake your head and say, "Maybe later?"

"Whenever you feel like it, I'm here. But I wanna say something and I want you to listen carefully alright?" he waits for your nod before continuing,

"When we were about to get married, I had a chat with your father. He told me that you have a tendency to feel like a liability on people and you beat yourself up over somebody taking care of you, doing things for you, showing up for you because you'd rather do them by yourself. And then I promised him something. I promised him that I'll do anything, and I mean anything to not make you feel like that. I will manage to eat three bites less but I will never let you sleep with an empty stomach."

He kisses the back of your hands as you sniffle, scared that the tears might come back.

"So when I do things like this for you, skip my best friend's house warming party for you or doing anything for you for that matter, It's not because you're a burden. It's because you're mine and you'd do the same for me. I want to take care of you, honey. I like to. I love you the most _____, you're my everything and I can't fucking breathe when you're suffering like this."

Well fuck, the tears are back.

"Now, finish this and let me hold you to sleep" he helps you eat the porridge before you gulp down the medicines. The gummy bears follow.

With his help you lie back down on the bed as he saunters back to the kitchen, promising you to be back soon.

You're not surprised Jungkook knew the reason you broke down. You wouldn't expect any less from him and as always he has a way of making you feel loved and mattered with his words. Your husband is a gift and you want this particular gift in all your lifetimes, in every form.

He comes back with a bottle of water in his hand. He places it on the nightstand and joins you on the bed.

You stop him with a hand on his chest when he drops his head down to kiss you on the lips.

"You're gonna catch a cold" you warn.

"As if I care. Please baby, let me kiss you. You know I can't sleep without kissing you goodnight"

The chuckle that leaves you makes Jungkook's whole face light up.

"Only if you let me trace your tattoos"

"I promise" he says with the softest smile on his face.

Pouting your lips, you invite him for a kiss which he gladly places on your lip. His pillowy ones lingering for some seconds before pulling away. He kisses your cheeks next, your temples, your nose, your jaw and then finally, both of your eyes which were now damp from all the crying. Although, that didn't seem to bother him.

"I love kissing you"

When he plops back down on the bed, he pulls your entire body on top of his with your head tucked into the crook of his neck. He feels so warm and cozy, you never want to let go. He would be fine with that too.

"Honey?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you so fucking much. Let's make a baby when you get better"

"I love you too, husband. I wouldn't mind having a little one like you"

[dimepdf]

★  𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that Miguel is the bane of your existence, the way you react during training proves otherwise.

─── ☆ notes. i need fics of miguel being an absolute dick, like a petty bitch just for the hell of it i need more attitude yk? Like if that man isn't calling me a slut it ain't canon! | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 4.3k (33 min read).

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | no spoilers | smut, enemies to lovers, maybe mutual pining, fighting and violence, semi public sex, gym sex, mentions of abuse, size difference, pain kink, strength kink, degradation kink, manhandling, power play(?), begging, rough sex, cervix kissing, choking, fangs, biting, marking, cunnilingus, eye contact, hair pulling, creampie, open ended, not an taiyo fic without a few typos.

IF YOU ASKED any of the other Spider-men what they loved so much about being Spider-Man, their answers would all be the same, ranging from "the suit" to "the enhanced abilities." It was a no-brainer that being a superhero came with a few awesome perks.

Which was why your answer was just a bit confusing, "the combat." You would always smile, despite the many eyebrows raises and looks that convinced you you had to be some type of overcover masochist, especially since you would never really go into true detail about why.

Your reasoning behind putting on the mask was similar to all the others: another traumatized kid being thrown into a whole new reality that you never would have dreamed of being possible.

Sadly, you had been raised with the loss of most of your loved ones, and your family was in shambles from the abuse you would go through from them. It was the reason why it was difficult for you to grow up and make many friends, let alone navigate your abilities on your own accord, which was why it was a whole different ball game when you first joined the spider society.

When you first met Miguel O'Hara, you thought he was an overly intimidating man with an even more scary personality. Your aesthetics and morals would clash in the first few run-ins you would have with him.

In all honesty, you first thought him to be a massive dick who surprisingly needed more therapy than you did. From his bored expression to his unnerving glare, it was clear upon the first introduction that you two just would not get along.

Which was why the universe made him the only spider person willing and with enough free time to train you. It came as a surprise to you both, who are usually butting heads. Miguel was adamant about not wanting to waste his time training some little girl who didn't even know how to throw a punch.

With much shit-talking on your part and a lot of teasing claims of him being afraid that you were going to kick your ass, training had quite literally started in full swing.

It was probably a bad move on your part to push the buttons of the guy who was teaching you how to fight. Miguel was clear with his fight-style techniques. He was nimble with his limbs and swift on his feet. It was hard for anyone to get a hit on him, especially since he wasn't the type to hold back his punches. 

His teaching style was the same: your sessions included throwing you around as if you were some ragdoll and picking you up as if you weighed nothing, just to slam you into the ground with full bruising force.

There would be some very rare occasions when you would manage to get the upper hand on him. Miguel was about a foot taller than you, not to mention how pathetically compressed you looked standing next to him. You learned that the only way you could manage to get the upper hand was by using your size difference to your advantage.

All the sessions you won were hosted by you managing to tangle yourself from his claws and climb his towering figure into a headlock, praying that you had enough strength in your legs to make him tap out.

"How is she not dead yet?" Miles would mutter, looking concerned, as he stood from the sidelines of the training room, watching one of your sessions, as the blonde by his side didn't even wince at the sound of Miguel untangling you from the headlock you had him in.

His arms moved faster than you could process as he managed to loosen your hold enough to slam the air from your lungs as you fell back facing against the mat so hard that even Miles was convinced he could feel the blow in the lower spine.

"I mean, at this point, I'm kind of convinced she’s turned into his personal punching bag." Miles strains to watch Miguel not even wipe a sweat as he sprung back on his feet. He stretched out his full body, towering over you, curled flat against the mat, trying to collect your breathing as well as your broken ego.

Gwen nodded in agreement. "I don't even know how someone could hit someone so...squishy? She’s just so cute." She muttered, watching with her arms crossed. 

"This punching bag needs to learn that in the real world, people aren't going to go as easy on her just because she’s cute." Miguel, despite glaring at the two bystanders, leaned down and yanked you back onto your stumbling feet. 

Your fingers combed through the matted curls now drenched in sweat away from your forehead, using your water break as the perfect excuse to help cover up the reaction to the sudden compliment that came from his lips and the way he had made you feel.

"And her being my personal punching bag is completely at her fault, if you want to learn how to fight, you have to learn how to take a few punches." You couldn't help but roll your eyes and wave your hand out in annoyance at another one of Miguel O’Hara’s famous lectures.

"I’m not a punching bag, did you not see the hold I had on him early?" You huffed, almost choking on your water, trying to protest. Gwen humored your claim, the blonde reaching out and rubbing your shoulder out of support as you continued with your defense. "Any tighter, and I would have easily snapped his neck."

Of course, Miguel only smirked as you continued grasping at straws at the point of trying to prove to your friends your improvement, his eyes flitting back and forth at the exchange, expressionless at the sight of you managing to still joke around as if you weren't about to pass out from fatigue at any second.

"And was that before or after the part where I kicked your ass, little girl?" He shot out, chipping away at the final lock that held back your annoyance, you hadn't even had time to process the insult before he bumped his shoulder into you on his way out of the training room.

His rude exit enticed a round of reactions from Miles and Gwen trying their awkward best to comfort the boiling pot of anger they saw written all over your face, rolling your eyes, you pushed past the two, not without grumbling a string of insults in Miguel’s name to the washrooms.

You blessed the spider lords for somehow having the ability to shower under running water, let alone the unexplainable strange amount of amenities that the spider society dimensions had. 

Like a web shooter's wonderland, you quickly shed the sweating clothes you trained in and stepped foot into the cold cubicle shower booth, letting the water run for a bit until enough steam fogged clouded stepping under the stream. Even with the hot water splashing pressure against your aching muscles, no amount of water could manage to wash away the annoying feeling in your legs. 

It was enough of a jab at your pride to even find Miguel attractive in the first place, and here your body was betraying you once more, begging, throbbing desperately for his every touch in its every form, and having the nerve to grow more intense during your training.

The feeling had yet to fully disappear the next day, even with your session starting off with you fueled from yesterday's comments. You tried pushing the feeling as you were just ready to have Miguel mutter another word insult with the ass kick you were ready to give him. It was the only possible explanation for why you were so jittery about getting to training on time.

"It took you long enough." Was the first thing you heard Miguel announce throughout the empty room.

He wasn’t wearing his suit—neither of you did while training—instead, he was wearing dark gray sweatpants paired with some random dark red graphic shirt that fit him a bit too snuggly to leave room for imagination around his arms.

"Almost thought you were gonna skip out."

You were aware enough to spot this quick observation of your outfit as well. Keeping it casual and opting for better mobility, you shimmied yourself into plain Nike shorts that stopped higher up than you had expected them to on your thighs with a loose tank top that peeked out the straps of your sports bra.

Nothing about your clothes screamed attention grabbing—at least that's what you thought before you caught Miguel’s red-tinted stare on the way your shorts hugged your thighs.

He glanced away, muttering something in Spanish you couldn't quite translate the moment your fingers fidgeted with the bottom hems of the shorts, tugging them slightly more down while deciding to break the tense silence that had managed to sneak up on you. "So what are we doing today?"

"Huh, I’ve been thinking." He answered, followed by the clearing of his throat, "We try something a little different." You could never get used to the roughness of his voice or the way he spoke with so much arrogance that it reminded just about everyone that he thought he was better than just about everyone.

Even now that you stepped towards the middle of the mat, standing rigidly just a few paces away from him, you could tell from that stupid, cocky expression as he stood looking down at you that there was no possible way that he would ever see you as a real threat. "I want you to try to hit me." 

Your brows creased together in confusion. 

"What?" was all you asked, which seemed to be the wrong question to ask as Miguel stretched out a sigh from his mouth, his hands coming close to his to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"I said hit me." He speaks more slowly, making sure to mockingly over pronounce every symbol in every word as if you were a child. "Preferably soon and as hard as you can." A grimace finds itself twisting on your lips before you can even process your bubbling annoyance. Your body moved on autopilot because of your keen senses, jumping over the swing of his left leg with ease.

You couldn't say that swift grace stuck with your attempt at a counterattack. Bending your knee just enough to reach out and kick, you were only met with the bottom of your foot stomping flat against the floor mat and Miguel dodging your kick, standing just a few paces away. "Too predictable," he scolded in that annoyingly deep voice you hated oh so much and totally did not turn on you at all. You sprung yourself up by the heels of your feet and charged at him with full determination to land at least one punch on his stupidly chiseled, handsome face.

It had been your second mistake, giving him too much time to brace himself. Already regretting your emotionally impulsive start, resulting in the punch you swung being easily deflected by Miguel.

His hand wrapped entirely around your wrist, bending your arm almost out of your socket and kicking the back of your knee to the mat with his heel. You feel down to a kneel with a hissing pain in your arm threatening to get worse at any wrong twist.

"Lose that fucking attitude, or you’ll get sloppy." As if your body could radiate any more anger, you knew he was just trying to push your buttons, trying to throw you off your game with smack talk that was not working on you or anything.

"Again," he prompted, letting your arm go and stepping back, egging on another attack from you.

"Give me a damn minute." No matter how much you wanted to snap back at him with something snarky, you knew it would only prove his point entirely—not only that but also the fact that he was mentally hitting you in all the places that he knew counted the most to throw you off your game. 

Biting back the insult you already had threatened to slip from your tongue instead of making a point by rolling your eyes as you stumbled back to your feet. Rolling your sore shoulder back as your eyes scan over his stance, trying to find the best opening for a better attack, you steady your breath and cloud your mind in thought. "You aren't going to get anywhere but dead standing around like that, you know."

So much for wanting to consider your options. Miguel took the first swing at you and was on the verge of kicking you on your ass if it weren't for your shoddy dodge.

"Didn't you just say I had to be less fucking predictable?" You snarled, lifting your foot with most of your weight pointed in the direction of his jaw. Surprisingly, the kick landed just not in the place you wanted it to; instead, Miguel’s arm blocked the blow, much to your annoyance.

"I also said—" All he was doing was using dodging moves on you, swiping your other foot from under you as he held the other one that you kicked up in his arm, resulting in you landing once again flat on your ass. "to lose that fucking attitude."

You had not gone down without a fight, twisting and kicking, trying to wrestle your limbs free by any means. Miguel had almost embarrassingly quickly ceased your squirming, his palm cuffing your arms and pressing hard against your chest as his other hand pressed tightly into your thighs, folding your legs in place under his hips.

The position was interesting, to say the least, but you still had some fight in you, wiggling against his grip with any strength you had left to break free. It was a useless battle, but the man had his grip around you tight as well as an overpowering size difference that blanketed your entire figure like one big rock.

And that's how you caught yourself in another web of misfortune. Your nerves are surging at the feeling of something—him brushing against your calf. Maybe it was all the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the fact that you were practically being manhandled so easily that did another thing to your body, or maybe it was just pure horny instability that your brain couldn't even process the lewd whine that tugged from your throat after the fact that it had happened.

Watching in pure horror as Miguel loomed on top of you, his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved and his brows pulled together, the embarrassment from his confused, almost offended looking expression hit you fast. Here your body was betraying you once more, this time going absolutely haywire and melting like a stupid pile of putty at the fact that you were being body pressed against some mat with some guy's hard junk pressed into your leg.

You couldn't bear to even look him in the eye anymore, your head tilting to the side, pressing your cheek into the mat, and squeezing your eyes closed, not suddenly envying the spidermen with teleportation powers. "Fucking Christ, can you get off now?"

A beat of silence hovered between the small distance between you two, neither moving nor talking. It was starting to become unbearable how tightly Miguel had folded your legs against him, in the sense that you could already feel his body heat radiating. The close proximity did not help with how unbearably your heart was beating against your chest. "How do you manage after all of that to still have that shameless fucking attitude?"

You stilled at how his voice had managed to cut through your own thick cloud of betraying thoughts as well as the ringing in your eardrums. "Shameless? As if you don't have your dick pressed against me right now."

"By the sounds of it, you don't seem that bothered at all." Miguel taunted, You thought you were bound to die of embarrassment.

Yeah, this is how you went out—by dying from the sheer effect of your own extremely horny though—not some overpowered supervillain with a vendetta against you but Miguel O'Hara and his dick print.

You could already hear the new taunts that he would use against you, "Not even in your fucking dreams." being the only comeback that you could muster, your limbs tingling with slight pins and needles, threatening to go stiff under his unbound grasp. 

"Oh, like you wouldn't love to," he sneered, shifting the weight from his hips flat against your thighs. "Probably thinking about me taking off these tight fucking shorts and having my way with you?" Your body reacted first to the accusation, cursing under your breath as you felt your second heartbeat flutter in between your legs.

His lingering stare hadn't helped one bit, and you watched from the sidelines as his eyes raked over your body with interest.

"I bet this was your plan the entire fucking time, huh?" He asked, leaning in as the distance dwindled until you could feel the brush of his breath against your face. "Put on some sweet naive act in front of everyone, knowing that you're getting yourself off on me throwing you around, touching yourself like some bitch in heat."

You hadn't bothered covering the whine that parted from your lips at the feeling of his erection slowly rutting against your thigh, the cocky smirk on his lips wanting you to melt away against the mat.

Miguel practically growled at the pathetic sounds that parted from your lips, tugging your legs apart to rut his hips down against your core. You shivered at the intrusion of his bulge pressed against your eagerness, the foreign feeling of him grinding against you left your thoughts in a dizzy fog.

"What? Can’t fucking speak now," he said as if he were dangling your most prized possession in front of your face, his fingers creeping into dangerous territory, making it a point for his fingertips to drag down your lower torso only to halt right above the elastic waistband of your shorts. "Go on, use your words."

"...fuck you."

The small amount of distance made the space between you two fall tensely thick, and the words spoken from your lips were different from the feelings that made your heart thud against your ribs. You weren't stupid, you knew Miguel could sense it, he could sense just about everything about your body from how close he kneeled on top of you.

Maybe that was why he had closed the distance so quickly after, letting the tight grip around your wrists give way to his hand finding a new objective, wrapping his fingers around your neck, not bothering to be gentle as he guided your lips towards his. The kiss was as rough as you had dreamed it to be. Eager for each other's kiss, you couldn't even process the noise that vibrated sharply from your throat before Miguel could pull away first, leaving you panting for more of his touch.

"First time I've ever seen you so quiet," his deep taunts were starting to grow unbearable, shifting your hips at the brush of his fangs against the jugular of your neck with every word, "who knew all you needed was some dick?" The harsh kisses he left trailing down to your collarbone made you feel like a hot, needy mess of putty. If it weren't for the tight grasp he had on your body, you were convinced that you would feel like you'd melt into some type of puddle. The growing frustration had only started to build up more as Miguel let go of your thighs, his hand trailing between your legs ruthlessly as the bud of his fingers rubbed against your clothed pussy. 

As for why you shifted your hips up and let him impatiently tug and yank at the bow knotted around the waist of your shorts, breaking away from the red splotching light bruises already forming against your brown skin and wiggling you out of your shorts, Miguel thought it was quite the image, his eyes were fixated on the drooling sight of you under him, so vulnerable with your thighs hugging to your chest, spread open, revealing yourself in your pants.

All sanity was thrown out the window the moment he tugged you closer by your knees, your lower half lifted in his arms just enough for him to sit face to face with your cunt. His eyes darkened, his pupils blown as his tongue lapped over his lips, leaving you feeling restless. It was a slow and almost painful battle of trying to reach down and shove his face closer or buck your hips as his fingers sheathed and explored themselves against the fabric of your underwear.

As if Miguel could read your mind, his fingers hooked the fabric under the bend of his finger, followed by a quick tearing sound. "I’ll get you new ones," the comfort emitting a whine from your throat as you couldn't even scowl at him for ruining your underwear because you were too busy admiring the work his fingers were doing. Without warning, Miguel leans in closer, the warmth of his mouth almost sending you into a frenzy as his fingers spread open your lips, his lips sucking at your clitoral area, prompting you to let out a very lewd moan.

"Too loud," Miguel mumbled against your pussy, too busy webbed up in your own pleasure to even notice how every embarrassedly sloppy wet noise had seemed to perfectly echo throughout the empty room. You couldn't even explain the number of emotions that were flowing through you, from shame from being tongue fucked and fingered against the floor about the one man you hated so much to bashfulness from holding eye contact with him as he lay between your legs and ate your pussy like he was starving for you.

"I can't help it," you whined, shivering at the string of spit that contacted Miguel as he lifted his head in an idea. It took a second to process Miguel picking you up and turning you on your stomach, his hands guiding your hips up and stripping your torn panties down your legs to stuff them in your mouth.

