#thinking thots...mm

[wheelercore]

Yuri/george smuggles things in and out of hawkins the soviet union in his Karen Katinka helicopter -> the gang in s3 using TODFTHR to go in and out of hawkins -> El riding in the PETERBILT truck presumably out of hawkins to find Terry -> Steve smuggling kids in and out of the theatre back door with a sailor themed job his father made him -> enlightenment????

Anyways not to take advantage of edward theories for the tedspiracy (i am tho) but every russian in st is an edward stand in. Like literally theyre all edward but its all ted related subtext so ppl dont catch on but. Its right there.

In the of Enzo/Dimitri its the most obvious. "Edward" literally means "wealthy *guard*". Dimitri is a prison guard. With a son named Mikhail (Michael). And a wife who Hopper calls a cheater. Not only that but his alias "Enzo"? Is a cognate of the name Henry (derived from the same name Heinrich- google will straight up tell you that Enzo is a cool exotic italian version of the English Henry to name your child. The two names have the same meaning: "home ruler").

Yuri is a doublet of George. Yuri has a daughter he buys gifts for (can anyone say hollys litebrite) and a helicopter he named after his "beautiful lover" Katinka, which you guessed it.... has the same meaning as Karen ("pure"). Again, a russian name but with the same meaning as the english counter part. He is also born in the same year as Ted which is even funnier.

And Alexei my beloved Alexei. "Defender" to Edward's "guard". So so funny that there also is a scientist named "Teddy" in HNL in s2. Nice comparison of the soviet government to HNL there.

Anyways what im saying is that the wheelers for some reason have Russian counterparts. I am also saying that hawkins is never beating the town full of lab rats actual matrix allegations if they keep on getting compared to surveillance state which was the soviet union. Insert here Ted asking if El is a russian in s1.... sir im pretty sure YOU are the russian but okay. What is your fuckign six figure job why are you being compared to a soviet scientist, guard, and smuggler. Something something russian spy fake family hysteria of the cold war. Is brenner your boss.

[ervotica]

fix your head

pairing; perv!stepbro!rafe cameron x fem!stepsister!reader

warnings; stepcest, smut 18+ only, fingering, p in v sex, somnophilia, free use kink

a/n; just been having brainrot abt stepbro!rafe so here’s a lil drabble/thot abt him! (yes i am insane)

A rough palm presses to the small of your back as the covers lift, a chill twining around your suddenly exposed skin that has goosebumps raising even in slumber. You whine, brows scrunching as lax fingers loop around his wrist and you twist further into the sheets. Your eyes open and desperately try to acclimatise to the darkness of your bedroom, but all you can decipher is a looming silhouette that begins to crawl on top of your slack body.

"Shh, shh," Rafe soothes. His breath is hot against your prickling face. "'S just me. Go back to sleep. Just g'na fix your head a little."

"Mm, okay." You settle once you realise it's only your stepbrother, eyes fluttering closed once more. His touch immediately has your pert nipples hardening, the soft sheets beneath you enough stimulation to make you squirm even in your half-asleep state.

Bruising fingers curl around your hips, lifting them until your back arches and your face smushes into the pillows beneath you; he makes light work of your panties, pushing them to the side as his big palms knead the fatty flesh of your bum.

A finger sinks into your weeping hole and you gasp, pushing back into the touch as he curls it just right to rub over your g-spot. Your gummy walls contract at the newfound pleasure and an arm flies back in seek of purchase against Rafe's wrist.

"I know, I know," he coos, slipping in another digit and picking up the pace until the delicious friction has you stifling moans into the sheets. "Keep quiet for me, kid. Wouldn't want your mom finding us, would we?"

The feeling of fullness is gone as quickly as it appeared and you're still for a few moments, features crumpling in vexation.

"Don't get bratty on me now, you little shit," he chuckles, watching as your face falls once more when he lines his mushroom head up with your drooling entrance. You garble and gasp as your cunt parts and flares around him, fluttering walls hugging him and moulding to the shape of his curved cock.

Fingers splay against the base of your neck, effectively silencing you as he starts to rock his hips; fingernails dig into the delicate flesh there and you whimper, tears tickling at your waterline as he presses you further into the pillow to keep you quiet.

"Got this pussy trained f'me, haven't I, kid? Attagirl, nice and quiet for me."

He twines an open palm into the length of your hair and tugs to reveal your blissed visage, watching with rapture as your expression changes the more he toys with you.

You squeak as he reaches down to pinch and roll your swollen clit between two fingertips, teeth baring into a growl when he clasps a merciless hand over your whining mouth.

"I told you to be fuckin' quiet, slut. Too much of a whore to take it nicely, hm? Too ungrateful?"

You shake your head vehemently, tears pooling at the base of his fingers as his thrusts pick up speed, head of his cock kissing every spot inside of you until you can't think of anything but how good he's making you feel.

He wrenches his hand free and you sag like dead weight, a punched breath of air expelling from your lungs with every cruel rut of his hips.

"There's my girl," he croons with a wicked smile, satisfied now you're fucked too dumb to do anything but drool onto the pillows beneath you. "You just, relax, kid. I'll be finished with you soon.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Plant dad’s Stucky

I know random but I just thought about them having a lot of plants and also giving them names. But their missions make it hard to take care of them 24/7 so they hire someone..

Just popped to my head and I thought I had to share this with you, because Idk who else to tell.

Like a Good Neighbour

Hopefully it's not too much. Here's a little idea that popped up. Thanks for the thot.

Warning: general creep factor, obsession, allusions to stalking.

"Hey, you think you can keep an eye on the place again. The monstera's finally looking good again." Steve leans in your door frame. arms crossed as they strain the sleeves of his cotton tee. He's got a leather duffel on his shoulder and his shield on his back.

"Does Captain America not have everything figured out? You're out there saving the world and I gotta save your English Ivy from rot." You scoff.

"I left Bucky instructions but... he forgets."

"Right. I guess I can look in. He's around?"

"In and out. It's been a lot of back and forth for both of us lately." He sighs.

"That's too bad."

"Oh, and Alpine's been eating the philodendron... Jerk."

You chuckle. "Cat's are so cute, aren't they?"

He shakes his head. "Still got that copy of the key?"

"Did I not give that back? Gee, I hope you don't think I'm a creep or something." You kid.

"Hey, no problem. Think me and the other old man can take care of ourselves," he straightens his arms and grins. "If a little trail mix goes missing or even some of the candy bars he keeps under the sink that he thinks I don't know about, won't be too much. Oh, and I'll even pay you."

"It's nothing, really."

"It more than that to me," he insists. "Anyway," he taps on the door. "Should head out. Usually I'm on everyone else for being late."

"Alright, Steve. I'll let you know if anything catastrophic happens. Like maybe the leaves start growing eyes."

"Right. Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"Like I said," you go back to fiddling with the broken zipper on the cushion. "It's no problem."

🪴

You knock on the door. You haven't seen either of your neighbours in a few days. You wait and try again. You don't mind the favour asked but can't help but feel intrusive.

When no answer comes, you shove the keys in the lock and let yourself in. You flip on the light as the keys jingle noisily. Steve and Bucky's apartment has a particular feel; weather wood and black iron. Very vintage.

A shelf frames one of the large windows, filled with overflowing pots of vine and leaf and a few petals. The smell of the foliage blends with the faint scent of cedar. You cross the apartment as you shove your keyring in your back pocket. You touch the soil; dry. The sun is streaming right in on the greenery.

You re-arrange a few pots. Some should be in direct light and these ones need a little recovery. You take the watering can from beside the shelf and turn. You gasp but don't shriek as you're met with an unexpected presence. Phew. It's just the cat.

The snow white cat stares. You watch he warily as you cross the apartment. Her eyes follow but not her. You go into the kitchen to feel the can.

As you carry it back out, a door opens and your voice finally tears free and breaks the lull. You touch your chest as you slosh water onto the hardwood. 

Bucky stands in the bathroom door, covered only from the waist down. A towel hangs precariously around his hips. His stomach is thick but muscled, his arms sculpted in the same layers of strength. You focus on his face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Steve asked me--"

"He told me he didn't trust me. Wasn't me who killed the orchid." Bucky intones dully.

You nod. "Uh, right, I'm just going to water them and I'll be out of your hair."

"Mm," he hums. 

The white cat circles his ankles and he bends to pick her up. You look away, not wanting to see too much. You go to the shelf and pour the water over each pot.

"You got a mop or something? I'll clean up the spill before--" You reach up and stand on your toes, straining to get the higher row.

Bucky takes the can from you and you gulp back your surprise. He's close as he continues the task across the top. He hands it back quietly.

"I'll deal with it. Thanks."

"No problem. Um. I guess I probably don't need to come back, right? Since you're around."

"Leaving. Tonight." He says. The cat flops and bats at his foot. He looks down. "Can you feed her when I'm gone?"

You shrug. "Well, sure. I'm already feeding the plants."

"Thanks," he says. "She chews on any more of those and he'll sleep on the couch again."

You chuckle. "Plants can be fickle. Cat's too."

"Men too," he snorts and turns away. "Nice of you to do that but I'm still going to have to keep sneaking in new ones."

You narrow your eyes as he disappears down the hall. You almost laugh again. Of course he'd be sneaking in replacements. You're pretty sure the spider plant was in a different planter last time.

🪴

Your visits become daily. The cat is needier than the plants. She still avoids you, keeping the room's breadth away from you. She watches you, chaperones you even, as you check the plants. They look better.

You back up to take a photo for Steve. You send it and tuck your phone away. You go to the kitchen and grab one of the little trays of cat food Bucky left on the counter. She gets the fancy stuff.

"Filet mignon, oooh." You say as you scrape the food into her dish. "You eat better than me."

You carry the bowl to the little holder and put it beside the water dish. She's quick to shove her head into the pate.

You stand and back up. Your foot hits something on the floor as you do. It's small. You squat to scoop it up. You lift the charm and hold it up. You recognise it. Huh?

The last time you wore this, you thought you lost it on the train. How did it get here? You're happy to see it but you're confused. Or maybe you just didn't notice the empty chain until later.

You put it in your front pocket and look around. Wait a minute. You never paid that much attention when you came to their apartment. Always just in and out. But that's your mug. With the Ojibwe art. It's hand-crafted and one of a kind. You thought it got lost in the move. That was so long ago.

You bristle. What the heck? Are they some sort of kleptos? The necklace could be a happy accident, but the cup?

You slowly trawl through to the front room. You look around cautiously. You pace through the front room. That's your copy of The Stand. You know because the strip of tape across the spine.

This is wild. They knew you were going to be here. Could they be that clueless or that brazen?

You leave the book and charge around, fueled by shock and anger. In the bathroom, there's a tray on the shelf beneath the mirror. On it is your old toothbrush you threw out and a ball of hair. Your hair. What in the fuck?

There's a clear container right above the toilet. No fucking way. Ew, ew, ew. Your panties and menstrual pads. Used. You nearly gag.

Your outrage turns to disgust then piques to horror. You need to get out of there. Now.

You turn and find the doorway blocked. You blink at Steve as he chews his lip, the tendons in his neck tensing. His mouth curves weakly and his brows wrinkle.

"You were supposed to water the plants." He says.

You stare at each other as the statement hangs in the air. It's shadowed by what he doesn't say; about what you weren't supposed to do; or supposed to notice. You both know there's only one way out and who will win that fight.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Thinking about; getting choked by H.JS

[look at the size of his fucking hand. nobody cares about the pastry shua]

🖐Who; Hong Jisoo (Seventeen) x reader 🖐What; Not exactly smut but definitely 18+ 🖐WC; 1.2k 🖐Warnings; Profanity, choking, Shua is a bit condescending/teasing, I guess dom Shua if you wanna label it that way, I feel like I was gonna tag something else but i can't remember, it's actually a pretty fucking tame lil thot despite being about choking in my opinion tbh

Summary; Jisoo accidentally chokes you and discovers you're into it.

Minors do NOT interact, which means liking/reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

You're just about to walk away from Jisoo to go get a drink, or get a snack, or something else that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. And for some reason, Jisoo reaches out and grabs the back of your t-shirt to try and pull you back to him. Yet all it does is almost make you stumble and let out a choked sound thanks to the collar pulling tight against your throat.

Of course, the sound worries him, it hadn't been his intention to hurt you, but there's a dark little part of his brain that lights the fuck up at hearing you choke because of him. Still, he pushes it down and moves you out of the party crowd to an almost hidden corner to fuss over you.

"Okay, chill the fuck out," You slap his hands away from where they're fluttering around your throat in worry that he's hurt you.

"I choked you."

