Some Gay Men Doodles

(Last) Sunday supper 🐇

do u think the cod men would wanna be pegged that’s crazy who said that

They all be in the showers putting fingers in each others BUTTHOLES man sometimes as a prank sometimes as… uhh…. Uhhh

Gaz will bring it up if he’s playing with your ass and you flinch. “Let you play with mine if you want, love. Hell, I’d let you fuck it.”

Johnny has been joking about it since before you were even having sex. He might be a little blush and squeamish when he has to put his money where his mouth is, but he’s so into it.

Ghost initially says no because he’s terrified of being put in such a vulnerable and emasculating position— he’s insanely guarded. But if you bring it up… he won’t be able to stop thinking about it.

Price is bringing it up, in sincerity, on date 5. He already has all the supplies and his ass is ready.

König like. Is not comprehending the appeal of what you’re asking— on either side. Not sure what you get out of it, what he would get out of it. Just play with his hole a little when you’re giving his head.

Nikolai— see Price’s response, but change it to date 2.5 (Casual breakfast after spending a night together)

simon riley who drives the random girl he knocked up in a bar to a random secluded plot of land so he can show her where he’s gonna build their house and where the tyre swing is gonna be and the pond that he’ll build a fence around so all your little ones don’t go tottling down there

workout

was thinking about kyle just straight up freeballing at the gym. he’s wearing some tight ass shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. you can see his dick print perfectly. and no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop staring at kyle from where you sit at the machine across from him.

and because he knows you’re watching, kyle definitely puts on a show for you. you’re not subtle at all when you lick your lips at the sight of his glistening biceps and the ever growing bulge in his shorts.

by the time your workout is over, your pussy is soaked and the only thing on your mind is you getting bent over one of the machines by a man you don’t even know.

and idk kyle definitely sneaks into the bathroom to eat you out while you’re showering, before he presses you up against the wall and buries his cock in your drooling pussy. like just imagine him balls deep in it while you yowl and claw at his back as he tears your shit up.

his dick is what you wanted in the first place, right?

-

kyle’s masterlist

sparring practise gone wrong!!! gone sexual!!! not clickbait!!!!

boys once made out drunk at a party and got a bit addicted 😬

Thinking about Simon Riley standing on a bridge in the dead of night on Christmas Eve trying to get the energy to jump off. Snow falling down and dampening all the sounds around him.

All the sounds except the crunching of boots as someone approaches, someone bundled up to the gills in their coat and scarf (but no hat on to cover the ridiculous haircut that makes them look years younger, as if the cherry red of their nose didn’t do that already).

“Planning on takin’ a swim?”

“No. Hoping I sink.”

“Big lad like you very well might.”

“Ta.”

“Come back to mine,” he says. “Sleep on it.”

“Always hit on men tryin’ to die?”

“They’re usually the only ones desperate enough to say yes. Got a clean couch and a cup of coffee in it fer ye.”

“Prefer tea.”

“I’m walking away then!”

A snort. He sticks out a hand, fingers stiff and pale from the cold. No gloves. Cautiously says: “Name’s Simon.”

“John.”

“You won’t try to stop me in the morning?”

“No promises.”

“Lead the way to this couch then, Johnny.”

you know that whole “141 hunkering down at one of their nearby flats when desperate on a mission” trope that ends in them meeting reader they didn’t know about?

yeah well, simon reluctantly bringing the team back to his flat when they need a place to lay low. and simon doesn’t warn them about the sweet thing he’s got waiting back home for him

and they just gawk when you creep out into the living room, his shirt barely covering your ass when you crawl into his lap to greet him. no shame from either of you as you greet each other with a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss

one hand groping your ass when he introduces you to the lads, side eyes shared between them because not one of then knew simon had a bird

sharing a cigarette together on the balcony before he sends you back to bed, since he’s still technically on duty. crawls into bed after setting the lads up in the living room, snuggling you back to sleep just for you to wake up alone in the morning

ramblings before bed

Underground Fighter!König X Rich!Reader IV

A/N: aw shit here we go again. This chapter is much longer than usual and has a slightly different format, but I think it turned out great! I'm also posting this fic on AO3 if you prefer it.

Psst, their relationship is progressing 👀

Part I - Part II - Part III

From the earliest he could remember, König was drawn to solitude. He wasn't sure if it was a byproduct of the alienation he’d faced since childhood, the solitude was always preferable to beatings after all. But regardless if it was learned behavior or simply part of his genetic making, he just knew he liked being alone.