Without a word, Miguel grabbed your ass with another hand, guiding your lower back into an arch as the other made small indents from his nail bearing into your cheeks as he spread them apart.

Before you could even feel embarrassed at the new position, he shoved his face between them, your moan being muffled by your makeshift cloth gag that worked a bit too well in lowering your whines as Miguel’s mouth sought his tongue out for your pussy once more.

"You're close I can smell it," you almost missed Miguel's groan over your building ecstasy, "just let it go, baby, let me take care of you. That's what you want, right?" His voice is drastically different from his usual rough, rude tone, softened to something of a coo that has managed to unknot your pleasure with his tongue. Your body tensed against his mouth for a moment as he had the nerve to suck his fingers clean. No grace period was given before he could lift you once more with a grunt, laying you flat on your back.

Slotting himself back between his legs, Miguel chuckled at the dazed look on your face. "It's alright, baby, I can take it from here." taking the balled up drool covered panties from your mouth and instead replaced them with his lips. The sensual change of pace wasn't enough to stop the shiver that rid your nerves of the feeling of his bare cock rutting against your slit, using his thumb to spread your lips apart to sink his tip inside of you with a low hiss against your mouth.

A gasp left yours as his girthy length intruded deeper inside of you, the burying stretch of his dick having your nails roughly grasping at the nape neck of his hair tugging a handful as his pace hadn't bothered to even get familiar already. Miguel’s hips weren't letting out as he fucked you almost animalistic against the floor. You were convinced he was trying to fuck you into the mat, to be one with the floor, which would perfectly explain the rough pace that left you breathless with each piston of his hips. 

The graphically lewd sounds of your weak groans were nothing compared to the pornographic sound of your skin meeting his, your brain empty with nothing but greed, wanting to take everything and more of what Miguel was giving you. His fingers reach to unwrap your fingers tangled in his hair to intertwine them in his. "That's it, mama, that's it," he whispers against the shell of your ear, earning a whimpering reply from you, almost close to spilling the tears clouding your waterline.

Your mind couldn't process anything other than how good Miguel’s dick felt being shoved inside of you, his cock dragging against your tight, flustering walls with each shaky breath brushed against your ear. Your cunt seemed to react to Miguel’s lashes tickling against your neck as his eyes screwed tightly shut, muttering a string of compliments in his mother tongue.

You weren't lucky enough to be more stable, surprised that your throat hasn't gone horse with how ruined your vocal cords sounded in the pace of his pistoning hips. Only going up an octave higher as one of Miguel’s hands reaches down to pay attention to your clit, he doesn't stop even when your limbs start to tremble from your climax. 

With one last hard thrust, he finally stills, your name being the only thing you could make out through his mumbling as his unfamiliar warm sensation welcomed itself inside of you. 

Groaning right in your ear, he cums inside of you with his entire dead weight pressed against you, caging you against the floor. "Alright," Miguel sighs, settling on top of you once more with his arms holding himself just a few inches away from your face. "Again."

🔖 @adonis-is-dead-lmaoo @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @inumakiiz @iheartlinds @creamyarishi @marzipaanz

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[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 12

content warning: Miguel is very dramatic in this one, mentions of food

word count: 4k (SHOUTOUT TO MY BETA!! @slushycoookie 🩵)

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DISCLAIMER: This story is not canonical. 😒 Most, if not all, of the characters used are OOC. I literally can not stress this enough.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been just about a month since he’s seen you. It’s the middle of the week and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to go crazy.

It feels odd because you’re on the same campus as him. You’re not across the country. You’re not out of the country. You’re literally a short walk or drive away and neither of you have time to see each other.

He’s considering printing your pictures out and walking around with them like a forlorn lover looking for his lost soulmate. It feels like he’s back in his bedroom staring at your pictures for hours like a man at war aching for home.

He’s exhausted all of his options.

The couple-lunches have all been rain-checked, the weight of your workload trapping you in the Art building.

Your sleep schedule was terrible, if the late night TikToks and reels were anything to go by. He knew you had morning classes too so he could only assume you’ve had a few hours of sleep during the weeknights.

The weekends were for rest and he didn’t want to disrupt yours.

Your dorm tracked visitors which means he’d only have a few hours with you before curfew if you were even there.

GymRat!Miguel who misses you so bad he’s temporarily replaced his gym playlist for the one you gifted him.

His face is set hard, feet heavy as he sprints over a curved treadmill. After a few minutes he stops, takes a small break, and runs again.

Even the melodic and somber voice playing over a groovy piano couldn’t soothe his thoughts.

His heart rammed in his chest as sweat trickled down his face, his tank drenched and clinging to his chest.

Just a few more sprints to go.

GymRat!Miguel who slides the ear of his headphone off because Xina is standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“Anymore sprints and you’re going to pass out,” she hands him a towel.

“Maybe I want to,” Miguel grumbles, nabbing the towel and rubbing his face like someone spit on it.

Xina grabbed her ponytail and pinned it up, loose hair sticking to her neck. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny. I can only manage pulling your body to the entrance to the gym.”

Miguel snorted.

GymRat!Miguel who fills up the time that he used to spend with you to get to know his friends and meet others.

This meant having game nights with Peter and Ben. They were so close, not really, to convincing him to join their DND parties.

If he wasn’t with them, he was occasionally calling The Geek Squad and catching up. A Friendsgiving date was now tentatively on his calendar because of it.

Of course, his robotics team was still going steady. Aaron was interesting, if nothing else, and Margo was like the little sister he never had.

Then, there was checking up on Gabriel like a Tamagotchi. Was he eating ok? Did he need some money? Is he trapped in the subway? Did a rat eat him?

Gabriel had sent him a screenshot of his contact with his name being changed to “Mom #2.”

Miguel only scoffed and told Gabriel his name was going to get changed to “pain in my ass.”

The newest development, however, was Xina. Her transferring here felt like middle school when they used to be attached at the hip.

They had their programming class together two days out of the week, biweekly study sessions, and the occasional late night excursion.

It also explains why she’s eyeing him from the stairmaster while he heaves over the handles of the treadmill.

GymRat!Miguel who thanked Xina as she handed him his jug of water. He sat up from the bench to let her take a seat.

“So,” she started.

“I’m not helping you hack your professor’s dashboard. While you could do it, it’s not a good idea and quantum physics isn’t that-“

“It’s not that, you dick,” Xina pinched his side. “It’s you. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

“Miguel.”

“Xina.”

“Now, you’re being a brat. Something is definitely wrong.”

Miguel picked at the peeling Game Over sticker on his bottle. He needed to tape it down or he’d lose it.

“I miss her.”

“Miss who? Your mom?”

“What? No. I miss my girlfriend.”

It was quiet between them, the sound of chatter and the clanking of equipment filled the white noise.

Xina tilted her head, “That bad?”

Miguel nods.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

He takes a dramatic breath, “Our anniversary date. Last month. I feel…”

“Like you can’t function? Like it’s hard to think?”

“Is that pathetic?” Miguel winces. “I have a feeling you’re going to say that it is.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Miguel pouts as he looks up. Xina shrugs and slides her hands on down her leggings.

“Remember the times I went boy crazy? All the times I came crying to you after they screwed me over, even when you already warned me they weren’t good guys? I think you deserve to be crazy about your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” Miguel blinked. “You were way too nice to those first guys.”

“I learned though, didn’t I? I know a good guy when I see him, now,” Xina pushed at Miguel’s shoulders with hers.

“And now those self-defense lessons won’t go to waste, right?”

Xina snorted as she recalled the time she managed to flip Winston on his back at Miguel’s instruction.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Xina’s eyes grow in shock when he tells her how long he’s been dating you.

“Dang,” Xina stops in her tracks. “A year?”

Miguel puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, a confident stride in his step, “One year and counting.”

“That’s,” Xina turns and waits for a car to go by. She readjusts her gym bag. “That’s awesome, Hare-Hare.”

GymRat!Miguel who feels the mood shift by the time he drops Xina back off. He’s not sure what’s brought it up, but now he’s nervous about upsetting her more.

He taps on the wheel, after he pulls into a park.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you anything? You don’t need to go anywhere?”

Xina unbuckles her seatbelt, “Nope. All good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he watches her close the door before he can even finish. “See you.”

GymRat!Miguel who obliges when Xina texts him the next day to switch up their study session location.

Miguel wanted to keep the busy calm of the 1st floor of the library but Xina insisted on giving him a change of scenery.

“It’s good for you! You stare at the screen all day when you’re coding,” Xina slams Miguel’s car door to which he sneer at her for. “You need to look up and smell the coffee sometimes.”

“You just want a reason to not do your work.”

Xina turns around and walks backwards in front of Miguel, “And that’s completely fine. We should live a little.”

She trips over the edge of the sidewalk with a yelp and Miguel is quick to catch her, the panic on his face evident.

“See,” she grins as she pulls herself up by Miguel’s shoulders. “Living!”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Xina order for him while he finds a table.

The cafe was bright, white wood accenting the walls with vines and plants adorning the area. Salmon pink brought a pop of color to the sandy-looking tables and fairy lights hung in the corners of the room.

Miguel’s eyes grew as he saw the variety of desserts on display, his mouth itching to take a bite.

“No, no, no. Go away. I’ll pick something you’ll like,” Xina blocks Miguel’s lingering eyes.

Miguel clicks his teeth, “If it’s not good, I’m going to be really upset.”

“I doubt it.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks deeper into the cafe. He’s dodging ceiling plants left and right, but he’s sure that the best seats are in the furthest of the building.

He shuffles around a corner, eyes adjusting to the sun coming through window.

He blinks a few times and takes in the spacious area.

That’s when he sees you.

He walks fast, the strides of his steps wide.

The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of peaches builds. The sun was shining down like it granted Miguel one the greatest gifts of his life. Its rays danced across the spot that you're in.

He gets to your chair and pulled it out with ease, the sound disrupting the hushed corner.

A pen falls to the floor, voices are cut short, and arms are flailing but Miguel’s nose is buried deep into your neck.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your voice skips across his ears.

“I-” a kiss across your face, “missed you so much.” Miguel looks at you like you hold the stars in the sky within your palm.

“You scared the shit out of me, Miguel,” you say with no really malice in your voice. Your thumbs run across his cheeks, watching as he beams at you. You kiss him once or twice, heart fluttering as your feet dangle in the air.

“I hope there aren’t many people picking you up in the middle of establishments,” Miguel mumbled across your lips.

“Guys, there’s people staring at us,” a voice creeps in from the side of Miguel.

Miguel’s eyes follow it to see a deer-looking kid with hoodie pulled up over his ears.

“Who is this?”

GymRat!Miguel who is introduced to Miles, your freshman classmate that you’ve taken in.

He’s sitting across the table nodding along to you as you rave about Miles’ work. The entire time, his right hand didn’t leave your left one.

“So,” Miguel chimes in when there’s a pause. “Have you both been coming here a while?”

“Nah, I just dragged her out here recently. She never leaves the art building when a deadline is near. It’s kind of depressing-“

“You know, Miles.” You're holding back an eye roll. “There are times when you could just not talk.”

“No, actually tell me more,” Miguel insisted, attentive.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries to help a struggling Xina when she rounds the corner with a tray full of goodies.

A cinnamon roll, a lemon tart, a tall purple drink, and some warm tea is placed on the table while you and Miles clear the area.

You sit up straighter to watch Miguel pick up the tea cup and blow over it. “Tea? No milk with a pinch of coffee?”

“Amor…”

Xina looks over to his cup, “Did you want something else?”

“No, this is good, I haven’t had this in a while,” he takes a sip and hums while explaining to you. “I’ve been on this sweet drink kick since she let me try her frappe last year.”

“That’s rich because you always hated it when I got those.”

“To be fair, you downed like four of those in one day. I’m surprised your body didn’t go into shock.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Four in one day must have meant you were going through it.”

Xina smiles and nods her head, “Exactly. And I told him-”

“We’re not doing this,” Miguel grumbled and stabbed his fork into his roll. “Four was way too much and she was bouncing off the walls all day just to crash and throw up on my shoes.”

“I said I was sorry about that!”

GymRat!Miguel who cuts pieces of his dessert to feed to you. You look at him incredulously as he insists on giving you bite after bite.

“Is it good?” Miguel asks chewing his own piece. You nod and he grins, happy in the bubble he’s created.

When Xina reaches for his plate for a piece he slides it away with ease, a move he knows too well.

“Why can’t I have some? I bought it.”

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Neither did she!”

Miles leans over to you, “I feel like I’m watching a fight between me and my baby sister.”

Miguel is pushing Xina’s hands away from his plate while she laughs up a storm. You think that it does mirror something like Gabriel and Miguel’s relationship, but something about Miguel isn’t the same.

GymRat!Miguel who continues his Tom and Jerry act with Xina even when the food is gone.

They were bickering over some formula that you couldn’t begin to figure out by yourself. To Miguel, it’s easy. To Xina, the setup makes no sense.

“How did you survive Ivy League without me?” Miguel asks as he reaches over and erases an error on her page.

“Like I do anything else, with peace.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Miguel points his pencil at Xina, “you hate me and I am not needed for problems 4 through 10.”

“No!” she panics, pushing his pen back to the paper. “I need you to start this one. I don’t understand it.”

“We just did one like this, though. It’s just the imaginary number all over again.”

Xina groaned and slumped in her chair while Miguel just turned back to his on work.

GymRat!Miguel who peers up from his computer to watch you work. You eyebrows pinch as your wrist moves across the large sketchpad in front of you. Your hand is moving fast and you’re so focused. Miguel hasn’t seen you like this before. In your element.

He leans his head on his hand, cheek squished and staring at you like he’s never seen you, like you were something to be admired.

You were pretty today, a sweater with some cartoon on it and some jeans that flared out at the bottom. Your bunny necklace was dangling around your neck and your glasses were falling down your nose.

You push them back and a smudge of charcoal from moving Miles’ artwork gets on your cheek.

“Stare at her any harder and she might grow something freaky,” Miles whispers.

Miguel falters and grabs a napkin, leaning to wipe your cheek, “She has something on her face.”

GymRat!Miguel who tries to be even more discreet as he watches you fill up the page. It’s mesmerizing seeing what you come up with.

He’ll type a little bit then look at your sketches, he’ll click a few links then look at your face. Sometimes, you would catch him looking and smile at resulting in his heart picking up.

Occasionally, Miles would ask your opinion on something and you would give him pointers, the two of you discussing something about focal points and rule of threes.

Miguel just wanted to put his stuff up and listen to you all day.

“What are you working on?” Xina asks, her voice breaking the silence. She’s staring directly at your drawings, fingers tapping against her notebook.

You perk up and flip your pad around, “It’s some ideas for one of our bigger projects! The theme is reinventing a classic, so I’m thinking something like a spin on Lady Godiva with a haunted theme and darker palette. Or The Fallen Angel with a bird’s eye perspective of him on the ground.”

You took a breath and flipped the page, “And then there’s The Kiss which I wanted to actually do a glaze to really give it that ‘mosaic’ look.”

Miguel leaned in with Xina to take a closer look.

The sketch was exceptional to say the least. Miguel wasn’t too sure how the original painting looked, but your drawing detailed a woman wrapped in these angular, moving shapes. Her face was angled up and a far-off look adorned her features. To her right sat a man whose lips were on her neck and his attention solely on her.

It was soft, yet strong. How you managed to put so much intimacy onto a single page was beyond him.

The feeling of it was familiar and when he looked up at you, he knew.

Miguel opens his mouth, “It’s..”

“Boring.”

“Beautiful.”

He turns to Xina with a frown on his face as she flips back to the front page.

“I mean, I think one of the other two is better, you know? More of a twist on the originals. The last one feels safe.”

The table is quiet as Xina’s comment marinates. She’s flipping further into your book and Miguel promptly snatches it from her and closes it a bit harder than he needs to. Miles shifts in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink.

“Can you explain why it feels safe to you?” your fingers pick at a nail.

She looks up, “Well, don’t you want to stand out? Out of the others, I don’t think this one is that unique.”

“The point isn’t to stand out,” Miles chimes in. “The assignment is about remixing a classic and all three of these do that pretty well.”

Your smile is small, “Thanks, Miles.”

“So which one do you think is better?” Xina asks.

“The last one,” both Miles and Miguel say.

“It carries the emotion of the original while also bringing more focus to couple rather than the abstracted cloth. You can see the love between them in a way that the original doesn’t have and it’s not even painted yet,” Miles talks with ease. “But! That’s just my opinion.”

“I think it’s powerful,” Miguel hums. “You should go with that one.”

You nod, thumbing over the corner of the pages.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Miles nearly fly out of the cafe.

Something about catching the bus to go see a friend perform.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. “He didn’t even buy the tickets yet.”

GymRat!Miguel who can almost see the stress coming off of you in waves the later it gets in the evening.

“Are you alright?” Miguel places his hand over yours.

“Yeah, I think I need a nap.”

“Need me to drive you back?”

“No, it’s fine. You need to drive Xina back.” You start to pack up. “I brought my car anyways.”

Miguel follows your movements, hands putting his laptop up as well.

He hurries to pull your chair out and you thank him with a quiet voice. He follows you from the table to the door to your car. The scene is almost comical the way he’s in your peripheral.

“Will I see you again soon?” Miguel leans on the hood of your car, body practically falling onto you in the driver’s seat. “We gotta set up a date.”

“I’ll see what I can do, baby,” you rub his face and kiss the kicked-puppy look off of his face. “I’ll text you once I get back.”

“Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who throws his backpack in the backseat and slumps over the wheel once he’s certain your car was down the road.

“What now?” Xina patted Miguel’s back. “You miss her again?”

Miguel just dug his head onto the horn, the effect alerting anyone within 50ft radius.

“Ok, ok,” Xina yanked him up by his shoulders only for him to drop back down again. She sighs and grabs the back of his head with a slight yank to his hair.

Miguel swats her hand away with a grit to his teeth and a pinch to his brows.

Xina only holds her hands up with a grin lining her lips, “Calm down.”

“You’re really annoying me today.”

Xina drops her hands and her smile falters. Miguel straightens up with an apology on the roof of his mouth before Xina picks back up with joy.

“What I think you need is an awesome rager for your birthday.”

“No.”

“Why not? It could be fun!”

“I’m all partied out until next year.”

“Not even with your friends? People from your department? A couple of classmates? The robo nerds?”

“That’s robo rockstars to you.”

Xina laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

“I think it could be great, seriously. We’re doing it.”

Miguel only groaned and turned on the ignition.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to use his Sunday for relaxation, a cheat day, maybe a game or two with Gabriel, Peter, and Winston.

Instead, he’s lying on his bed listening to Xina rant about one of her roommates using the sink as a trash can.

“Like we have a ridiculously expensive trash can that’s less than a foot away from the sink. It’s a simple spin and drop.”

“Ok, I get this is really gross, but don’t you have other friends you could bother?”