"In the boring way." You mutter without thought then look at him with wide eyes as you register that those words came out of your mouth and didn't remain in your head.

"The boring way?" He repeats, eyes sparkling with mirth as he straightens to his full height and tilts his head at you with a sweet smile that you know hides a sharpness that you've always wanted to taste on your tongue.

"Shut up." You try, even if you know it's fruitless. Hong Jisoo is not a man who easily backs down when he's caught something or someone in his trap.

He takes a step closer, and you instinctively move back and thunk against the wall which you truly hadn't noticed was so close. He takes another step, and then one more until his feet are blocking yours, his body so close you can feel the heat rolling off of him.

"Are you telling me there's a method of choking you enjoy, sweetheart?" He taunts softly as he lifts his left arm to lay his forearm against the wall diagonally, his elbow to the side of your head and his curled fist a little above your head. He's truly trapping you and honestly, you don't want to escape, wouldn't even try if there wasn't a wall blocking on the other side.

"Jisoo," You murmur.

"Mm?" He tilts his head and smiles a little brighter, though his eyes are darkening with a promise. You're not quite sure what that promise is yet, but you really want to find out.

You don't respond, there's truthfully nothing you have to say, well other than the urge to tell him to hurry up and put his hand on your throat, but you're certain if you even tried to suggest as much, he'd draw it out even longer and get off on your frustration.

"What's the matter? Lost your voice?" He smirks, dancing the fingers of his right hand over your left forearm, drawing goosebumps to the surface from his delicate touch. "Is that right, sweetheart? Did you lose your voice from just a tiny bit of pressure on this pretty throat?"

Suddenly, his fingers are against the side of your neck, palm not even brushing the very front of your throat and his thumb on the other side of your neck. Your brain immediately blanks but for one thought; how fucking big his hands are.

"Mm? Not going to answer me, baby?" He coos, leaning down towards you until his nose almost brushes yours. His eyes dart down when he catches your lips moving in his periphery, though no sound comes from your mouth and he chuckles, tone low and condescending. "Oh, honey," He straightens up just enough to meet your gaze, with that sparkle even brighter despite the darkness swirling in his eyes. "Is that pretty head of yours struggling already? I haven't even done anything. I'm not sure I should either." With a theatric put-upon pout, Jisoo starts to remove his light touch from your throat and push away from the wall.

You react without even thinking, both arms darting up to grab his right forearm and pull it back to you with big, pleading eyes locked on Jisoo. He can't help but lean back in, utterly mesmerised by how desperate you look to have his hand pressed to your throat.

Someone suddenly passes behind Jisoo much too close for his liking. They don't even glance your way yet Jisoo still angles his body to hide you as much as possible from them in a protective, possessive manner while his head lowers until the tip of his nose passes over your cheek when he turns his head towards you. "What do you want, baby, come on, tell me." He encourages you, a dark edge suddenly to his words. He suddenly sounds a little desperate himself, frantic even.

"Shua,"

"Yes, yes, that's my name, we know that." He huffs out, almost meanly and rolls his eyes. "Tell me something new. Tell me what you want me to do."

You turn your head as much as you can with his own so close to your right that your lips brush the side of his chin when you talk. Jisoo naturally tilts as soon as he feels your lips, as if you've done this a thousand times and it's nothing more than instinct to seek your lips with his own. But you haven't done this before, and even now, he doesn't kiss you, just lets your lips flutter over the edge of his mouth with your words. "Choke me," You whisper against his skin.

"You want me to choke you, sweetheart?" He repeats, both to tease and to make certain that you truly want this.

He wants it, wants it with everything in him but if you say no, he'll back up and do whatever he needs to make sure that you're comfortable, even if it means he leaves the party without you in his passenger seat to drive safely home like he always does.

You nod a little and urge his hand closer to your throat, hoping he'll get the message. The short chuckle he lets out in response puffs against your lips and vibrates from his chest, he's so close to you that you can practically feel it against your own.

"Mm," He hums and traces a gentle path over your cheekbone with the tip of his nose as his fingers and thumb press down in the exact right places, with a sudden pressure that makes your eyes roll back as your hands grip his forearm to support your suddenly weak body as best as you can. Jisoo notices your loss of strength by the way you slide down the wall a little and adjusts his stance so intuitively, nudging his right foot between your feet so that he can shove his thick thigh between your own.

And then he tightens his grip a little more on your throat, the perfect amount of pressure to make your mind empty and your body slump harder against his thigh. His breath blows over your ear as he laughs a condescendingly. When he talks, you can hear the taunting grin in his voice. "Like this?" Just like that, you know that this man is going to ruin you, and you're going to love every fucking second.

Tagging; @okiedokrie

[jobean12-blog]

Up for a little game?🤭🤭

How would you meet:

Mob!Bucky, Vampire!Bucky and/or Barista/Baker!Bucky

And how would they ask you out. Or would you ask them out?

Bloody Kisses

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: Bucky finally makes you his.

Author's Note: SYDNEY! I've had Vampire!Bucky on my mind with all these new pics of him looking so yummy and then you sent this and I was like eeeeeeee here's my sign! So this is how you would meet and he would definitely be the one making all the moves. Vampire AU is an absolute favorite of mine so I can never get enough of it! Thanks so much for thinking of me and sending this little thot in! Hope you've had a lovely weekend and you enjoy this! HUGS!🥰❤️🥰Thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!

Warnings: Bucky is irresistible in every way and he wants you. Mentions of blood, tension, some softness.

You’re mid conversation when you sense the change. It’s as if the stale air has been sucked away and replaced with something more tangible, something seductive.

Natasha’s eyes are focused on whatever is beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the hall.

Everyone around you seems to be looking in the same direction, so you place your drink down and turn.

A man stands just inside the arched doorway, his black jacket draped over his shoulders, the garment fitted perfectly and accentuating their broad width. His long fingers splay against the lush fabric, a gold ring glinting under the light of chandeliers, and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.

“Do you know him?” Natasha asks.

“No,” you breathe out, nearly swaying on your feet. “But I’m going to make sure I get to know him.”

An inexplicable awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. He approaches and your pulse quickens, the urge to run into his arms something you need to fight against.

He wears all black, from his tight-fitted turtleneck down to his shined shoes and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair but his skin, it glows, smooth and soft.

When he walks toward you, he moves with such a sensual purpose that you notice the other women around you swooning.

But he makes no sign that he notices. His eyes stay trained on you, hungry and determined.

Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, savoring the rapid pulse of your blood.

His lips linger there, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before they open and he smiles, turning your hand over to kiss your palm and then finally, each of your fingertips.

“You taste divine,” he whispers.

Your breath catches in your throat at the forwardness of his words.

You barely hear Natasha’s gasp, this man’s very existence consuming your every thought and somehow you know it’s the same for him. He’s oblivious to anything but you.

He speaks his name, hushed and soft along the shell of your ear, before he pulls you away from the crowd.

“Walk with me?” he asks as he leads you toward the glass doors at the back of the room.

You nod and fall into step beside him, taking his offered elbow.

The fragrance of the night hits you the moment you step outside, the lush gardens on the estate in full bloom and the full moon bright and silvery in the dark sky.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” you muse as you look up.

“Mm,” he hums, and you bring your eyes back down, feeling the weight of his stare.

It’s hard to look away and you easily fall deeper into an intimacy that you can’t seem to recover from.

“And yet you shine brighter than any,” he murmurs, tucking you closer and brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

You tremble in his arms, the feeling heady and addictive.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” you ask as you walk deeper into the gardens.

“And yet it’s as if I know your heartbeat better than any melody that has touched my ears.”

You would swoon if you didn’t have the strength of his arms around you, but some part of your head still remains clear enough to say, “that didn’t answer my question.”

He just smiles and plucks a white flower from the nearby plant as you pass it and holds it under your nose.

“It smells amazing,” you whisper.

“Queen of the night,” he explains. “It only blooms under the cover of darkness and often wilts with the rising sun.”

Your mouth dips into a frown as you look down at the beautiful flower. “So, we can never see it bloom in the sun?”

He takes the stem from your hand and tucks it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“No,” he says, tucking two fingers under your chin and bringing your gaze to his. “But the night offers so much to be in love with and yet, never asks for anything but our company.”

You let his words sink in and a small smile teases your lips.

His fingers trace their outline, his touch delicate but completely consuming.

Your lips part with a gasp and you feel his body tense against yours, his gaze wandering over your face and down the delicate column of your neck.

His fingertips fall, slowly tracing the outline of your throat and his thumb presses against your wildly beating pulse.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lifting his dark lashes to look you in the eyes.

“No,” you whisper and press yourself closer.

He releases you and pulls you further down the path, bathing you in the shadowed recesses of the overgrowth of plants.

Your back hits the stone wall, the feel of the cool leaves brushing along your skin.

His features look stronger here in the shadows, hard, thrown into sharp relief under the obscured glow of the moon. His cheekbones resemble carved stone, his eyes dark, his lips lush and exaggerated.

He gives you no time to hesitate, gripping your neck, his palm cool and steady while his thumb presses to the hollow of your throat.

It’s possessive and sends a silent thrill up your spine.

A smart girl would push him away. Pretend she’d rather be somewhere else and run for the safety of the light, the safety of the crowded party. r

Instead, you lift your chin and meet the slight dip of his head, your noses brushing and your breath catching.

“I don’t usually meet men like this,” you say. “I hardly kiss on the first date.”

You swallow and close your eyes, opening them again to find him smiling down at you.

“I know,” he says, unbothered. Undeterred.

He licks his lips before he kisses you, innocent and soft. You moan into the kiss, swallowing his mumbled whispers of praise.

Your skin tingles and a heat builds inside your chest, pushing down into your belly where it pools low, down between your legs. You want him so badly you feel restless and urgent, a need you can’t explain clawing in your throat.

You dig your hands into his hair, holding him to you, barely letting him move a breath away.

But it’s all a ruse. He pulls free of your grip easily, the power he holds undeniable, and looks at you with a passion burning in his eyes.

“I have waited a lifetime for you,” he murmurs against your mouth, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your head falls back against the wall, exposing the soft skin that flutters violently over the flow of your blood.

He kisses softly under your ear, once, twice, and then slides his mouth lower, sucking on your skin until you’re arching into him. The first pierce of his fangs is nothing but euphoria and when he begins to gently suck you cry out his name.

The sip is barely enough to satisfy him and with a great effort he pulls away, lips stained red and blue eyes anchoring yours.

“And all the lifetimes we’ll share will never be enough.”

His words make little sense to you now, your entire existence being slowly devoured by his every touch.

When his large hands grip your hips and he drags you into him again, you go willingly, the sharp sting at your throat setting you ablaze.

This time he doesn’t hold back, drinking you in until your pulse slows, and your eyes begin to dim. You fall limp in his arms, and he gently releases you, trailing a delicate finger along your cheek before he cuts into his wrist and holds it above your parted lips.

“Drink,” he whispers.

You’re weak at first but with his gentle coaxing you suck harder, your strength returning as the taste of his blood moves through you. Revives you.

A feeling like you’ve never experienced before fills all your senses, throbbing in your lips and fingers, in your very skin. And when you meet his eyes once again it’s with new sight, his long fingers reaching up to trace your cheek.

“You,” he whispers, brushing his bloody lips along yours, “are mine for eternity.”

[ghoulphile]

in the middle of the night | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 852 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, man-handling, drabble, masturbation (m), free use (ig??), handjob, somnophilia ➥ summary | "Cooper watching you sleep. Its a quiet night. nothing but bugs passing by. Cooper keeps watching, and his mind wanders. cut to him "borrowing" your soft and smooth hand, pulling it from under your makeshift blanket and wrapping it on his dick, jacking himself with your hand bc he's bored/trying to pass the time/stay awake" ➥ notes | forgive me this was written in a sleep deprived haze im gonna go die in bed now masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

"Hh-mm?"

A sleep soft murmur escapes, your mind a hazy flood of sensation as your senses struggle to adjust. Night stretches out before you, the sky a deep velvet - the fine stardust glitter of faraway celestial bodies peeking through wispy clouds. It’s midsummer in the desert; a balmy breeze shifting through the sands and tugging at the coyote hide wrapped tight around you.

Beside you, the low crackle and glow of a banked campfire warms your face, its shadows playing with your blurry eyes. Something feels… off. What, you’re not entirely sure as nothing seems to be out of place.

The threadbare padding of your sleeping mat shields you from the sand - albeit only slightly - and there’s a sharp twinge in your side from a piece of rubble lodging itself against your ribs. One of your feet’s gone numb and prickly from the awkward position you’ve curled up in.