He never missed people, a part of him was even glad for his imprisonment, since it meant every interaction he has had a clear and defined purpose. No nonsense and no need for pleasantries. The people around him were either fighting him, taking care of his basic needs, or paying him. Which brings him to his current, urgent dilemma.

You.

He missed you.

In every fight he has had for the past three months, he would scan over the entire crowd, searching for a glimpse of red and finding none that held your warmth. There was no trace of you anywhere, and the only answer he got from people he had threatened asked was that you were “Busy running a business”

With more patience than he knew he possessed, he waited. He sat in his cell, anticipating the sound of your heels clacking against tiles in the hallways. Sadly all he heard was the buzzing of the lights and agitating sound of the guards' boots stomping about. Nothing, not a glimpse of you to be seen for three months. As the fourth month crawled along. He could feel his mind working against him.

What did you get up to when you weren't with him?

He could feel his hands clench around nothing, knuckles white with irrational anger.

König is not a stupid man, he knows he has no right to you from the start. You were his employer, he was an investment, a cog in a multimillion dollar industry. Your father drew the lines clearly and was happy to provide, especially since he made a pretty penny and lived in relative comfort. He had such few concerns since then, as he could provide for his mother consistently, he was...Not happy, but content, which was a rarity in his turbulent life.

And then his boss passed away, and you walked into his life, with your well practiced smile and gentle voice. Speaking to him as if he was a new hire and pissing him off.

He could deal with your naivety for a while until you learned how this world works, he can't deny how endearing he found your terrified eyes and warbling lip, it helped ease the guilt he felt needling at his consciousness.

He knew he was yours when you proved to have a backbone, you occupied his every thought since. He marked you as his as soon as the opportunity presented itself, it wasn’t enough, he wanted more. He wanted to spend his every waking moment pushing every button you had, making your brows furrow and see your pathetic attempt at a glare melt away into a scared, fawning look as he put you in your place. 

He both cursed and thanked the bars between the two of you. He knew he would chain you to the bed if he had the chance, giving you a necklace of bite marks and keeping you dumb and docile.

Such a spoiled little thing... Have you ever had to beg for anything? He could feel his dick strain against his pants at the thought.

He’d have to properly train you if he had you. 

Forcing you to sleep on the cold floor until you got on your unscuffed knees, pressing your tear stained cheek to his thigh as you plead for him to allow you to sleep with him and borrow some of his warmth. How cold and uncomfortable the ground is for someone like you. 

He snakes a hand into his boxers and tugs at his hardening cock as he thinks about how graciously he would warm you up. He would run his hands through your hair before gripping it and dragging you to the bed as you mewl and whimper little thank yous to him. Maybe you would be a polite little thing and call him sir too.

He would reward you, of course, you have been so good and pliant for him. Wrapping his arms around you, warming you up by pressing you against his body and groping your ass.

He bites back a groan at the memory of how addictively soft you felt in his hands. His hand strokes faster, a frenzy of images flash through his mind as he dives head first into this fantasy.

Images of him grabbing your head with both of his hands as he fucked your throat, your eyes filled with tears as wet, slick sounds reverberate through the room. Your undoubtedly expensive mascara running down your cheek while he fucks your face. 

Images of him taking you from behind, your loud moans only spurring him on and making him thrust faster. He reaches under his pillow for the silken panties you had left behind. Your scent long since faded, but the softness of the fabric reminded him of how pretty and soft your skin felt in his rough, calloused hands.

He wraps it around his aching dick, the feel of delicate fabric on his skin almost sending him over the edge. He imagines it's you, straddling his lap and bouncing on his cock.

The image of your pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel your orgasm approaching, his name falling from your lips as you tell him that you want him, you need him, you lov-

His abdomen muscles tighten as he cums, coating his stomach and hands.

König leans his head back and breathes heavily, slowly coming down from his high. A cooling sheet of sweat covers his body, it makes him feel oddly filthy.

He really thought he outgrew the shame that comes after such activities, but it seems that the guilt was only laying dormant until now. He is not a stupid man, he never was. He knows this shame like an old blanket, the way it settles over him and suffocates him, muffling any cry threatening to escape. 

It's intimate, it is a shame that came from feeling stupid, naive, too trusting. He truly thought he understood how to curb this feeling, the rose colored glasses crushed under a jackboot since he was 17. 

With a sigh, he wipes away his cum and steps into the shower, hoping to wash away both the sweat and uncomfortable thoughts. But the sound of the water only spurs him on. The tightness in his chest is more uncomfortable than any bruising he had earned in the ring. You became more important to him than he should have allowed, he should have kept you at arms length or at least just enjoyed your touch without getting attached.