Xina pauses, and points her finger at him, “Hey, I’m here to help you out. If I wasn’t here, who knows how down in the dumps you’d be.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

GymRat!Miguel who answers his phone while Xina has managed to pull Peter into a game of Overcooked on his Switch.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Miguel! How do I connect your father’s computer to the TV? He found a movie that we could watch but the screen is so small.”

“He found a movie but can’t connect cords?”

“Just answer the question, mijo.”

Miguel sits up, prepared to spend at least forty minutes trying to explain what an HDMI cord is.

“Yeah.”

Xina gasps, pauses the game leaving a displeased Peter, and hops into the corner of Miguel’s phone.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara!”

“Hola, mi dulce niña! Hace mucho que no te veo. ¿Que tal te ha ido?“ (Hello, my sweet girl! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?)

“Más o menos, pero me alegro de verte.” (So-so, but I’m happy to see you.)

“No, Xina! ¿Qué tienes?” (What’s wrong?)

Miguel just plopped the device in Xina’s hand, “I like how you both started a conversation on my phone.”

“We’ve got important things to discuss,” Xina waved him off while she and his mother continued to fawn over each other.

Miguel just slid off the bed and joined Peter.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t get his phone back until curfew hours are around the corner.

Xina and his mom discussed everything from reality TV to recipes to her time up north. Xina left happier than when she came in which Miguel didn’t mind. He just wished he could have had the room to himself.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see your message until he’s about to go to sleep.

“Baby”

“Let’s do something together on your bday”

Miguel unpeeled his eyes and typed swiftly.

“YES”

“YEESSSS”

“Best birthday ever already”

“Someone’s excited”

“I haven’t even said what we’re doing yet”

“What are we doing”

“Tell me please”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Mmm”

“No”

“It’s a secret 🙂‍↔️”

“I can wait”

“That you are”

“Sometimes”

“😗”

“But mi luz I think Xina is trying to plan something too”

“Oh”

“Should we raincheck then?”

“NOOOOOO!”

“I can do both”

“I’ll literally split myself in two”

“You don’t have to choose”

“My gift is small”

“I want you to have fun on your special day”

“Can you come to the party?”

“I don’t want to miss it but I’ll have to see”

“If anything it’ll be much later”

“As long as I get to see you I’ll be happy”

“Good night bebé”

“Night!”

"Love you"

“Love you more"

divider by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I have no notes other than school is starting back up so my posting schedule will be even more irregular. 🤠 Please bear with me.

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@jayskookies @xo-zeze @planetxella @thedevax @stressed-cherry

[mrs-saturday]

🏹 The Archer (LS2)

♥ my masterlist!

♥ pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

♥ synopsis: The aftermath.

♥ a/n: Im so upset. Im broken. This is my grieving process

Combat, I'm ready for combat,

The pre-race ritual has always been the same for Logan and you. In front of the mirror, your hands slipping around his toned midriff, nails tracing the evidence of gym sessions beneath his race suit, his helmet on its stand, air at a standstill, as his head falls back onto your shoulder with a shaky exhale.

He knew it, and you knew it.

Zandvoort was the last one, and even though no one knew that for certain, and Vowles hadn't called the meeting, hadn’t thrown down the gavel on the blonde’s dream, you both knew it and it sat in your stomachs like a weight.

He picks his head back up, and turns to face you, planting a small kiss on your nose, and you do the same.

His nose is awfully cold, but you watch him slip the helmet on, and pray that it warms him through.

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

Watching him spin out was like the nail in the coffin.

Watching orange tongues lap at the rear of his car was enough to drive you to a Hamlet-like state; to jump in his grave, pull the casket lid wide, and scream to the onlookers your love. 

When he’s back from medical, he looks at you, a silent acceptance of the end of his career quite literally going up in flames. He runs over, head buried in your chest as silent sobs wrack through his trembling frame. “Logan…” you mutter into his hair, about to ask what he thought would happen to his seat.

“I don’t even want it anymore…” he cries

“But, what if you do?”

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies,

He was told he was out 2 days before they announced it. The young Argentinian with his head hung low in the meeting room, unable to look at Logan. The cold fist of Vowles telling him what he’d been expecting, but the thought of him ruining this young boy’s career filled him with rage. 

How dare he do this again. How dare he do this to another bright star, to ignite his explosion all too short of a supernova. 

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

You try to get him to stop for a moment, but he’s sat furiously typing. He has to get it all out, he says. Too many thoughts, he says. He types and types as you hold him. Every frustration, every late upgrade, every lost nugget of feedback, every false promise, the results of which spilled into the American’s notes app like he was a teenage girl, feeling her heartbreak through lines of shower thoughts and ill-placed rhymes.

When he finished, he exhaled, and looked at you, with a weak smile, and hit delete on the note. 

Easy they come, easy they go

You two don’t stay in the UK long. The boxes are full the day it’s announced and the flights to Florida only a few days after. 

“Home” he had begged on that night, “If the track can’t be, I want to make home with you”

And you agreed, you packed up your life in England alongside him, the helmets and trophies of past delegated to a manila coloured box labelled “FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE”

They would stay there.

For a while, at least.

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

The last thing he does is visit Oscar. Or at least, he tries to. His rosy knuckles tap on the Australian’s door one last time before he realises Oscar is not answering, despite the party going on inside the house. He is far too busy living their dream to remember to answer to the door to a boy delegated to a photograph on his mother’s refrigerator. 

I never grew up, it's getting so old, Help me hold onto you

It’s like he’s 11 again, in his parent’s living room, watching ‘Top Gun’, and eating popcorn. No one has bought it up. Not you, not his parents, not Dalton, it hangs in the air like the wheel had clung to his car by a wire’s length. Instead, you all ignore it for the simple pleasure of family. You laugh as he throws popcorn at his brother like they’re children. And you smile to yourself.

He never got to be a kid, really so why not hold onto that freedom now?

I've been the archer

He’d been the winner

I've been the prey

He was the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

You could never leave him, darling.

But who could stay?

Home always stayed.

[haoboutyou]

my little graduand | choi seungcheol

fluff | 0.8k | no warnings

an: quite literally was checking my finals results when cheol went live so… i’m finally graduating soon!

You were stunned.

Staring back at you, the screen illuminating your face as it sat on the table, your laptop’s bright display shows a page you never thought you would receive.

FINAL EXAM – 70%

“I passed?” you softly muttered, unable to believe your eyes. You could feel your heart pounding. You moved your cursor to the corner, clicking ‘refresh’. It loaded for a millisecond before displaying the same unchanged page again. Still, in disbelief, you’re about to refresh your page again when your phone lit up, the special ringtone Seungcheol had set for himself blaring into the room.

You blinked out of your reverie, jumping at the sudden noise. You stared blankly at the phone a little while longer before finally moving to pick it up. A videocall, you noticed. Smoothening down your hair and propping the phone up, a trembling finger pressed ‘accept call’. A moment of suspense built as the connection was established, and then, there he was – your lover's face appeared on the screen, filling your world with his presence.

“Hi baby!”

Seungcheol’s bright voice greeted you. The warmth in his eyes and the genuine happiness on his face instantly bridged any physical distance that separated you. He was about to jump into the whole reason why he was calling you – he had some free time before heading to the gym – when he noticed in your shocked face.

“Baby? Love?” He waved his hand to elicit some kind of movement from you. Seungcheol was almost convinced your side of the call was hanging until he caught you mouthing something. Increasing his volume, he coaxed you to repeat your words.

“Cheol, I… I just checked my finals results,” you gulped. “I… passed? It says here i scored 70%...” you spoke in hush tones, as if afraid saying it out loud would change the reality of your grades. Regardless, Seungcheol immediately picked up on your words, clapping his hands in excitement.

“Really? Isn’t that a distinction? That’s great, baby! You worked hard!” His smile gradually widened, dimples growing deeper. “Congratulations sweetheart, you’ve graduated!”

“I get to graduate…” Your eyes widened at the sudden realisation.

“Right? You said this was your last module before you can finally graduate.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. He had been on the receiving end of all your complaints and rants about the classes. It was the one module in your entire degree that had the highest difficulty, and he was well aware of how anxious you had been over passing. He had watched you pull multiple all-nighters for assignments, cancel plans to cram study sessions. Hell, you even had his contact blocked when you holed yourself in your room to complete the online exam, only being able to contact you after the designated 3 hours. Needless to say, he had all the confidence in the world that you would pass this module, despite your own pessimism.

“I get to graduate…” You repeated, not believing your own voice. Realisation hit, and your hands flew to cover your mouth. Your eyes started to water, tears of relief threatening to fall down your cheeks. Your voice trembled. But even through the tiny screen, you looked like the weight of world has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Cheollie… I can graduate!”

“Yes baby! My love is a graduand!” He chuckled, before leaning towards the camera. His face took up all the space on the screen, nose scrunching in concentration.

“Are– are you crying?!” Although it’s through a videocall, his worried voice didn’t fail to warm your heart. You let the tears fall freely as you nodded, teary eyes blurring your sight of the phone screen.

“I’m just so happy… I’m finally done with uni, Cheol!” He simply shook his head in disbelief, laughing along when he confirmed that you were okay.

“Yes! My little degree holder~” Seungcheol gaze wandered somewhere off-screen, presumably a clock, and he cursed as he realised the time.

“I have to go baby, I’ll see you at home? We can celebrate together later!” he promised, adjusting his hoodie and gathering his things. “Love you!”

You sniffled in response and shot him a grin. “Mmh, okay. Love you too.” Just like that, you sent him a small wave and ended the call.

-

Seungcheol came home a few hours later, a small cake in one hand and your favourite alcohol in another. However, he found you fast asleep on the couch, no doubt trying to wait up for him. He placed the items in the fridge, then proceeded to gather you in his arms. You curled up into his chest as he carried you to bed. Setting you on the bed, he went to wash up before joining you under the covers. You instinctively reached out for him the moment you sensed him, letting out a satisfied sigh when he pulled you even closer.

Seungcheol took a moment to study your sleeping face. Your eyes were a little puffy, evidence of your earlier waterworks. One hand thumbed your cheek, tracing the content smile on your lips. He planted a kiss on your forehead before turning in for the night as well.

You’ll just have to celebrate tomorrow instead.

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 7

A Glen Powell RPF series

Can't believe how much this is growing. I'm so thankful for every like, reblog and comment. Sending all of my apologies for the delay, I've forgotten how hard smut is to write and I'm embarrassed to admit how many times I wrote and re-wrote this trying to make it perfect. Hope you enjoy! x

Thankyou to @zacksnydered for the gifs!

Warning - Smut heavy in this chapter.

Billie

“105! Dani, you did it girl!” Billie beams, grinning from ear to ear as she helps her patient re-rack the loaded barbell on the squat rack.

Dani’s grin matches Billie’s when she turns around and jumps into Billie to hug her, the two having a celebratory embrace at the new squat personal best. Dani was a sophomore who had torn a major ligament in her knee playing high-level basketball, and after close to six months of rehabilitation, she was back to squatting even more than she was pre-injury.

“I told you you could do it, I’m so proud of you!” Billie announces as they part, holding Dani’s shoulders and grinning back at her teenage patient.

Dani’s smile takes up her whole face. “Thank you so much Billie, honestly I couldn’t have done it without you”

Billie scoffs, “Don’t be silly. This was all you!”

“What’s 105 in pounds?” Dani asks, picking up her water bottle and looking back at Billie, “Also, when are you ever going to stop using kilograms?”

“About 240 pounds” Billie replies with a laugh, “And never. I can’t help it that my brain thinks in kilos. That’s what I learnt in school way back when, and that’s what I’m sticking with”.

Dani laughs, sitting down on the floor and stretching out her legs, Billie perching on a nearby plyometric box and looking down at Dani.

“So, same time next week?” Billie asks, pulling out her iPad and checking her patient diary for next week, “Two-thirty?”

Dani nods and Billie inputs the appointment, running through the plan for their next session before saying goodbye.

“Well done again Dani” Billie says, squeezing her shoulder as they walk out of the gym area, “We’re going to have you back on the court in no time at this rate”.

Dani grins and Billie nods, waving goodbye as Dani goes to get her things and Billie retreats into her office.

Almost immediately she picks up her phone, her stomach flip-flopping when she sees a text message notification from Glen. They’d transitioned to text messaging, having exchanged phone numbers on Sunday night, and despite it being two whole days, Billie wasn’t sure she would ever get used to seeing Glen Powell’s name pop up on her phone.

There’d been no shortage of interaction between the two of them, Glen and Billie texting back and forth - talking, flirting and sharing pictures of their day. Of Brisket and Nugget, of Billie out on a run, of Glen at the gym, a playful selfie here and there. Their texts had become increasingly flirtatious, and Billie was seriously struggling to keep her thoughts in check. 

She was trying to focus on work - on Chelsea's niggling shoulder, on Derek’s hip that was catching every time he reached top speed on his sprint, on the brace that she had to order for Jimmy’s knee, but thoughts of Glen somehow kept inching their way in.

Billie felt like she was back in high school and with a teenage crush. Except this time, she was a grown up, and her teenage crush was a Hollywood celebrity.

She swipes across the screen to open his text message, nearly audibly groaning at what appears on her screen next. Glen was at a photo shoot today, and he’d sent her a little sneak preview. 

How was it physically possible for anyone to be that good looking? 

Honestly. 

The man was literally sex on fucking legs.

The photo shows Glen dressed in a light blue shirt and jacket leaning against a door frame, his shirt unbuttoned and leaving very little of his chest to the imagination. Billie isn’t sure where to look first, torn between the delicious planes of his chest covered in a dark mess of hair, or his intense, intimate expression that makes Billie need to catch her breath. His jaw is covered in more stubble than when she’d seen him last, and suddenly she can’t help but wonder how it would feel when she kissed him.

Her fingers hover over the screen, her brain at a momentary loss of what to say.

How am I supposed to focus on the rest of work when you're looking like that 😍

Typing bubbles appear almost instantly, and Billie realises she’s smiling.

You’re not the only one having trouble focusing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about seeing you tonight

Billie’s smile grows then, her whole body instantly flushing with warmth. She types back, knowing her thoughts have undoubtedly been very similar to his.

Surely that ‘lost in thought’ look is what works for photo shoots though?

She can almost hear Glen chuckling as he reads her words.

Except that they kept asking me why I seemed so distracted all through the shoot

Billie feels herself grin stupidly.

And what did you tell them?

I said that I had something I was looking forward to doing tonight 

Billie nearly drops her phone at that, her breathing instantly ragged. Fuck.

And what might that be?

Seeing you, of course

Billie lets out a laugh then, loving their flirty back and forth. 

She's already decided she’s going to sleep with Glen tonight. Not only because she was dying to, but because she knew there was no way she was going to be able to stop herself. How she'd done so on Sunday at his house she had no idea - she could still feel his lips on hers if she thought about it, tender and heated as he held her on the kitchen bench.

Billie grins and bites her bottom lip, fingers tapping on the screen.

See you at 8 darlin x

You’re trouble mister 🙈 I'm looking forward to you seeing you too.

“Am I allowed to know about whatever it is that's making you look at your phone like that?” 

Billie's head snaps up when she hears her colleague Lisa's voice, seeing her standing in her office doorway with a curious look on her face.

“Nope” Billie says, sending a kiss face emoji back to Glen before locking her phone and quickly shoving it back into her pocket.

“Cmon B, we've worked together long enough for me to know that that” she says pointing at Billie's pocket, “Is absolutely something to do with a guy. So come on, spill”.

Billie grins, picking her water bottle up from her desk and bending to check her computer screen to see who her next client is. 

“Need to know basis at this point, Lisa”

“Oh yeah? I don't even get a little hint?”

Billie laughs at her friend's insistence.

“Alright, here's one. He's fucking gorgeous”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “That's hardly a hint Bil”.

Billie shrugs, smiling sweetly and walking over to the doorway beside Lisa.

“That's all you need to know for now”.

“Need to know, or get to know?”

“Both”

“Did you meet him at Rufus on Friday?”

Billie shrugs again innocently. “Maybe”.

Lisa raises one eyebrow, running her fingers through her platinum blonde, spikey pixie cut. 

“You know I'm going to keep asking you, yeah?”

Billie laughs, the two walking down the hallway and stopping at Lisa's office.

“And you know I’m going to keep deflecting your questions yeah?”.

Lisa punches her arm playfully and Billie grins, nodding at her friend before walking off to the waiting room.

“Billie!”

Billie stops short as she passes Ross’ office, her boss sitting at his desk and waving to her. 

“Hey bossman”

“Just checking you’re still okay for the Monterey trip in August?”

Billie nods. “Sure am”.

Due to the clinic’s work with high school and college athletes, they often got asked to accompany teams to tournaments and competitions around the country. Billie had been on a few trips in her years at Evolution Sports Rehab, using them as a convenient excuse to see more of the US. So far she’d been to Florida, Atlanta and Boston, and several places in the greater California area.

A few weeks ago Ross had been contacted about a four day college football tournament in Monterey, California. He'd pitched the opportunity to her and the rest of the physical therapists at a clinic meeting last month and Billie had put her hand up to go. Namely, because Bec and Ben had a gorgeous beach house down in Monterey that Billie had spent countless girls' weekends at. Knowing that Bec wouldn't batter an eyelid if she asked to borrow it for a few days, she'd jumped at the idea of a mini getaway at the beach - even if she had to work for a little while she was there.

“Can you make sure you've done your stock order by the end of the week please? Whatever sports tapes and creams you think you'll need for it”

Billie exhales and leans her hip against the door frame, shaking her head at her boss.

“Why on earth do you think I haven't already done that Ross?” Billie asks, grinning when Ross rolls his eyes and laughs, “I mean we've only worked together for how long? It's like you don't know me at all”.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry” he says, waving her off.

Billie laughs and turns to exit his office, Ross’ voice making her stop.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood today?”

Billie turns to look at Ross curiously. “Am I not usually?”

Ross laughs. “You’re always happy and bubbly Billie, but it just feels like you have an extra spring in your step today”

Billie shrugs innocently, knowing full well that it's the evening activities she has planned that's making her seem giddy. But her boss certainly doesn't need those extra details.

Billie opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by Ross’ phone ringing, the two sharing a look that says ‘talk later’ without words. Ross nods at her before he picks up his phone, Billie waving him off and walking out to collect her next patient.

---

Billie is lighting her favourite coffee scented candle on the table when she hears the knock at the door, Nugget jumping from his bed and barrelling down the hallway like a rhino in a stampede. She puts the box of matches down and makes her way to the front door, pausing to quickly look over her reflection in the oversized hallway mirror. 

She exhales heavily, looking back at her face.

Glen Powell is about to be in her house.

It's words she never thought she'd say in a million years, yet here she is, about to invite him in on a third date. 

A third date, that she's very much hoping ends in the stereotypical way it's said that third dates do.

Billie is acutely aware of the way her heart is doing backflips in her chest, her insides feeling giddy as she pulls open the door.

