#I will never ever be good enough and it fucking hurts

[all-the-bats-in-the-world]

Since someone tagged it with Logan, here it's. And I'm sorry.

Kindness Tastes Like Blood

Part 1. Where The Lost Things Meet

The darkness is getting hold of him. It's not something new, it started to reach him when he was little, when dad decided he was a play thing. That disgusting mother fucker. He's very dead now, but Wade still sees it in the back of his mind, fighting back, cutting him into pieces and giving it to some starving street dog. The dogs have always been good to him. They never liked dad, the animals know what is kind.

‘You’ll lose’ the darkness says to him, sounding like a voice he should have forgotten. And he is starting to believe it. His world is in danger, everything he cares about will die soon. He thought he could fix it. It seemed very simple, if Logan was dead, he just had to find another one to put in the place. Who would think the Wolverine was the anchor being of Wade's whole world? This is a weak script idea, sure, but also makes sense for Wade, he couldn't imagine anyone else to be this important to him. He remembers it, reading the comics he found in the trash under his bed, hiding it from dad, it was this story of this animalistic man that people tried to control and kill, a man that kept coming back and destroying everything on his way, it was this story that made him company, that made him believe someday he would be free. So, yes, he doesn't need to say he loves the Wolverine, does he? He loves him a great deal.

But the thing is, it's not reciprocated. He knows. He jumps through realities trying to find help, but he doesn't even get the chance to say that he needs him, that he's breaking, that he's desperate, they just punch him, kill him, and this is starting to pile up. ‘Nobody loves you’ the darkness decree. He knows it's not totally true, he knows people love him, Althea, Peter, Vanessa, she said it. He believes her. However, he believes love feels different, that love is not just someone who holds your hand in the bad days or puts up with you. He knows he should be glad, why is he not glad? Was what she offered not enough?

Yes. It wasn't. He knows it should be. Another punch. He's bleeding again. They used to be perfect for each other, but this was before he became a walking wound. Not, he was always like this, except now he can't just pretend anymore, he can't just joke it away. He tried, he really fucking tried. She said to him to show that he cared for something bigger than him. But everything is bigger than him, he's small. Insignificant. You see, this wasn't how love was supposed to be. Well, Wade believes love is understanding. He may be wrong.

‘Nobody will ever understand you, you are unlovable.’ He's covered in blood now, still feeling the sensation of six claws in his chest, piercing through his cursed heart. And he loses it, he throws the TemPad away in his despair, regretting it the same second, he runs and jumps to take it before it touches the floor, but ends up kicking it with his foot, then he stumbles, falling on his own face. Fuck. He cries, like the pathetic being he is.

That's when the electronic — whatever tecnologic shit it is — starts to oscillate on the floor, and bips bips bips. Did he break it? For fuckers sake! He takes it back. Doesn't look like there was any damage, he taps it, but he can't understand the coordinates on the screen. Is it another planet? Doesn't fuck look like Earth.

Suddenly a portal opens up and Wade stares at it. Something is wrong. This portal, it's not golden, it's dark, like a black hole. He feels like when he was a kid. There's a taste in his mouth, and a smell in his nose. He's dragged back to the past. He shivers, suddenly he's in the cold night, one of his feet chained. It hurts so much, but it’s better if he was outside. That was something he never told anyone. He loved the night, he loved when he got this punishment, he pretended to hate it, so that bastard would use it against him. It was a way he found to escape the molestation. It didn't work all the time, but when it worked he felt glad. Glad is a rare and strange feeling. He shivers in gladness and steps into it.

At first all he can see is profound darkness. He's not even sure his eyes are open at all. Has he gone blind? Then there's breathing, he thinks for a moment it's his own respiration, but it's not, he's not making this deep and painful noise. It's a very dark and heavy breathing that gets close with every step. Then he sees it, a subtle light, its red. Seems weird? He sees the eyes before he sees the being. It’s hard to tell its colors in the distance and in the low light. But they are bright and piercing. And unmoving, like it's not really looking at him. He moves close, and something registers, cutting through him. It's green, he realizes, like a pale forest, like a calm lake, its pupils grow, swallowing him in, in an inescapable stare. He's breathing so hard it creates little clouds in the dense air.

Wade would recognize those eyes anywhere. It's so shocking, he stops, his feet refusing to move before the vision. It's a Wolverine. Well, it seems like the TemPad was not broken, but he guesses he was not supposed to find this one, probably no one was supposed to find him. What paralyzes Wade is not just the eyes, but his appearance. The man is contained, pulled down on his knees, defeated, malnourished, the bones standing out under his skin, hes basically just bones and hair, frankly it's absurd he's still alive, well, regeneration is a fucked up thing sometimes. There is a mask on his face, metallic, it looks very much like a muzzle, and there are bright red lines, hundreds of them, connected to the collar on his neck. He's using the yellow accurate comic costume, but it's all dirty and worn out.

It's clear they left him here to die. But what a terrible way to leave this world, painfully slowly, getting weak and disappearing a little bit every day.

“What the hell happened to you?” He doesn't know this Logan, the others he knew, like just their appearances were a tell. And he still kind of feels bad for not helping the uncanny x-men Logan, but that felt like none of his business. This one though, he speaks to something deep in him. He needs to know what happened to him. There is no reaction to his question, he doubts the man will be able to talk soon, he is too debilitated to even breathe properly.

He opens the TemPad, does a little reprogrammation, why not, it's a canon divergent fic, so he can do whatever. Soon the TemPad works very much like a Pokédex, he even turns it in his direction and gets: Wade Willson, also known as Deadpool in Earth XXX, 48 years old, sagittarius, species human…

Does the TVA control Wikipedia too? Or does the author just think it was funny? Whatever. He turns the advice to Logan. His eyes are still burning on him, it's almost unbearable. The scan starts to work, then it stops showing a glowing “restricted access”, so Wade has to do some hacker job, it's nothing, soon the information pops on the screen.

Art by Essi Välimäki

[hiddenlife-manager]

Jude Bellingham x Fem Reader

cw… bdsm, caning implied, consent, handcuffs, restraints, blood, wrist pain, a lot of pain, doggy, slightly edited, bruises, etc

notebook… Yall college has been nothing but fucking awful. So yeah I disappeared. Hopefully next semester is better, ALSO I am starting a book. I want to write a romance vampire novel with adventure. (This is totally gonna take me five ish years with this fuck ass schedule of mine.)

Your hands slipped consistently off the wooden board, your knees cushioned by the mattress below. The comforts for your knees meant nothing, your heart beating each pump being loud within your ears. Your ass covered in red streaks, dark spots slowly spreading around. Your body shivered as if it was the coldest day of the entire year; funnily enough, your body was warm, so warm you were dripping down your own legs.

“Had enough?” A deep voice from behind whispered beside your ear; it was strong, loud enough to overshadow your own heart. Your mouth covered by your own panties, drool dribbling down your chin. The lacy fabric bought for this special night is no longer where it was supposed to be. Your wrists were burning, the metal no longer soothing amongst the skin. Your makeup smeared all over your face, your lipstick no longer perfectly aligned around those two lips.

“Mhm.” You weakly attempted to speak, your jaw being locked in place. The pain forced your teeth to clench so tightly the gag did nothing to stop you from talking; it was your jaw. Your hands continuously attempting to grab onto the wooden headboard, no use; the wetness on them causing your wrist to lose grip and hurt your wrist over and over.

“I doubt it; you did this to yourself.” His beautiful two-toned lips pressed right at your temple. Your appearance did not display your true enjoyment. Jude was your lover after all; he would never harm you if you did not want this. It all started because he was curious; you joined him on this journey, and here you were. On your knees, wrist stinging, ass covered in bruises, most importantly dripping wet.

“You want me to fuck you?” His hand raised to your hair and pulled it back. Your face looking rougher than before. “Touch your clit like you want? Just beg, baby.”

“Mhm.” He smirked at the desperate whine. He was wearing only a button-down and dress pants. He let go of your head, forcing your head to drop down at such movements. He made you look at him, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at his every move. His hand pushing against the sleeves and folding them over. One by one, his large hands removed a button from his dress shirt. Only a few were left before he moved to his dress pants.

“You worship me so well, baby.” His lips raised to a smirk, and he pushed your head away. He climbed onto the bed; there his hand touched your bruised ass. “Your poor ass, I’ll take good care of you.” You heard him lowering his boxers from behind you. In minutes you felt his cock prodding at your cheeks. His hand reached for your hair; he gripped it, wrapping it in his hand. Forcing your head back.

“Good girl.” His other hand touched your warm, shivering body, gripped at your waist; he loved every mark on you, the one he made on you, and the scars you brought before you two ever met your beautiful marks. You called them blemishes; he would never. “You don’t deserve prep.”

“MHM!” A cry erupted; your body weakly attempted to grab at the board, the sweat causing them to slip. You felt it, hips being rocked in and out of you. This is all you wanted: you needed him, to be close to him. Perhaps a few would call this brutal or disgusting. You paid no mind to other opinions. Jude was your world, and making him happy and yourself happy is all that matters.

His hand raised, slapping at your left ass cheek, his other hand still holding your hair, forcing your head back. His cock going into your dipping wet cunt, from all the pain inflicted on your body, you were needy. Desperate for him to finally fill you up with what you desired, he enjoyed this foreplay. He loved it; you rarely ever used the safe word. He knew pain made you needy, and watching you in pain created a monster from within.