Maybe this was a mercy on your part, forcing him to confront the massive chasm that separates the two of you. Maybe that's why you stayed away from him, not wanting to feed him any more delusions. 

Thinking back, have you ever…? You never promised anything, the only thing that solidified any kind of relationship between you two is his skills in the ring. He thinks back to your meeting when he injured his leg, your words morphing from a declaration of affection to empty words meant to subdue him until he could get better. He reaches down and rubs his now heeled knee. ‘an investment’ he thinks. He leans his head against the cool wall, letting the water wash over him as he continues to wallow. 

He steps out of the shower and slowly dries himself, not bothering to put on any clothes as he plops onto the bed, The musk and sweat coming off the mattress is a reminder of how long he spent in this facility.

As sleep tugs on his eyelids, lets his mind wander and imagines what a life with you would be like, allowing himself a moment of respite this evening. Waking up in a bedroom decorated with whatever style your graceful tastes would prefer, having a warm body lay next to him and urging him to wake up so the two of you could eat breakfast.

The thought makes him smile, you seem like the type to get fussy about waking up early, maybe you would drag him to a morning jog. He wouldn't mind, he would probably drag you to a woody area nearby and eat you out against a tree. He indulges himself in a multitude of domestic fantasies as he wraps himself in the thick blanket you had provided for him, promising himself that tomorrow, he would move on.

His eyes flutter open when the door hinges screech, a cursory look at the window high above on the wall tells him its dark outside. He groans and rolls to his stomach, assuming it is a doctor or guard coming to check up on him.

The cell door is open and an angelic voice calls out to him;

"König...?”

You step into the dark cell, eyes still not adjusting to the dark. Buzzing with energy, you can’t believe how much you missed him while you were away. You only stayed in your house to shower and freshen up after a flight, putting on a light weight, earthy red colored dress as you rushed to see him.

You see him stir, awake and likely recognizing your voice, the thought of him just as excited to see you as you were him makes your heart swell.

“Are you awake?” you say, smile evident from your tone. 

“I am now,” he grumbles, his voice still hoarse. 

“I’m sorry, I just came back and couldn’t wait” You giggle and place a hand on his back, he is a furnace and it only reminds you of how cold you were, the flimsy dress offering no warmth. 

‘Fuck it’ you think, getting on the bed and laying on top of him. Resting your head on his back. You almost melt into him, the warmth seeping into your bones. You don’t miss the way his breath hitches when you lay on him, still making no attempt to push you away

“I missed you” you sigh into his shoulder blade, the exhaustion from the long flight and constant work making you less reserved with your feelings, you can’t remember a time when you were this docile and cuddly with any of your previous boyfriends. You were always cautious with other men, a wall built solid around your heart. You knew what most of these men wanted was money, it was always a fact that lingered whenever you lay next to them. Despite the fact that he was nowhere near as rich as any of your ex boyfriends, there was something about him that felt…transparent? There is a strange, almost caveman quality to him, what he wants, he gets. He has been misogynistic, violent, perverted, and he has never once been deceitful. It’s refreshing, having grown up knowing only prim and proper men doing a hell of a job of covering up those exact same qualities. You appreciate him so much more now, having dealt with these people exclusively for months. 

“Where were you?” he blurts, he sounds hurt. 

You lift your head from his back, reaching out and scratching gently at his scalp, the prickle of his buzz cut hair pleasantly rubbing against your finger pads. He hums, his body relaxing more with each gentle swipe of your thumb.

“I had some business to attend to, since my father passed away there were a lot of deals left hanging, so I had to tie some loose ends with business partners” you whisper softly, leaving out the grueling schedule of meeting after meeting after flight after fake smiles after email. 

“Just business partners, ja?”

You blink. 

Oh?

You lean in and press a kiss to the base of his neck, you know he could feel you smile against his skin. He is unbearably cute when he’s pouting.

“Just business partners,” you whisper, he hums unenthusiastically. You move and lay next to him, he turns his head away from you and reaches for the nightstand, grabbing his mask. It is too dark to make out what his face looks like, you only got a glimpse of prominent cheekbones before he turned. 

You prop yourself up on your elbow as he turns to face you, features now concealed behind the mask.

Unexpectedly, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you close, only then do you realize he’s naked, his erection pressed flush against your thigh, of course he’s hard. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his masked cheek. 

“Are you jealous?” you tease. Not bothering to hide your glee. He only huffs in response, it’s not needed when it's this obvious. You push him on his back and lay next to him, using your arm to press his head to your chest.