“Hey there peach”

Billie's cheeks instantly flush at his nickname, never mind the utterly sexy smile on his face that makes her temporarily forget her own name. He’s dressed in a tight tan t-shirt that Billie can’t help but notice is nearly strangling his thick biceps, his hair fluffy and brushed back like it was in the photo he'd sent her earlier.

It takes everything she has not to jump him right there and then. 

“Peach?” she questions with a grin at Glen, tilting her head and leaning her temple against the door edge.

He grins, shrugging his broad shoulders adorably. “I dunno, it just came to me”.

Billie laughs then, opening the door all the way and gesturing for Glen to come in. He’s holding a wriggling Brisket in one arm, the tiny dog desperate to get to Nugget who is similarly wriggling with excitement at Billie’s feet. Billie manages a quick hello pat before Glen bends and lets Brisket run off into the house, the two dogs galloping away already in play mode.

Glen steps inside and stands beside Billie, the heady scent of his delicious cologne instantly clouding her. She barely has time to close the door behind her before Glen's hands are on her, his lips finding hers in a heated kiss that leaves her breathless and wanting.

“I've been thinking about doing that all day” he whispers when they eventually part, his lips still only an inch from hers, one of his hands reaching up to tuck one side of her loose hair behind her ear.

It's the smallest gesture, but in an instant it has Billie melting.

“That makes two of us” Billie replies, her eyes never leaving his full lips, reaching for his jaw and pulling him back in for another tender kiss that he immediately deepens with his tongue.

God, if she didn't stop now they'd end up fucking in her hallway.

She forces herself away from him knowing that she’ll lose control if she lets their kiss continue for even a second longer, feeling her stomach squeeze in the best way when he keeps hold of her hand and lets her lead him down the hallway.

“Can I get you a drink?” Billie asks, gesturing for Glen to take a seat and walking over to open the back door for Nugget and Brisket to go outside, “I’ve got beer, wine, soda or water”.

“I’ll take a beer please” he says, pulling out a stool and sitting down, resting his elbows on the bench.

Billie can’t help but smile at the sight of him sitting in her kitchen. It all seems so domestically normal, but really, it’s anything but that. It’s like she has to actively work to keep her eyes from staring at him - at his thick, tanned forearms, his full, plump lips, or his gorgeous green eyes that are currently following her around her kitchen. The kitchen of which, she’d happily let him take her on every single surface of. 

She exhales silently through her nose. 

Fuck.

“I realise that I should have asked this earlier” Billie asks suddenly, turning and opening the fridge to retrieve a beer and an already opened bottle of pinot grigio, “But please tell me you eat sushi? Because I definitely don’t have an option B prepared”

Glen laughs, his deep chuckle echoing in the kitchen. “I do. Did you order in?”

Bille shakes her head, popping the cap off the beer and handing him the bottle. “No, we’re making it”

Glen eyes her curiously, one eyebrow raised. “I’ve never made sushi before”.

“It's easy, I promise”, Billie says as she pours herself a glass of white wine, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a sip, “I’ve got it all ready to go”.

“How was work today?” Glen asks when Billie starts taking her already chopped and prepared ingredients out of the fridge and laying them on the bench in front of Glen.

She tells him about Dani, her patient that pulled a new personal best, and about the Monterey trip in August. 

“Do you go on trips like that often?” 

Billie shrugs as she peels two sheets of dried seaweed from the packet, laying them on the bamboo mats in front of her and Glen. 

“I've been on a few actually. The last one was a baseball tournament in Boston last October” she explains as she pulls the bowl of now cooled sushi rice from the stove onto the bench, “I went with Shanya, one of my younger colleagues and honestly it felt more like a holiday than work. We had the best time. Got to see Fenway too, which was definitely a highlight”.

Glen listens intently as she talks, Billie feeling his eyes on her as she leans against the bench and takes another sip of her wine. She loves the way each part of her body feels as he looks at her, her mind soon wandering and imagining how his hands would feel instead.

For a second she seriously considers completely ditching dinner and moving straight to the part of tonight she’s been thinking about all day.

“Okay so do you have any idea how to do this?”

Glen shakes his head no, the adorable expression on his face making Billie laugh.

“The hardest part is making sure you don't put too much rice, and then the rolling of course” Billie explains, using a spoon to flatten a layer of rice onto the seaweed sheet, “Then you just add your fillings long ways like this” she adds, arranging salmon, avocado and Japanese mayonnaise horizontally across the rice.

She wets her fingers and carefully rolls up the seaweed, looking up at Glen when she's produced a perfect looking sushi roll.

“See, easy right?”

Glen laughs, clearly not convinced.

They spend the next fifteen minutes making sushi, Billie offering her best constructive criticism and chuckling when Glen's first attempt immediately unrolls on the plate. The second one is a little better albeit has filling falling out the sides, Glen clapping his hands in triumph when it stays put on the plate and making Billie laugh harder.

If her life were a movie, this scene would be shown as a video montage in the kitchen with a fun pop song in the background, cutting between snippets of Billie and Glen laughing and grinning at one other. 

She can’t help but smile stupidly at the thought.

“Wow, you can't half tell which ones are mine” Glen comments when they’ve finished, taking a sip of his beer as Billie clears the empty prep plates into the sink, “Mine look terrible”.

Billie scoffs. “For someone that’s never made sushi before, I think they’re a pretty good first attempt”

Glen flashes her a grateful smile that Billie returns with her own, asking him to refill their drinks as she sets about slicing the sushi rolls and bringing them over to the table.

“How old are you in this photo?”

Billie looks up at Glen to find him pointing at one of the many photos on her fridge door, walking closer to see that it’s the one of her and Sloane at Camp America.

It's one of her favourite photos, her and Sloane standing with their arms wrapped around each other, faces plastered with enormous happy smiles as they balance precariously on stand up paddleboards. 

A split second after the photo was taken, they'd lost their balance and splashed into the freezing but stunning turquoise blue waters of Lake Tahoe.

To this day, Billie wasn't sure if it was the happiness on their faces or the memory of them falling and laughing that made her love the photo so much.

“That would have been seven years ago now, so twenty three, twenty four?” Billie replies, coming to stand next to Glen and looking back at the photo nostalgically, “God that was an incredible Summer”.

“You know what’s incredible?” Glen asks, tilting his head as he looks down at Billie beside him, “You in that bikini’. Fuckin’ hell darlin’’” 

“Oh stop it” Billie replies, punching Glen’s shoulder playfully. 

“I'm serious, peach. You'd have driven all of the teenage boys crazy looking like that” Glen adds, clicking his tongue as he looks back at the photo, “I can just imagine them all lining up to have you as their camp counsellor”.

Billie laughs. “Actually, I was mostly in charge of teaching water sports and leading hikes”.

“And they were the most popular activities?”

Billie grins. “They were pretty popular, yes”.

Glen's face splits into an even bigger grin, Billie shaking her head and walking back over to the table.

“So what about you?” Billie asks when they’re both seated minutes later, taking a sip of her now full wine glass and looking across at Glen, “How was your day? The photoshoot?”.

Glen’s eyes are narrowed as he momentarily focuses on dipping a slice of sushi roll into the bowl of soy sauce without dropping it, Billie glancing over at Nugget and Brisket and smiling when she sees them both squeezed onto the dog bed in the living room. 

“It went well, as good as photoshoots can go I suppose” he reasons, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, “After a while, they sort of all blend together. But sometimes they’re fun”

“Do you at least get to keep the clothes?”

Glen laughs. “Sometimes. But also, some of the shit they get you to wear, I don’t know what they’re thinking sometimes”

Billie laughs then, covering her mouth as she chews.

They soon settle into a quiet comfort, eating, talking and laughing. 

Billie isn't sure she’s ever met a man who could make her laugh as much as Glen did, and certainly not one that she could have such a rich conversation with at the same time. Not only that, the way Glen looked at her as she spoke - like she’s the most stunning, intriguing, sexy thing that he’s ever laid his eyes on. 

It was hard not to feel fucking incredible when he looked at her like that.

Billie smiles to herself and lets out a silent breath as she settles back into her chair, her mind quietly wondering about all the other ways that Glen could make her feel.

Fuck.

---

Glen

Glen relaxes back into the couch, cold beer in hand as he watches Billie standing at the back door waiting for the dogs to come back inside after their dinner. For the millionth time in the hour and a bit that he’s been here, he pushes away the sinful thoughts of Billie that have all but plagued his mind for the last three days. 

She looks somehow even better than he remembered from Sunday, today dressed in a pair of slouchy denim cut offs that end high on her toned, tanned thighs, and a loose white knit sweater that seems to keep slipping down to reveal one smooth, bare shoulder. The top half of her hair is pulled back from her face with a tortoiseshell coloured clip, a few loose bits falling around her face as the rest tumbles down her back in soft, chocolate waves.

He wonders idly if she has any idea how god damn sexy she is, Glen forcing himself to look away from her bare legs when she whistles for Nugget and Brisket to hurry up. 

He looks around the living room, loving the homey details that are so uniquely Billie, his eyes falling on a photo book on the coffee table in front of him. He reaches for the book and starts to flip through it, smiling at each new page of the lovingly snapped and collated photos that display all of the people and things that Billie loves.

There’s multiple snaps and pictures of Nugget - from when he was an adorable tiny puppy all the way through the giant golden bear that he is now. Of him and Billie at the beach - Billie kneeling and smiling happily at the camera while Nugget stands saturated and panting beneath her arm, of Billie laughing as she holds Nugget like a baby - his head flopped upside down and tongue lolling out to the side, a selfie of the two of them with their faces side by side. 

Next is photos of Sloane, Bec and Billie at various times - the three of them posing and dressed to the nines at a formal event, another of them each holding a fruity cocktail, sun-kissed and smiling as they stand on beach somewhere tropical, and another of the three of them standing together arms intertwined with their heads thrown back in laughter.

Glen looks up when Billie comes over to the couch, shifting to give her more room when she sits down beside him. Her sweet, peachy perfume fills his nose as she leans into him, her knees bent and folded beneath her. He smiles down at her for a moment, Billie oblivious to his gaze as she picks up her phone and navigates to Spotify, a soft Luke Combs song suddenly playing from the living room speaker.

Glen looks back at the book as Billie sips her wine, flipping the page and looking down at a picture of Billie standing arm in arm with a guy. It takes him a second to realise that he has the same honey-green eyes as Billie, the shape of their smiles similarly wide and happy. 

“Is this Bradley?” Glen asks, noting more similarities between the two of them the more he looks at the picture.

Billie nods.

“And that” she adds, leaning over and pointing to two pictures on the page next to it, “Is Harrison and Kiara”.

“Kiara looks like you” Glen comments looking down at the adorable brunette girl in the picture, Billie leaning her head on Glen’s shoulder and smiling almost nostalgically. 

“Bradley and Jordyn say that all the time”.

Glen looks down at Billie and smiles softly. 

“You miss them”

“Everyday” she replies, letting out a quiet exhale, “You know what it’s like with nieces and nephews”.

Glen smiles gently but doesn’t say anything, closing the book after a few more pages and turning to look at Billie. 

“So you said you don’t start until late tomorrow?”

Billie nods, turning so that her body is facing Glen, leaning one elbow on the back of the couch and resting her cheek in her hand.  “Yep. I’m going to that gymnastics meet. So I don’t have to be in until 12”

“So you can sleep in then?”

A grin slowly grows on Billie's face then, a playful look in her bright hazel eyes.

“I can, yes”.

Glen can’t help the expression that takes over his face.

“I like sleeping in”.

Billie raises one eyebrow, her head tilting as she looks back at him.

“Is that right?”

His lips stretch into a mischievous grin and he nods, Billie grinning as she taps her fingers against the wine glass in her free hand. 

“You know what I like even more?” he breathes, reaching out to tuck stray hairs behind Billie’s ear as his eyes fall to her plush lips.

“Tell me”

“Kissing you”

Glen’s hand cups her smooth cheek and he leans in and kisses her, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, tender embrace. He can taste the wine on her tongue, her mouth moving against his in a way that makes his stomach flip, Glen moving his hand into her hair and deepening their intimate kiss.

Billie lets out a soft moan that he swallows with his lips, the sound making Glen’s whole body stir in the best way. He can feel his arousal growing, his heart starting to race, his grip tightening in Billie’s hair as he explores her mouth with his tongue. 

He wants more, needs more, suddenly desperate to feel more of Billie beneath his fingertips.

Glen pulls away for a second, lungs starting to burn, reaching down to take the wine glass from her hands and deposit it on the coffee table. Billie understands the action immediately, barely waiting for Glen to sit back before she’s climbing into his lap, straddling his legs and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Her lips are back on his in an instant, their kiss immediately deepening, Glen kissing her hungrily as his hands fall to her waist and grip at the thickest part of her hips. The feel of her curves in his hands makes him dizzy, even more so when Billie threads her fingers into his hair and drags her nails against his scalp. 

He groans then, the sound clearly having an effect on Billie, her hips grounding down into him in response. He’s hard now, painfully hard, and he knows Billie can feel it as she starts to rock her hips into him. 

Fuck he wants her, every single part of her, all over him and everywhere. 

Glen finds the hem of her sweater, sliding his fingers underneath the thin cotton and onto her buttery-soft skin, pressing his fingers into her warm flesh and pulling her flush against his chest. The action makes Billie break their kiss, dropping her head back as a breathy moan escapes her, Glen not missing a beat and dragging his lips along her jaw. 

He’s overwhelmed by her scent - sweet and heady and driving every one of his senses mad, completely lost in her as he kisses her ear, her neck, her collarbone. 

“Fuck, Glen” Billie sighs, her voice barely louder than a whisper, a wanting, almost pained moan following when Glen sucks at the thin skin near the base of her throat.

He’s just about to move lower, all of a sudden desperate to have his lips on her chest, Billie suddenly somehow reading his mind and reaching for the bottom of her sweater. He pulls back for just a moment, hands helping to peel the soft material from her body, a groan he can’t control falling from him at the sight that’s now in front of him. 

He doesn’t know where to look first, painfully aware of the way his length is straining in his jeans beneath Billie, eyes glued to her breasts held in only just by a small, black bralette. They’re not big but they’re certainly not small, round and perky and threatening to fall out of the thin cotton material with the smallest of movements. He can see her nipples straining against the fabric, his tongue reflexively wetting his lips at the sight, his breathing turning ragged when he reaches out and cups her soft flesh.

Billie drops her head back again, sounding nothing short of perfect when she sighs his name, every single one of Glen’s muscles clenching as she arches her back into his hands and all but begs for his touch. He kneads her tits in his hands, thumbs swiping roughly over her covered nipples, looking up when Billie lifts her head back up and gazes down at him with seductive, hooded eyes.

“Fuckin’ hell peach, you’re gorgeous” Glen breathes, words trailing off into another strangled groan when Billie rolls her hips against his. 

She cups his face with both hands and pulls him back in for a kiss, this time hungry and feverish, like she can’t get enough of him fast enough. Glen responds eagerly, licking into her mouth and matching her desperation, his hands palming her harder as his thumbs drag the thin cotton down so that her breasts fall free.

The sound she lets out when he plays with her nipples is absolutely sinful, the way her breathing becomes instantly shaky making Glen want to growl. He breaks their kiss by biting down on her bottom lip, leaving her mouth and licking his way down to her chest. 

In that moment he swears he could stay there forever, drunk on Billie’s scent, her taste and feel beneath his lips, kissing and mouthing her smooth, silky skin. She cries out when his lips close around her left nipple, her back arching into his chest and his free hand moving to hold her there. He suckles at her, loving the way she all but shudders in his arms, her hips increasing their pressure with each new roll against him.

“Glen” she breathes, her voice soft and erotic, her hands threading once again into his hair and tugging gently, “Bedroom. Let’s go to the bedroom”

Reluctantly he releases her nipple - though not before savouring her for one more delicious moment, his grip on her waist tightening when she moves to stand up from his lap. He’s having none of that, instead moving both of his arms to her thighs, Billie letting out a surprised chuckle when he stands up from the couch with her wrapped firmly in his arms.

“Direct me, darlin’”

Billie laughs and bends and kisses him, Glen loving the plush, swollen feel of her lips, the two grinning back at one another as she instructs him to head down the hall to the last room on the left. 

He’s instantly distracted by Billie’s breasts in his face, unable to stop himself from immediately returning his lips to her sensitive flesh, navigating around the couch blindly as Billie tries to concentrate on guiding him.

Bumping into a side table and the wall of the hallway, several giggles fall from the both of them as they eventually make it to the bedroom. Glen bends and sits Billie down on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his as she peels off her bralette and pulls the clip from her hair, Glen simultaneously shedding his t-shirt.

He loves the way she looks back at him then, her eyes sultry and wanting as they roam over his now shirtless torso, Glen’s own gaze dragging between her swollen lips and naked chest. Just when he thinks Billie couldn’t possibly look any sexier - a seductive, wanton goddess, all flushed cheeks and tousled hair, he sees her hands move to her shorts and watches as her fingers make quick work of the button and zip. 

Glen feels like he’s frozen then, unable to do anything but watch, his breath coming short and heavy as Billie slowly, torturously, shimmies the denim material down her legs. She slides them down to her ankles and lifts both feet in the air towards Glen, daring him to take them from her as the new position of her legs teases an explicit view of between her thighs.

A groan falls from Glen, low and rumbling from somewhere deep within him, Billie grinning seductively when he grabs the shorts from her ankles and tosses them onto the floor behind him. She moves to scoot backwards but is stopped by Glen’s hand on her calf, Glen instead pulling her closer to the edge of bed as he lowers himself to the floor in front of her.

He doesn’t miss the soft whimper that falls from Billie when he pulls her legs apart and rests her thighs on his shoulders, the sight of her naked save for a skimpy, black cotton thong stirring something primal in him. He swears he could look at her all day like this, feeling dizzy from the sight of her, the smell of her arousal, the sound of her increasing breathing. He swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry, his own arousal throbbing painfully inside his jeans as he thinks about what he’s about to do.

Glen’s been thinking about doing this since the moment he first kissed Billie, wondering what she’d taste like, what she’d feel like and what she’d sound like coming undone on his tongue. It’s his favourite thing to do - something he enjoys arguably more than sex, unsure if it’s the way he can tease and bring them right to the edge, the sight of them when they eventually fall apart above him, or the way they feel when they spasm against his mouth that he loves so much. 

He inhales heavily, hands sliding beneath Billie’s ass and grabbing at the thick part of her thighs, holding her steady and bending to press a kiss to her hip. He grins to himself when she lets out the softest whimper, looking up to see her eyes trained on him, her lips pressed together as her chest rises and falls quickly. 

He loves the desperate look in her eyes, he’s mad for it, feeling the electric tension in the air as she silently begs him to kiss her lower.