“So tight,” he groaned, “taking me so well.” His hand that slapped your ass caressing the bruises, even during these harsh sexual encounters, you felt the tender touches he allowed linger. You could only imagine the face of pleasure he currently held. The way his beautiful brown skin complimented yours. The way his dress shirt is messed up, your eyes were shut, creating an image in your mind.

It took several thrusts into your cunt to cause the feeling to slowly become unbearable to ignore. It tingled from within. Causing you to moan into your panties. His thighs hitting your bruised ass caused pleasure and pain. You eventually managed to grab at the headboard, your hair still being in his grip.

“Getting louder and tighter, baby.” You tried to nod, but his hand gripped your hair tighter, preventing you from nodding. His thrust was clean and precise; it hit the right spot every single time. The feeling of an impending orgasm no longer allowed you to ignore it. You wanted to cum; you craved his touch. You knew he was having an ego boost, not just from just handling you so well but from his successes. He was extremely successful, scoring goals in every single match—an impressive feat for a midfielder.

“You want to cum?” There was a hint of playfulness in his tone. He knew you wanted to cum, and he had no intention of stopping you. He held a plan to fuck you even after you cum. He was close; that was not something he could deny. He wasn’t as close as you thought. “I will allow you to cum; all you have to do is spit those panties out and beg.”

In a matter of seconds, you tried to spit the panties out; unfortunately, it wasn’t easy. It slipped out of your mouth with more drool than anything. “Please, Jude, let me cum. I’ve been good!”

“Good girl.” He gripped your hair even tighter; finally, he could hear your gasps and moans without the panties in your mouth. He wanted to hear you cry out in pleasure when you cum. “Go ahead.” He thrust harder than before; his free hand, no longer on your cheek, snaked down to your clit. His long and skinny fingers rubbing circles with the right pace.

“Shit.” Your cunt clenched on him tightly, and your legs shook with fury. Your hands lost grip once more on the headboard, and with his permission, he let go of your hair. Your head dropped, followed by his hands gripping at your waist and quickening the pace, thrusting with purpose. You cried out in pleasure, the orgasm washing through you; immediately you realized he wasn’t stopping. “Too much!”

“You asked to cum, baby; you made the choice.” Your ears picked up the teasing tone. You could not stop the shaking, the pain of being overstimulated. He did not stop his two fingers rubbing at your clit. He ignored your pleas; he was chasing the high he deserved. He pleased you, and it was your turn to treat him. “Ugh! Fucking close!”

You tried hard to pull away, but each time was futile; his body thrust deeper each time, and he would press just a little harder on your clit at your attempts. Your tears quicken down your face, your wrist becoming almost naked by the rubbing. You were no longer grabbing onto anything, causing your wrist to ache in pain. His thighs began to tense, his thrust kept at the pace, not slowing down for a second.

“So fucking good!” He smirked at how he was close. Then there it was, the feeling of being full. You were about to orgasm once more, and you knew this one had something else. You cried louder, begging him to slow down; he could care less. Then it happened; he thrust so deep he felt you clench harder than before, and a grunt left his lips. His head was thrown back, and that was it. Your body burst in pleasure, and the sheets below you were covered by your own sweet liquids. Your legs shook so much you no longer supported your knees, and you fell down, his cock slipping out.

“How pathetic; you ruined our sheets.” He groaned in pleasure, his cock dripping his cum; your cunt was full already. He climbed over you gently and removed the key from his neck and unlocked your wrist. He would never let you lie there exhausted and your wrist aching. He loved you too much.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Last Christmas

21/12: Dressing Up and Dry Humping - Michael Gavey Word Count: 1.8k~ | Warnings: semi-public heavy petting, fingering, dry humping

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

A/N: can be read as a little add on for this series

Even though she's wearing many, many layers of thermal clothes, she's done a good job of making it look like at least half. Black tights, skirt and the worst Christmas jumper she could find in the charity shop. Though not tacky enough to rival the ones she had back home, this one was a close second. Garish. Bright. Unapologetic.

God, it really was Christmas.

A stuffy, hot room, filled with people and steaming roast dinners, one paid for bottle of prosecco by the unj, and then on the lash before they broke up for the holidays. Sounded like a good night to her.

It was nights like this that made her remember last christmas party. Whenever she thought about it too much, the heat began to pool in her belly. Back then, she'd been fearless. Sucking off Michael Gavey in the common room while a party took place next door? She'd never imagine herself doing something so brave now.

Although, she could be tempted. Depends what he was dressed like.

In all honestly it had been a while since she'd seen him last, he'd been so preoccupied with his studies and then when he was done, it was her and…their schedules just never seemed to align at all. Until tonight hopefully.

But as she was filing into the hall, weaving through the groups of friends who assigned their seats at individual tables adorned with candles and Christmas crackers, she realised with a burning embarrassment at the back of her neck she may have misplaced what ‘dressing up’ meant.

Everyone was in smart clothes. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She was only offered a small relief when she spotted Michael, in a neat little button up and smart trousers. His blue eyes glimmered with recognition in a way that her stomach clench, until his brows furrowed in amusement at her…less than smart jumper.

“What the fuck is that?” he half laughed, trying to bite it back as soon as it left his mouth, judging the look on her embarrassed face.

She ran her fingers awkwardly through her hair, brushing it from her hot face. “I um…might have misinterpreted the theme…”

He let out a snort, holding a glass in one hand as his eyes did a full scan of her. Equal parts amused and appreciative. “Misinterpreted? I'd say you did a sharp left—”

She swatted his arm, semi-hard but not enough to hurt, “shut it. It's a Christmas dinner! I thought that meant…you know…festive.”

Michael bit back a grin, leaning over to grasp another glass to offer her, to at least calm her ever-rising nerves. She looked quite out of place amongst the smart shirts and sleek dresses.

She sat beside him at the table, her hands clasped under it to try and hide the design of her jumper somewhat. Michael in turn, patted her arm.

“Hey,” he whispers, quiet enough to not disturb the chatter at the table, “it looks cute. In a ‘holiday disaster’ kind of way.”

She scoffs, taking a tart sip of her prosecco, “thanks, makes me feel so much better.”

“You should,” he replied, leaning closer still. “You’re the only one who looks like they actually want to be here.”

She let out a breathy laugh, watching as the hum of conversation became laughter. Popping champagne corks, the air buzzing with sharp fizz. As dinner was served and alcohol flowed, combined with the holiday spirit, there was the slight edge of recklessness inching closer in.

After demolishing her sticky toffee pudding, watching as Michael beside her scooped the remnants of his crème brulé out the ramekin placed in front of him, she could feel her head swim, watching him. Even something so simple as the hair that curled at the nape of his neck, the slight bulge of his veins on the back of his hand…had that tightening tug in her stomach.

God what is wrong with me...

As the tables were pushed to the walls of the room and music blared, people began to crowd the middle, a sort of dance floor in lieu of a proper one. Those who were dressed posh, sleek, were now a mess of drunken excitement, sticky with alcohol on their skin.

Michael handed her another glass of prosecco, his eyes a little glassy behind his thin, black spectacles. “Come on,” he murmured, reaching for her hand without hesitation. His fingers were warm and firm around hers, and she didn’t even think to pull away.

“Where are we going?” she asked, stumbling slightly as he tugged her through the doorway and into the dimly lit hall.

“Somewhere less…” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder, where two students were drunkenly reenacting a scene from Love Actually. “...that.”

The walls were strung with fairy lights that blurred softly in her vision, the prosecco’s fizz buzzing in her veins. Michael turned another corner, pulling her into a quieter wing of the dorm, laughing softly as their hands remained clasped, glasses clinking.

They stopped in a small, half-forgotten lounge, the kind of place nobody bothered to sit in except during exams. A sagging sofa and a low coffee table sat under a window framed by frosted glass. They stood there for a moment, catching their breath, the air cooler and quieter now.

She smiled lopsided as he turned to her, giggling as her back met the wall with him crowding her.

“Better?” He asked.

“Hmm, I'm still wearing this monstrosity,” she snorted, gesturing down to her jumper again.

His gaze followed, but the flush on his face told her that he was likely looking at something else. In this enclosed space, pressed together in secret, she would be a fool to kid even herself that she didn't feel it too.

She laughs softly. A memory coming to her.

“What?” Michael asks, drawing his eyes back up to her again.

“No it's just…this feels familiar, doesn't it?” She smirks.

He raises his eyebrows, for a moment, unsure what she means. Until the realisation makes his lips turn up at the corners.

“Ah, last Christmas? i think I’m still traumatised by the sound of Jingle Bell Rock,” he quipped, his fingers tracing lazy circles along her hip. “Not to mention the fact that we were two seconds away from someone walking in.”

“Two seconds is generous,” she replied, laughing again, the memory as vivid now as it had been then.

She felt his breath against her neck as he leaned in, propping his glass alongside hers on a nearby window sill, the low rumble of his laugh stuttering against her skin.

“Different room this time, though.”

Her breath hitched but her smile remained, “It’s not exactly the same.”

He hummed, his hand tracing a ladder made up her tights, under her skirt. Her skin tingled anywhere he touched, and especially when he grazed against the gusset. So close.

“Michael, what—”

Rrrip!

She gasped and looked down, wide-eyed, to see his fingers hooked in the delicate fabric, a jagged tear exposing the sliver of black lace beneath.

“Oops,” Michael grinned.

Her mouth opened, then closed, words failing her as she glared up at him. “You didn’t just— those were my good tights, Michael Gavey!”