Dogmeat’s snoozing a little ways away with her face tucked into her tail. 

Same as usual.

And the Ghoul’s…

What.

Strong leather wrapped fingers shackle around your limp wrist, grip firm and unyielding. A buzzing electricity dances along your palm, bottled lightning, as you’re made to grip something long and hard.

The heavy weight of flesh; rugged edges and whorls of texture biting into the softness of your skin. Slick friction as it glides through the loose circle of your fingers.

Is that his -- ohmygod, what the fuck.

Shock sizzles, melts like dripping candle wax into a bloom of warmth that punches the air from your lungs. Oozes down to curl between your thighs in a sticky rush as static warmth ripples from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

The Ghoul grunts out a low curse, a quiet hiss of breath escaping through his teeth.

Your thighs clench, the plush fat compressing as you shift.

Oh, that’s… Mm.

Pre-cum trickles down your knuckles as his cock throbs once, twice, his hips bucking forward to sheath himself to the hilt in your tender grip.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters from somewhere above your head, his shoulders bowing in. “Always feels s’good.”

Always --

Your head snaps back, wide eyes darting up.

Immediately, you meet his gaze.

Dark, foreboding; the hooded eyes of a predator staring back at you from beneath a heavy brow like a hand to the nape of the neck. Corralling, claiming. His lips crack open and he smirks - a gash of teeth that threaten to snap.

“Well, hello there, darlin’ - was wonderin’ when you’d wake up.”

“W-What the hell!”

He snorts, the flash of his tongue taunting as he flicks it out across his lower lip

 “As if you don’t know. C’mon, now. I know you’re smarter than that.”

To punctuate his words, he inches forward in a grind, dragging your palm along the length of his cock nice and slow. A low groan punches itself out of his chest.

“Tch. Me doth think the lady protests too much. Acting like I can’t smell how wet you are.”

“I-I’m not…”

“Bullshit. You can’t lie ta me, darlin’. I know just how wet that pretty pussy of yours is getting. If you ask real nice like, I might be inclined ta show you what you’re missing.”

Your clit throbs, humiliation burning bright as you duck your head. Avert your eyes to the stray thread of your shirt fluttering in the breeze. It rankles how correct he is, how well he can read you with that vulture sharp gaze.

You wish you could prove him wrong if only for the principle of the matter.

As it is, there’s nothing you can do - especially when your fingers tighten up around his cock to hear him grunt and your cunt throbs in time with your heartbeat.

Slick wets the seat of your panties and clings to your inner thighs as everything in you cries out for some friction, some stimulation.

To get this man inside of you as quick as possible, stretch you wide and fuck you full.

He chuckles. “That’s more like it,” he says. “Now, are you gonna help me out or not? If so, grip a lil harder otherwise I ain’t gonna feel shit.”

So with a gulp, you do as he says: pop up onto your knees and tighten your fist.

Elongate the strokes so they work up the ragged shaft at a sedate pace, feel every pit and curve. Like you’ve got all the time in the world as you roll your wrist and use your thumb to gather the pre-cum from his weeping slit, smearing it around the thick crown of his cockhead.

All the while his head tips back, the long line of his throat catching your attention as he swallows.

“Phew, that’s just what the doctor ordered.” His eyes glitter cruelly when he looks down at you. “Should’a started doing this when you was awake a long time ago.”

How long he’s been using you like this, you don’t know.

And you’re not sure you care if the needy clench of your pussy is any indication.

“S’all right. Now you can make up for all that I’ve been missin’.”

[concretejunglefm]

I had a thot of a dom mean Noah, were you are ovulating so you get turned on easily by everything in this man his arms, back, tattoos, voice, smell, and he is mocking you and making you worship him and beg for him

I’m being held hostage by this man, I swear to God—can someone help me? (not really)

What’s worse is he knows. He can smell it. He’s so in tune with you and your body, and all he wants is to take full advantage of the way you’re unraveling for him and plays to every one of your weaknesses.

Like when he’s just finished working out—hot, sweaty, muscles flexing, wearing those damn shorts and a tight tank top 🤤 “Look at you. I haven’t even touched you and I can see your legs trembling from here.”

You’re practically backed up against the counter, trying to grind against the edge for any kind of relief, because that’s what this man does to you—makes you lose your goddamn mind. “Grinding against the counter like a cat in heat,” he smirks. “I bet if I made you sit on my thigh, you’d be rubbing all over me.” And the worst part? He’s not even wrong. When you’re near him, it’s like you have to physically stop yourself from doing exactly that.

Don’t even get started on his voice—taunting and low as he comes up behind you, whispering right into your ear: “I haven’t even touched you, and I bet if I slipped my fingers into those panties, you’d be soaked right now.”

You’re just playing right into his hand, because the minute he calls you over—no, beckons you—with a teasing little ‘pspspsps’ like you’re the needy cat in heat he knows you are, you come running. He doesn’t even have to raise his voice. Just points to the floor and tells you to kneel, and if you want him, you’re going to have to beg for it. “Let me hear how desperately you want it…” he purrs. “Mm, no. I don’t think that’s desperate enough.”

So you whine for him, beg, practically trying to rub yourself against his leg like you’d do anything just to feel him. Every word that leaves your mouth is another offering, another plea, and he eats it up with that smug, satisfied smirk that only makes you ache more.

[toxicanonymity]

The Raid, Part 2.

panty-dropping javi art by @bonezone44

8k words | dark!javi x f!reader x dark!steve | The Raid SUMMARY: Javi and his partner get you settled in. WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon (captivity & more), kidnapping, drugs, mild withdrawal, manhandling, sharing, degradation, praise, homoerotic tension, thigh fucking, somnophilia (javi), p in v (steve, but Javi's involved), orgasm denial, cumplay, size kink if you squint, mfm adjacent, hillbilly cock. Javi & Steve RECS: Lie Still by @milla-frenchy , Crossing Lines by @lunitawrites , Helping Hands and Polaroids by @clawdee , You can be the boss by @girlboybug . TY all!! A/N: Could've been 2 parts (4.4k/3.6k) so there's a divider (ty @cafekitsune) if you want 2 reads. Ty @debbiequinn for your sleep thot and @ghoulettesinspace for your styling thots. Tagged people who asked for part 2 at the end.

✨NEXT: Javi isn't home - Steve PWP.

The DEA has left the scene, aside from Javi and his tall, blonde partner. The partner managed to catch your (ex) boyfriend while Javi was “supervising” you. Javi has given his men a talking-to and told them you were never there.  With a strong grip on your arm, he's dragged you to a Ford Bronco where he's now forcing you into the back seat. 

"My shirt," you beg. 

Javi shrugs mercilessly. "Should've put it on before you ran." He glances at your bra before beginning to shut the car door. 

He and his partner talk outside the car. Javi stands with his hands tucked into the top of his vest. The taller man leans with one hand just above the back seat window and his other hand on his hip. He ducks down to look at you, but doesn't acknowledge you. He asks Javi, "You sure we need to be drivin' around with her half dressed?" 

"What'd I say?”

The blonde agent holds his hands up in mock defense. “No Carrillo, no questions." He walks around front to the driver's seat. You have a better view of him once he's seated. He's strong, like Javi. He has a thick mustache, too.

Javi gets in the passenger seat and puts on a voice like he's teaching a class and would rather be anywhere else. He addresses you by name, then says, "This is Steve Murphy." 

Steve nods in the rear view mirror, and your eyes meet. Then he turns on the engine and asks Javi, "safe house?" 

Javi tilts his head back and smooths his mustache. “Mm,” he contemplates.

Steve offers, "I'll head to the closest one."

Javi answers, "No. My place."

"Yours?" 

"Yeah, you know, the place I live? Right downstairs?" 

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Alright." After a few moments of silence, Steve asks, "informant?" 

"Eh," Javi ponders. "We'll see."  He puts a cigarette in his mouth, then takes the cigarette lighter out of its socket and lights up. Javi reaches down to crank the window open a little more, then exhales, aiming the smoke outside. He asks, "We need to worry about Romeo?" as he hands the cigarette to Steve. 

“Nah,” Steve replies as he accepts the cigarette. He looks at the tip of the filter and takes one puff before handing it back to Javi. Steve exhales out the window, then reaches back and puts his hand behind Javi's seat to put the car in reverse. 

"Nah,” Steve repeats. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that dumbass. . .Told him we'd fuck her in front of him, know what he said?”

“What?” Javi asks, bemused. 

“He said go ahead."  You’re not surprised. 

"Ouch," Javi pretends to sympathize, then looks back to check on you. "Sorry, sweetheart."

—-

Once they get you to the apartment, the first thing they do is take you to the bathroom. You have to walk through a bedroom to get there. In the middle of the bedroom, there's a bed with leather restraints. It makes your stomach turn to look at. 

Steve’s eyes fixate on it and he asks Javi, "You kept this stuff?"

Javi retorts, "Where'd you think it went, the Salvation Army?” 

Javi pauses to take off his tactical vest.  “Let’s wash that place off her.” 

“C’mon,” Steve gently urges you by the arm toward the bathroom. You go in the restroom and stand, awkwardly awaiting instructions. You lean your back against the wall and the handcuffs drag.

Steve plugs the drain and turns on the water. Javi walks in, takes out the keys and uncuffs you. Steve retires to the doorway and leans against it, tucking his hands into the top of his tactical vest and watching. He seems to take up the whole frame. 

There's a toilet next to the bathtub/shower combo. Javi closes the lid and sits down, facing you, and manspreads in his tight jeans. His shirt is stained with sweat, and the glimmer of a gold chain catches your eye on his tan chest. Javi pats his thigh closest to the tub. You sit on his thigh, facing the door and Steve. Javi strokes your face, and you look down at the floor, cheeks warm, heart racing. 

“It’s okay,” Javi tells you, “Vamos a ponerte limpia y lista para una vida nueva.” (We’re gonna get you clean and ready for a new life). He unclasps your bra and you let it fall off into your lap. Javi tosses it to Steve, saying, “Check the closet out there.” 

Javi reaches over to feel the water, then rests his large hand between your shoulder blades.  “Now take off your pants.” He gives you a gentle push out of his lap. 

You stand again and remove your pants. Javi stays seated.

You’re cowering with your arms in front of you, but Javi beckons you with a hooked finger. You come to stand between his knees. He nudges your inner elbows and you let your arms fall out of the way. 

“Good girl,” he mutters, not taking his eyes off your tits. His hands come to your chest without even a glance to your face. He lightly massages your breasts until both nipples are erect. He slots both his hands under your armpits and thumbs your nipples, then slides his palms down to your hips where he hooks his thumbs into your panties and keeps going, bringing them down to the floor. 

Steve comes back from the closet and sets some clothes on the bathroom counter. 

Javi looks over and tells him, “Keep Carillo off my back for a while.” 

Steve nods and leaves. “Hasta luego!” he shouts with an American accent on his way out. 

Javi chuckles and shakes his head. 

-

Javi eyes the water level of the tub and turns off the faucet. “How do you feel?” he asks you with kind eyes. 

“Fine,” you mutter without meeting his gaze. 

He extends his hand for you, and you hold it for balance. You dip a toe in and it’s lukewarm. “Get in.” He nods toward the bath and you do. He takes off his shoes and socks and puts them outside the door, then cuffs his jeans. 

“How’s the water?” He asks then reaches under the sink, and you watch his ass strain his pants as he gets a bath poof. 

“Uh, good.” Your answer echoes off the tile. 

He sits on the side of the tub and uses a light orange bar of soap to make some lather, then scrubs you. He holds you with one hand for leverage while he scrubs you with the other. He starts with your arms, and your neck. He's not gentle. 

“Ow,” you mutter at one point.  

“Ay, pobrecita” (poor little girl). “You're going to feel so clean,” he reassures you. He makes you lift your arms. Then each leg. The tub squeaks under you as you scoot forward. He scrubs your legs and between your thighs. He does your breasts and your back. His arm muscles flex with his effort. When he leans over you to reach your other side, his back muscles strain his shirt and his gold chain escapes from his collar, revealing a little cross on it. 

“You’re bottoming out,” he mutters. 

“Huh?”

“In life.” He pauses and makes sure you're looking at him as he explains this. “It’s a good thing. Know why?” 

You stare at him vacantly.

“Once you hit rock bottom, you go back up.” 

You look away, and your cheeks burn. You get it, he found you at a low point, he doesn’t have to rub it in. It doesn't feel great. 

Javi washes your stomach and downward. He gets close to your intimate parts, but he's clinical about it. He gets you up on your knees and scrubs your bottom. He flattens his hand and slides the side of it down your crack, making you gasp with an unexpected rush of warmth to your core. 