He kisses along the waistband of her thong, moving slowly as he holds her steady, tongue drawing delicate circles along her sensitive skin. He knows he’s driving her mad, watching as her jaw clenches and her fingers flex into the sheets below her, her eyes following his every movement. He grins as he moves lower, kissing over the cotton now, feeling her heat beneath the material as his fingers dig into her harder. He holds her gaze for a moment longer, electricity and an unspoken communication between them, finally tearing his eyes away and looking down as he hooks his finger and pulls her panties to the side.

And god if it’s not the most gorgeous sight he’s ever seen, his deep muscles clenching in the most delicious, desperate way.

He groans.

“Fuck peach, look at you”.

His eyes run over her syrupy folds, pink and glistening and begging to be tasted, his tongue wetting his lips before he bends and kisses her sex. The second his mouth is on her Billie tosses her head back into the sheets, a beautiful, breathy moan falling from her that makes Glen grip her harder.

He doesn’t waste any time, burying his tongue into her velvet flesh, his nose brushing her clit as he kisses her open-mouthed like he would her lips. The moans he teases from Billie are nothing short of erotic, an intimate melody Glen would happily listen to for hours. He brings his fingers to her sex and uses his thumbs to spread her open, licking and sucking at her sensitive flesh until he feels her muscles starting to tremble. 

His name falls from her lips between a myriad of expletives, her voice slowly getting louder as her body starts to writhe on the bed. Glen knows he’s got her then, knowing he’s close to teasing out her first release, determined to give her as many as she can take as he quickens the pace with his tongue. 

“Oh Glen fuck” she moans when his lips find her clit, circling and sucking as her hips start to ground into his mouth.

He groans into her folds, loving how she’s practically fucking his face, moving one hand to her pubic bone and flattening down to hold her steady. She sucks in a long, shuddering breath and Glen knows she’s almost there, increasing his pace with his tongue and watching as she tries to buck her hips against his hold.

“I’m close Glen, I’m close” she breathes, moans punctuating her words, her eyes squeezed shut as her hands fist into the sheets.

“That’s it darlin’, let me hear you” Glen whispers against her, sucking one of her luscious folds into his mouth and loving the way she cries his name, “I wanna hear you, peach”.

Keeping one hand flat on her pelvis, he drags two fingers through her folds and coats them with her slick, easing them inside her and looking up when she cries out in pleasure. Glen groans out loud, his eyes not knowing where to focus first, torn between the way his fingers look knuckles deep within her, the sight of her wet, syrupy folds practically dripping onto his hand, and her gorgeous, near naked form trembling on the bed.

Glen can’t get enough.

And neither can Billie.

He curls his fingers in the way that he knows will drive her mad, bending and kissing her slick flesh before lavishing it with his tongue. He quickens his pace, fucking her with his fingers and sucking at her clit, Billie’s cries becoming gorgeously desperate as her body soon starts to shake.

In that moment he knows he has her, letting out a heavy breath and coaxing her over the edge.

“Just like that Bil’, that’s it” he breathes against her slit, just loud enough for her to hear over her breathy moans, “Come on darlin’, give it to me. Come for me, sweets”.

His words are her undoing and in an instant he feels her entire body tense and release, Billie’s back arching away from the bed as her head tosses back in ecstasy. His name falls from her lips like a desperate prayer and her hips buck beneath his hold, the sight and sound of Billie’s orgasm taking over her so fucking beautiful that Glen can’t help but stare enamoured. He coaches her through her release, still fucking her slowly with his fingers, eventually stilling within her when she grabs his wrist silently telling him to stop.

He bends and kisses her velvety folds gently, withdrawing his fingers and watching in awe when her body spasms with tiny aftershocks, looking up to see Billie’s chest heaving as she lays back painting on the bed before him. 

He crawls his way up her body, leaving kisses on her heated skin - her hip, her breast, her collarbone, hovering above her and grinning down at her adorable post-orgasm bliss smile.

“You’re an absolute sight when you come darlin’” Glen whispers, bending and kissing her parted lips gently, “Never seen anything more fuckin’ sexy”.

Billie’s eyes flutter open, taking a second to focus on Glen above her, her swollen lips stretching into a soft, playful smile.

“I have” she whispers after a moment, lifting her hands to cup his jaw and pull him down for a kiss, “Your face looking up at me from between my thighs is something I won’t be forgetting anytime soon”.

Glen lets out a deep chuckle, lowering himself onto her and rolling his hips so that his painfully evident arousal presses into Billie’s belly. The action teases a soft, sexy moan from her throat, and suddenly he can’t help but think of another half a dozen things he’d like to do and make her not forget about.

He bends to kiss her then, capturing her lips in a heated, sensual kiss, her hands reaching out and roaming his naked back as his length presses against her, thick, hard and wanting. All at once the tension between them is building again, a growing desire licking at Glen’s insides like a raring, burning fire.

In an instant he can’t think of anything except for how much he wants Billie, how much he wants to make her come again, to bury himself inside her and fuck her over and over into the sheets beneath them - to watch her, hear her, feel her come undone around his cock.

His thoughts make Glen groan into her mouth, forcing himself away and quickly jumping from the bed, Billie propping herself up on her elbows to watch as he reaches for his belt buckle and makes quick work of his belt, jeans and underwear. He stands stark naked then, loving the seductive, hooded gaze that's returned to Billie's face, reaching down to stroke himself as her eyes run over his body and back again.

He's hard, painfully hard, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, looking over her parted lips and down to the tiny black thong that's still pushed to the side and affording him the most sinful view of her still slick folds. She’s like a siren, a vixen, a goddess if ever he's seen one.

And fuck he just can't get enough of her.

Especially not when she reaches over to her nightstand and pulls a condom from the top drawer, scooting backwards into the pillows and winking one gorgeous eye at him. He grins back devilishly, needing no instruction after that, crawling back onto the bed and cupping her jaw, kissing her hungrily as he takes the condom from her fingers.

“You ready darlin’?” he asks when he’s rolled it down his length seconds later, parting Billie’s legs and resting one of her ankles on his shoulder.

She only nods, her chest rising and falling with desperate anticipation, the look in her eyes telling him everything he needs to hear without words. He strokes himself roughly, cursing at the sight of his length dragging through her slick, lining himself up with her velvety folds and exhaling loudly as he meets her eyes once more.

Glen wets his lips and grins, loving the way Billie looks back at him then.

“Hold on, peach. Gonna show you somethin’ else you won’t wanna forget any time soon”.

----

Previous Chapter

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[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Fight Club [Frank's Version]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (AFAB)Reader x Frank Castle

Summary: If this seems familiar, that's cause it is. When @hellskitchenswhore sent this prompt I gave two options: Either Matt fucks you before your next session so he's dripping out of you while you're training with Frank so you "remember who you belong to" ORRRRRR he busts up your session and you end up having a three way with him and Frank in the gym. She chose the former but the later has honestly been bouncing around my brain since then and I finally wrote it. The fic is the same until Matt follows reader to the gym, then the fun begins...

Warnings: 18+/SMUT. No use of Y/N. Female/AFAB reader (use of terms like girlfriend and female anatomy.) Established relationship. Brief mention of an active shooter at an office, Frank and Matt using pet names like sweetheart, mentions and accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, Unprotected sex, Fingering and hand job, Oral (M & F receiving,) THREE WAY! A TRIP TO PARIS!, P in V, Creampie, etc.

WC: 7,200

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“That’s it sweetheart, last round I promise.” Frank encourages you as you take swings at the bag in front of you. 

You’ve been at this for at least an hour and your arms feel like jello. You can’t remember the last time you were breathing this hard that wasn’t from Matt bending you in half. Jumping directly into the Hudson would have kept you drier than the amount of sweat currently pouring down your face and exhausted body.

“Atta girl, atta girl!” Frank praises as you take your last few swings, arms too weak to make any real movement of the bag

“Alright, you’re getting the hang of it now. Few more sessions and you’ll be out there with Red every night.”

“Pfft I don’t know about that, Frank. I’m just trying to make sure I can protect myself is all.”

“So remind me again why you didn’t ask him to teach you this?”

It started last week. One of your favorite coworkers was going through a bitter divorce and her estranged husband decided to confront her at the office and pulled a gun. You heard two shots ring out from your desk and feared the worst - all the active shooter situations you'd seen on TV were happening live in your life. Fortunately, as you fled for safety, Jerry from accounting was able to disarm and tackle the guy before he could hurt anyone thanks to his black belt in Jiujitsu.

Even though the incident ended okay, it had spooked you enough to get yourself some defense classes, for all those times when your vigilante boyfriend was too far uptown to protect you at a moment’s notice and Jerry wasn’t around to save the day.

Matt was always overprotective of you and you hated to think how he’d react to the incident, so you hadn’t told him. When the story hit the news, you lied (via text so he couldn’t detect it) and said it happened on a different floor and you didn’t even notice. 

You also didn’t tell him about your decision to learn self-defense. Matt was more than qualified to teach you, but for some reason, you just didn’t feel comfortable asking for his help with this. Maybe it was his propensity to throw himself into helping those he cared about, you especially, that gave you hesitation to give him another thing to prioritize over himself. Maybe it was just how good he was at fighting that made you not want to “be a beginner” in front of him (not that Matt would ever judge you about anything.)

In fairness to you, you hadn’t intended to learn it from his frenemy and former client, but you’d showed up at the boxing gym near your work and the gruff men inside intimidated you so much, you bolted out the door before signing up for a class, tears welling in your eyes when you quite literally bumped into Frank on the street.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, nodding towards the door of the boxing gym

“I thought… Look I want to learn how to fight. Or at least how to defend myself. This place is close to work but um… might not be the right fit for me.”

“Why don’t you just ask Red?”

“It’s a long story,” you replied with a sigh “but I really don’t want to ask him. Or for him to even know about it. So can you please not mention you saw me here or we had this conversation?”

“Okay, can I ask why not?”

“You can but I’m not gonna answer.” 

Frank chuckled and shook his head

“Well if you want to learn to fight, this isn’t the best place. I know Vinny the owner and he’s a shit teacher. But if you want to learn for real, I’m happy to teach you.”

“What? Wait really? Wait, Frank you know how to fight?”

“Sweetheart, I was a Marine for over 15 years, ‘course I know how to fight.”

“And you’d do that for me?”

“Course. You’re Red's girl. What times’ he leave for his little night job?”

“9:00”

“Great, meet me here at 9:30. Tonight.”

And that was how you ended up here, collapsing on the gym mat beneath you with a groan.

“Not bad for your first time. We just gotta get you in the habit of resetting your hands after every hit, and you’ll be golden” Frank praises again

“Oh yeah, I forgot, always protect the face so I don’t end up lookin like you.” you jest

“Ouch” he feigns hurt with a smirk on his face “Red teach you to swing low like that?”

“Nah Castle, that’s all me. It’s part of why he loves me. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you then.”

By the time Matt returns home, you’re showered and in bed, sore muscles pulsing every time you twist and turn in your sleep. Between the smell of sweaty clothes in the hamper and the scent of your freshly washed skin rubbing against silk sheets, plus the heat radiating off your sore muscles as he crawls into bed silently beside you, Matt figures it out pretty quickly.

‘She started going back to the gym. Hmm. Have to ask her about that in the morning.’ he thinks as he drifts off beside you.

You awake in the morning to gentle hands rubbing at your back. 

“Mmm morning Matty” you mumble, still pulling yourself out of sleep

“Morning sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works a little lower down your spine

“Giving you a massage. I can tell you’re sore. When did you start going back to the gym?”

“Just yesterday. And you’re right I’m super sore. Thank you, this is a nice way to start my day.”

“Of course sweetheart. What gym did you go to? Did you have fun?” he inquires

His innocent prodding has you waking fully quickly, trying to cover your tracks without outright lying and getting caught.

“Oh this gym near work. Couple people in the office recommended it. And yeah I had fun.” 

All truths.

“That’s nice. Mmmm do you want to start the coffee or shower first?” he asks, seemingly letting the subject go

Perfect.

As you rush around to get ready for work, Matt grabs the laundry hamper from the bathroom, walking it over to the washing machine. Your dirty workout clothes from the night before sit on top, now less potent that they have completely dried. But he can’t help but feel like something smells off.

Sure it smells like you - natural scent mixed with your fading sweat, but there’s something else. Something familiar. A very subtle hint of spiciness mixed with… is that gunpowder? 

‘Weird’ Matt thinks to himself, but brushes it off a moment later, the smell not strong enough to really garner more than a passing thought.

But three times he does the laundry in a row, he smells it. It’s so subtle, he might not even give it another thought, but it’s just so damn familiar. 

It takes another week for him to ask you about it.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been going to the gym a lot lately,” he mentions over dinner 

“Mmmhmm. Yeah, can you feel my muscles growing? I’m feeling stronger.” you reply

“Yeah. What exactly are you doing at the gym? It’s really working.”

“Oh a little cardio, a little strength, you know…” you skirt around, being intentionally vague

“That’s good. Is it like a class or?”

“Um sort of. Just this guy at the gym, he’s been helping me. You know, walking me through the exercises.” 

Also technically the truth.

“That’s good. Well, I’m glad you found something you like.”

‘Okay, so that guy must smell like this. She’s close enough to him in a warm sweaty gym, so there’s a little bit on her clothes. Makes sense.’ Matt thinks to himself. But he still can’t shake the feeling that that smell is so familiar.

Two weeks later, Matt is out on patrol when he hears a familiar heartbeat on the fire escape a few floors down from where he’s perched.

Frank.

“You just gonna sit there all night, listinin’ Red?” Frank asks

“Very funny Frank.” Matt says, hopping down to Frank’s level

“Haven’t seen you in a while” Matt comments

“Been busy. Madani’s been usin’ me more.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going legit Frank.”

“Not a shot in hell, Red. But gotta pay the bills somehow.”

And then a strong breeze blows. Frank’s signature blend of sweat, aftershave, and metallic mixed with gunpowder from all the weapons he handles overwhelms Matt’s nose. Matt cocks his head in confusion. It’s so damn familiar. But of course it is, it’s Frank. How many times has Matt been on a rooftop with him like this, bs-ing the night away while monitoring the city?

After catching up for a bit, they go their separate ways, the rest of Matt’s evening turning uneventful.

He returns home to you shortly after 3 am, your soft breathing as you sleep calms him as he strips off his suit. 

You hadn’t met with Frank tonight. He said something about following a lead and you were perfectly fine with that, you needed an off day. 

Matt curls up in bed beside you, resting his head on your back and falling asleep quickly.

The next night, Frank is really putting you through your paces and you swear you’re ready to collapse when he finally calls it for the night. 

Per usual, Frank offers to walk you home when you’re done and for the first time since you started coming here, you accept the offer since you stayed a bit later than usual tonight. At least until you can make it to Hell’s Kitchen and within range of Matt. 

You and Frank make small talk as you go and eventually, the chill of the autumn air has you shivering in your still-damp-from-sweat workout clothes. 

“Here sweetheart,” Frank says with a lopsided smirk, slinging his worn jacket over your shoulders. 

“Thank you Castle. Always a gentleman.”

“Course, ‘specially for Red’s girl.”

You make it to 35th and 10th, close enough to home and hand his jacket back to him, parting ways with a nod and a polite “goodnight.”

The later hour coupled with the particularly intense session has you collapsing into bed without even removing your shoes, let alone your gym clothes.

When Matt returns a few hours later, the smell hits him like a truck. 

‘I swear to god Frank, if you’re bleeding on my couch again…’ Matt thinks to himself. 

But when he enters the apartment the only heartbeat he can hear is yours. He inches slowly toward the bedroom and rolls the door open gently. He reaches down to feel the soft lycra of your leggings on your body, careful not to stir you from your slumber. The smell of your sweat clinging to your clothes fills his senses, way more potent than normal plus that other scent you’re bringing home from the gym. Matt pauses to wonder why he thought Frank was here but then it hits him. 

Oh my god. The mystery smell from the gym you’ve been bringing home is Frank. 

But how could you smell like… 

And then the gears in his head start turning. And he feels like a goddamn idiot. 

You had been going to the gym. But not to work out. You were cheating. With Frank of all people. And you’d made the critical error of not showering when you got home. 

Matt begins to pace the apartment, rubbing at his chin as his thoughts move a million miles a minute about what to do. 

Did he confront you? Did he confront Frank?! What should he even say?

The sun rises and he’s still pacing and contemplating when his alarm rings out. He shuts it off before it can wake you too. He needs more time to think about his next move. He gets ready for work quietly and slips out the door before you awake. 

You find it odd you haven’t heard from Matt all day. When you woke up you saw his Devil suit in a heap in the living room and there was no damage to it or blood on it. So you knew he had come home and was relatively okay. But it was so odd for him to leave without a goodbye kiss or go this long in the day without so much as a text. But he had been busy with a heavy caseload lately. You finally break shortly after lunch and text him first. 

“Hey Matty. Know you’re busy but I miss you and I love you. Dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Working late. Don’t wait up.” He responds

That was… oddly curt. But again you figure he’s stressed and busy. 

Matt on the other hand has been wracked with stress all day. It only took an hour of his constant pacing and fidgeting for Foggy to break and finally ask.

“Matt. What’s up?”

“I think… I think I’m being cheated on.” Matt confesses. He leaves the Frank part out of the equation, wanting Foggy to be as objective as possible about his response. 

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“She’s been going to the gym like every night for a month now right when I leave for patrol and she came home last night smelling like… another man. And she’s been smelling like it a little the whole month but last night it was all over her”

“So did you ask her?”

“Well no but…” 

“Matt you are literally a human lie detector and yet here you are jumping to conclusions instead of doing the rational thing and just asking her.”

And maybe Matt would have taken Foggy’s advice if he thought you were just cheating with your gym trainer. But this was Frank. And that made it all the more complicated. 

Matt decides finally what he’s going to do. He’s going to follow you tonight, catch you in the act and confront both of you together.  

Matt still hasn’t come home when you depart for your nightly workout session, but little do you know he’s there. Pacing on the roof, waiting for you to leave. As soon as he hears the lobby door shut behind you, he springs in to action, taking the stairs two at a time into the apartment and changing out of his lawyer suit and into his devil suit as quickly as possible, making sure not to lose your heartbeat now a block and a half away. He makes up for the lost distance quickly and is practically on top of you by the time you enter the gym. 

“Hey Frank!” you call out as you enter

“Hey. I’ll be over in a second.” he replies from the locker rooms

Matt crouches down by the side of the building, just close enough to the windows to hear everything going on inside. 

You’re almost done wrapping your hands when Frank emerges from the locker room. 

“Alright let’s start with our usual, then you can have a go at me again.”

“I don’t know Frank. You really wore me out last night. I woke up still in my clothes and shoes.”

Matt knew it. He fucking knew it. 

“Tough shit sweetheart,” Frank responds with a chuckle. “And what did your boyfriend think about that huh? He got any idea what we’re doing here yet?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear from him at all today. Which is weird even for him. And no I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually”

“No, I don’t”

“So what you’re just gonna keep sneakin’ around, becoming a prize fighter without him gettin’ suspicious? Shit even a regular guy would raise some alarm bells by now, but especially Red and all his … shit”

“Frank, I am not here trying to become a prize fighter. I’m just trying to get strong enough to defend myself if he’s not around to do it. That’s all”

Matt’s heart drops. 