“Don't full-name me,” he smirked, pushing his chest against hers to further cage her in, his fingers maddeningly hooking into her underwear, relishing in the squeak of surprise she let out as he dragged his digits through her wetness. She would be ashamed to admit how the pads of his fingers combined with the cool air that hit her made her weak.

“Michael..” she warns softly, but he doesn't interpret it as one. 

He's come a long way since blushing terribly, stuttering and nervous with her between his legs.

Her hand found his shoulder, a silent moan escaping her lips, fighting to remain quiet as two fingers slid inside her, too slowly. Too agonisingly slowly. He crooked them forward, towards him, finding her sweet spot after a few moments of exploration.

She internally cursed him for giving him experience he could use against her. He's getting too good at that.

He mouthed at her neck, lowering to where it met her shoulder, pushing into her to the knuckles with a deliberately unhurried pace. She tried to rock her hips to encourage him, to save her sanity and go faster at least. But he didn't.

He was preoccupied.

The way his hips were rolling against hers, the solid press of him through his jeans grinding in time with his fingers. The stretch stole the breath from her lungs but she daren’t say anything. She could feel his breath hitch against her skin as he rutted against her.

She could feel his restraint unravelling slowly, the way his hands trembled slightly even as they worked her, the way his hips ground against her like he couldn’t help himself.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as he groaned softly into her neck. “Fuck,” he murmured, though the words sounded half to himself. His voice was rough, like he was holding himself back, savouring every moment.

Too drunk, too overwhelmed to rush him, she let her head fall back, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out as his fingers curled just right inside her. He was getting off on this too, and something about that made her heart hammer in her chest.

Her fingers scraped against his scalp as she felt herself clench around him, her lips parting to utter his name but caught by the rolling waves of pleasure viewing through her body. Through the haze she felt the grind of his erection against her thigh speed up slightly, until he groaned, a low shudder, as he drunkenly spilled into his boxers.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the quiet punctuated only by their laboured breathing and the muffled thrum of music still filtering through the dorm walls. His weight pressed heavily against her, his arm wrapped around her waist as though anchoring himself.

“Jesus,” he muttered after a long silence, his voice muffled against her shoulder. He lifted his head to look at her, and she giggled slightly and righted his glasses. He pulled his fingers out from her, but stayed nestled inside her underwear. “We should…probably get cleaned up before someone comes looking.”

She ran her fingers down his face, a look of soft admiration and a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

“Or…” she offered, stealing his attention, “we could make them really regret looking.”

She would never get bored of making him laugh, or smile. And when he did, her chest fluttered with warmth, his own cheeks flushed. The grin that stretched across his face was so boyish, so disarming.

“Just like old times?”

She nodded in confirmation, “just like old times.”

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[psychohoneywhiskey]

What about Wade going to a different timelime requested by the TVA years after the Time Ripper. They told him the X-men and the anchor being of that universe were in danger and he needed to make sure they survived and he got rid of the problem for good.

So Wade goes alone to avoid his babygirl having to face the alternative versions of his dead team. He gets to the X mansion and explains them the situation, tells them he is Deadpool, a mercenary sent by a time organization to save them all and they believe him.

Everything was going surprisingly well until, well, it wasn't. And how could he have not thought to ask who the anchor being of that universe was? How could he not notice the absence of a very important person there? He is still surprised (after years of not seeing that amount of rage directed at him from his Logan) to see a younger Logan get to the mansion baring his teeth at him, unseathing his claws and preparing to pounce, seeing him as a threat.

And when he does he tries everything in his power not to hurt him, evading the punches, claws, and 300 pounds of feral Wolverine and not attacking him even once. Eventually, Logan stops confused about the man's playful attitude and the voices of the X-men asking him to calm down. When he asks Wade suspiciously 'why didn't you fight back bub?', Wade just laughs and answers in a tone so soft and sweet and foreign to him 'Well, if this has happened years ago I would have indulged in some fun, I always loved taming a feral Wolvie but I can't bear to hurt an alternative version of my husband now'.

Everything got so quiet he could have heard a pin drop but Wade was solely focused on Logan, watching the similarities to the love of his life who now had some more wrinkles around his eyes and cheeks, a soft healthy body, hair almost fully gray and a sweet smile almost all of the time around him, Laura, their friends, their family. Compared to this Logan who still looked so tense, wary, ready to run.

He stays with them for weeks waiting for the attackers to get there while spending time with this version of Logan. And as the time passes the man understands why other version of him would be head over heels for the mercenary, yeah the man is so damn weird and loud and fucking annoying at times but he has never found someone who could understand him and make him feel the way he does. He starts yearning, for a person, a place he will never have cause it already belongs to someone else and he dreads the moment Wade will leave and not come back ever again. And the X-men notice it, bewildered by Logan's behavior around Deadpool, how he seems to follow his lead as naturally as breathing, how they seem to get what the other is thinking or feeling just by seeing each other and they realize Logan has never been fully theirs cause he is just waiting for someone else to bring him home.

Inevitably when the time comes, and Dealpool saves them, he doesn't even have time to react and say goodbye to the merc cause a weird orange portal opens in the middle of the war field and a blue and yellow suited hand appears through it yanking Wade away, and Logan recognizes a voice so similar to his saying 'you've taken too long Mouth, our daughter's birthday is next week, and we all miss you at home'.

Logan knows all his life he's just been a stray longing for a place to settle but at least now he can hope there is a loud mouth, sarcastic, pretty, and soft mercenary with no filter waiting for him somewhere in his world to take him home.

I apologize for any mistake, I'm not a writer and English is not my first language but I just can't get enough of these men and any of their versions being soft with each other.

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: SMUT MDNI 18+, explicit language, fingering, oral, creampie, rough, pet names, voyerism, anal, dirty talk

WC: 4569

Chapter 20

“Y/n?” you hear Changbin from the other side of the door.

“Binnie…” you whine.

He can hear the distress in your voice and immediately enters. He stops in his tracks, eyes blinking as he takes in the scent of the room. His dilated pupils lock onto you.

“Help. It hurts. I don’t know what’s wrong.” you cry.

Changbin shuts the door and comes over to you. He takes in your naked form, beads of sweat on your forehead and back.

“Oh baby… your heat is finally here.” Changbin coos, stroking your hair.

You look at him with wide eyes. “M-my heat? I’ve only ever had one…”

You cry out, clutching your stomach. 

“Shhh, it’s alright.” Changbin rubs your arm.

“I’m sorry.” you pout.

“Sorry for what?” Changbin asks, stroking your hair.

“My smell.” you curl into yourself.

“Why are you apologizing?” Changbin furrows his brows.

“I know it smells bad. The Nykos told me.”

“Sweetheart…it’s because you weren’t their soulmate.”

You look at him confused.

“You smell fucking delicious…so good I’m about to cum in my pants from your scent alone.” Changbin confesses.

“Really?” you ask, finally looking up at him.

“Yes, now let me help you.” Changbin moves to pick you up bridal style.

You feel his warm, firm chest pressing against you. His scent fills your nostrils and you practically salivate. He has never smelled this good, what the heck?

“Did you get new cologne?” you ask.

Changbin chuckles. “No.”

“But you smell so good.” you say, pulling him closer by the shirt. 

“Y/n, focus.” Changbin cups your face and looks into your eyes. “I need to know that you’re okay with this.”

You nod vigorously. “I’ve wanted to fuck since we first kissed.”

Changbin smiles, kissing you deeply. “Good. Because I want to help you.”

“Please Binnie.” you whine.

“You’re so cute when you’re desperate, angel.” Changbin coos, cupping your pussy with his hand. 

Your breath catches in your throat, instinctively grinding into his hand.

“So pretty.” Changbin kisses your neck and trails down. “These tits are perfect.” 

Changbin leans down, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking. You throw your head back, on cloud nine. You could cum from just this. 

He slips a finger between your folds, groaning at your wetness. He thrusts a few times before pulling back, sucking his finger clean. You watch with blown pupils, biting your lip as he holds eye contact.

“Fuck, you taste amazing.” Changbin grips under your knees and simultaneously pushes you back and spreads your legs.

He dives down, attaching his lips to your clit. You cry out, loud enough to catch the attention of Felix and Jisung. They had just noticed Changbin wasn’t there and laughed to themselves when they realized what you two were doing. They turn up the volume of their game, arguing over who lost the last round.

Changbin slurped, sucked, licked, and even nipped at your clit. Your legs were quivering, your orgasm being teased with every flick of his tongue.

“Binnie…please..” you beg.

He pushes his face deeper, groaning as he sucks your clit. The vibrations were enough to finally push you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed, fisting the sheets as you moan loudly. Your legs wanted to close but he was pinning them down.

As you were coming down from your high, Changbin leans up and pats your clit repeatedly. The aftershocks had you squirming. He shoved two fingers in your wet heat, thrusting them in and out. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut, knuckles white from your hold on the comforter. Your hips were grinding with his thrusts, another orgasm already building. It felt so good, and you were so sensitive from being in heat. You tasted sweeter too and your scent was stronger. 

The stretch of his fingers felt so good but it wasn’t enough. You wanted his cock. Wanted it stretching you and hitting deep.

“More…” you breathe.

“Cum for me again first. Then you can have my cock, angel.” Changbin said.

You whine in response, wanting - no, needing it.

“Don’t be a brat. Cum for me. I know you’re close.”

You were in fact close. He curled his fingers and you swear your body was elevating from the bed. Your orgasm smashed into you hard, your whole body trembling. You cried out so loud, you feared you wouldn’t have a voice by the end of this.

“Good girl.” Changbin cooed.