Your skin feels almost numb in some areas by the time he's done bathing you. Then he lathers a softer sponge and washes you more gently.  He drains the tub and takes his time lazily rinsing you. When he's finished, he turns on the shower and tells you to make sure he got it all. 

Once you’re squeaky clean, he dries you off with a pale, yellow, threadbare towel. He inspects the clothes on the counter. It’s a Hawaiian shirt much too large to be Javi’s. Some pants, too, but he only puts the Hawaiians shirt on you. You eye your underwear on the floor, but Javi bends down and snatches it up before you have the chance to collect it. 

“I’ll start some laundry,” he offers.

—. . .----

Javi makes pork and beans for dinner. While you’re eating, someone jogs up the stairs outside. “Steve’s right upstairs,” Javi tells you. “Ever need anything and I’m not here, just yell.” He takes a bite of his beans. “He’s a better cook, too,” he smiles with his eyes. 

During a quiet moment, you’re startled by the sound of a woman moaning from upstairs. You look up at the ceiling. 

[ohhhh, she whines. give it to me.]

“Just a porno,” Javi tells you with a smirk. 

“So,” He studies your face. “What did you want to be when you grew up?” 

“You make it sound like my life is over.” 

“No, there’s still time,” he shrugs. 

You refuse to answer. 

[upstairs, a man’s voice joins in. oh yeah, take it, baby.]

Javi tries, “Favorite color?” 

You don’t answer that either. 

[yeah, just like that]

“That’s okay,” he says. “We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other.” 

“You can't keep me here forever, if that's what you're trying to do.”

Javi’s eyebrows knit in concern. "Oh, sweetheart.” With sad eyes, he asks, “You really think someone will report you missing?" 

"I have a job," you protest. 

“Oh,” he sounds fakely impressed. “Well. . . Be a good girl, and I'll get you a better one.”

Upstairs, a deeper, clearer voice sighs, “Ohh, fuck,” making you squeeze your thighs together. That has to be Steve. It sounds like him. 

[Steve sighs and grunts over the faint sounds from the television.] 

You bite your lip and look away. 

Javi lowers his head and raises his eyebrows at you. He reaches for your face and smirks as he makes you look at him. “Like what ya hear?” Blood rushes to your face. He chuckles as he lowers his hand. 

[A long groan from Steve.]

Oh, wow. You wonder if Javi will notice the wet spot under you. You take a deep breath. When you regain your focus, he’s studying your eyes with an amused sparkle in his.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he nods, then pats your cheek. 

“He’s a good guy,” Javi adds, then looks upward in thought. He tilts his head back and forth as though debating himself. “Kind of.” He pushes a glass of water toward you. “Drink.”

—-

When it’s time to sleep, Javi takes you to the bedroom you walked through on the way in. He watches your face as you eye the bed with its restraints. 

“You’ve been pretty good so far,” Javi muses. “Maybe we don’t need this yet.” 

“Please,” you beg. “I promise I’ll behave.” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Fine.”

“Alright, then. I’m not sure if you’ll like the other option much better, though.” 

He brings you to his room and heads toward the closet, which rolls open with a four-panel door. you wouldn’t really mind sleeping in Javi’s bed with him, but that’s not what he has in mind. He pulls out an old futon mattress with a striped fitted blanket and throws it on the floor.  “You can choose where to sleep, how’s that?”

“Here,” you answer without hesitation and he chuckles. 

“Muy bien, pobrecita. But I *am* going to have to secure you.”  He takes his handcuffs out and cuffs one to a radiator under the window. Then, with his foot, he pushes the futon mattress over to it.  

“Really?” You ask. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“I believe you. But you need protection from yourself right now.” 

His bed has plenty of room for both of you. He’s just being an ass. 

-

Javi lets you watch television, sitting side by side with him on his sofa. He periodically looks at you skeptically, as though wondering if you’ll make a run for the door, but you don’t. It sure has been a long day. You yawn. 

“Ready for bed?” Javi asks. 

You nod. 

There’s a knock at the door. 

It’s Steve. He’s come by to drop off a couple of bags. One is from the grocery store. Javi steps into the breezeway to talk for a couple of minutes. When he comes back in, he brings the grocery bag to the table and puts the others aside. In the grocery bag, there are brand new toiletries for you, including a toothbrush. 

Javi takes you to the bathroom and watches you while you brush your teeth, then he brings one of the other shopping bags into the bedroom. There’s a nightgown. The material is thin and it’s on the shorter side. Not exactly modest. Javi puts it on you, and at least it’s more comfortable than whomever’s shirt you were wearing. 

He gives you a thin pillow and pats the mattress for you to lie down. He cuffs you to the radiator. Then he goes to another room and comes back with a blanket. He tucks you in. 

“If you need to go to the bathroom or anything, just wake me up, okay?” He moves your wrist to clank the handcuffs on the radiator in demonstration. “I hope tonight won’t be bad, but you might start to feel sick, or get chills. That’s normal okay?” 

You nod.  

He pats your head affectionately and bids you goodnight. “Sweet dreams, mi pobrecita.” He goes to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. When he comes back in the room, you try not to watch him, but you hear him rustling around near the bed. You tilt your head up enough to steal a quick glance, and he’s taking off his shirt. He doesn’t get in his bed right away, but eventually you hear the mattress creak. 

—--

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling a little queasy, but you’re unsure if it’s the circumstances, the beans, or the detox. You can’t tell if you’re hot or cold, but this sleeping arrangement is not doing you any favors. You don’t want to wake Javi up, but the night feels like it might last forever otherwise. You rattle the cuffs against the metal. 

“Ay, pobrecita,” he whispers. “Okay, I’m coming.” He gets out of bed. 

He approaches you, barefoot. As soon as he kneels down, he mutters, “Ay, cabrón” (oh, bastard) under his breath and returns to his nightstand for the key. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you when he comes back. He uncuffs you. As you sit up, he helps you with a warm hand on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Javi responds as if he didn’t handcuff you to a radiator. 

As he helps you up from the floor, something brushes your thigh and makes you tingle. Your body knows what it is before you do. When you register what grazed your leg through his sleep shorts, your face heats up and the tingle turns into a throb. Javi walks you to his bathroom with one arm around you in case you have trouble. He takes you all the way to the toilet. “You good?” he asks. 

“Yeah, do you mind if I?”

“Sure.” He backs up into the doorframe, but he doesn’t close it. You glance over, and he’s not hiding the massive tent in his shorts. He’s not shy about it at all. He’s also not trying to do anything about it. “Alright, I’ll be right here.” He closes the door halfway and stands outside. You sit there for a few minutes on the cool tile in front of the toilet. The urge to be sick has passed. He peeks his head in to check on you. “How about some water?”

“Okay,” you nod. He comes in and helps you up, hard-on still blazing. He takes an empty, upside-down glass from his clean bathroom counter, fills it up, and hands it to you. You’re aching at the silhouette of his length just casually standing at attention. It takes all your energy not to look right at his shorts. 

“Good girl,” he gently palms the back of your head. 

You try to look anywhere but down. You focus on his bare chest. His chain drapes over his collar bone and sits above his strong, golden pecs. There’s a light smattering of dark, soft hair. And then, lower, a happy trail.  You yank your eyes away. You look at the counter: A brush, a comb. Maybe he does his mustache with that. You look at his hair. It’s messy, out of place. Bedhead looks good on him. He casually rakes his hand through it when he sees you looking. Your gaze drifts back to his body. It’s really a beautiful torso you’re looking at. Broad shoulders, strong arms, narrow waist. A hint of abs under the light padding of his flesh. 

“You okay?” he asks with his puppy dog eyes, which gives you an idea.

“Yeah.” You look up at him, widen your eyes, and let your face fall. 

He nods. “Back to bed?”

You hold your wrist as if it hurts from the cuff and nod sadly. You check his shorts in the corner of your eye–yeah, it’s still there, as commanding as ever. The tent bobs as he walks. He walks you back into the bedroom and pauses at your futon mattress on the floor. He reaches for your hand and holds it as his other thumb brushes the indentation on your wrist. 

“You’re sure you don’t want the bed?” He nods toward the other room with the restraints. 

“I’d love a bed, but no. That one’ll give me nightmares, I’m sure.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “Are you asking to sleep in *my* bed?” His thumb continues to brush the indentation from the cuffs. His light touch gives you butterflies. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him and your hand joins his, on your wrist. His thumb freezes. Your fingers rest lightly on top of his. “I guess I’m okay down there.” You glance at the mattress on the floor.  

His bare chest rises with a deep breath. “You’re being such a good girl,” he marvels with your hand on his. “Come on. It’s okay.” He guides you to his bed and pauses when you’re right in front of it. He faces you and puts his hands on your shoulders. He dips his head and his tone darkens. “But if you leave this bed, things are going to change here,” he warns. “And you’re not going to like it.” He shakes his head. The gentleness of his voice and the look on his face sends a chill down your spine. 

-

Javi gets into his bed, under the covers. He lays on his side and makes room for you, albeit not much. “I still have to restrain you,” he informs you as you lie down. “Do you want the cuffs or my arm?”

“Your arm.”

“Good girl.” He extends one arm and raises the other, making room for you.

You scoot back against him, mentally bracing yourself for what awaits under the covers. You're already twitching before you feel it. He inhales sharply as the hardness in his shorts hits you. With a hand on your lower abdomen, he pulls you into him, and his stiff length presses against you.  

“I’m sure that’s not going to bother you, is it?” he asks and your breath hitches. You shake your head just barely on the off chance he wanted a real answer. But it is, it's going to bother you as long as he won't put it in you. You’re human, you can’t help it. He’s a bad person but you can only imagine what a good lay. He curls his strong, lean body around you like a big spoon, and he nestles the warm rod in his shorts against your crack.

One bicep is under your neck. His other arm settles over your waist. You don’t need to test his strength to know his arm is solid. Heavy. There’s no escaping as long as he holds this position. 

He inhales your hair, and the hand in front of you cups your breast through your thin nightgown. He slowly palms your breast, and lightly grinds against you. You can’t help but push back on him. The shape of his arousal against you makes you salivate. 

He whispers just above your ear.  “Sure do love cock, don’t you?”

As he thrusts against you at a slow, steady rhythm, his hand slides off your breast, down your gown, sliding over your stomach and down to the fleshy triangle where your thighs meet. His hand stays flat. He doesn’t dig between your legs. He gently presses your mound, bringing you back against him harder as his cock throbs even harder against you. 

“That can be a good thing for recovery,” he offers. “You need something to replace that high.”

He thrusts against you slower, lighter. It’s excruiating. “Mmm.” He begins to gather the nightgown’s fabric into a fist, raising the hem of the gown and exposing more of you to the air between the sheets. No underwear. 

His hand rests on the bare skin of your lower abdomen, then slides down just low enough that his middle finger can tease your most sensitive place. He slides further down until his middle finger reaches the pool between your legs and he growls almost silently. He begins to move his fingers between your legs. Slowly, expertly, leaving his thumb and pinky braced on your front. The movement is just enough to drive you crazy. His index and middle fingers slide through your dripping folds and apply pressure to your swollen bud, moving to the rhythm of his gentle thrusts against your crack. 

“Mm,” your moan is barely audible.

“Ohh, I know,” Javi coos reassuringly. “I know.” He ruts against you slowly. He sighs as he moves against you. The heft of his arousal pushing against both asscheeks makes you weak. If only he’d just stuff your pussy. You can hardly stand it. He must feel you gush on his fingers. “Oh, yeah,” he whispers into your hair. His throbbing erection grinds against you. His hand leaves your cunt and you feel cold, exposed. He pulls down the waistband of his shorts, then his hand–wet fingers and all–slightly lifts your thigh, making your heart skip a beat. 

He wedges his naked cock between your thighs, right against your cunt, and you gasp. His swollen tip glides through your wetness and you moan, “Ohh.” He slowly slides forward and back through the warm, wet pocket made by your thighs and cunt. You push back against him. “Mm,” he grunts softly as his tip reaches your clit. 

His hand returns to your breast. He massages your breast as his cock keeps sliding between your thighs and nudging your sensitive bud just right. “Javi,” you whisper. “Please.” His cock hesitates at your entrance, and you tilt your hips. 

“Not today, sweetheart.” 

With a small thrust, he bypasses your wet little hole again. 

Then he stops moving. You push your ass back into him, and he does nothing but tighten his arm over you. He cradles your breast gently. You’re throbbing, aching to have him inside you. It feels like an eternity you’re lying like this with his arousal throbbing against your naked heat. You begin to feel a chill again and reach for the blanket to wrap yourself tighter. He helps you, then murmurs. “Good night”  into your hair. 