How could he possibly think you were cheating? And with Frank of all people. He felt like an idiot. Like a total asshole. Sure you had lied, well, technically withheld the truth and he’s sure you’ll explain why. And he’s hurt if you wanted to learn to fight that you didn’t come to him.  But this was not nearly as egregious a stain on your relationship as he thought it was. 

“I don’t know. Think you should tell him. Show him your moves. Shit, you’ve gotten a couple good hits on me these last few days. I'm sure you could give Red a run for his money.” 

“I am not fighting Matt, Francis.” You say with an eye roll

In that moment, Matt decided this had gone far enough. He needed to come clean. He slipped quietly through the door into the studio. 

“Oh I think she absolutely could, Frank. Especially if you’ve been teaching her”

Your spine goes icy cold at the sound of the voice behind you. Both you and Frank jump with a gasp and whip your heads to look at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, standing in front of you. 

“Matt… I” 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Matt says, hands up in surrender before reaching up to remove his mask

“Shit Red, you been here this whole time?” Frank asks nonchalantly 

Matt nods, shame painted on his face.

“Matt, I can explain…”

“No. I need to explain.” Matt holds a hand up, interrupting your thought  “I followed you here because I thought you were cheating. With Frank. And I know now that’s not what’s happening. And I’m sorry for not just asking you.” 

Frank scoffs and holds back a low chuckle while your face softens in empathy.

“Oh Matt. I’m so sorry that I did anything to make you think that. That’s not at all what’s happening here.”

“Really Red, you think I’m that kind of guy?”

“No... I don’t know.”

“Nah, wouldn’t lay a finger on your girl. Unless it was okay with you.”

Matt shakes his head.

“Now that I’m here though, I wouldn’t say no to a little demonstration of what you’ve been teaching her.”

Frank immediately looks to you, reading the signs on your face to make sure it’s okay. You nod. Now that Matt knows, its time to show him.

“Kay sweetheart, just a few rounds on the bag. Like we been practicing.” Frank reassures

You step up to the bag and look to Frank once more. A soft smile spreads across his face and he nods in encouragement. 

You take a few swings. Jab, Cross, Left hook. Like Frank normally has you do. Not even thirty seconds in, Matt speaks up.

“Woah woah woah. Frank, you’ve been letting her hit like this and not correcting her form?”

“Yes. Wait, what the hell is wrong with her form?”

“She’s too far away from the bag.” Matt places his hands on your shoulders, maneuvering you with slight adjustments and positions his feet right beside yours, pressing his body tight against your back. “I can hear your shoulder joint rubbing every time you jab, which means you’re over-extending that left arm. Makes you put way too much energy into each hit, you’re gonna wear yourself out way faster. Here. Step closer.”

You take a few more swings. Matt’s breath is against your ear and you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine straight to your core. God, his body is warm usually, but being flush behind you as you move and hit, he practically feels like white-hot iron against you. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and it’s not just from the few swings you’ve taken. You know Matt can hear it and is going to play you like a fiddle. His own wicked form of punishment for not telling him about your training.

“Go ahead, gimme a few more, I want to feel how your body moves. See just what else Frank has been teaching you wrong.”

Frank throws his arms up in offense as you try a few more punches.

“See? More power, less effort.”

You grin, happy to finally be sharing something Matt is clearly so knowledgeable and passionate about with him. Craning your neck, you mesh your lips with his in excitement and only pull away when Frank loudly clears his throat and you remember that he is still there watching the two of you.

“Eh, so you gave her a minor tweak. Still say how I had her doing it was perfectly fine.”

Matt finally steps away from you, turning to face Frank.

“Sure Castle, but I think the real testament to your teaching skills is how she does with an actual partner.”

Matt turns his attention back to you. His hands drop from your shoulders, running down your back lightly and coming to rest on your hips. He plants a soft kiss right under your ear. His stubble is coarse against your skin, sending goosebumps across your flesh, your toes curling into the squishy mat beneath you.

“You throw any actual punches at him yet?” he asks

“A few. Landed some of them too.”

“Let her show you Murdock, maybe she can knock that cocky attitude out of you like I never could.”

Matt chuckles and shakes his head. He steps away from you, holding out a hand and leading you to the center of the room, the area in the gym dedicated to partner sparring.

You stand a few feet apart from your boyfriend, nervous to demonstrate on him. You’re not arrogant enough to think just a few weeks of training with Frank puts you anywhere near Matt’s skill level. But you also know that Matt loves you and will probably take it easy on you just to be supportive and also not hurt you, so you may just be able to get a few swings in. You don’t need the guilt of piling onto his already long list of previous injuries and scars.

Frank approaches behind you, placing a hand on your arm in reassurance as he leans close to your ear.

“Remember that knee to crotch move I showed you last week? The one I said to only use if some creep comes at you head on and you need to take him out quick?” 

You nod, already shifting your feet towards the set up position for that move, trying to activate the muscle memory to bring it back into your brain.

“Well” Frank continued, “might not be a bad time to try it.”

You chuckle at his suggestion.

“Frank, you know Matt can hear all of this right?” 

You glance over at your boyfriend, amused smirk painted across his lips as he stretches his perfectly toned bicep across his chest, warming up for your little face off. He’s discarded his tight black shirt in a pile beside him. A cheap bid to distract you from the task at hand with his incredible body that he knows you can’t resist.

“Yeah, just figure if he wants to be a jealous fucker why not rile him up some more? Plus it’s the least he deserves for thinking the worst from you and I, of all people.”

You try not to laugh at the statement. Frank’s askew moral compass being perfectly fine with the regular amount of murder he commits, but thinking being a taken woman’s side piece crosses a line.

He squeezes the hand still resting on your bicep in reassurance before stepping away with a wink, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, radiating from the point where the warmth of his touch still lingers. Frank always keeps it incredibly professional around you and you know he is pushing against the line of flirting just to get into Matt’s head.

“Ready sweetheart?” Matt asks as you step towards him, gloved fists by your face prepared to fight

“Yeah” you reply and Matt also assumes his stance, nodding in your direction as a go ahead

“Ding ding, round one!” Frank remarks

You go for the right hook first, but Matt easily blocks the hit. You throw a few more punches, all of which Matt dodges and blocks without looking like he’s putting any effort into it. He’s cocky and sly in the way that he moves, refusing to even take one swing at you but making you work stupidly hard just to get nowhere.

Fine. New strategy, you decide.

Swinging a roundhouse knee in the air, you connect directly with his ribs. The oof sounds he lets out gives you a rush of adrenaline knowing you legitimately got a hit on him. It’s incredibly short lived as he’s quick to recover. Rushing towards you, he tackles you to the mat, knocking the wind out of your lungs as your ribs connect with the floor. He’s pinned you to the point where you can barely squirm, knee pressed firmly between your legs while his arms cage you in place.

“Nice try baby, but not good enough.” he whispers in your ear, shifting his leg to provide just a little friction against your core

“Woah, take it easy on her. She’s still a beginner. She’s here to learn, not have you be an asshole to her about something you thought she did.” Frank interjects, pulling Matt off of you

“Just cause you take it easy on her Frank, doesn’t mean I have to. She wants to learn, then let her learn with a real opponent, not just you going easy on her cause she makes your dick too hard to think straight.”

“Woah!” you interject, ripping the boxing gloves off your hands while still flat on your back

“Jesus, Red” Frank exclaims as he offers out a hand to get you back on your feet

“Oh come on Frank, you’ve been hard since she walked in here. Just because you’re not banging my girlfriend doesn’t mean you haven’t thought about it. I can hear it rub against your pants every time you move. You’re a weirdo, but not nearly weird enough to show up to a gym in jeans unless you had a reason.”

“Look, I’d never…” Frank stumbles over his words, redness creeping up his neck as it tenses with every clench of his jaw

Your pulse is thumping loudly in your ears at Matt’s observation, skin flushed with heat in both embarrassment for Frank who is still stammering beside you and also a little flattered that you so effortlessly turn him on so much.

“Never? Even with my permission?” Matt inquires

Frank’s pupils grow wide at Matt’s suggestion

“Woah, hold up Matt. Permission?” you loudly exclaim, offended at Matt’s implication “Like you own me?! I’m my own person, what about my damn permission?!”

Matt scoffs at your statement and steps toward you, spinning you around so your back is once more pressed against him and you are now facing Frank, who is hesitant to look up. His gaze transfixed on the floor as he tries to find the words to refute Matt’s claims. You didn’t think sheepish was a word one could ever use to describe Frank Castle, nor did you think he’d ever back down from a fight with Matt, even a verbal one.

“Okay sweetheart, let’s talk about you then.” Matt speaks lowly, damp bare skin of his rising and falling chest pressing into your back as he speaks, his own hardness obvious as he pulls your body flush against his

“While I appreciate that you haven’t crossed any lines since you started training, that doesn't mean you’re not enjoying these nightly sessions with Frank. Your heartbeat has risen every time he's been within a foot of you or complimented your progress tonight.” 

His voice rumbles against the skin of your neck, right hand snaking around to your front, tickling at the top of your leggings. For some reason, you don’t stop him, feeling a little shy but letting him tease you in front of Frank.

“And you want to talk about how wet you were when I first got here?” he continues “I could practically smell you from blocks away. Frank get you that excited, hmm?”  

Frank's head snaps up at the statement and he locks eyes with you just as Matt pushes his hand all the way down, collecting the slick he was just describing on his fingers.

“Matt, I…” you attempted to protest, still watching as the lust grows in Frank’s stare while Matt runs his fingers through your folds.

There was no hiding how your body reacted to both men. The evidence drips onto Matt’s fingers as he toys with you.

“No, it’s okay sweetheart.” he reassures, placing a few kisses on your neck “I get it. Frank and I have always said we're two sides to the same coin. It makes sense we’d both find the same woman attractive. And that she’d want us both.”

Matt once again turns his attention to Frank, not relenting in his teasing of you as he slips a finger into your opening, causing a moan to escape from your lips.

“Go ahead, Frank” Matt says with a nod against your shoulder, “if it's okay with her, it's okay with me.”

Frank finally wills himself to step forward. Never wavering in how deeply his gaze is locked on you, he hovers his hands over your waist while Matt continues to lazily pump his fingers in and out of you, waiting for your go ahead. You nod, granting him the permission to finally act on the feelings you’ve both been resisting. 

Frank’s trembling hand finally cradles your jaw as he leans into you and softly connects his lips with yours, taking the pace slowly to give you both the space to gauge how you’re feeling.

Matt, on the other hand, is happy to move things along as he pushes another finger inside you. Immediately working his calloused digits against that spongy spot inside you that drives you wild every time. You're not sure what causes you to groan into Frank's mouth, the way Matt touches you so expertly or the tingly sensation spreading through your body as Frank’s tongue and hands begin to explore.

Matt only removes his fingers from your core momentarily to aid Frank in ridding you of your clothes, eager to assist as it now gives him so much more easy access to your sopping cunt.

Warm, wet kisses are placed all over your heated flesh from both men as Frank’s calloused fingers dance all over you, eventually resting just above Matt’s hand to work your clit while Matt picks up his pace.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a strong current against a rocky shore, hands gripping onto Frank’s forearms to hold your self steady as you ride the waves of pleasure to the end. He watches with an almost sort of reverence as you come down, indulging in every beautiful hint of pleasure painted across your face and body.

Your cunt squeezes Matt’s fingers one last time before he removes them, allowing you to fully fall into Frank’s strong form while Matt tastes the nectar of his labor. The groan that escapes his lips is sinful as he indulges in the familiar taste of you. Meanwhile Frank is stepping away from you, shirt joining Matt’s across the gym and jeans following not long after.

You were used to staring at Matt’s scarred and muscular form, but Frank’s sculpted, but slightly beefier body is also decorated with the ghosts of his past. You can’t help but salivate at how well his toned muscles look as he frees his cock and removes the last of his clothing.

He pumps himself a few times while Matt kisses you deeply, guiding you downward.

The squishy gym floor beneath you cushions your knees as you crawl on all fours towards Matt, who is shimmying out of his cargo pants and laying down before you. 

Frank follows closely as you makeout with Matt, continuing to touch himself at the sight of your bare body splayed out on the mat. He lunges forward to place a few kisses down your spine as you’re bending forward, ass in the air and inches away from taking Matt into your mouth.

As you begin to suck Matt’s length, his low moans echo out through the musty gym, lips parted in pleasure.

Once Frank is satisfied with how much you’ve got Matt worked up, he slides back up behind you, lining himself up with your entrance. You moan into Matt’s cock as Frank pushes into you.

Alternating between your mouth and your hand, you work Matt up until his eyes are pressed shut, overwhelmed by all the sensory input of Frank fucking you. Matt seizes the opportunity to sit up a little and kiss you deeply, just as Frank begins to increase the harshness of his thrusts. You can’t help but cry out in little mewls and whimpers, as Matt moves kisses down your neck and jaw and guides your lips over his cock once more. 

Your legs feel as though they may give out from under you at any moment based on how violently they’re trembling.  With Frank only increasing his rhythm and Matt now thrusting up to meet your face and running his nails along your back has you careening closer and closer to your edge once more.

Unable to hold back, you cum with a cry, Matt and Frank both lunging to put their lips all over your skin as you do, sandwiching you in a throng of sweaty flesh and ecstasy. 

Pulled fully on your knees now, Matt reaches down to where Frank was just fucking you, running his fingers through your folds again and sending your already overstimulated nerves into over drive.

The room around you now feels stifling, the heat of three bodies in such a state of activity not able to compete with the squeaky and outdated hvac system buzzing above you head. Frank and Matt are both damp, hair sticking to their flushed foreheads as their mouths hang agape in an attempt to slow their panting. Matt’s hazel eyes dart back and forth, reading the signs that both you and Frank are ready for more; the steadying of your heartbeats, the evening of your breaths, and the minuscule sounds of both your muscles relaxing as the seconds tick on. Even though you’ve leveled out a little bit, you’re still dizzy with pleasure and your heart rate surges right back up as Matt moves to position you on your back.

“Atta girl.” Frank encourages as the sticky flesh of your back meets the soft, rubbery floor. He’s laying down beside you, hands roaming over your breasts and taking a nipple into his mouth just as Matt pushes himself forward, beginning to work his tongue all over your pussy. 

The crescendo of pleasure begins to grow deep within you again, Matt knowing just how to expertly play you like a conductor leading a symphony as he kisses and sucks on your clit. He inserts a finger just as Frank grabs your jaw, shoving his tongue into your mouth. 

Frank’s kisses move down your jaw and towards your ear, whispering sweet praises while Matt continues to eat you.

“Shit sweetheart, look so pretty when you cum. Knew you would. Let me see it again, come on, all over Red’s face. Atta girl.”

While Matt is always phenomenal in bed, never have you heard him talk as filthy as Frank. Usually his moans and grunts turned you on plenty, but Frank’s words are a welcome, new sensation that has another orgasm crashing through you before you even realize its happening.

You practically shove Matt off you as you know he’d be content to just keep going until you were over stimulated to the point of tears. He chuckles and wipes away the slick you left on his mouth and chin.

“Sweetie, you want to help Frank finish while I remind you who you belong to? Hm?” Matt asks as he crawls to hover over you, lining up just the tip of his cock with your slit and causing your cunt to clench around nothing

“Yes, Matt.” you respond, propping yourself up on your elbows so Frank can have his turn fucking your mouth

Frank’s scoff is cut off with a groan of pleasure as you wrap your mouth around him and suck his length towards the back of your throat.

“What Castle?” Matt asks, still teasing your hole while he listens to you blow Frank “You think just because I’m sharing doesn’t mean she’s only mine?”

“Ah shit– I know Red. I know.” Frank replies, chin tilted down to watch the way you look up at him as you swallow him down

“Good.” Matt responds, before harshly thrusting all the way into you. 

The vibrations of your moans from how intensely you’re getting fucked, plus the sight of you taking Matt’s dick while sucking him off causes a build up in Frank much quicker than he’d like. Part of his ego doesn’t want to finish before Matt, so he guides you by the jaw off of him and resumes laying on the floor, supporting your head with his chest and guiding your hand to his hardness so he can watch the show and also help you cum a final time while staving off his own orgasm a little while longer.

“That’s it sweetheart” he coos in your ear, hand steady around your throat while you stare up into his eyes and work him over with your hand. Your skin feels on fire as they toy with you, every brush of them against you like electricity firing through your nerves.

You can tell Matt is close by the way his face is scrunched up, focusing on only the feeling of your body beneath his and trying to tune out the rest of the world around. You can only assume Frank is as well, based on how much tighter his grip has gotten around your neck as you continue to jack him off and by how his sweet praises are now replaced with grunts occasionally punctuated by a singular swear word.

Frank reaches his calloused fingers down to goad you along, rubbing your clit in smooth circles, a stark contrast to the harshness of Matt’s now faltering pace. 

The slapping of skin over and over combined with the lust-filled groans and moans all of you are making has your head spinning and your final orgasm blooms like a rose in late July, soft and warm and delicate in a way that only these two working in tandem can give you.

Frank watches as you fall apart a final time, not stopping his assault on your sensitive bud until he’s satisfied with how hard you've orgasmed.

You’re totally spent and laying back against Frank. Too distracted by how delicious every drag of Matt’s cock feels against your satisfied walls, you let him use you while you revel in the dissipating fizz of your body being so thoroughly fulfilled. Barely able to even reach up and stroke the taught muscle of Matt’s chest, you do though as a small act of gratitude for sharing you tonight and allowing you to experience such pleasure. Frank takes over for your weak and trembling hands, touching himself while kissing whatever area of your skin he can reach to bring you back down. 

Matt’s senses are overwhelmed. The smell of pure sex invades his nostrils and he can still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm in the light pulses of your velvety walls every time he drives into you. Frank’s musky scent blends so beautifully with your natural, floral smell and hearing your satisfied sighs being breathed into Frank's soft kisses is the most beautiful music he’s ever heard. Your hands trace down from his chest and rest on the back of his thighs, encouraging him to find his nirvana as his thrusts become erratic.

“Matty.” you let out in a breathy lament and it finally tips him off the cliff, spilling inside you with a low moan that will echo in your ears for days to come.

Frank, unable to hold himself back any longer and cheekily pleased that he held off longer than Matt, even if it was only for a moment, spills across his stomach and chest as you kiss him through his orgasm while still stroking Matt’s skin to bring him down.

The three of you collapse side by side under the humming fluorescent lights of the gym, labored breathing finally slowing as you all come back to reality.

“Tell you what Red, that was a hell of a warm up for your girl. Ain’t that right sweetheart?” Frank finally speaks up, gravely voice cutting through the silence.