“You don’t have to be” you purr, snaking a hand under his mask and rubbing his stubbled cheek, making him sigh and nuzzle more into your breasts as you pepper his temple with kisses. 

You trace a nail down his neck as he shivers, his breath is choppy and he closes his eyes tight. You glance down, his dick is twitching against his abdomen, pearly droplets of precum coating the trail of hair running down his abs. You reach down, having to maneuver your body lower so you could comfortably wrap your hand around his cock.

Your head now rests on his chest, rising with each deep breath he takes. You start to pump him slowly, relishing the way his cock throbs in your palm. You lift your hand from his crotch and spit on it, earning you a sinful whine and a muttered ‘fuck’ as he grips the sheets tight. 

You stroke him faster, the filthy sounds coming from both your actions and his mouth sending a bolt of heat down your core.

You lean in and bite his pec, just around his areola. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as his hips stutter upwards, you can almost hear the cogs turning in his head as to why he enjoyed that. 

You flatten your tongue over his nipple before wrapping your lips around it and sucking on them while rubbing the tip of his shaft at the same time, making him moan loudly. He turns his head away from you, you can feel the heat of his flush flowing down his chest. 

“Look at me” you say breathlessly, the hand on his dick slows, stroking lazily. Soft, blown out pupils make contact with yours, his head still turned away. 

“You want to cum, don’t you?” Your voice sounds sinful even to your own ears. You feel his cock twitch, begging for release. He nods slowly, you can barely make out tears wetting his lower lashline. 

Your hand stills just under the crown of his cock. 

“Do it then” You grin, “Fuck my hand, make yourself cum” 

His eyes widen, darting around your features before he starts to thrust into your hand, making you grin wider. 

“That’s it, keep going, you're so good for me aren’t you? You wanna be a good boy for me don’t you?”

He doesn’t respond. Just groans and continues to thrust upwards. You lift three of your fingers, your thumb and index barely touching him. He whines, his voice high pitched as German curses spill from his mask-covered mouth. 

“Don’t you?” you repeat with more authority now, he nods vigorously, too horny to be concerned with something as trivial as shame. 

“Ye-yes! fuck, bitte liebling, I want to cum, please let me cum” He whimpers, his voice breaking as he moans. He rolls his hips, trying to get any friction he can. 

You oblige, wrapping your hands around his shaft tightly and pumping him as he sings your praises in a mix of english and german, he thanks you repeatedly before his muscles pull taut, rope after rope of white cum coats his stomach and your hand. Neither of you moves, only your heavy breathing filling the room. König is the first to break the silence. 

“I…Missed you too” 

You smile and nestle into his chest, his arm wraps around you, gently petting your hips. 

“I like your dress” he mumbles into your hair. You roll your eyes and kiss whichever part of him you could reach, such a silly man you've gotten yourself tangled with. You hardly settle into the bed before you hear a soft snoring. You have to bite your lips to suppress a giggle. 

Slowly, you try to lift yourself up to leave the bed without disrupting the sleeping giant. 

The muscular arm around you tightens and you are secured against Königs side. His mass then rolls and lays on top of you. You groan as you feel his semen smearing over the dress he supposedly liked. 

The weight of him pins you to the mattress, making you unable to move with the exception of your hand which was tapping at his side repeatedly, you curse the fact that he isn’t ticklish. 

“König”

“Mmm?”

“Get off”

He gives you a kiss on your cheek. 

“Nein” 

I hope you guys like this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it ^^

Reblogs and comments much appreciated, please let me know what you think <3

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OC Information: "Stone"

Full Name: Vikram Rahul Mishra

Callsign(s): Stone

Alias(es): Ox (only by certain Marine squads), Doctor Cold, Doctor Feral (only by certain fellow Corpsmen... who have been bitten by him)

Nationality: Second-Generation American (Indian mother, first-generation father)

Affiliations: U.S. Navy, U.S. Fleet Marine Force, Task Force 141 (SAS)

Rank: E-7/Chief Hospital Corpsman (U.S. Navy)

Gender: Male (Trans)

Status: Alive

Birthday: November 29th, 1989 (34 as of 2023)

Build: Burly

Height: 6'6"

Marks: U.S. Navy tattoo on his right arm (three swallows representing each 10,000 nautical miles he's traveled on U.S. naval ships), old battle scars covering him head to toe (mostly knife and bullet wounds)

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Background: Classified

Extra: He wears a muzzle-like mask due to when he bit people during his Seaman days, he can act as an extra sniper for the Task Force, and his medical file has a notation not to give him morphine or any pain medications.