The comfort of his arms and rhythm of his breath lulls you to sleep sooner than you expect. 

—-...------

Just after daybreak, you awake to the sound of Javi breathing heavily  as his cock slides against your wet cunt again. Your chest is hot and fluttering. He’s aggressively groping one breast, then shifts to the other with a grunt and harsh thrust. Your body shifts as you wake up. He pants, “Morning sunshine,” and you push your ass back against him. 

“Was I good?” you ask. 

“Ohh,” he moans, “You were good.” 

His hand comes between your legs and you gasp at the pressure of his thick fingers on your clit. He doesn’t move them, just rests his hand there, then asks “Would you like to cum?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” you whine as his cock glides against you. 

He slows way down. “Because I’m only giving you one today. You sure you want it already?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“It’s not even seven a.m.”

“Please, Javi.” 

He begins to move his thick fingers, and it doesn’t take long at all before you’re seeing stars. 

“Ohh,” you moan as the waves of pleasure begin to overtake you. Your body spasms, and your walls clench around nothing. 

“Mmmm, mi putita. . .por supuesto ahorita” (My little slut. Of course right now), Javi purrs into your hair. “That’s the–ohhh–thing with addicts,” he pants as he chases his own orgasm. “You want everything right–mmm—now–ohhhh.” As Javi begins to cum, he moves his hand from your clit to his cock. His cock pulses against you, and it’s too easy to imagine it inside you. He cups his hand and seals it over his tip and your front. He slowly thrusts as he cums. He slides against you, coating your folds and clit with his warm spend as your own climax fades. 

When Javi is empty, he withdraws his cock, but keeps his hand in place. He rubs his spend over your oversensitive parts, making you flinch and moan. 

“Ohh, I know it sweetheart.”

A thick digit breaches your entrance, pushing some cum into you, and he sighs.

“One day, pobrecita. One day.” He adds another finger. “Voy a llenar esta concha con leche” (I’m gonna fill this pastry/cunt with milk/cum).

Your first morning waking up at Javi’s place, he lets you sit at the kitchen counter and watch him make huevos rancheros and cactus. 

Over breakfast, he asks, “What do you like to do?”

You shrug.

“Because getting high replaced all your hobbies,” he concludes. 

“That's not true.”

“It's not? Then what do you do? Draw? Write? Do you read?”

You scoff. “Yes, I read,” you say with an eye roll and can’t help but add, “Did kidnapping replace all your hobbies?” 

There's an instant surge of regret in your chest, but Javi chuckles and lets it slide. “What kind of books? I could pick one up for you.”

You swallow, rest your fork, and ask, “really?” 

“Sure,” He nods. 

“Okay. Maybe a mystery,” you offer, only because you know you'll need the distraction.

“Good,” he nods. “A mystery.”

Later that day, Javi has to go into the office. He leaves a glass of water for you, a bucket just in case, and he cuffs you to the radiator. He reassures you Steve will come check on you as soon as he gets home. You try your best to get comfortable on the futon mattress. 

As soon as Javi leaves, things go somewhat downhill. You have a headache, then your stomach begins to bother you, and the handcuffs are driving you crazy. You’re anxious. You're horny. You’re cold. Why are you horny? After about an hour, you rattle the cuffs on the radiator. When nothing happens, you yell for Steve, then hear movement upstairs. 

When Steve comes into Javi’s apartment, you hear him open the door, but it doesn’t sound like it shuts all the way. His footsteps are loud as they approach through the living room. Steve unlocks Javi’s bedroom and pauses in the doorframe. “There she is.” He rests his hands on the top of the doorframe and leans forward, stretching his back as he takes in the scene. “Damn,” he mutters. “You alright?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, darlin’.” He digs into Javi’s nightstand for the key. “Hold on.” He comes over and crouches down on the floor. He smells like cigarettes, and he must smoke the same brand as Javi. 

You're mildly surprised by the way your body reacts to Steve’s proximity. You squeeze your legs together, self conscious that you’re gushing. The day before, you were so focused on Javi that you didn’t think much of Steve at the time. But after overhearing him jack off. . .There’s something about hearing a man make those primal noises. It changes his whole face, his whole presence in your eyes. 

“C’mere,” Steve offers and extends his massive hands, looming over you. You sit up on your knees, careful not to expose yourself with no panties. He slots his hands under your arms and helps you to your feet. He checks you out and raises an eyebrow. You wonder if he can see through your nightgown. “He’s still got ya in your PJs, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s alright.” 

“Looks good on ya, anyway.” 

Steve ushers you to the restroom and waits outside. You’re starting to feel a little better already, just having someone around again. His presence distracts your body from its woes.

-

When you’re out of the restroom, Steve asks if you need anything else. You ask for a glass of juice. He brings you to the kitchen to get some. The sound of children playing outside echoes from the breezeway and you notice the door isn’t shut flush. Before you can really think about it, you begin to walk toward the door, heart pounding. You’re barefoot, and realistically, you’re not going to try to flee, but you want to know you could. You’re not running, you’re walking slowly, curiously as though pulled by a weak magnet toward a chance at freedom. 

Steve crosses the room in two strides and steps right into your path. His massive arm wraps around you, halting you dead in your tracks. “Wouldn't do that.” His face is stone. Instinctively, you begin to struggle, not to escape, but to get out of his strong grip. His body overwhelms yours.  

His arm tightens, and you whine, “Ow.” 

He shakes you once, then loosens his grip. He brings his mouth to your hair and lowers his voice.  “Don't make me hurt ya, sugar.” He wraps his arm around your middle and begins to drag you toward the bedroom with the creepy bed. He wrangles you over to the bed with the straps. You don’t resist much, but he’s rough with you anyway. 

“Okay, okay,” you tell him. “I’m sorry.” 

He throws you down on the bed and pins you with his weight, then begins to strap you in, limb by limb. Your heart is racing. But you don’t feel sick at all anymore. All you feel is the rush. 

“Ya know, I should tell Agent Peña ‘bout this,” Steve mutters as he buckles your wrist. 

“No, don’t. Tell him I was good. Please. I wasn’t trying to do anything.” 

“Yeah, alright. We’ll see.” The bed is probably full sized. Wider than a twin. The leg restraints are spaced out enough that you feel like you’re spread eagle. 

Once you’re all strapped down, Steve slowly paces next to the bed looking at you like a piece of meat. 

He asks, “True you were beggin’ for cock?”

“No,” you answer as a gut reaction. 

“Ya weren't? Huh. Peña’s a liar?” 

“He–he got me all worked up on purpose.”

Steve freezes near the foot of the bed and cracks a smile. “So it is true. . .Hmm.” He tilts his head contemplatively.  “How'd he do that? Get ya all worked up.” He dangles his fingers to graze your bare ankle. Then he walks back up toward your head, dragging his fingertips over your shin. His fingers lightly circles your kneec twice, then continue up your thigh. He pauses and strokes an abstract pattern on your inner thigh. 

You don’t answer him. You don’t have to. He’s already having an effect on you. 

“Well, don't worry. I'm not gonna hold out on ya. Want somethin’ from me, sugar? Just ask.” 

“Thanks.”

“It's ok, baby.” He lowers his voice. “Really don't mind one bit.” He looks at you hungrily and wets his lips. His fingers get closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. When his fingers graze your outer lip, he peeks under the gown. “He left the door open for me. That was nice,” Steve smiles. “Said ya got a gorgeous pussy, too.”  Your legs tense, and his hand returns to your thigh. “Nothin’ to be afraid of, darlin’.” 

The leather that’s holding you down is what scares you. It’s the most unsettling feeling. 

Steve adjusts himself, and when you follow his hand, you can't pull your eyes away from the bulge in his pants. Wow. He doesn't wear his pants nearly as tight on his ass as Javi, so you hadn't even thought about Steve’s dick. Now it's all you can think about. You're studying the shape his pants are struggling to contain. Never would’ve thought. And, balls. You’re pretty sure he’s got big balls. You wet your lips and realize you're staring. 

“Attagirl,” he mutters. “See, that's where my partner and I have different philosophies,” Steve explains. “I could care less if you're drunk, high, outta your mind.”  The hand on your thigh slides all the way up to where your thigh meets your torso. “Good pussy’s good pussy.” He traces the crease, right next to your outer lips, and his light touch makes you tingle. “I think a pretty girl deserves all the dick she wants.” He sighs, then raises his eyebrows. “And then some,” he says with a short nod. 

“His heart’s in the right place,” Steve says unconvincingly. “Hurts though, don’t it?” He pouts at you as he keeps tracing the crease of your inner thigh. “Never met a whore he didn’t fuck. . .n’ can’t be bothered to give ya just an inch.

He follows your eyes back to his crotch and chuckles darkly. “Boy, you got your eye on the prize, don't ya?” He looks down at himself. 

“Mmm,” he grunts when he meets your eyes again. The humor is gone from his face.

He looks at the leather strap around your arm. “I’ll take mercy on ya,” he mutters and takes his hand out from between your legs. He pauses with his hands on the strap.  “Gonna be good for me?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

He unbuckles the strap. The metal of the buckle flicks against your inner arm. You don’t move your arm, making good on your promise to be good. Then the mattress creaks and groans as he gets up on the bed with you. He straddles one of your knees and leans forward, bracing his right hand on the mattress near your torso. His left hand returns between your legs. This time, he goes straight for your cunt. He smiles when he feels how wet you are. He lightly rubs you, teasing your dripping folds up and down. He falls into a trance. He gathers your slick and brings it to your clit. He scoots up on the bed so his head is above yours and his crotch is at your hip. He looks into your eyes as he circles your most sensitive spot. A knot is already forming in your stomach, making your pelvis lift into his hand. He wets his bottom lip, then bites it as he adds more pressure. Then speed. Your mouth falls open and a moan slips out. 

His lips form a small ‘o’. “Ooh,” he marvels. “Oh, you’re a real sweet thing, I can tell.” His fingertips slide down, and one of them teases your entrance, making an audible, rhythmic smacking sound.  Then he slowly pushes the finger inside. His eyes roll up toward the ceiling, and his head tilts up too. You watch his neck veins. There’s some faded tattoo ink barely visible on his chest, poking up from his collar when the angle is right. He presses his hard bulge against your hip and you gasp with a bolt of arousal.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and you moan. “Yeah, ya want that, don’t ya?” He gives you another slow thrust against the hip.  “You want it right here.” He pushes another finger into you. “Ohh, yeah.” His upper palm massages your clit as his fingers pump into you.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry.” You twitch at the thought. “But you’re gonna cum on these fingers first. Hear me?”

You nod and take a deep breath. Your back arches. You reach for his pants. 

“There ya go,” he nods as if that’s why he unbuckled you in the first place. “Ohh, you’re gonna go wild.” 

You grab his bulge–it’s more than a handful–and massage him through his pants. 

“Mmm. Yeah,” he whispers. Your nipples harden with his practiced touch, and you sigh, unable to take any more tension. His fingers curl inside you and he whispers, “C’mon, now.” The deep whisper is enough. 

“Ohh,” you moan. He nods in encouragement and his upper palm bears down on your clit. You close your eyes and let yourself unravel. Your spasming walls squeeze and soak his fingers. 

“Yeahh, attagirl.”  

As your climax fades, he withdraws his fingers and feverishly unbuckles his belt. You throb in anticipation. It won't take much to tease another one out of you. Your core twitches as he shoves down his briefs and his thick cock springs free, taking your breath away. He gets between your legs and holds his stiff manhood loosely as he lines himself up. He shakes it heavily up and down, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. Oh, God it feels so–you’re already about to–

–Steve hesitates.  

In the driveway, a car pulls up and stops. 

Steve stops what he’s doing. “Alright, let's see what the boss wants,” he says with an air of inconvenience as he tucks his erection into his briefs.

“Thought you were partners,” you say and hope you don't sound too disappointed. 

“On paper, sure. “ He buttons and zips up his pants. “On paper I'm a good cop, too,” he winks. 

Steve pats your cheek and says, “hang in there.” He gets off the bed, then leans in close and whispers, “give it to ya next chance I get. . .skip the preamble, how's that?” 

You bite your lip. Just as the front door begins to unlock, Steve sits down in a chair next to the bed, with his hands clasped in his lap. 

—--

Javi opens the door. 

“All good at the office?” Steve asks. 

“All good,” Javi reports, and he surveys you with his eyes as he approaches. “What’s going on here?” 

“Oh, she just wanted a change of scenery,” Steve reports, mercifully. Javi looks at him skeptically for a moment, then shrugs it off. 