He pulled his fingers from your tight heat and stood up. He pulled his shirt off and made for his sweatpants. You slid off the bed, sliding down his pants and underwear in one go.

“Somebody’s eager.” Changbin smirks.

You look up at him through your lashes as you take his thick, veiny cock in your hand and lick the tip. His jaw goes slack, mesmerized by the sight. You took as much of him as you could in your mouth. He wasn’t super long but what he lacked in length, he made up for in girth.

You bobbed your head, stroking the rest with your hand. His hand found its way to your hair, guiding your movements at a faster pace. He grunted, enjoying the feel of your warm mouth around him. But this wasn’t about him right now.

He pulled you up, practically throwing you back on the bed. You squealed, leaning up to see him climb onto the bed, coming between your legs. He pulled you down to him, smashing his lips on yours. You moan into the kiss, tongues dancing with each other as he lined up with your entrance.

Slowly, he pushes forward, his cock slipping through your folds and making you shudder as it teased your clit. 

He smiles at your reaction. “So sensitive.”

He moves his hips, trying again. He manages to push past your entrance this time, stretching you out. You groan, throwing your head back as his cock buries itself to the hilt. His moves are painfully slow but the stretch was delicious.

“Oh my god…” you pant.

He kisses your jaw, down your neck and across your collarbone as you moan his name repeatedly. He bottoms out, groaning. He pulls his hips back before snapping into you. He snaps a few times before setting a steady rhythm that has your toes curling. 

He was so thick, your walls hugging him tightly. He was groaning in your ear, moaning your name with a growl. He was hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, bringing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. 

You came once more, gushing around his cock. Your body violently shook as you rode your high. He nipped at your neck, littering love bites along your skin. Once you came down, he pecked your lips and pulled out. 

You whine at the loss, only for him to flip you over and thrust inside you from behind. You cry out as he slams into you, his grip tight on your hips. For once, you were liking the rough treatment. Maybe it was because it didn’t actually hurt, or maybe just because you loved him, but it was enjoyable to say the least.

Changbin grabbed all your hair in his hand and tugged, making you look out the open window. If the boys were to return home, they would have a perfect view of Changbin demolishing you right now. The idea of them watching made you clench. Why was the idea of them watching so appealing? It never was when you were watched by the Nyko’s guests.

He tugged a little harder, making you clench once more. He groaned at the sensation, his other hand gripping your hip harder.

“Fuck, you keep squeezing me like that and I’ll cum.”

“Please…want you to.” you plead.

“Want me to what, angel? Use your words.” 

“Cum… in me… Please Binnie.” you beg.

“I’ll make you mine, honey…don’t worry.” Changbin leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“Need your cum…” you whine.

He palmed your breasts, teasing your nipple as he switched to slow, deep thrusts. Wow, did it feel amazing. Everything was heightened and your skin felt like it was on fire. Everywhere he touched felt like electric shocks. You were getting close again, feeling the coil inside ready to snap.

“Binnie…” you whine, pushing your hips back into him.

“I know, angel.” He said, speeding up the tempo of his thrusts. 

The clapping sound filled the room as he pushed you over the edge.  You came so hard, you were seeing stars. Your body felt weak as it trembled in his hold. His grip on your hips was the only thing keeping you from laying on the bed right now.

He didn’t stop his thrusts, prolonging your high. You moaned and shuddered with the climax, eyes rolling back. Finally relenting, Changbin stops, lowering you down to the bed. He rubs your back, moving his legs to straddle your hips as you lay on your stomach.

Slowly, he began to thrust. You moaned, your sensitive flesh being massaged with every stroke. It felt too good to stop now, but you were finally cooling off. Your skin wasn’t as hot now, and the pain had nearly subsided. Changbin definitely knew what he was doing.

Changbin groaned, angling himself so even in this position, he was hitting deep inside. You were practically drooling on the sheets from how good he was making you feel. Each stroke allowed you to feel every vein and ridge lining his cock.

Changbin picked up the pace, chasing his own high. He was so close and your tight heat was so inviting. He was surprised he’s lasted this long. Leaning forward, he tucks a hand under your hips and teases your clit as he pounds into you,

“Ahh, fuck..” you moan.

“Cum with me.” he grunts.

He thrusts, so hard and fast, your legs are already shaking. His skilled fingers pinched and teased your clit, pushing you to the edge. You moaned his name into the sheets as his hips stuttered. Forcing himself deep inside, you could feel the spurts of cum inside you. It triggered your own orgasm and you shook violently.

Changbin removed his hand, halting his movements while he caught his breath. You were panting, legs shaking from all the cumming.

“That was amazing.” Changbin said, breathing around your scent gland as he kissed across your back. “You’re so tight.”

Changbin pulled out, falling beside you.

You giggle, climbing on top of him to rest on his chest. It was a little sweaty but you didn’t care - he smelled too good to care. You laid like this for a few moments, only to be interrupted by the growl of your stomach.

“Hungry?” Changbin inquires, a small smile on his dazed face.

“Maybe a little.” you say, voice raspy.

You climb off of him and stand with shaky legs, wobbly as you walk. You throw your clothes back on and head into the kitchen, Changbin leading the way.

“You two kids finally done?” Jisung asked, standing in front of the fridge.

“Oh my god.” Felix says, climbing over the back of the couch and hurrying over to you.

“What?” you ask, tensing.

“Fuck…you smell so good.” he breathed.

“Told you.” Changbin nudges you with a smirk.

Felix was all in your space, sniffing at your neck and hugging you close to him. He was all but humping you right there in the living room. He nuzzled into your hair as Jisung finally caught a whiff. He dropped the mug he was holding, shattering it.

“Yah!” Changbin yelled. “Get control of yourselves.”

“Sorry…” Jisung muttered, hurrying to clean up the mess. 

Once he did, Jisung was at your other side, clinging to you as well.

“Guess they will be helping you next round…” Changbin shakes his head.

“Next round?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah. It comes in waves sweetheart. It’s not over yet.” Changbin put down the bread and rested his hands on the counter. “How do you not know this?”

“I’ve only had it two times I think. And when I did, the Nykos hid me away. They said I smelled awful. I was miserable the whole time and it didn’t stop for days.” you explained.

“So no one helped you?” Felix asked.

You shook your head.

“If you get help, it makes it bearable… like right now. But the hot flash and pain will come back in a few hours or so. And then you go again. This is how it is for a few days, less if you have help.” Jisung explains.

You were grateful you wouldn’t be in pain the whole time at least, even if it wasn’t over just yet.

Changbin made you two sandwiches and you ate them, followed by a sports drink he claimed was for hydration. You ended up watching tv on the couch, Felix and Jisung curled up next to you. Changbin stepped out back to get some fresh air. And sure enough, when the pain and hot flashes returned, you had two eager playmates to help you out.

That night, Minho returned from the manor with the others. Seungmin and Chan stayed behind, keeping an eye on the workers for a little longer. Changbin would head out later and go pick them up, but for now the others could eat and chill out. At least that was the plan, but when they returned, they learned what they had missed that day.

Jeongin’s eyes dilated immediately at the smell, coming into your room and stepping closer to you. He cautiously reached a hand out to your curled form on the bed. You woke instantly, looking up to see his sweet face looking down at you. The innocent, pleading look in your eyes had him weak in the knees. 

You reached for him and pulled him down onto the bed. He laid facing you and you leaned forward to kiss him. He was timid in his actions, nervous to give into his urges. But the kiss ignited his whole body, hands caressing your hips as you moaned into the kiss. 

“Fuck” he panted, groaning as he kissed your neck.

Minho stepped into the room, sitting in the chair in the corner. You look over at him, a whine escaping your lips. You couldn’t help the excitement of having both of them right now.

“I’m just here to watch. To make sure he doesn’t lose himself.” Minho explains.

You pout, but his face remains firm. If your smell was affecting him, he was doing a good job of hiding it. The others had the tv blasting, eating the food Minho brought home for everyone.

Jeongin’s hand snaked up your shirt and massaged your breast, pulling your attention back to him. You tugged at his shirt, whining. He was quick to help you remove it, then he removed yours. He leaned down, attaching his lips to your nipples and sucking. He nipped at one and you squealed. Your sounds were driving him insane, his cock painfully hard already. Minho too was twitching in his pants but his face remained emotionless.

You reached down, palming Jeongin through his pants. He felt big and you moaned.

“Innie….” you bite your lower lip and a growl escapes his throat.

He reaches down with his hand, slipping into your panties and circling your clit. You threw your head back, moaning his name. Jeongin smirked, precum beading at his tip.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already.” Jeongin rasped.

You bucked your hips, adding to the friction. He slipped two fingers inside. They were long and hitting so deep inside you, making you squirm. Your eyes were squeezed shut, gripping the sheets. Jeongin was smirking as he watched you come undone with just his fingers.

“Cumming already, darling?” 

You whine.

He removes his fingers and brings them to your mouth. “Suck.”

You do as he says, sucking his fingers clean. When you finish, he grips your throat and kisses you hard.

“Good girl.” He says. “Ass up.”

You turn so that your ass is in front of him, leaning down on your elbows. He removes your panties and smacks your ass once, twice, three times. A red handprint begins to form as he lines himself up with your entrance. He grips your hips and sinks his cock into you.

You moan out, fisting the sheets. He was snapping his hips into you, his grip on your hips bruising. He lifted you up, one hand gripping your neck while the other pinched and pulled at your nipples. Your face was going red as your oxygen was restricted, body flushed with his.