“You’ve got to be kidding Frank, I am not training tonight after all that!” you argue back

Frank turns towards you and presses a kiss to your temple before standing up and finding his clothes. 

“Matt, c’mon back me up here.” you turn to your boyfriend and watch as his signature cheeky grin spreads wide across his face.

“You know my dad and I had this mantra, this thing we’d say before every fight he had ‘It ain't how you hit the mat. It's how you get up.’ 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It means, you better get back up and do what Frank tells you.”

[yeeterthek33per]

Surprise (Katrina Gorry x Reader)

A/n Jeez sorry guys, welcome back to me ay? Anyways, here's the first of many requests, I'm getting back into it, I swear.

Requested.

Warnings/summary: Fluff. Harper Gorry. Itty Bitty Bit suggestive at the end.

You swear, your arms feel like they might pop any second.

It would make sense if you were doing a workout, but it turns out dragging around a 15kg toddler all day is basically the same thing.

With your wife Katrina running around to do assigned media duties before the game tomorrow, you'd been left in charge of little Harper before her family came to get her for the night so you both could get an adequate amount of sleep for once.

There's a little squeal as you swing the small blonde girl up into onto your hip when she tries to make a break for the open doorway that leads onto the pavement outside.

"Mama noooo!"

"Mama yes! No running off like that baby. We stay together while we go out. You know that."

The small pout from her lips reminds you very much of her other mother as you tickle her slightly to elicit a small giggle.

"We goin to get ice cweem?"

You chuckle softly, running your fingers through her blonde locks.

"Yeah, we're getting some ice cream after we have a little walk alright?"

"Chacha coming?"

"Yes Hun, Chacha’s comin', we just gotta wait for her to come down so we can go."

Harper seemingly accepts that, leaning back fully into your hold to sit and play with the small silver necklace you have on, with your wife's and Harper's initials as the pendants.

It takes a very long five minutes as Charlie finally gets off the elevator ready to go, the little blonde in your arms getting much more fidgety as you stand and wait.

"Chacha!"

"Took you long enough, come on!"

She rolls her eyes before turning to the tiny girl you're holding and snatches her up to ride on her shoulders, your biceps screaming in relief finally.

Any other day of the week, you'd be used to it but after the intense gym session the day before, you weren't sure your arms wouldn't have fallen off by the end of today without your younger compatriot to take the younger version of herself off your hands.

The groan of relief you let out as she does so, has her laughing.

"Stop complaining, she's your kid, you should be used to this by now."

"Hush you, gym sessions and wandering toddlers don't mix, now let's go before we run out of time."

"Why are we out here again? It's supposed to be rest day today."

The bright, sunny warmth of the day is nothing compared to the day previous, leaving you feeling a little relieved at not having to deal with 27 odd degree temperatures and an impatient two-year-old.

"We're out here because I need one more thing for tomorrow and I just needed someone to give me an excuse to leave the hotel.

"Why do you need my help? You've known Mini longer. You're literally married to her."

"I know but it's our first game together as a married couple and I want it to be super special for her."

"Alright alright, so what are we picking out again?"

"It's a surprise for the game. I asked the uniformers if I could tweak my jersey a little."

"Okay? What does that have to do with- wait..."

She pauses a little, her hand coming up and making the stop motion.

"You're changing it to Gorry?"

Her eyes water a little as a massive grin stretches across your face with a chuckle and you nod.

Charlie bounces a little in excitement, the squeal she lets out startling the child on her shoulders.

"Is this an official name change?"

You hum in the affirmative, steadying the blonde as she bounces into you, careful not to let Harper fall from her perch.

"It's been a thought for a long while, we talked about it, but we never confirmed whether or not I'd change my name. She definitely wants to keep Gorry, though."

"So why are we going shopping then?"

"Because I'm going out to pick up a preorder I made a couple weeks ago, it was supposed to be a wedding gift when we got married here but they couldn’t get it finished in time so I settled for the specialised necklaces and just made these the World Cup gift instead."

"So, what's the preorder then?"

"You'll see. Wait here"

You playfully wink and duck into the jewellery store to your left, right as she asks the question.

Returning just a few minutes later, bag in hand.

"Alright, let's go."

Charlie looks at you expectantly.

"You're not gonna show me?"

"Later. Harps, what do you say sweety, ice cream time?"

The toddler jumps up and down in her spot upon the older girl’s shoulders.

"Yes pleeeeease!"

Humming in contentment, you drag her down the street to a cold rock ice creamery, much to the protest of the twenty-two-year-old.

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

A loud grumble from the blonde laid across your bed makes you glance up from your spot at the desk with a chuckle.

"At least one little peak, come on Y/n/n. Pleeeeease? You dragged me all the way out to go get it. It's the least you could do."

You'd swear she was in fact Harper's older sister with the way she was giving you the puppy dog eyes.

"You can't wait for tomorrow to see it? Like everyone else?"

"No".

She deadpans and perches herself onto the desk next to where you're signing out papers to send off to the registry that you got married under.

'Alright alright alright. Pass me the bag. I need to hide the box anyways."

There's a small smile as you open up the ring box again, and it reminds you heavily of the ring box Katrina had so smoothly removed from her satchel at the beach the day you'd gotten engaged.

The mid thickness silver band shines under the small white desk lamp, the curved engravings on the underside of it glimmering as you carefully hand it to the blonde who's expression melts at the sight of it.

The little inscription of "our kind of love is the best kind. - (Y)G" and the little football symbol on the bottom matches perfectly with the style of writing.

"It matches our wedding rings. I'll give it to her to her tomorrow after the game."

"She's gonna love it. I love it. God, can you get me one?"

Rolling your eyes at her, you chuckle softly as she slips the ring back into the box and you tuck it away into safe corner of the room until it's needed.

"I'll be sure to let Lachlan know."

She smiles softly at the mention of her boyfriend before a small inquizzacal look appears on her face.

"So, how's this gonna pan out without her noticing again?"

"Well...."

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

Stepping down and off the bus, there's a nervousness in the air, not like the usual national games hold. You'd been to major tournaments before, hell you were in France for the 2019 world cup but there's nothing like the feeling you get now.

Walking into a home stadium, in your home uniform at a home world cup, and awaiting you is the eighty thousand strong crowd, the hopefully perfect condition pitch and your bouncing blonde toddler with her grandmother in the stands.

It's a feeling out of this world.

And it gets better knowing what's waiting for Katrina as well.

Not just a chance at redemption from the last World Cup.

Not just her sweet little harper, cheering and yelling for her mommy and her teammates the moment they step onto the pitch.

A hand on your shoulder jolts you a little, you'd paused in front of your cubby after hearing the ever so faint cheers of the crowd above the entrance to the player area.

"You alright?"

Your wife’s comforting hand gently squeezes your arm as you nod, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Feelin’ great, baby.”

Resting your hand on hers, you caress it with your thumb softly before gently nudging her back to her own cubby to get ready for pitch inspection.

Subtly making eye contact with the trainer across the room, you give him a nod as he slips away to grab the jersey, he’d made ready in time for the game.

Slipping on your training jersey, you duck out onto the pitch before warmups are due to start.

You end up making it quicker than usual in order to slip out to meet the trainer to grab your actual jersey which you leave in your cubby away from sight.

Waving to the already numerous fans in the stadium, you make your rounds of the pitch to get a proper feel of it, and when Sam spots herself on the big screen managing to sneak a selfie, you and your teammates are left chuckling.

Warmups go smoothly, and the atmosphere and tremendous crowd are both buzzing with enormous amounts of energy.

Breathing in the cool night air, your shots feel a little shaky in the leadup, but they quickly relax as you settle in amongst the encouragement and atsmosphere of your teammates.

Despite the devastation at finding out Sam won’t be playing for at least three games, the determination sets in hard and the moment you are all called back to the changerooms, a hardness sets about you and everything in your head calms in the moment, ready to get out there and play like it’s any other game, trying to ignore the already enormous amount of pressure on your shoulders.

Tony gives a quick speech before sending you all off to line up ready for the walkout.

The team are still in their training jackets when you walk out and it’s only when you slip off yours, and place it over the shoulders of the mascot in front of you after the national anthems, that she finally notices.

You’re number 24 while Katrina is number 19 so she isn’t directly next to you to see it, however a close up of your back on the big screen catches her attention when she realises it isn’t her number attached to the last name and she leans forward to catch your eye as you all move to huddle.

Winking at her, you smile and move stand next to her, arm slipping around her shoulders as Sam and Tony do the final send off.

The double take of a few of your teammates makes you laugh, and you press a kiss to your wife’s cheek with a small ‘Surprise.’ Spoken in her ear.

She grabs your face before you can go anywhere.

“Not so fast you.”

There’s a small hum of appreciation when she presses her lips to yours in a brief kiss and her eyes water a little up at you.

“I love you so much, Mrs L/n.”

“It’s Gorry now, baby.”

Her smile widens and right as you go to kiss her once more, a slap to the back startles you.

It’s a grinning Sam who urges you over to the rest of your waiting team who’ve been watching you both with amusement visibly plastered on all of their faces.

"Let’s do this, pretty girl."

With that, you feel more than ready to start this thing.

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

The first thing you feel the moment you're off the bus is Katrina's hand dragging you back inside the hotel and up the stairs, far too impatient to wait for the elevator to come down.

The moment you're both up the six flights of stairs, despite the immense exhaustion you're both exhibiting after the battle against Ireland, there's a giddiness in both of your steps and she quickly drags you into your room with the swipe of your keycard.

The soft giggle that leaves your lips the moment you're pressed back against the door makes her grin and her hands slipping under the hem of your hoodie leave shivers behind as you think back to the look she'd given you from the left of you across the locker room.

Full of love and adoration and a little hint of desire as they move to the name across your back.

Mouthing those three words you know sends warmth to her chest every time she hears them, she mouths them back with a small grin.

[tenderlyrenjun]

Personal Trainer

When Park Jisung told his roommate - Jeno - that he wanted to start working out, Jeno told him that he was already working out.

And Jisung deadpanned.

Jeno teases him too much. He had to clarify that he wanted to start working out more intensely, like Jeno and Jaemin. Although, Jaemin uses the gym to deal with a break up, unlike the rest of them. Still though, Jisung wants the same result, and he thought that Jeno would get the hint, that he wanted Jeno to train him. But Jeno just forwarded him the number of the front desk person at his gym: you.

You also happen to be a trainer ... and were the only available person to do his kick off session, a free, one-hour personal training consultation to, essentially, gauge his goals, set up his work out plan, etc. So, reluctantly, Jisung accepted (he had to) - mainly because Jeno actually really had no time to consistently train him like you, nor did Jaemin, and he wasn't about to ask Renjun for breathing exercises.

But then, everything changed when he found out that you're hot.

To his first session, Jisung arrived early.

Surprisingly, Jeno's gym is an easy 15-minute walk from their apartment; five minutes, if he felt energetic enough to run, but he wanted to give himself time to mentally prepare for meeting a stranger. He never really goes out, except work and stuff, preferring to stay home. Unfortunately, he hopes to eventually make the gym part of his routine, so he has to get used to seeing new people. Plus, the extra few minutes let him get a lay of the land before his muscles inevitably gave out in front of a girl.

And besides, you were running a few minutes late to your shift - not that his session started with your shift. You staggered it by about 15 minutes, you told him over the phone the previous day, in case he showed up to stretch in advance - which he did, kind of. He only remembered to stretch after seeing you, so he discarded his jacket in the tiny lockers by the turf and started those basic shoulder rolls he learned in middle school.

You came over after he passed a few sets, correcting his form, "Squeeze your shoulder blades together. Your chest should be slightly ahead of your abs."

Of course, he jumped, not having expected you, like, at all.

"Sorry," you apologized yet still inched closer. You held your hands a couple inches off his back, fingers stuttering back and forth from his rhomboid. "Can I touch you?" Jisung nodded, fighting the smile that breaks into the corners of his mouth. "You should feel it -" You closed the gap and touched your fingers to his spine, eventually flattening your hand between his shoulder blades, and he inhaled sharply. Your hands felt small, smaller than his at least, your fingers not even taking up the half space of his rhomboid (though, he couldn't see it). "- right here."

Jisung tensed, fixing his posture and lifting his chin higher.

"Sorry," you apologize again, immediately withdrawing your hand, and he turned around as equally fast. "Did that feel weird?"

"No," he answered loudly, then cleared his throat. "No, it was, um, helpful. I - I don't think I know exactly where to -" He covered half his face to hide the increasingly pinkish hue and the dimples in his cheeks. "- to feel it, so anything you do is ... appreciated." Jisung tried to avoid your gaze too, looking at the ground, but you are shorter than him, so you met his eye incidentally, also stepping into his personal bubble.

The whole first session went like that for the most part - you correcting his form; him giving you honest feedback; you stepping into his personal bubble, touching him; etc.

No wonder Jeno keeps coming back to this place, Jisung thought. If not just for how attentive and detailed with him you are, then for - and this was where Jisung started to feel bad - how sexy you look demonstrating every exercise. (He felt guilty, semi-pathetic, literally running home to masturbate in the shower for an hour).

Because every time you parted your knees, Jisung, too, nearly dropped to his.

He had to watch you, from a bird's eye view, standing while you illustrated simple hip raises on the ground, giving him an excuse to stare at your camel toe perfect range of motion in your ilolumbar ligaments. Even worse, when you and he did high planks across from each other, because he could see down your loose neckline, down your tight, compression bra, at the slightest peak of your cleavage.

And he couldn't stop staring, waiting for a flash of your tits, like a pervert, or for your leggings to roll down your stomach a little bit more, before you covered the waistband of your panties all over again (he would have sworn, on Sakura Yamauchi's grave, that you wore a thong, and that you wear a thong to every session).

Then, the kick off ended so soon, and you summarized all his strong points, noting the slight bulge of his bicep, asking him whether he would want to continue strengthening your core, as is your specialty. Jisung hadn't the heart (or hormones) to deny you. His main goal, he figured, - to bulk - could be done on the days he doesn't train with you, since he planned on joining Jaemin, Jeno, or Haechan for weight lifting the other times.

But you catch him.

Pretty easily, actually, on one of your off days.

"Hey, stranger," you greet him, a few months after that first session. Jisung looks up at you, from the ground, where he reracks 25-kg dumbbells next to an even taller storage rack. You hold a medicine ball, in both arms, so tightly to your stomach that he can see the way your cleavage spills over your sports bra, even under the oversized t-shirt.

Jisung giggles, just once, timidly, under his breath - half-winded from his bicep curls - and smiles at the ground. "We saw each other on Saturday."

"Well," you sing a little, throwing the 3-kg med ball between your hands. "Actually, I could've sworn I saw you on Tuesday, a mere two days ago," you tease him, and he looks up again, kneeling on just one knee now.

"Ah ... Really?"

"Yup!" you emphasize the last syllable, then turn to the racks, squinting at the empty top row high above your head. "I thought, 'Hmm, couldn't be my Jisungie', since you were counting concentration curls." Those are not part of the workout plans you make for him. "Mmph." You jump a little, throwing the ball, but it stays on the ledge and rolls back into your hands. Jisung stands up immediately, behind you, and racks the ball for you.

He hopes you don't hear his heart beating through his chest, or at least that you attribute it to his final workout. But you called him yours. And he needs to hear it again.

You tilt your head up, following his hands, until making eye contact with him upside down. He presses against your back a little tighter, to really settle the ball on the rack, and incidentally, he also feels the curve of your ass hit his wide thighs.

Jisung lowers his arms, slightly, shuffling forward. He hangs one hand on the ledge behind you, while the other finds the waistband of his Adidas sweatpants. For a second, as he tries to meet your gaze, Jisung dips down to your legs, hoping to glimpse another outline of your panties, but you just wear an innocent pair of biker shorts. The black fabric barely peeks out from under your oversized t-shirt, only showing off your legs and pubic bone. Jisung's short sleeve, also oversized (as is the trend) does little to hide his own hips, since he holds it, folded, over his abs. The sleeves, though, fall down his bicep without his workout, and hide the wrong bulge.

You turn around, in his strong arms, brushing your own arm between his defining pecs.

"Sorry," he apologizes, panting thickly through his pouty lips, suddenly worried that you could read his thoughts. "Was that ... Was that weird?" Jisung lifts his hand off the rack with the intent to brush away the messy black bangs in front of his eyes, but you grab his wrist and drag him even closer than he had initially been. He purses his lips and tilts his head to the side.

"Jisung - ah," you clear your throat, rubbing your collarbone with the hand that was just on his arm. Jisung shifts to the tips of his toes, to better hear you as you start whispering, "Do you - do you want a free session? Right now? With me?" You brush your face closer into his personal bubble, and your pupils get bigger.

Jisung tilts his head a little deeper, nearly kissing you on the cheek, and scans your face. This might be more awkward, might have made him self-conscious - the borderline public indecency PDA - if today were not a random Thursday at 10 AM. But it is. The mostly empty gym really doesn't have anyone to notice the two of you. And Jisung takes advantage of it.

He nods.

"Meet -" You inhale, squeezing his arm once, marveling at the veins. Deliberately, he flexes. And your entire body jolts taller, giving you the momentum to look him in the eye again. "Meet me in the racquetball room in five."

Jisung actually meets you in seven minutes, too busy splashing water on his face in the locker room.

Ironically, the racquetball room offers more privacy than the bathrooms all the way in the back of locker rooms. It might have something to do with how many people are able to use each room at any given time.

So, Jisung takes a deep breath and wipes his hands, palms to fingertips, on his athletic pants. Then, he opens the door.

He barely gets a second to walk through the entrance, when you shove him against the door, fitting your lips onto his mouth.

You only peck him once, practically jumping into his chest, but Jisung still gasps, inviting you to bite his bottom lip - which you do, causing him to yelp.

"Oh, my God," you nearly scream, climbing off him - not that you climbed him very high, or that you stuck on him tight enough to topple him over (but if you did, he would have caught you). You teeter on your toes, fingers stuttering back to your chest. "I'm so sorry, Jisung. Was that weird? I - I thought -"

Jisung cuts you off, this time. One hand slides over your cheek, his nails knotting in the roots of your hair, and the other grabs you by the waist, pressing his hips into yours. He kisses you once, like that, nearly snapping the both of you in half. A scant moan leaves his esophagus, as low as a groan, before he switches sides and picks you up. His palm scoops your entire ass, helping you into his arms.

You gasp. "Whoa, Park Jisung??"

Your ankles tie together behind his small waist, and the momentum of his scoop pushes him into the wall. You readjust a little higher, cradling his face once you get stead. Your hands feel soft on his freshly shaved jaw.

"You're so tall," you whisper, slotting your lips together.

"There," he says with some finality, some assurance. Jisung shifts you up even more, using the wall as support, and smiles, innocent in his eyes, naughty in the way his squeezes your ass. "Now you're taller." He kisses you again, trying to lick your lips clean. Your hand slips down to the front of his neck, as you suck and bite his lips. His bottom lip follows you, while you change angles, grinding your hips on his abs, driving him firmer against the wall. Jisung pulls off, briefly, his eyes still closed. "Fuck, baby."