“How are you feeling?” Javi asks you with a hand on his hip and a serious look. He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you and Steve, who’s on the same side. 

“Okay,” you reply. 

Javi clenches his jaw and furrows his brow. His hand frames your jaw and he looks at your eyes. Then he lets go of you.

"Good," Javi nods. Then squints and asks, "He touch you?"

You look at Steve. Steve raises his eyebrows curiously. He doesn't deny touching you, but his face also doesn't give you any clues about the right answer. He’s sitting in amused suspense. Javi raises his eyebrows at you like a challenge, waiting on you to speak. You look at Steve again, and Steve winks. Unsure what it means, you begin to slowly shake your head no.

Javi clenches his jaw and his eyes narrow. His head whips to Steve and he asks, "Why not?" 

Steve sighs and uncrosses his arms. He extends his hand to Javi. Javi brings Steve's hand to his nose, takes a whiff of his fingers, and cracks a smile.  "Don't lie to me, putita." Javi closes his eyes, draws in your scent again, then opens his eyes and mouth as he brings Steve's middle and index fingers to his lips. Javi locks eyes with you as he tastes you on Steve's fingers. Your heart races. You failed whatever test this was. 

Javi drops Steve's hand and brings his own hand to cup your jaw. "Pobrecita. . ." His hand dwarfs your face. "What’s the matter? Te confunde?” (It confuses you)

You nod, and your voice is small.  "You said it's yours." 

"What's mine?"

You look down at yourself and swallow. "My body?"

Javi nods. "Say it." 

Your eyes settle on what you can see of his gold chain under his shirt.  "This pussy is yours." 

"That's right," Javi nods condescendingly. "Good girl."  He brings his hand from your cheek to your thigh and squeezes it. He nods toward Steve and says, "con mi permiso" (with my permission).  "Still confused?" 

You shake your head. 

“That's all he did? Touch you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. 

Javi addresses Steve. "Alright, c’mon.”  He beckons him, and Steve stands up with his hands still clasped in front of himself. 

“Show her your cock.”

Steve undoes his pants again. He slides them down over the bulge of his still-hard cock, then pauses. 

“Pants off,” Javi adds matter-of-factly. Steve sits back down to unlace his shoes, then takes them off. He pulls off his pants, and he's left wearing black socks and white briefs with a red and blue stripe around the waistband. Thigh muscles are massive. 

“Good news for you, putita.” Javi nods toward Steve. “This one’ll fuck anything.” Your cheeks heat up and Steve shakes his head in amusement at Javi. 

“Says the guy who has his own room at a brothel.” 

Javi looks at your body hungrily and crosses his arms. “Give it to her,” he mutters without looking at Steve. 

When Steve stands up, Javi takes his place, manspreading with his hands tucked under his arms, straining his short-sleeve button-up.

-

Steve mounts the bed again, putting himself between your legs. He pulls his briefs down under his balls, and you let out a little gasp. His cock is even more engorged than it was before. It’s so thick, and the veins are beautiful. He looks even bigger than Javi, but it might be an effect of his lighter, finer pubic hair. He braces a hand on the mattress again, hovering over you.

You glance at Javi and he's watching intently as Steve lines up his cock between your legs. The touch of his tip at your dripping hole makes you shiver in arousal and your nipples pucker. Steve smiles to himself under his mustache. He notches his tip half inside your entrance, then looks at Javi. 

Javi makes a subtle beckoning motion with one hand, and Steve begins to push into you. You gasp as his girth begins to spread you open. He pushes further, and you whimper. 

Javi scoots closer and lays a big, warm hand on your tied-down arm. You look at him and he reassures you, “You can take it, I promise.” 

Then, Steve plunges to the hilt, dividing your insides with a loud grunt. You moan and lock eyes with him as he looks up at you darkly. Your body rushes to accommodate the heft of him inside you.

“Good girl,” Javi mutters to himself with his eyes fixed where your bodies are joined. 

Steve withdraws most of his length, then Javi raises his palm in a stop motion and Steve freezes, biting his lips together. Javi stands up, and walks toward Steve for a better point of view. 

“Go,” Javi mutters, crossing his arms again. There's a bulge growing in Javi’s restrictive jeans, and he's not doing anything about it. 

Steve pushes into you again, making you moan. He pauses for only an instant before backing out again, and right away he’s pushing back in. “Fuck,” he mutters as his thick cock disappears into your hole once more. 

“How is it?” Javi asks him. “Juicy, right?”

“Nngh–yeah,” Steve answers as he brings his hips back, then slams into you harder and his balls slap against you. “Goddamn,” Steve mutters. “Tighter than ya’d think.”

“Hm,” Javi hums with a straight face, then raises his eyes to meet yours. “He's gonna break you in for me.” He looks at Steve's cock sliding out of you then at Steve's face, twisted with arousal. “Right, partner?”

“Goddamn right,” Steve breathes. He ramps up to a steady rhythm, fucking you gradually harder until the force is pushing you up on the bed. 

“Hold on,” Javi mutters and the vein on Steve's forehead swells with effort as he stops with only his tip inside. Steve wets his lips and rubs them together. Javi tightens the restraints to hold you steady. While Javi is is busy with that,  Steve rocks ever so slightly into you, moving less than an inch forward and back. It’s so subtle it could be an accident, but it must provide relief because he moans quietly. At the sound of his noise and the look of his face, you whimper and your cunt spasms once. 

“Nngh,” Steve reacts. 

“Okay,” Javi announces, then stands so he can roughly see things from Steve’s point of view again. Steve resumes with a slow, careful pace. 

Javi wets his lips as he watches your cunt swallow Steve's cock. Steve's cock pulls at your pussy each time it withdraws, and the sight seems to darken Javi’s eyes with lust. You twitch again.  

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, then looks over his shoulder “Can I?”

“Don't let her come on your cock,” Javi answers.” 

Hearing Javi talk about Steve’s cock is almost enough to do it. 

Steve sighs and looks at the ceiling, in an almost eye-roll. His arms strain his shirt. His sweat wafts toward you and makes your knees weak. He draws in a deep breath as he slowly pushes in again. 

You imagine if the situation was different, if you were just some slut they picked up at a bar, how much fun you could have with the two of them. 

You twitch around him, and he pulls out in a hurry. “Sorry darlin’,” he mumbles. He sits back on his knees and pumps himself. “Where do you want it,” he asks, staring at your body.

“Uh,” you stammer, then realize he's not asking you. 

Javi pulls the gown down under your tits. Steve strokes himself faster until his breath gets uneven. He pauses, scoots up your body to straddle your middle, then resumes.  You admire his balls as his fist slides up and down his shaft. His hand is so large, yet it doesn’t dwarf his cock. 

Steve’s eyes narrow at your tits. He pumps himself faster and his mouth drifts open until he points his cock at your chest and moans, “Ohhh—ohhhh, fuck,” painting your tits with his cum. Your nipples sharpen as the warm spend spreads. As the last of his cum dribbles out, Steve sighs. 

“Good,” Javi mutters, then comes up toward the head of the bed again. Steve tucks his softening cock away and gets off the bed. He reaches down to the floor to get a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jeans. Then he pulls the chair toward the foot of the bed, and manspreads in his briefs to watch Javi. 

Javi dips two fingers into Steve’s cum on your chest. He spreads it around slowly. He circles each of your nipples until they’re painfully erect. 

Javi swipes up a bit of cum from between your breasts and brings his fingers to your lips. You take his thick digits into your mouth and taste the salt of Steve’s seed. Then you gently suck. Javi gets you to clean both fingers, one at a time, then he licks them himself. 

Javi brushes your temple with his thumb. “Let’s hope this is rock bottom.”

—---

Thank you so much for reading. To help with the next ones, I would love to know what you liked most about it, and your thots are welcome, too 🖤

tagging people who asked for part 2 🖤

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ohheypedrito @weddingfairy @neobanguniberse @ladyscarlettdixon @zliteraturehoe @planet-marz1

[ddodol]

ooooooh, thinking about actor!eunseok and actress!reader... the thoughts are thotting

actor!eunseok in a kissing scene would be... fun to watch and experience because he can't stop blushing the entire scene. like, imagine the scene building up to the kiss™ and his ears and cheeks are already red lmaooo it'd take multiple cuts and maybe some experimental angles just to hide his flushed cheeks. you'd have the upper hand for a short while, teasing him in between breaks, but eunseok would be determined to make you flustered by going off the script and maybe even prolonging the kiss scene. he'd make sure to kiss you so good that your head would be spinning and you'd be asking what you two are by the end of it (yk he'd say friends just to fuck with you).

"mm, the director said i should give it my all," he'd whisper against your lips, gasping in between kisses (the camera won't even be on). "are you trying? c'mon, y/n, kiss me back."

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (03)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n; new chapter !! also added navigation and some lists to my profile where you can find right here <3 you can find my masterlist, idea/wip dump, a link to my ask box where you can send in thots, requests and even comments; alongside my ao3 ^^

hope you all enjoy this chapter and lmk if you can guess which korean web series one of the scenes are from 👀

hint: it involves a certain kpop group

it was the beginning of fall when your family moved to daegu.

though it wasn’t a big or dramatic move, since you’re moving from the big city to a smaller town in the same province, it was still big to you because it was your first moving experience.

you vividly remember watching the colored leaves fall from the branches and onto the pavement, being stepped on by pedestrians and you imagined they made those ‘crunch’ noises as depicted by the many cartoons you’ve watched.

you were only 5 years old.

“___, are you excited to see our new home?” your mother asked from the passenger seat, turning to see you kneeling on the backseat, admiring the outside view. you turned to her with a big smile, letting out an excited ‘mm!’.

smiling at your enthusiasm, your mother turned to your father who was driving; reaching out her hand and placing it over your father’s resting on the armrest of the car. “do you think she’ll like the place?”

intertwining his fingers with hers, your father gave your mother’s hand an assuring squeeze, “i’m sure she will,” he spoke, “if she doesn’t, we’ll just have to hope it grows on her.”

your mother laughs at your father’s statement; at the same time hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.

the car stops in front of a white double-story terrace house. the second floor had been extended into a balcony and you notice the few familiar plants from your previous house put on display. half of the wall on the outside of the second story was an exposed brick wall, which adds a little bit of red-orange aesthetic to the full white design of the house. the ground level had a black gate, with two front doors in the same colour with floor-to-ceiling tinted windows.

getting out of the car, you ran up to the gates, attempting to climb them before your mother rushed over and picked you up. “sweetie, that’s dangerous!” she pointed out, a frown on her face.

your father was at the boot of the car, stacking two of the many boxes together before making his way to the gates. “honey, the keys are in my back pocket, could you get it?” reaching out a hand into your father’s pocket and fishing out the keys. unlocking the gates and the front door, your mother placed you down on the ground to help your father with the boxes while you decide to explore the interior of the house.

running up the stairs to the second story of the house, there were three gray colored doors. being a curious child, of course you went through all three of them. you opened the first door that revealed the master bedroom, which of course is going to be occupied by your parents. the second door lead to a bathroom; and when you reached the third door - a pink sign was hung on the door with your name written on it.

pushing the door open, the first thing you noticed was a pink bed tucked nicely in one corner of the room. across it was a white study table with a few trinkets decorating the surface, followed by a wooden closet right next to it. at the foot of your bed stood a similar level bookshelf, filled with all your favorite books and coloring books; alongside some of your plush toys.

“do you like it, babygirl?” came your father’s voice from behind you. whirling around and flashing him a big smile, you excitedly nod your head as he crouched down to your level, giving your hair a ruffle.

“i’m glad you do.”

he then proceeded to pick you up and placed you over his shoulder, legs hanging over his shoulders. “daddy!” you squealed, giggling as he gave you a piggyback ride.

“honey! ___!” your mother called out, “come meet our neighbours!”

you stared down at the young boy from your father’s shoulder while he stared back up at you.

as your father sets you down from his shoulder, the roles switched; you’re now staring up at the boy while he stares down at you.

seeing how the staring contest would not end anytime soon, your mother placed her hands on your shoulders, introducing you to the young boy and the woman standing next to him who you deduced to be his mother.

“my, what an intense staring contest,” she chuckled. “we’re the lees’! that’s my husband, and this is ___, my daughter.”

“intense, indeed,” the woman chuckled. “we’re the chois’. it’s nice to meet you, ___. this boy here is seungcheol, my son. my husband’s out back dealing with the garden.”

she then looked down at seungcheol, lightly patting his shoulders, “cheol, did you bring what i asked you to?”

snapping out of the staring contest he was having with you, seungcheol handed you a paper bag which you accepted after getting a nod of confirmation from your mother. looking inside the bag, you see a container of brownies, a small ‘wah…’ leaving your lips.