“Cum for me darling.” he growled in your ear.

His cock was pounding up into you, hitting your sweet spot and soon you were seeing stars. Groaning, you cum hard and he releases your neck. You fall forward as he grips your hips and thrusts into you…hard. Your body shook as you came down, gasping for air.

He slipped out of your pussy and flipped you over. He climbed onto the bed, climbing up your body and straddling your chest. He pushed his cock to your lips and you took him in your mouth. He leaned forward, holding himself up on his arms and thrusted into your mouth. He growled, rolling his eyes at how good your throat felt.

He bounced on the bed, hitting the back of your throat with each bounce. He paused a few times, letting you gag around him before pulling off. You gasps, drooling as he fucked your mouth. 

He moved off you sitting against the headboard. “Come here.” 

You crawled up the bed and straddled his legs. He dug his heels in the bed and thrusted up into you, your breasts bouncing his face. He latched on to your nipple, biting and sucking on them. You yelp and he grips your throat.

“You sound so fucking pretty.” he rasps. “Bounce on my cock, baby.”

You take over, bouncing on his cock as he groped your breasts. He moved to grip your wrists and pinned your arms behind your back. You grind your hips, circling them in his lap. 

“Fuck that’s it.” 

You moan, throwing your head back.

Jeongin lets go and moves you onto your back. He shoves a pillow under your hips and slams into you. He slaps your breasts before gripping your hips tight. Your orgasm is fast approaching, his cock hitting just right.

“Innie…fuck…” you moan. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, darling. Squeeze my cock.” he says.

You do as he says, squeezing as he helps your ride out your high. You groan, hips bucking as your orgasm takes over. 

“Fuck…” you pant.

He grips your breasts, squeezing tightly before leaning down and sucking them. He kisses up, nipping at your skin as he makes his way up to your mouth. He kisses you messily before flipping you over.

Lifting your hips, he slaps your ass again, thrusting into you once more. You groan, throwing your head back. He pounds hard as he bites his lip. His skin was glistening with sweat, chest heaving as he panted.

He slaps your ass before spitting onto your asshole and prodding his finger inside.

“Ahh.” you clenched around his finger.

“I wonder darling…” Jeongin spoke in a low voice, leaning down into your ear. “Would you let me fuck your ass?”

You shiver at the thought. You had only done it once, surprisingly, and the guy was not gentle about it. The idea wasn’t appealing…if you were in a normal headspace. But the heat was clouding your judgement and you wanted all the pleasure.

“Please…” you pant.

“Please what?”

“Please…fuck my asshole.” you plead.

Jeongin growls, thrusting faster into you. He pushed your legs down, folding you in half. His tempo the speed of a jackhammer and soon you were cumming once more. Your whole body trembled, eyes rolling back. The pain was subsiding, the blazing inferno within finally cooling off.

Minho was still in the corner, a bulge in his pants as he shifted in the chair. He was slowly losing his resolve as he watched the two of you.

Jeongin slipped out, your wetness the perfect lube for him to push into your ass. You tensed, but he reached forward and teased your clit. You relaxed into his touch, moaning as he pushed himself further in.

“Ahh, fuck…” you cried out.

Slowly, Jeongin thrusted, the tight hold on his cock was intoxicating. It was a tight fit and you don’t know how he was managing. He bottomed out, groaning as he fell forward on you. He moved his hips slowly, inhaling your scent as he rocked into you. 

“Mmmm, darling… you’re so fucking tight.”

You moan as he leans up, picking up speed in his thrusts. He grinded into you, squeezing your cheeks and pulling your hair. You groan and he pushes your head into the bed as he stretches you out. He looked over at Minho, who was biting his lip as he watched.

“Wanna join?” Jeongin asked in a cocky tone.

Minho doesn’t say anything. He just watches, leading Jeongin to shrug.

“Suit yourself.”

Jeongin moves even faster, slamming his cock into your ass. You cry out, falling forward. He falls with you, keeping his cock buried in you. He feels himself getting close, knowing the tight hold you have on him is going to milk him for everything he’s worth.

“Cum for me.” Jeongin growls.

You moan, feeling yourself close already. 

“Innieeee…” you whine, feeling it fast approaching. 

You find yourself reaching to rub your clit, pushing yourself further toward the edge.

“That’s it darling. Touch yourself for me.” Jeongin leans down, nipping at your skin as he feels his orgasm approaching.

Your body convulses, shaking with pleasure as his cock thrusts deep inside your ass. You ride out your orgasm, moving your hips up to meet his. He grunts, his cock twitching inside your clenching hole and filling it. His cock pulses, shooting deep inside you. 

Jeongin’s body jerks as his last drops drip from his tip onto your ass. With one last slap to your cheek, he pulls out and falls beside you. You lean over kissing him deeply.

“You like that?” Jeongin smirks.

You nod, biting your lip.

“Minho. You enjoy the show?” Jeongin asks.

Minho glares at him but stands. “Go clean yourself up. You did well.”

“I’m too tired to move.” Jeongin complains.

“Go.” Minho demands.

Jeongin groans, reluctantly standing from the bed. He gives one final smack to your ass before kissing your forehead and leaving the room, his clothes in hand.

You watch Minho as he removes his shirt, slowly unbuttoning his pants. You bit your lip wanting to taste him.

He steps closer, pulling his cock from his underwear and displaying it in front of you. You happily take it in your mouth, ignoring the slight ache in your throat. You bob your head and he tangles his fingers in your hair. His head is thrown back, a groan leaving his throat. You swirl your tongue around his tip, licking the slit before taking his length once more.

He pulls out of your mouth suddenly, pushing his pants off and climbing onto the bed. He turns you over, lining himself up with your entrance and plunging inside you. You moan, back arching off the bed. You were so sensitive from Jeongin’s pounding and now Minho was stretching you deliciously.

“Minho…” you moan.

He leans forward, attaching his lips with yours as he thrusts into you.

“Shh, baby. I got you.” Minho moans, leaning down to kiss your neck.

Your mark was tingling, the bond strengthening. He was so menacing outside the bedroom, but now…he was so sweet. You wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing his neck and chest as he cocooned you beneath him.

“I don’t think I’m going to last long, kitten. I was dying over there watching Jeongin have his way with you.” He whispers.

“Cum in me…please…” you plead.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” he nips at your collarbone, leaning down to suck on your nipples.

“Mmm,” you moan.

Minho reaches between the two of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

You’ve cum so many times today, you have no idea how they keep pulling them out of you. But you felt another building from Minho’s ministrations, eager to please your alpha. You grab onto him, hugging him close to you. He keeps thrusting and soon you’re pushed over the edge.

Your nails rake down his back, groaning loudly as your orgasm crashes into you. He grunts, stuttering in his thrusts as he spills into you.

“Fuck…” he pants.

He buries his cock deep inside, pausing in his movements as he collects himself. Slowly, he begins to slide out. He looks between you two, seeing his cum begin to drip.

He swipes a little with his finger, bringing it to your lips. You suck his finger clean as he pushes his cock into you and falls forward. He strokes your hair, looking into your eyes as you lay below him.

“I had to make up for last time.” he peppers kisses on your face.

You giggle. “You definitely did.”

“I could have lasted longer if I didn’t watch you and Jeongin.” he shook his head.

“You should have joined.” you giggle.

“Oh, should I have? You wanted both your holes stuffed?”

You moan at the thought, clenching around him

“Oh, does that excite my little kitten?”

You bite your lip, nodding. 

“Well maybe tomorrow. Next time, I’ll bring someone with me. I gotta keep my kitten happy.” Minho leans down kissing you.

He pulls out and climbs off the bed.

“Where are you going?” you pout.

“I figured you were too tired to shower, so I was gonna clean you up. Wait here.”

Minho slipped from the room, butt ass naked, and went for the bathroom. After cleaning himself up briefly, he grabs a rag and brings it back to your room. When he returns, you're laying sprawled on the bed sleeping. He smiles to himself and comes over to you. He gently wipes your folds clean, you flinching at first from sensitivity. 

He coos and shushes you back to sleep, finishing up. He pulls a blanket from the closet and covers you. He straightens up the room a bit before going for a shower. Chan was sitting on the couch, everyone else in their rooms asleep. Jisung was sharing Changbin’s bed with him since his room was being occupied.

“Have fun?” Chan smirks.

“Just doing my mate-ly duties.” Minho grabs a snack from the kitchen.

“I call dibs tomorrow.” Chan said with a yawn.

“Bout time.” Minho laughs.

“Not my fault I was pulled away. I would have definitely beat you to marking her.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Minho grabbed a water and went into the bathroom.

Chan came into your room, the scent almost knocking him back. It was mixed with the smell of sex and his cock twitched in his pajamas. He moved over to the bed, climbing in and cuddling up to you. He had yet to properly cuddle you and he was eager to do so. 

You moaned in your sleep, turning over and curling into his chest. He practically melted at your cuteness as he held you tight. Eventually drifting off himself.

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thatgirlangelb @fr34k4c1dr41n @stwq2349 @rylea08 @sang-09 @scarlet789 @hxnnielk @thecutiepieme @sillygoosegoose @ihttinniee @kaleigh-2002 @stvrrylove @tenshimara @bookswillfindyouaway

Shout out to my lovely beta @cherry-erii

[1425fivefive]

oscarmark + chastity (+virginity?) 🥺

i did chastity only. also baby's first oscmark 🥹 (for this kink prompt ask)

“You can’t be serious,” Oscar said.

Mark shrugged. “Seb swore by it.”