Jisung kisses you even harder and slides both his hands under your ass, spreading your ass cheeks wide. His middle fingers brush your cunt, poking around the thin string, finally verifying that you do, in fact, wear a flimsy thong.

"Shit," he swears when you tug his hair unexpectedly. Your nails scratch his temporal lobe, fisting and re-fisting around his split ends.

His hands automatically dig into your thighs. And you yank his hair again, this time backwards, pulling off him. Jisung gasps without your mouth to suppress his moans, and his fingers slip lower into your inner thighs. You withdrew just far away enough to take off your shirt, and his jaw falls, heavy pants shaking his entire chest as he inspects your sports bra. A deep v-neck cuts straight between your tits and the tight material pushes them together and up, although slightly misaligned - half your nipple exposes under the black fabric. Jisung almost bites one, when you yank his hair a third time, making him look up at you, his eyes glassy around the rim.

"Sungie," you pant and lick your lips. God, he wants to kiss you again; he even parts his lips to ask, but you speak first, "There's something I want to do. Really bad." You cup his jaw, and he swallows thickly. "Can I suck you off?"

"Fuck," he swears again, kissing you harder. "Yes. Yes, baby, fuck, please suck me off," he begs, chanting an affirmation mixed with your name. You moan equally with him, and your legs tighten around his waist as a single one of his hands roams your back, snapping at your bra. His other palm gives your ass more support, slipping into your shorts, into your thong.

He kisses you a few more times, his lips pursing forward more and more as you pull away, slowing down his tongue into quick pecks. Jisung knocks his head against the wall and shakes his bangs out of his face. He scans your face, then realizes that he likes looking at you.

"Pretty."

"Hmm?"

"I said you're pret -"

Jisung doesn't get to finish his praise, because you push a thumb past his lips, holding down his tongue. Instantly, his cheeks hollow, but your thumb tugs backward a little, so he sucks even harder, to trap you there, amidst his whiny protest .You pull a little bit more, enough to reopen his mouth, and replace it two fingers. Satisfied again, he licks at your index finger, imagining how you would blow him with those small hands (how will you wrap them around his cock?). His dick, standing upright toward his abs, between your legs, jumps, and your eyes darken.

You jump off his lap, simultaneously pushing him against the wall.

"Oomf."

"Shh, Jisungie," you whisper. Your hands creep into the waistband of his trackpants, folding over the layer until the inseam reaches his thighs. "You're so loud."

"I can be louder," he whimpers. But still, he mouths, "Oh, my God," and bites his lip, hitting his head on the wall again. His hips work on a mind of their own, thrusting forward (only slightly), anticipating you to do more, especially after you asked, so nicely, to suck him off. "Baby, please." Finish what you started.

Your next few actions move like a virgin who only has experience from watching porn. Not that Jisung has any complaints, remembering how he was with his first partner. Except, you don't bumble around like an idiot, like he did. No, you spring his dick free and gasp. He looks down, mouth sluttily ajar, panting all over again as the air conditioning brushes his shaft. With your eyes wide, you slowly wrap your fingers just below his tip - the fingers that were in his mouth. They prevent you from dry rubbing his erection, not that he needs it, necessarily. His cock embarrassingly dribbles through the slit, clear liquid sliding down in beads. He has to grit his teeth to will himself not to cum, but you stand on your knees, barely tall enough to point his cock down your throat. You rest your palms on his thighs, keeping him still, and lean a bit higher to swallow his tip, just the tip.

Jisung's fingers hook under your jaw, making you look up at him.

And he nearly cums at the sight. You're so fucking sexy.

Your eyes dilate, looking at him through your pretty lashes and messy hair. And his dick throbs, again - which makes your mouth pulse around the tip. Mmm, you moan, lips tightening involuntarily. Jisung thrusts forward, faintly, bending at the knee as his dick, 85% hard, fits halfway in your mouth. You shift a little bit taller and take more of his cock, by yourself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jisung whines, hiding his pout lips behind one hand. "You're so good, baby." The hand that stayed on your jaw fists its way into your hair, supporting your temporal lobe enough for him to slide his cock all the way down your esophagus. "I don't even need to train your throat. You're already so good for me."

Then you pull off his cock, coughing and rubbing your throat. You hold his length at the base, but the momentum held and his cock slaps your cheek, leaving a puddle of precum and spit on your cheek. "You're so big, Jisungie," you whine, lips swollen and pouting.

But your thighs squeeze together, and he can just tell that you ride the thick inseam on your crotch. He bets, too, that your clit got caught in your thong, pressing in all the right areas. It might look like how your tits look right now - raised and spilling out of your tight sports bra. God, he wants to cum on them. He can't, this time at least, because it would make a huge mess, but next time, if you'll let him.

"Baby, finish what you started, please," he begs, flopping his dick back in your mouth, guiding your head down his shaft. "I'll repay you after, I promise, but I'm so fucking hard right now. I need to cum."

You take half his cock down your esophagus, sloppily drooling down the corners of your mouth. He can feel his tip hit your tongue, grating the fucking moist foliate.

Jisung's thrusts get clumsier and clumsier as he tries to memorize the way your body moves. Your wrist flicks his cock inverse to how it goes down your tongue. You grope and squeeze your own tit, slipping your hand into your bra, bringing out one of your stiff nipples for him to gawk at. Your thighs shake, ass driving your pussy forward like those hip thrusts you showed him on the first day. Jisung feels your nails graze the veins in his cock, and he looks down, panting open-mouthed, moans spilling.

He cups your face with all ten fingers enveloping your cheeks. Your own hands drop down to your body, back to your tits and pussy. Jisung jerks your face around, swirling your mouth around his cock to prepare you for the entire length. He groans, abs crunching, barely shoving his dick halfway, before you retake control.

"Gawk, gawk, gawk," you swallow, half gagging, half sobbing.

"Yeah, fuck, I'm almost there," he chooses to interpret.

You stand tall again, on your knees, and squeeze his cock between your tits, freeing them from your restrictive bra. Jisung slowly feeds his cock all he way, as you raise your tits, visibly pinching your nipples with your index and middle fingers. His tip, angry, leaking, and throbbing, knocks on your tongue, and you get the hint, bobbing your head. You look at him through your lashes again, eyes somehow wider, more innocent, before rolling them to the back of your head. You force a little bit of his cock out of your mouth, down your tongue like a slide, letting him take over.

Jisung's stomach drops, and he shoves his cock down your throat, brushing his pelvis against your nose.

"Hnng, fuck, fuck, fuck," he moans. His entire cock throbs with your esophagus as you choke on the width. Then he cums.

Jisung slowly pulls out while he cums, letting his thick, white semen pool in your mouth. You fold your tongue into a cup, as wide as you can, showing off how good you take him, still jerking off his cock between your tits. You swallow all the cum you can, before it starts streaming down your cheeks, like your tears.

"Cute," he mumbles, pushing his cock in your mouth, only halfway until he stops cumming. Then, he helps you stand up.

You swallow again, panting after an audible, large gulp, and wipe your bottom lip clean with your wrist. "I know -" You heave, wrapping your arms around his neck, falling against the wall with him. "I know guys don't like to make out or anyth -"

Jisung cuts you off again, pressing his lips chastely against yours. He brushes his nose across your cheek, smelling the prominent salt and sweat on your skin before parting your lips with his tongue and lifting you back into his arms. "I don't care," he whispers. "I'll cum inside you and eat you out, too."

You grab his jaw and scan his face. "Really?" you ask, almost doubting him.

So, he spins you around, pinning you to the wall. You, again, tighten your legs behind his back, steadying on his shoulder.

"Yeah, baby, I'm gonna put all these muscles to use."

[therapeutic007]

🌟 Why the AXV Vibration Plate is My New Bestie for Weight Loss! 🌟

Okay, folks, gather 'round because I’ve got to tell you about my latest fitness obsession: the AXV Vibration Plate Fitness Platform! 🤩 Seriously, this thing is a game changer, and here’s why it’s become my trusty sidekick in the battle of the bulge!

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Check It Now !

[aluminumneedles]

The Great Knitted Christmas Gifts Bonanza of 2024

(Working title)

Besties and beloved mutuals, welcome to the chaos.

This will be wacky. Zany. Incredibly boring at times and possibly excessively dramatic for no reason at all except my (and hopefully your) amusement. We will laugh! I will cry! We will perhaps commiserate over things and also I will aggravate my carpal tunnel! I will ask for advice on things I don't know how to do! I will make polls because audience participation is enrichment for me! Good shit good shit let's get started

At the time of writing it is September 18, 2024, also known as 98 days before Christmas Eve, which will heretofore be known as The Deadline™️. I have, at present, four family members for whom I am making gifts. Now you may be thinking "Kay, that's only four people. That does not warrant a big post." But I'm making one anyway so here we goooo

PERSON #1

Mom. I already decided on my mom's gift, she's getting a shawl. It's my first shawl and I'm kinda geeked about it. It's the Cosmos Textured Knit Wrap from Mama in a Stitch

(photo taken from Mama in a Stitch's website I hope that's ok??)

Yarn is Red Heart worsted weight acrylic in Royal. Now here's the situation: I haven't made a wearable with acrylic yarn in awhile and I wasn't a huge fan of how it felt last time. But I know people do it literally every day, so: when the time comes I will be soliciting advice on how to make it soft and comfy. Plus I hate blocking and I'm gonna have to block this so yay growth!!

PERSON #2

My sister. Adorable, likes a pastel, super long hair, so I was thinking...scrunchies? And then I was thinking scrunchies are not necessarily on the level of gift I was aiming for so I thought...scrunchies + matching leg warmers (babydoll goes to the gym sometimes so i thought it would be cute)? And then. AND THEN. Was scrolling Pinterest instead of sleeping and I found these!!!

Now there are pros and cons

Pros:

I have been wanting to knit lace

I have been wanting to knit socks

Cons:

I have no experience knitting lace or socks

Oh well f*ck it we ball! Will still try to match the scrunchies to the socks. Send thoughts/prayers/advice/yarn recs, because idk what I am doingggg

PERSON #3

My brother. So, at the first of the year I started knitting a blanket kind of just because--I really liked the pattern and I wanted the feeling of starting something new in the new year. In April I decided it would be a gift for my boyfriend at the time, in May it became too hot to knit with wool, and in July the relationship ended. My brother has expressed interest in a blanket from the same pattern and has offered to take this one off my hands. I'm about 3/4 of the way done. Should be an easy gift, right? Maybe I'll throw in a matching pillow?

However, I once promised to make him this sweater:

(image snagged from the MomentsinTwine Etsy shop)

I bought the pattern, I bought the yarn, and I never delivered. (I started it and frogged it twice because my gauge was so so off.)

So uhhh PLEASE do the poll I need help deciding. Yarn would probably be a golden yellow wool blend, because that is the color he wanted 3 years ago and if I ask for an updated color choice he'll know what I'm working on 😭

PERSON #4

My dad.

Y'all.

I have no idea what to do for this man. He is a very classic "I don't want anything" person, and I am a classic "Must. Give. Gift." person. So already, times are tough!! What am I supposed to knit this man???

So I was thinking slippers-- I found a pattern for Woodland Loafers on Ravelry (pattern by Claire Slade) and I thought they were adorable. But then I was thinking why not make a whole, like, cozy care package? So I thought slippers, mug rug + mug cozy, maybe something else? He likes music, he likes to relax and watch his lil shows, he likes M*rvel?? Open to so many suggestions babes.

So...yeah. That's the show. I'll update as I go along, and if you're ever curious about how things are going or want to bully me about not making progress, please nudge me!! Sorry this was so long okay bye

[bugeater101]

So I know we're all recovering from Dwaekki Gym and I'm here to worsen your already horny and insatiable states.

Okay, so I KNOW I am a chan stan through and through and I want him so mf badly... but WHEN I SAW CHANGBIN DURING THE BENCH PRESS SESSIONS

Oh. my. god.

(smut below)

The way he was yelling the rep numbers while on top of Jeongin did something to me. He was so encouraging yet commanding. In the (literal and metaphorical) position of power he had, he was unrelenting and strict. God, he just wanted them to keep going and going and going.

Can you just imagine how he would be with you below him, hopelessly trying to please him but still being given that same look? That look of "please, just give me one more! I know you can do it!"

You would be on your knees, Changbin would be standing over you. The hard flooring would shoot pain up your joints and slobber would trickle from your swollen lips. His length was huge, unconsciously twitching and flexing in your mouth. Your jaw was aching from taming it, hands desperately holding it still as they worked him. Each pump of his fat cock into your wet mouth made you gag a bit, but you suppressed each gag with moans. The vibrations, in turn, would make Changbin shiver. Still, he stood steadfast, the only indication of his weakness being the staggering breaths he was taking.

You would swirl his red-hot, cum-leaking tip with your tongue as both hands rubbed his cock eagerly, hoping to taste his sweet juices down your throat. You would even be such a good girl and tongue his balls just a bit while one of your hands would play with his cock head. There was no lube needed: your slobber and his precum made him slick, but his girth still made it hard to fit all of him in your mouth. Yet, the spit and the cum combined with your eagerness to satisfy Changbin created filthy sounds that filled the room. The whole scene was obscene.

It would be messy. Cum and spit and tears would leak onto the floor, joining the wetness that pooled from your sopping cunt. And Changbin wouldn't care.

He would just be standing proudly the whole time. Just as he did in the video, with his hands either guiding you or planted on his hips. His flushed ears almost matched the blushing tip of his heavy erection. Deep breaths would flow air into his lungs and moans would escape him. Though he would encourage you, tell you how good your form was, how you were doing everything just right, there was still that domineering air to him. After all, he is a trainer. He would offer you no mercy. Changbin would keep pushing you, telling you how good you were doing, but never letting you catch your breath.

He would just want you to finish the job. Finish letting him fuck your mouth, play with him a bit longer, and swallow him whole.

Who knows? Maybe if you are good and finish him well, he might give you more instructions on how to take his cock in other ways. He would stand over your limp body and guide your form to take him well. He wouldn't want you getting hurt, after all. I mean, he is such a good trainer, and he never goes easy when training you.

[docholligay]

Holligay Tries Things That Aren't Running: Kettlebell AMPD

The answer is a very obvious, 'Because people like it that way' but I swear to god, working out in groups is just choreography, and, why?

I walk into Kettlebell AMPD after a full week of doing strength classes, and I'm not too proud to tell you: I am beat to shit. I literally put dinner on the table and ran out in my Extremely Noble Quest to win an overpriced and unnecessary kitchen item, after having ran in the morning, and the idea of lifting a weight is not thrilling to me.

But, the only way to get a sticker is to do this class, and I've picked it specifically because it's only 45 minutes, and not an hour, and I am lazy.

The teacher's name is Lacy*. I am worried that she will think I'm a lazy shit, because I have every intention of picking up a 10 pound kettlebell and being a lazy shit. Echoes of Boot Camp haunt my mind. She'll see me for sure.

Then she struggles to tell the teenage boys playing hoops that open gym is over, and I offer to do it.

I grab my ten pound kettlebell. She ain't saying shit.

A kettlebell is essentially a flat-bottomed bowling ball with a handle. I've been in enough classes involving weight to have a rough idea of what is going to go on here, but what I could not have imagined is that the squats and bicup curls and whatnot would be set to the beats of That's What I Call Music: Doc is in and around High School.

I want you to imagine trying to get a serious workout in while you're listening to Fall Out Boy and The All American Rejects. You're doing squats in time the Good Charlotte. Am I the dad rock?? I ask myself. I never listened to this stuff really, but there is nothing like the popular music of your generation being used to inspire a bunch of greying women in t-shirts to make you realize that the greying woman is you, DocDoc.

All of which would have been fine until some other unspeakable mid00s hit came on, and she displayed a motion of making a wide swing with the kettlebell, trading it over at the top of her head, squatting down and passing it to the other hand, again, through her legs.

Like most people just this side of 40, I have a handful of infirmities, my only saving grace being that they were caused by something other than being old: Being an idiot.

When I was about 19, I fell through the floor of an abandoned farmhouse, from the second floor to the first, and have a handful of issues to show for it. A few light scars that most people never notice unless I point them out, a knee that gives me trouble occasionally, an elbow with a weak ligament that gets overtaxed easily, but most interestingly, a hand that drops something if I grip it wrong.

I assume this is some kind of nerve injury, as it's the same hand that loses feeling in two of the fingertips if it gets cold, but I don't know as I've never had the money and inclination to chase down an injury for which the diagnosis will be: Hell of a thing! But what it means is I often have to be thoughtful about the way I lift something with that hand, especially something heavy. I have done it so long that people never notice I do it, and honestly it's generally easy to avoid.

Swinging a kettlebell around my legs and through the air to the beat is PRIME TIME for me to be grabbing something incorrectly and sailing it off into Kelsey's head. I stand there for a moment like an idiot, unsure of what to do. Then i just go grab a 5 pound kettlebell and .5% ass it.

I would say I got nothing out of the class, but in fairness I didn't really give it anything to reinvest, it's not like I was actually trying. I don't think I would do it again though, it was weightlifting without any actual oomph. I would go to that class every week and never get any stronger.

We finished with a stretching session to Jimmy Eat World's song about a dead person.

*Or, as with these (reviews? Thoughts? Pointless asides?) a close enough approximation of her name.

[thatstonedwriter]

⋆｡˚ 「 College AU 」⋆｡˚

◉ Sinopsis; what i think the IMP squad would get up to as college students

◉ feat; Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Loona

◉ A/n- just short-style headcanons/aesthetics(?) idk yall, I was daydreaming at work

Blitzø - parties and late night hang outs, eats anywhere that has a drive thru. steals so much shit from the cafeteria. its impressive tbh. never goes to class. takes the same classes as Moxxie and Millie so he can get notes and stalk spend time with them. probably smokes in his dorm or ends up camping out in his van. his dorm walls are covered in photos/polaroids

Moxxie- going to every theatre/music/dance department show. will support any arts program and goes to the informational/social events held by RAs. works way too hard and stresses way too much. holds himself to a very high standard. probably has a very arts-heavy schedule. will go to social gatherings/parties with Millie- also fucking loves bowling and mini golf

Millie- going to the gym and walking around the unexplored/abandoned parts of the campus- gets good grades in the classes she’s interested in. thrives in discussion based classes bc she just loves hearing so many different perspectives. decorates her dorm with her plushes. since weapons arent allowed on campus, she just has replicas (courtesy of the conventions Mox occasionally drags her to) Loves game nights with her friends

Loona- coming up with literally every excuse not to go to class, probably a lurker at parties (she’s usually dragged along by Blitzø, who in this au is more like an irresponsible older brother). probably doesn’t do much on campus and I can’t see her being involved with any clubs/greek life, but if theres a cafe nearby, you can catch her there. joins Blitzø for smoke sessions in his van.