“mom and i baked them last night! we hope you’ll like them!” seungcheol said with a big grin on his face.

placing a hand on your head, your mother smiles, “our little ___ will definitely like them. she has an incredible sweet tooth.”

“no, i do not!”

“___, sweetie,” your father spoke up, “you ate half a tub of ice cream in half an hour.”

“daddyy!!”

you were 7 when your little crush on seungcheol began.

you were in the playground, swinging on the swingset with your bear plush in your lap when a group of boys approached you. “that’s our swing,” one of the boys spoke, arms crossed as they stared down at you.

you stopped swinging and looked at the group, “you can’t claim a swing. it’s a playground for everyone.” visibly upset by your response, the boys stepped closer so that they would tower over you. “well, this is our swing now. get off.”

“no.”

you could see the face of the boys turn red - from anger and embarrassment that you were refusing to follow their instructions. as they continued to stare down at you, one of them noticed your bear plush, snatching it out from your lap.

“hey!” you shouted, getting off the swing to try and get your plush back, “give him back!”

“nuh-uh,” the boy retorted, raising it up above his head so you can’t reach it, “that’s what you get for sitting on our swing!”

you then shove at the boy, crying out, “i said give him back!”

“back off, girlie!” another boy said, shoving you back with a harder force, causing you to fall back onto the ground of the playground.

as the boys walked away with your bear plush, leaving you to cry on the ground. they tossed it around, occasionally dropping it on the floor and purposefully stepping on the poor plush, later on acting as if they didn’t mean to do so. witnessing the boys’ treatment towards your plush,  you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging it as your cries grew louder.

“___?” a worried seungcheol called out.

crouching down in front of you, seungcheol places a hand on your head, gently petting it in an attempt to comfort you. “___, what happened? why are you crying? are you hurt anywhere?” you attempted to answer him. but, due to your crying, you had a hard time forming words, only letting out harsh pants and whimpers.

“easy there, ___,” seungcheol said softly, “take a deep breath, okay?”

when your crying calmed down, the older boy heard the laughters of the group of boys. turning his head towards their direction, he saw them taking turns throwing a plush bear at each other. seungcheol recognised the plush bear - it was the very same plush he had gifted you on your 7th birthday.

he then turned back to you, noticing that you were looking at the group with a frown on your face. pressing his thumb against your forehead, he gave you a gentle smile, “don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

turning back to the group, he let out a sigh, “they took your bear?”

you sniffled as you nod your head, wiping the snot from your nose with the sleeves of your hoodie. “do you want me to get it back for you?”

“p-please…”

nodding his head, seungcheol got back up on his feet, ruffling your hair before making his way towards the group of boys.

“hey, you rascals over there!” he called out.

you don’t know why, but you felt your heart race, a small blush forming on your face.

after seungcheol had gotten your bear plush back from the group of boys (mainly by scaring them off because imagine an older, taller boy approaching you with a scary look after talking to the girl whose bear you had snatched), he walked you back to your house.

as his parents were out working, it wasn’t unusual for seungcheol to spend some time at your place with your parents as he waited for his to return home. sitting beside you on the porch of the backyard of your back garden, seungcheol was eating a piece of brownie your mom had baked while you enjoyed a cone of vanilla ice cream.

“you need to learn to stand up for yourself, ___,” seungcheol spoke, placing the now empty plate next to him and looked at you. “but, i have you to protect me!” you responded with a smile on your face, earning a small laugh from the boy. “i know, ___. but, i can’t always be there for you.”

“d-does this mean you’re leaving me…?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “oh, ___,” seungcheol said softly as he places a hand on your head, “that’s not what i mean. i meant it as in, there will be times where i can’t always be with you. you remind me of a puppy,” he chuckled. “maybe that can be a nickname for you, hmm?”

when your eyes light up and nod excitedly at the older boy, he lets out another laugh and ruffles your hair.

“alright then, pup.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @minhui896 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp

[dystopicjumpsuit]

hey hey hey, for the first kiss prompts-

the uncontrollable smile they break into either after or during the kiss itself with... Jesse!

happy writing <3

Thank you for the request @multi-fan-dom-madness! I got a flash of inspiration during the thotting hours, so I bring a Thanksgiving present for you. (That's totally how Thanksgiving works, right?)

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers! May your turkey be as juicy as Jesse’s thighs.

Pairing: Jesse x Reader (GN)

Rating: T but MDNI as always

Wordcount: 720

Warnings and tags: Fluff, banter, kisses

Summary: Jesse performs "emergency field medicine."

Suggested Listening:

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

There’s an ARC trooper in your office. He has his back to you as he inspects your shelves full of plants, holoframes, curios, and even a few actual paper books. You don’t recognize the kama, so he’s not one of yours—though you have no doubt that the Jedi generals would lecture you for getting attached to the troopers that way. 

Good thing I’m not a Jedi.

Whoever he is, he’s a big kriffing dude. ARC troopers always look extra imposing thanks to the pauldrons, but damn, this one must have needed custom armor to accommodate those muscles. His helmet is off, and all you can see is the back of his shaved head.

“Hello,” you say. “Can I help you with something?”

Translation: Who are you, and what the kark are you doing in my office?

He turns, and you catch a glimpse of a large Republic cog tattoo.

“Jesse?!” you exclaim, rushing across the office to fling your arms around him. 

He doesn’t even stagger a little bit as you collide with him, just wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. Impulsively, you press your lips to his cheek.

“When did you get back?” you demand.

He beams at you with a smile that’s too brilliant to be contained. “About ten minutes ago. Came straight here.”

“And I was stuck in a meeting,” you say with disgust, drawing a laugh from him. 

“I haven’t been waitin’ long,” he replies.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for you forever!” you exclaim. “How long is ARC training, anyway?”

An odd expression flickers over his face, and he hesitates before he replies, “I’m not actually allowed to say. Sorry.”

“That’s all right; I’m just happy to have you back,” you grin as you lean back to admire his new armor. “Look at you, Mr. ARC Trooper! You look great.”

“That’s ‘Lieutenant ARC Trooper,’” he says with a tiny smirk.

“You got promoted? Jesse, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d ever make it past sergeant, either,” he jokes.

“That’s not what I meant,” you laugh, slapping his chest and immediately regretting it when your knuckles collide with the hard plastoid armor. "Ouch!"

“How was that?” he asks.

“2/10, do not recommend,” you reply, shaking your hand to ease the stinging.

“Let me see.” He takes your hand gently in his and holds it close to his face to inspect it. “I think it might be fatal.”

“Better get Kix in here before I keel over,” you say, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers and the rough texture of his gloves on your skin.

“No time,” Jesse replies gravely. “I’ll have to perform emergency medical treatment.”

He kisses your knuckles softly, and your heart begins to hammer in your chest.

“Did they teach you that in ARC training, or did you pick it up from Kix?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

“It’s a top secret ARC procedure,” he replies. “Very advanced medicine. I doubt Kix has heard of it.”

“I’m so lucky you were here to kiss it better,” you say. “I’d hate to die of a scraped knuckle.”

“Funny story,” he says. “This procedure requires multiple rounds of treatment.”

Your breath stutters to a halt. “It does?”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to each of your knuckles individually. He grazes his thumb across them, and suddenly you forget all about the pain. 

“I think it’s working,” you say.

He raises his other hand to your face, stroking his thumb over your lips as his fingers caress your jaw.

“Better try one more thing, just to be safe,” he says as he leans close to you, his lips a breath away from your own.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Just to be safe.”

His lips brush against yours softly, and it feels like the galaxy stops spinning around you, because you’re finally kissing Jesse, and it’s even better than you imagined, and his lips are kriffing perfect, and he tastes suspiciously like the candy that you keep in a bowl on your desk, and you never want it to end. Eventually, though, you have to come up for air, and he cups your cheek as you rest your forehead against his.

“You know,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, “I’ve been waiting for you forever, too.”

[xbellaxcarolinax]

CARO LISTEN I'M THINKING ABOUT MIGUEL OK???

4. “Use your words.”

I have thots but I'm not gonna say them I wanna see what your beautiful brain creates. So excited for you and congrats again on 2k you deserve all the followers and MORE

Beg

Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Summary: Miguel loves to hear you beg.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Language, smut (obvs) p in v, cream pie, edging? Miguel being kinda mean.

Okay, pure smut for Mel! Thanks for participating and hope you like it &lt;3

MDNI.

...

Miguel was a cruel lover. 

He had this power over you, bringing you to the very height of pleasure, only to viciously rip it away from you.

Here’s the thing: Miguel loved to hear you beg.

He loved hearing the panic in your tone, the sheer desperation at losing a delicious orgasm because he had deemed it so. He loved the gravel in your voice when you sobbed in frustration, hissing out his name alongside a string of curses (your favorite one was fuck you, Miguel, to which he’d happily oblige, spearing you mercilessly). It was too much. It was always too much, whether you were bouncing on his cock like a champ or squirming under him, forced to take every agonizing inch of him.

Miguel had you bent over his desk this time, a hand pressing your face flat against the smooth surface while the other kneaded the globe of your ass. He watched his cock stretch you open with lidded eyes, your cunt coating him completely in your creamy white juices.

“You wanna cum?” He grunted, trailing his fingers through your crack, lodging the tip of his thumb into your tight hole. “Ya sabes lo que quiero. Let me hear you say it.”

Yeah, you knew what he wanted.

You were entirely cock drunk, hair a mess from when Miguel had roughly tugged on it, your mouth now stuffed with his thick fingers as you moaned around them. Your hole spasmed around his thumb, fighting against the abrupt intrusion as your cunt simultaneously squeezed his cock. 

You moaned at the foreign sensation, drool leaking over his digits and down your chin, dampening whatever paperwork under you he didn’t bother to get rid of when he bent you over.

You wanted to come so badly, feeling your orgasm rearing its head. You were so close, and every jam of his cock against your cervix brought you even closer. You were mewling now, whimpering when Miguel shoved his thumb deeper into your ass, plugging you up completely.

The sensation made your toes curl, you’re muscles tensing as you felt a wave of pleasure surging through your abdomen and—

“Uh uh,” Miguel grunted, pulling out his cock and thumb from your holes in one swift motion, resting his length over the crack of your ass. 

“Fuck, Miguel!” You spat his name as soon as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, feeling your cunt clench around nothing, "you fucking asshole!"

You were so fucking close. It was like whiplash, being completely empty all of a sudden. He chuckled, trailing his wet fingers over the side of your face before lifting his hand and cracking it down harshly over your ass cheek.

You yelped, arms stretched out on either side of the desk, hands searching for anything to find purchase.

“Let me hear it.”

You didn’t comply, wiggling your ass in the hopes that it would entice him enough to put his cock back in. It was futile, you knew—you did the same song and dance with him with the same result. He always won.

He gripped you by the hair, pulling you up so that your back pressed against his naked chest.

“Use your words,” He demanded, teasingly rubbing his length through your folds, “be a fucking good girl and use your fucking words, mm?” Your scalp pricked with pain and tears blurred your vision as he muttered into your ear, his warm breath heating your already flushed skin.

“M-Miguel.” You whimpered, your eyes now tightly shut, a sob slipping past your lips at the ache between your legs.

“Beg.” He growled, slapping your cunt a few times, your body trembling in his toned arms. 

“Let me fucking cum, please!”

"Good. Keep begging." Miguel never made it easy for you.

"Let me cum, Miguel, let me fucking cum all over your cock," you wailed, tears leaking down your cheeks and nails biting into his thigh, “Please, please, please—”

With a hum of satisfaction, Miguel slipped back in, your soaked core helping him glide to the hilt. You moaned in relief, head thrown back and wet eyes closed to savor the stretch.

“That's all I’m asking for, bebe,” he was cooing now, kissing the side of your face as he fucked you hard, his cock hitting your cervix without missing a beat, “¿Ves lo que pasa cuando escuchas? Just need you to beg for me a little. I’ll give you what you want.” 

Miguel pushed you back down against the desk, grabbing your hips and ramming into you unforgivingly, groaning all the while.

You felt it again, the white-hot pleasure that you were yearning for. 

“Cum for me,” he mumbled, slamming into you one final time before your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. Your pussy suffocated his cock as you gushed all over him.

“Fuck.” He choked, chasing his own release. His fingers dug into your skin as he pushed himself as deeply as he could, painting your womb with his cum. He panted over you, running a hand down the expanse of your back. “You okay?”