“Sure, but”—Oscar glanced down at Mark’s phone screen, flushing at the sight of the metal cage still filling the screen—“he didn’t wear a cage.”

Mark laughed, mean and mocking. “Think Seb had a bit more self control than you.”

Oscar’s flush deepened. Mark had walked in on him wanking in his driver room one time and acted like Oscar was a fucking sex addict. Mark hadn’t even told him to stop, had just shoved Oscar to his knees and had Oscar suck him off, made Oscar get off humping his leg like a dog. Oscar didn’t think Mark had any leg to stand on when it came to self control.

But Oscar didn’t stop Mark when Mark added it to his shopping cart and hit purchase. 

After it arrived, Mark dragged Oscar into the shower, shaved the sensitive skin around Oscar’s cock and balls, Mark’s rough hands gentle and precise. Oscar’s skin was pink and fresh and new after he stepped out of the shower. He felt pretty, almost, as he settled on the edge of the bed, spreading his thighs to make space for Mark. He wondered if Mark thought so too.

Mark didn’t say anything, but he traced a finger over the soft, newly-shaved skin above Oscar’s cock. When Oscar shivered, cock starting to firm up, Mark smacked Oscar’s balls, just hard enough to hurt.

“Fuck,” Oscar groaned, folding in on himself.

“Can’t put the cage on if you’re hard,” Mark said shortly.

Oscar whimpered but he tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than the sight of Mark holding the cage.

Though Oscar wouldn’t admit it, he’d been thinking about it ever since Mark showed it to him. Thinking about Mark putting it on him before and after races, making sure Oscar didn’t touch himself when it was off. Thinking about Mark taking it off to shave him, keep him clean. Thinking about Mark fucking him with it on, how much it would hurt when he tried and failed to get hard.

Thinking about all that had his cock firming up again and Mark aimed another slap to his balls, harder this time.

Oscar yelped at the ache that shot through him, blinking back tears.

“If you can’t stay soft on your own,” Mark said, voice firm, “I’ll have to get ice.”

“No,” Oscar whimpered, cock already softening at the thought of Mark pressing ice to it, the searing cold against his sensitive skin.

Mark sighed, the long-suffering kind that always made Oscar feel like one of Mark’s kids. It probably said something fucked up about Oscar that he sort of liked feeling that way.

“Think this just proves why you need the cage,” Mark said shortly, before reaching down to tug Oscar balls through the ring. He was quick about it, efficient, almost like he’d done it before. Oscar tried not to think about where Mark might’ve practiced.

Mark slid the rest of the cage over Oscar’s cock, the click of the lock deafening in the quiet of Oscar’s flat.

Oscar’s cock immediately tried to stiffen at the sound, aching as it pressed against the bars of the cage. Oscar whined, bringing a hand down to press at his cock, like his hand would give him any relief. It felt good, in a fizzy, far-off sort of way, but Oscar knew he’d never be able to come like this.

The thought had Oscar blinking up at Mark with what he was sure was a desperate expression, hand still rubbing uselessly over his locked-up cock.

“Please,” Oscar whimpered. “I want to—I have to—”

“God,” Mark said, barking out a laugh. “Only a minute in and you’re already begging for it.”

Oscar was, he was, he felt so fucking desperate for it now that he couldn’t have it, desperate to touch his cock and stroke it and have Mark’s mouth around it. He pressed harder against his cock, tears springing to his eyes when he couldn’t get any relief.

“Stop,” Mark ordered.

Oscar let out a devastated little whine but he dropped his hand, staring mournfully down at his cock, swollen in its cage.

Mark made a small noise and when Oscar looked up at him Mark’s jaw was slack, a dark hungry expression on his face as he stared at Oscar’s cock.

Oscar wondered if Mark had really done this for himself. Told Oscar it’d help with his racecraft, help with his focus, when really Mark just wanted him like this. Locked up and needy, desperate and aching for it.

Oscar couldn’t hold back a moan at the thought, the idea of Mark wanting him like this, only for him. 

He spread his thighs wider, putting himself on display, trying to show off the tight little package of his cock.

“Jesus,” Mark groaned.

Oscar ducked his head down, looking up at Mark through his lashes in the way he knew drove Mark crazy. “Y’can still fuck me.” 

Oscar couldn’t imagine how awful it’d feel to be fucked like this, his cock red and leaking in its cage, rocking with every thrust of Mark’s hips. Oscar wanted it more than anything. Maybe Oscar could buy Mark a chain, have Mark wear the key on it while he fucked him, force Oscar to see what he’d let Mark do to him. The thought had Oscar reaching down to palm at his cock, whining when it only made everything worse.

Mark didn’t say anything, just reached forward and snatched Oscar’s wrist, yanking his hand away from his cock.

“Stop. Touching,” Mark gritted out. “That’s not yours to play with.”

Oscar whimpered, thighs spreading wider.

“Whose is it?” Mark asked, fingers tightening on Oscar’s wrist.

“Yours,” Oscar whispered. He debated for only a second before adding, “Daddy.”

Oscar barely had a second to breathe before he was being shoved back onto the bed, hips dragged right to the edge. Couldn’t catch his breath as he watched Mark pull his shirt over his head and shove his boxers and trousers to the floor all in one go, his thick cock bobbing.

Mark stepped to the edge of the bed, slapping his cock on Oscar’s stomach, right next to Oscar’s, tiny in comparison in its cage.

“Look at you,” Mark said, fond and mocking all at once.

Oscar whimpered, cock leaking feebly, trying and failing to get hard.

“Not really good for anything, is it?” Mark asked, dragging his cock over Oscar’s caged one. Mark spit on his hand, before bringing it down to rub at Oscar’s rim, checking that he was still open from when they’d fucked that morning.

Oscar didn’t answer. He’d sort of thought the question was rhetorical, honestly.

But Mark pressed against Oscar’s hole, his spit and the leftover lube and come from earlier barely enough to ease the way, and asked, “Is it?”

“No,” Oscar whispered, so turned on and ashamed he thought he might cry.

“Good boy,” Mark said, sounding pleased, proud, almost, before dragging his cock down to Oscar’s hole, pressing in, hot and huge and overwhelming.

Oscar gasped at the stretch. It wasn’t nearly wet enough but Mark grabbed the lube off Oscar’s nightstand before Oscar could complain, squirting a bit directly onto Oscar’s hole.

Oscar shivered at the cold but he forgot as soon as Mark kept pressing in, making Oscar take it, staring down at Oscar’s swollen cock.

“God,” Mark moaned. “You need it so bad.”

Oscar sniveled, nodded.

“Reckon I was right to lock you up,” Mark said, starting to move, pushing little gasps out of Oscar with each slap of his hips against Oscar’s arse. “Need it too bad. Probably why you keep letting Norris beat you. Can’t stop thinking about getting your cock in him.”

Oscar gasped, staring up at Mark in shock. He’d never thought about Lando like that, wasn’t interested in anyone other than Mark, really, but the thought of it, of Mark being jealous. Of Mark caring enough to want Oscar all to himself.

Mark sneered. “Imagine if he saw you like this,” Mark said. “Saw what you were really good for.”

Oscar whimpered, cock pulsing in its cage, drooling pre-come over the metal bars. Oscar wanted to beg Mark to touch it, drag a thumb over the swollen head, but he knew it wouldn’t feel good. Knew it’d only be an awful reminder of what he couldn’t have.

Mark angled his thrusts up, dragging his cock against Oscar’s prostate. Oscar had never been able to come from just prostate stimulation before but he felt desperate enough that he tried to focus, tried to will his body along, rim tightening around Mark.

Mark groaned at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck, Oscar, gonna make me come if you keep that up.”

“No,” Oscar gasped, wrapping his legs around Mark’s waist, dragging him closer. “Don’t—I have to—need to—”

“Aw,” Mark said, voice mocking even as Oscar saw the arousal plain on his face. “Trying to come?”

Oscar whined but he nodded, frantic. “Please.”

Mark barked out a laugh. “Nah,” Mark said, bringing his hand up to splay across Oscar’s stomach, just above his caged cock, “don’t think you’ll be doing that for a while.”

Oscar gasped, eyes filling with tears. His cock pulsing in its cage, red and dripping and angry and he let out an awful sob, deep and devastated, the gravity of what he’d let Mark do sinking in. That he’d be like this for as long as Mark wanted him to be, needy and strung out and desperate, swollen and begging for it.

Oscar let out another sob, a tear slipping down his cheek, and he brought a hand up to scrub desperately at it, trying to hide it from Mark.

But Mark seemed to notice because he let out a low fuck and pressed in deep, wet warmth flooding Oscar as Mark started to come. It only made Oscar sob harder, feeling Mark get to chase his pleasure and get it.

“Please,” Oscar begged, voice wet. “Please, Mark, please, you have to—”

Mark shushed him, bringing a hand down to squeeze Oscar’s cock.

Oscar whimpered but he stopped begging, trying to blink away tears.

“Good boy,” Mark murmured, bending down to press a kiss to Oscar’s forehead, still buried in him. “Good boy, letting me have you like this.”

Oscar shuddered, wanted to keep begging, but when Mark pulled back and looked at him, eyes gentle and awed, Oscar forced himself to stop. Forced himself to remember that if this was the way Mark wanted him, he’d keep doing it until the day Mark stopped wanting him.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Shovel Love

Snow tickled the tip of his nose as Jason fumbled with his keys. His gloves were too thick for his pockets, and his grocery bags made any maneuvering unnecessarily complicated. He was not dropping the cereals on the sidewalk. Half of it was covered in melted slush that would instantly destroy the package. He’d never live it down. 

