#this... got away from me

[prince-jjae]

*laying on my stomach feet kicking up* thinking about bouncing on tyun’s thick dick and his hands gripping, making bruises. All the while kai is watching and praising *twirls hair looks longingly into the sky*

i needed time to collect myself after this. youre fucking insane. do it again.

you didnt even know these men. when they approached you at the bar and asked that damn question, you shouldve, logically, turned tail and ran. but you didnt.

"how much?"

they were handsome, startlingly so. one thing led to another and now here you were, bouncing on top of one of them. taehyun, you think his name is. you only heard the other one, kai? mumble it in the car ride over. well, actually, you were hardly doing any work at all. it was taehyun, with his sure grip, definitely pressing bruises in the shape of fingerprints onto your hips, who was putting in the work. his arms flexed deliciously as he forced you to ride him, bringing you up and down like you were little more than a fleshlight. your head was foggy, you felt so stuffed full you couldnt possibly think of anything beyond the way his thick cock was stretching you to your limit. youd never gotten such good dick in your fucking life. yeah, you were positively stupid, babbling nonsense and agreeing with whatever nasty, degrading insults taehyun threw at you.

"open your eyes, slut. look at him." taehyun growled somewhere behind you, bringing you down on himself harder as punishment for you not following his order immediately. you blinked once, twice, three times before kai's figure finally swam into focus. he looked like a dream, fluffy blond hair falling over his eyes. his slack-clad thighs spread deliciously and leaving little to the imagination as he palmed himself. he was staring at you down the length of his nose, chin tilted up for added affect. you shivered under that gaze. he looked like sin, alive and dangerous. a smirk ghosted at his lips as he watched you falling apart on his friends cock, obscene sounds of your arrousal making your ears burn a pretty pink.

"what a pretty thing, taking him so well. bet you can hardly breathe, stuffed so full, hm?" he cooed, head tilting to the side slightly as his gaze raked over you again. you shuddered, nodding pathetically like a fucking bobblehead. he tsked, but the sound was mocking. "hes so mean to you, isnt he, pretty? you need some love, dont you?"

"dont worry. we'll give you both."

[o-rusted-heart]

@mayormentats .

Goodneighbor was on the upswing, that was true enough. But every cultural shift had its growing pains; the Old Neighborhood had its fingers in the very cobblestones beneath Valentine's feet, if not the Statehouse looming above.

Growing pains were evidenced to the synthetic detective by a beer hurled at him from somebody's window. The bottle had missed, but the resulting explosion had him splattered in good ol' Gwinnett Lager.

But Nick could find two things he was thankful for: it was starting to drizzle and rain was as good a free shower as he was gonna get, and he knew damn well that thrown bottle wasn't because he was a synth.

He made enemies in Goodneighbor honestly. That was the nature of this town now, under the new Mayor's credence-- new to an old dog like Nick, at least.

That was where he was heading, still smelling vaguely like the carpet of an old world bowling alley, dripping with both rain and macro piss. The knock to Hancock's office was polite, despite the leering gaze of the Neighborhood Watch.

"You really oughta invest in a secretary."

[hinamie]

newest issue of first years fashion just dropped

[trashmancer]

Another silver fox Gale drawing 🩶

[justarandomart]

for @emotrainz

He has a smoothie, isn't that obvious?

[verflares]

be not afraid. death is not the end.

[overpassart]

late night patrol

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

next

[spiders-and-swords]

Jayce will never not be a bottom to me.

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[orionis13]

This moment brought to you by ice feast

[sheikfangirl]

Aryll's gift: A Pre-Calamity short story.

Note: For the best reading experience, please click on the first panel and scroll from image to image. ♥️

... Link forgot.

Hope you enjoy this one.

Cheers!

[zorangezest]

thanks for listening

[zillychu]

I NEED Loop to be further tormented by finding out confessing to their party doesn't break their loops, and Siffrin wishes to see Loop again so hard he pops out of the favor tree so he gets to be Loop's guide

[clumsypuppy]

wait for me

[verflares]

belated valentines zelink ^_^ wanted to revisit these two in particular