“Mhm." You sighed, letting him caress your skin for a few moments. You hissed when he pulled his cock out from your sensitive cunt, feeling his cum oozing out of you slow and hot as it ran down your inner thigh. 

Again, he brought you flushed against him, your body limp in his arms. His fingers immediately slipped between your folds, swirling through both your juices, scooping some of it up, and placing his fingers over your lips.

"Abre," he watched your profile as you obediently open your mouth, lazily lapping at the juices smeared over his fingers, "good girl." You beamed at the praise, turning in his arms and latching your arms around his shoulders, surging forward to kiss him sloppily.

"You wanna go again?" You asked with a tired smile, your sensitive core flaring with arousal at the sight of him: red eyes heavy and hair slicked back with sweat.

Miguel hummed, pretending to consider it before smiling, bearing his fangs, "Only if you beg for me."

...

Ya sabes lo que quiero- you know what I want

¿Ves lo que pasa cuando escuchas?- See what happens when you listen?

Abre- Open

[nebulousbrainsoup]

Hard hours are open ? ? If I may ~ ?

Thinking about boxer San cuz honestly the bouncy mv and the whole scene of San and wooyoung in the underground boxing ring made me dizzy 🫣🫣 really want that man to ruin me for me,, maybe as a lucky charm or a good luck quickie (maybe with a dash of wooyoung on the side 🤭😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫)

Idk your very recent mingi fic/ask is making me feel things lol

oh you absolutely may, my dear. that whole entire scene???? had me thinking Thots(tm) from the moment I saw it and I... mm. yeah for SURE I'm with you on this one.

18+ under the cut ; minors/ageless dni

buy me a ko-fi?

tags/warnings: gn!reader, woo's a lil jealous, lil bit of public sex, voyeurism, sorta poly, woo's a creep (affectionate), pet names (baby, my little charm), mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex (boo)

Because the thing about San—about nearly everyone in that dingy, sweat-filled basement, is that they do their best work when their blood's already pumping. Even when the place is nearly empty, only the fighters and their select entourages milling about, the residual energy is palpable. Wooyoung is not immune to it, as much as he may turn up his pretty nose at your pre-match antics. You think he does it more for his own pride than anything, trying to put himself above the fighters he manages, to maintain some degree of separation. Both you and San can see straight through that façade, and it's quite a laugh for the both of you each time he "accidentally" stumbles upon you. Each time, you're met with exasperation, and each time, once you're both sated, you fall into a fit of giggles over it.

Neither of you are stupid. You can see the way Wooyoung's eyes drag over the taut muscles of San's back and ass as he rails you against the wall under the stairs. San catches lingering stares when he's got you bent over the bathroom sink, his friend's eyes glued to where his cock is disappearing into you. You both have caught him glancing back at you in their dingy van's rearview, and San has his own little secret tucked away, having caught your name falling from Wooyoung's lips late at night. It's kind of fun to see how long he'll keep it up, so you bide your time, waiting until he comes to you. Until then, San has you, anywhere and everywhere he can.

At first, the whole "C'mon, baby, it's like a quick little testosterone boost" bit was just that, an excuse to get you under or over or on him (as if he needed one), but after the first match you couldn't make became San's first loss, you became his good luck charm. They'd shown up at your place before the next match, their blacked out van sticking out like a sore thumb, and both practically begged you never to miss a match again. Who were you to say no to their cute little pouts? Time was tight that night, you having gotten off work with just enough time to make it to the match yourself, so San had yanked you into the back and taken you then and there.

You were distantly aware of Wooyoung's wandering eyes, catching his gaze in the mirror once or twice for fractions of a second before he had to pay attention to the road again. Each time, you found yourself clenching around San's cock, a lazy smile spreading across your lips as his moans grew louder, hips snapping more roughly against your own. Your moans pitched up with the rough-handling, and your eyes snapped back to San's face, finding him smirking down at you.

Within seconds, he had also glanced up to the front of the van, smirk breaking into a grin as he moaned lowly into your ear. "He's eating this up," he muttered, leaning down to suck a mark into your skin. "Might wreck us; he's too busy jerking himself off up there."

Your walls fluttered around him as you felt the coil in your gut tightening, a heady "Sannie!" leaving you.

He hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, this time speaking loud enough for your companion to hear. "I know, baby, I'm almost there, can you just hold out a few more minutes for me? You know how much more it helps when my little charm cums with me."

The soft moan you let out pitched up violently as the van jerked to a stop, the sudden change in momentum driving San deep into you, his cockhead slamming against your sweet spot. You saw stars as you came unraveled, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling of the van. Wooyoung's voice and the shifting of San's hips brought you back down to reality, the latter muttering in his pout, "I was so close, dammit."

"Too bad, we're here. Put your fucking pants back on and take your frustration out in the ring," you heard Wooyoung mumble, the engine dying a second later. "I'm going in to stall. You have five minutes, tops."

San sighed as the driver's side door shut, his head hanging just slightly. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before moving to your lips, muffling your whines of overstimulation as he slid his still-hard cock from you.

"Not gonna use your five minutes?" you prodded, sitting up with him to straighten yourself out.

He shook his head. "And leave you with more of a mess to clean up? I've already got my lucky charm taken care of."

"Such a gentleman."

He grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. "I'd rather save it for a victory lap anyway. Especially if you can get Woo to join us."

You raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously as you buttoned your pants back up. "I'll see what I can do."

taglists (open): permanent: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @.soul-jae ateez: @pyeonghongrie-main @thatonenoona special: @jaehunnyy (come get ur mans baby)

© June 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work

[bigdumbbambieyes]

nsfw musing bc I'm just thinking thots and writing them down

Jayce's hands are big and warm as they map Viktor's body, fingertips pressing into thin skin, bruising it - because Viktor asked him to. Sometimes he doesn't even need to ask, because his Jayce already knows. He traces Viktor's dips and curves like they're runes, committing them to memory with every pass.

His kisses are warmer, hot, like the fires in the forge, desperate and eager to please as he sucks on Viktor's lower lip, giving it a little nip because he likes the sound Viktor makes in the back of his throat when he does it.

Jayce is tender with him, handling him carefully, listening to keenly to every little gasp Viktor makes - he knows which ones are from pleasure and which ones are of pain, telling him to keep going or to back off.

Viktor's hands are in his short hair, his voice low and rumbly in his ear, praising him, "Good boy, Jayce, so good for me," and gasping, "Mm, yes, just like that--"

It's shameless, really. They're shameless. They should be more careful, especially in the lab, but it's not like anyone's coming to visit or check on their work in the middle of the night.

But, even so, it doesn't stop Jayce from pressing a kiss to the top of Viktor's head in passing, especially when the other is buried in his notes. It doesn't stop Viktor from leaning against Jayce when he's close enough, pressing his cheek into that muscled shoulder as he ponders over runes or equations or what Jayce would like to eat for dinner.

[moremaybank]

can u give us a Steve thot 😝

i'm in a sub!steve mood so here we go <3 i also haven't written for steve in a really long time so my bad if i'm rusty (18+, mdni)

Your hand is wrapped firmly around the girth of Steve's cock. You've been stroking him for almost an hour without letting him cum, enjoying the way his hips jerk and how he writhes around beneath you as you deny him of what he really wants.

"Mm, so pretty, Stevie," you whisper in his ear, praising him and nearly sending him into a coma.

His cock is angry and red, with copious amounts of his pre-cum continuously oozing out from his tip. It's begging for release as it twitches in your hold.

"I can feel how bad you wanna cum. You gonna beg me for it?"

Steve nods furiously, unable to muster of the strength to do anything else. His eyes are screwed shut so hard he thinks they'll pop. His hair's beyond messy, some front strands sticking to his sweat-ridden forehead. His mouth is wide open, practically drooling as he lets you have complete control over him.

"Words, baby. need to hear it," you coo softly. "Be a good boy for me, i know you can do it."

He's so sensitive, that when your thumb swipes over his slit, he cries out.

"P-Please, honey. Let me cum. I-I need it," he stutters out with a shaky voice.

"Yeah? How bad?"

You give him a squeeze, and his legs squirm around like he can't take it anymore.

"Christ, so f-fucking bad, sweetheart."

You climb off his lap and sink to your knees in front of him. You begin to stroke him harder, faster, as you reward him for being so good for you.

A string of curse words and broken cries tumble past his lips, only growing louder when you tease his balls with the seam of your lips.

They're so tight that you can tell he's about to burst.

You take turns as you bring each one into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around on them. You look up at his gorgeous face through your lashes, watching his head fall back. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he braces them on either side of his chair, gripping the wood so hard that his knuckles turn white.

"Shit, honey. I'm gonna— Oh, fuck."

His release shoots out of him, coating your fist and his abdomen in white. Tears are slipping down his heated and reddened cheeks and his body is trembling as he cums, and cums, and cums. You don't let up. Instead, you keep up your efforts to watch him ride his high out for as long as he can.

His body goes limp in his seat, and he pants as you lick your fingers clean and move onto his stomach. The salty goodness is addicting, and you only crave for more.

"Good job, Stevie," you smile as you rise back onto your feet. You press a soft, wet kiss to his lips, and you taste his tears. "Now I want you to do it all over again."

concepts

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Fratt thot: they're sitting on the couch, having the hottest makeout sesh ever when one of them playfully suggests a game to see which one of them can last longer without taking things further. Who do you think would win a small bet like this? cause on one hand I'm thinking Matt can easily feel when Frank starts to loose his control and he just has to be patient (and maybe a lil bratty to turn him on more) but also I feel like Frank would love to take advantage of how well he knows Matt know and he knows exactly how sensitive his body is and which buttons to push 👀

“How long do you think you can keep kissing me like this?” Matt would gently push the question at Frank with stolen breath between the already heated clash and caress of each other's lips and tongues.

Frank's lips curl into a warm smile as he rubs his day-old stubble against Matt's cheek and says real low in his ear, “I think I can just keep goin’ and goin’...”

Matt smirks and chuckles, leaning his head back as Frank moves his assault to his bared neck. “and what if that's all you're allowed to do, how long until you give in, Frank?”

Matt allows himself a soft moan as Frank's teeth scrape his skin, almost like a warning. It only makes Matt more determined to rile him up more, to make him wait.

“just how patient can you be?”

Frank hums against Matt's throat, and then Matt feels the wetness of his tongue along the line of his jaw, more gentle bites placed there that has Matt almost regretting setting his little challenge, his chest rising and falling just that bit faster.

He swings his leg over Frank's lap as he pushes him back on the couch, getting some height on him as he presses his hands on Frank's shoulders, fingers starting to knead into the muscle there as Matt surges forward to taste him again. Frank's hands rest on Matt's hips and he can hear the speeding of Frank's heartbeat and a barely audible groan as Matt slowly moves his fingers up to stroke at the shortly cropped hair at Frank's nape.

“Mm, ain't that cheatin’?” He grumbles and spreads his thighs wider, making Matt have to shift even closer to him to maintain his position.

He knows he's already rock hard beneath him but Matt wants to win.

“No, I'm a good boy, remember?” Matt purrs.

Frank licks deeper into his mouth at that, turned on by his own praise from times before being thrown right back at him.

When he pulls away Matt grins but it's strained. They’re both playing off each other's weaknesses and it makes for a heady mix of tension.

“What about this?” Frank asks as he slides a hand up beneath Matt's soft t-shirt, rough pad of his thumb just lightly circling his nipple.

Matt tenses above him and it's Frank's turn to feel smug, his devil dancing on the fringes of submission as he takes advantage of his extreme sensitivity there.

“Yeah, thought so. Attaboy.”

Matt's breath leaves him in a gasp, his hands dropping down as Frank keeps on touching him, not changing his pace but just keeping on steadily as their mouths meet again in hot, wet, passionate kisses.

Soon it's Frank's turn to let slip a keening moan as Matt reaches behind to dig his fingers into the meat of his thigh.

“Fuck…”

“Mm,” Matt mumbles through the thick haze of lust for the man underneath him, all of his senses filled with the addictive essence of him. Rough, strong, and raw, but paired with a quiet tenderness that has Matt's resolve crumbling much quicker than he'd want to admit.

“Can almost hear ya thinkin’” Frank probes, his own patience wearing as thin as wet tissue paper with the way Matt is already yielding to him.

“I was thinking, maybe I'm not much of a betting man after all…”

Matt closes his eyes and lets Frank peel off his shirt to expose his naked chest, shivering with pleasure as Frank's nails run over his pecs and down to his abdomen.

“Yeah," Frank snorts before manhandling Matt onto his back on the seat of the couch, hot breath drawing Matt's nipples to deliciously hard peaks as his hands pop the button of his pants. "Me neither.”