So, he might have had to bite on his gloves, ignore the taste of leather and keep an arm elevated to balance his bags, but he did get his keys out without accident. 

The triumph was short-lived though, as the hair on the back of his neck suddenly tingled. 

“What do you want?” Jason asked, not looking away from the door. 

There was the faintest sound of snow crunching behind him. 

“I came to give a warning,” Nightwing hissed, his voice low and dark, as threatening as anything Jason had ever heard. 

And he had heard a lot of threats from his big brother. The perils of tugging Batman’s cape. 

“You’re a bit late for that,” Jason scoffed, a corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. “Already had the Arrows and most of the Titans give me their speech weeks ago. What took you so long?”

The scowl on his brother’s face deepened. 

Nightwing was the type of man that worked three superhero shifts and still tried to hold a day job. He was always in movement, always everywhere he needed to be. It made him reliable and popular with multiple generations of heroes at this point. But it also meant he had no roots anywhere. He got gossip later than most, and he was not always in a position to make good on that intel right away. Multiple crises owing.  

This was probably the first free moment he had gotten since he had learned that Jason was in a relationship with Roy Harper. 

Understandable. But Jason didn’t really care for that excuse. 

“I was busy. Others told me they’d already seen you, but I still wanted to show up for Roy.”

This time, Jason did snort. Sure. Everyone wanted to be there for Roy. And he had not ended up friendless in rehab either. God, he hated them sometimes. 

A gloved fist struck the door right next to his head. 

Jason turned around. Nightwing boxed him against the door. He was shorter, sure, but that did nothing to lessen the actual threat in his stance. Jason had seen him take down behemoths like Bane or Croc without a scratch after all.  

“Enough,” Dick growled. 

It was also hard to ignore the fact that Dick had shown up in armor while Jason only wore a winter coat for protection. And a bag of groceries hardly compared to escrima sticks with the power of cattle prods. 

“I don’t care what game you think you’re playing-”

“Not a game,” Jason bit out, irritated despite his best efforts. 

“When you break Roy’s heart, I will make you regret toying with my friend for another one of your fucked up taunts.”

“Not everything is about you.”

It took skills to convey an eye roll behind a domino mask. Nightwing managed effortlessly. 

“Of course not.” His voice turned snide. “When is it never not about Jason Todd with you?”

“Not even gonna dignify that one. So, you gonna break me in half if I hurt Roy. Cool. Message received. Are you done?”

Wrong thing to say. His dismissive tone was obviously interpreted wrong, because Nightwing bristled. 

“If you think I won’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, ten out of ten, Dick. But like I said, you ain’t the first one to give that speech. I’ve already been threatened to be skewered, deafened, decapitated, frozen in the speedforce, drowned, pulverized, thrown to a hell dimension, etc. etc. with the promise that it would make what the Joker did to me seem tame.”

Nightwing did twitch then, but it was a small thing, and quickly buried away if it was ever there. Jason didn’t bother putting stock in it.

“I guess no one really threatened lobotomy if you want to go there. Wait, no, one of his psychic teammates did. Look, at this point, just say you’re gonna beat me to death with your bare hands and save us both the time.”

Nightwing’s fists clenched, and his skin paled another shade. 

It could be anger, horror, any number of things. Jason had no intention to decipher it. 

The scar on his neck was throbbing, like it wanted Jason to remember. Funny how that always happened around heroes. 

“I really don’t care what a bunch of hypocrites like you think of me, Dick. If you wanna break your moral codes on me, go for it, you wouldn’t be the first. Hell, it wouldn’t even be your first time either.”

The frown slipped for a second, replaced by surprise, by outrage. God, Nightwing was winding himself up again, and Jason just really wanted to go put this fucking carton of milk in the fridge before it went bad. 

“Night, Dick. Glare at me through the windows if you still want to be intimidating, but I’m done talking. You’ll kill me, message received. Now, fuck off.”

And he twisted his keys in, pushing the door open and slipping inside in an instant. 

He slammed the door closed behind himself, and he snorted when the doorknob immediately rattled. Didn’t open without a key to the building. Obviously, Nightwing could break in. He probably wouldn’t though. He’d said what he wanted to, and Dick had never wanted to speak to Jason longer than necessary. 

He would definitely be doing some surveillance tonight though. He would be on high alert, probably under the impression that now that the main player had shown up, Jason would be putting his diabolical plans into action. Damn. He should close the curtains first thing as he enters, but that would be just inviting Dick to bring in every friend he had to mount a ‘rescue’. 

Jason liked this apartment. They had picked it together. It had enough space for them, was in the right part of town to be close to action when they went out as vigilantes, didn’t cost both their arms to buy…  

It was in Star City, but nothing could be perfect. 

Jason climbed out the last of the stairs and played with the keys for a second before he entered his home. 

Roy dropped the arrowhead he’d been working on, and stood up from the dinner table.

“Jaybird!”

Roy had a tendency to light up whenever he saw someone he cared about. It didn’t matter if Jason was leaving for a black out ops that would take a week or two or if he was going on a walk, the second he was back, Roy’s smile went wide and the knots of tension in his body all went slack at the same time. 

It didn’t matter how many times Jason came back, Roy exuded relief every time. 

(Not a lot of people stayed for Roy.)

The grocery bags found their way to the kitchen counter. The carton of milk could wait. 

“Hey,” Jason said as he grabbed onto his partner’s hips, “missed me?” 

“Yup,” Roy chirped, right before he leaned forward and met Jason with a gentle kiss. 

For a second, all was right in the world. And because he was Jason Todd, that feeling truly only lasted a second. He wanted to abandon himself in his lover’s arms, those beautiful biceps that pulled incredibly powerful bows to nail insane targets from equally insane distances. Even if he did not deserve that kind of peace, Jason was too greedy not to want it. But he could already feel someone’s eyes on them. Huh. That really did fuck up the mood, didn’t it?

They parted. 

“Who was it this time?” Roy asked after a moment, his shoulders dropping in exhaustion. 

Jason offered the smallest smile. “Dear old Dickiebird. He’s probably watching us as we speak.”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. He briefly closed his eyes, and muttered some absolutely filthy curses that would have made a sailor blush. Then, with a determined stride, he marched right up to their living room’s window. He made a show of scanning the night, then flipped off the figure perched on the rooftop opposite to theirs. 

Jason devolved into giggles. Giggles! Him! And in front of a witness too. It was a good thing no one would ever believe Roy that Jason was capable of anything other than snarls and sneers. 

The funniest part of all these threats was that all these paragons somehow thought Jason would still be alive after he lost the last person to ever care about him. Was he supposed to care if they chose to spit on his corpse or reduce it to ash? It’d only help make sure Jason would not come back again.

***

Nightwing’s visit was nothing out of the ordinary, besides the tardiness. Jason had a reputation. It pissed Roy off to no end how so many people would parade around their place now and offer him unconditional support in kicking Jason to the curb if needed. Jason honestly would have thought it was kind of sweet, if it was not disgustingly hypocritical. 

Roy had once been the black sheep of the hero community. 

But the blackest sheep of them all wore a Red Hood. 

Also, on occasion, an apron to cook. A cheesy, horny one that said ‘Kiss the cock’ with a cartoony rooster on the front. Roy always waggled his eyebrows at Jason when he wore it. What was he supposed to do? A man was weak. 

At least, the horny promises in those eyes usually waited after they had eaten whatever Jason had slaved over in his pots and pans. 

Tonight’s menu was a honey glazed salmon that had been priced just in that sweet spot of affordable on sale they always looked for. It did look good, if Jason said so himself. He poked at it with his knife, his mind on other things. He should not wait any longer. It was almost the twenty-fourth. Any later and it would hurt worse. 

He hated himself a bit more for it though. 

“Hey, Roy?” Jason said softly. 

Roy hummed lazily, blowing over the steaming piece of fish. “Jaybird? What is it?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to Queen’s for Christmas Dinner. ”

Roy froze. He stared, uncomprehending, his fork still suspended in the air with a piece of salmon, held in a tightly clenched hand. He stopped breathing. His eyes filled with an emotion that was so rare in him. 

Fear, in a way no army of mimes or evil robots or space dragons could ever evoke. 

“I got a lead on the trafficking ring,” Jason said. 

The shift was immediate. Whiplash even. Roy nodded, mind set. 

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Jason made a show of hesitating. The last thing he wanted was to pull his partner away from the people he loved. Especially when things had been so rough between them before. It would do no one any favor if Roy bailed on them now.  

“You should go see your family.”

“Jason,” Roy scoffed. 

“They wouldn’t be happy if I pulled you away from the holidays for work.”

A flash of fiery emotion burned through Roy’s voice. “So what? I should let you do this without backup because Ollie wouldn’t get into the Christmas Spirit otherwise?”

“We already scouted things. We don’t need to both be there to crash the operation. I’ll be on frequency. If I need the backup, I can call the rest of the birds. They’ll show up.”

They wouldn’t, because Jason would not tell them anything. But there was a slight possibility that they would have shown up if they knew the trafficking ring was legit and not a trap. 

“I don’t like this, Jaybird. We’re a team…”

“I’ll be fine. Nothing will happen to me. And it’s better this way. Do you really think the arrows wanted me polluting their dinner table? I can see Queen’s glare from here.”

“So you should be alone on Christmas instead,” Roy whispered miserably. “Jaybird… ”

Guilt started to gnaw at Jason’s bone, but he held firm. He wrapped his arms around his man and placed a light kiss on his cheek. 

“I’ll be okay, Roy. Not my first time. Trust me, you won’t miss anything busting up scum’s kneecaps. Okay, except maybe some catharsis, but we can do that any other time. Just go spend the time with your family. I’ll be there when you come back. What will you do with the gifts you’ve bought otherwise? Come on, Roy. You’ve been looking forward to that dinner for months.”

Which was exactly why Jason had timed everything to be unavailable at the last minute. He had taken the hints a while ago. He was not going to ruin things for Roy to impose on people that hated him. 

***

Jason did not react to the sound of their bedroom door slowly opening. 

He pretended not to hear Roy’s sharp intake of air, or his sigh of relief. They did not poke at each other’s open wounds. They’d never survive if they started acting like their families. For all Jason was the biggest stain on superhero society, that spot had once belonged to Roy. Blame was an insidious game. It snuck up on you. It made fathers throw their kids out in the street. So, they just didn’t. 

Jason pretended to stir only when the bed dipped, because it would be completely nonsensical for a bat not to notice. 

(Roy, of course, knew.)

(They knew a lot of things about each other that they never put into words.)

“Had fun?” he mumbled into his pillow. 

Roy pressed himself against Jason’s back, warm, almost feverish. His arms circled Jason’s waist, his nose tickled the middle of Jason’s back. Like he didn’t want to risk Jason seeing his face. 

“Yeah. You? Wiped out the whole operation?”

“Purged the whole thing. Got a bunch of kids to their parents, or the cops for those who lived out of town. ”

A faint tension seemed to fall into the room. 

Jason should not have said that. 

Roy’s body was trembling. 

“They put up a plate for Lian… ”

Oh, Roy. 

“Dinah gave a speech. It was…” Roy sniffed. “It was really pretty. Lian would have loved it. Everyone ended up crying. Fuck, I… I really would have given up everything for her to be there with us then. I… I would have wanted you there, Jaybird.”

Jason bit his lips, staring ahead at their bedroom wall. Anywhere but back.

“Sorry, Roy.”

Should he have gone anyway? In his guts, he knew it would have been a disaster. Everyone else would have been so pissed if he had witnessed their moment. He was well aware of what Queen thought of him. He’d hissed it to him once. 

Why in the name of all that was good was he the one that came back to life? 

Jokes on Queen, Jason had been having those thoughts long before he and Roy ever became an item. Before the whole of the hero community seemingly rallied behind Roy for once in their goddamned lives. 

As Robin, he had died under the impression that he had been loved. That he had been a good hero, and that he had had a better run than most kids in his circumstances would have. 

And then he had woken up in his own coffin. 

How many of them had told him he had wasted every opportunity to be welcomed back? 

To what? He’d thought about asking them again and again. To a father who had disowned him in death, turned him into a cautionary tale for the other sidekicks? To a community that had forgotten him? To a battle that featured all the same monsters, only bolstered by even more abominations like Professor Pyg? 

Jason had died thinking he had been loved, and some cruel cosmic force had decided to show him how wrong he had been. 

Batman had told him, between even more lectures, that it was natural that a father would be filled with righteous fury at the death of his son. That it was expected he’d try to retaliate. To kill his son’s killers. 

Funny that, right? But Jason had also forgotten how Bruce had claimed not to be Jason’s father. His fucking fault for getting it wrong. For letting himself believe. For giving Batman a second chance, one desperate chance to show Jason had not been just a fool to believe three years of partnership meant something. 

He had long stopped being annoyed whenever someone got his motives wrong. He had been screaming everything he wanted and needed and was trying to accomplish, and not one of them got it right. Half the bats thought he had tried to force Batman to kill the Joker, for fuck’s sake. 

(The irony of them thinking Bruce needed to be forced to kill someone made Jason’s scar ache.)

(The irony of them thinking he had only come back from the dead once .)

“Do you want to go see her tomorrow?” Jason asked. 

Roy nodded against his back, stifling another bout of sobbing. Tightening his grip as if he would drown without that touch. 

“We’ll buy her a bouquet of daffodils and white lilies.”

“And red carnations.”

“Yes. Those too.”

The keening sound Roy made threatened to rip Jason’s heart in two. He felt himself shudder, his insides growing cold as he placed his hands over Roy’s, as he leaned into his partner’s touch. 

“Roy, I’m here,” he whispered urgently.  

“Don’t leave me, Jaybird. Please, don’t leave me. I can’t lose anyone else. I’m sorry. I know they hate you, I keep telling them to knock it off, but they never listen. They told me again tonight. They keep saying it’s Jade all over again. It’s not. I know it’s not. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.”

“I’m here,” he repeated. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, he managed to twist himself inside Roy’s dead grip, managed to turn around to face his partner in crime and in life.

“Everyone leaves. Even Kori,” Roy whispered, despair choking him.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m here. Roy, I’m here. I won’t leave and I won’t die. I love you.”

Roy gave him a kiss mixed with tears. “I love you.”

Jason was certain that more heroes would come out of the woodwork and posture at him eventually. They would threaten and reason and bargain and every other thing they could think of to protect Roy from Jason. 

But when he held Roy in his arms after another nightmare, another beautiful dream where Lian was alive, another listless night when his arms itched with cravings , Jason knew he would be there until the day Roy got sick of him.

Like everyone else. 

But not a moment sooner. 

[ud505]

Hii! I absolutely adore ur writing! I was wondering if Josh Washington would braid/tie reader’s hair up if they would allow them to, to sort of cope with Hannah and Beth’s disappearance; assuming that Josh would sometimes do the twins’ hair. Some hcs and a gender neutral reader would be nice :)

Hi anon!! I'm glad u like my writing :) I'm absolutely sure he'd do that. And I can also imagine him making his sisters hairstyles that their parents didn't allow them to wear when they weren't home 😭😭

• It sort of started as a joke. You were trying to do some new hairstyle on yourself, but it didn't turn out as you wanted it to. So he offered himself to help you, and you accepted thinking he was joking

• At first you weren't so sure abt how it'd look on you bc, since when does he know how to do someone's hair? Well guess who turned out to be a fool

• It looked amazing. More than amazing. How? You ask him. He just says it's a "secret talent of his" while trying not to laugh at your visibly surprised face

• But secretly? He was afraid that you wouldn't like it. It had been some time since he last helped the twins with their hair, so he wasn't sure if it was good enough for you

• Since then, he always offers to do your hair, it doesn't matter if you're tired, drunk, or just too lazy to do it yourself. Call and he'll do it, no reason needed

• He'd have some nicknames for you like "his hairstyle doll" and he'd actually think they're hilarious

• He'd send you random photos of hairstyles just in case you want him to make them for you. Such a cutie

• He'd be really careful while doing it bc he wouldn't wanna hurt you. All that experience with his sisters messy hairs have made him an expert, even on curly ones

• He'd make you some silly hairstyles if you let him when he's bored or inspired

• And if you let him, he'd put some accessories on you (like sanrio or princess themed hair clips)

• He'd agree to match hairstyles with you if you asked him. And he'd sometimes encourage you to try and do them to him (not a lot bc he doesn't want you to learn to do it yourself, he enjoys those moments with you more than you'll ever know)

• And even if they look absolutely horrible, he'd wear them like a fucking medal

• He'd also act like he were a hairdresser and didn't know you just to make it funnier

• If you could turn around while he's doing your hair, you'd see him absolutely concentrated and with a wide smile. It just gives him so many good memories...

• But he's never telling you that it helps him to cope with the twins' dissapearance though. He doesn't want you to be sad bc of it, and prefers to see it as a cute tradition that the both of you have

[mixterglacia]

CONTENT WARNING: Vivziepop Critical/ Stolitz Critical below the cut.

This episode made me incredibly angry, so it's not going to be as well structured as I try to manage.

TL;DR The pacing and tone was a horrible mess, and this should have been split into at least two episodes to pull this off.

To start, we prove in the first five minutes how little these two actually know each other. They're surprised by very simple things and I don't like that. It tells me that neither of them, but especially Stolas, EVER asked about the other's interests. Cool, that's good to know I was right about that the whole time.

Blitz is WILDLY out of character in the bulk of this episode. I LOATHE how he's waiting on Stolas hand and foot. If we're being honest, he'd probably just say "figure it out yourself" and focus on his life, business, and daughter. Why are we always having to baby Stolas' feelings? It feels like he's the only one allowed to actually be doted on. (In a non-humorous way.)

And now he remembers Via? Sure, just run off without thinking about your family. You have never let that stop you before. And now Stella is being cartoonishly evil in front of her daughter? We've never had it proven that she's a bad mother. In fact, from what Via states later, that's the case! I really think they have no idea on how to be subtle with her.

In a similar vein to the moment with Blitz watching the family later. You didn't need to tell us who he was imagining in that window. The moment worked without you punching it down our throats.

Likewise with Millie's pregnancy. I wish they'd left that as an open thread, rather than taking time to fully confirm it. Like maybe all the way up to the point where she went into the bathroom and left looking a little fucked up? That way it can be an engaging thing to return to in S3.

The non-drama parts of the episode (especially the first five minutes) dragged HARD. They gutted any emotional moments and just felt like padding for the runtime.

I am so annoyed at the way this show is trying to lessen what Stolas did.

HE CHEATED ON HIS WIFE. HE DESTROYED HIS FAMILY. HE ABANDONED HIS DAUGHTER. HE IS A TERRIBLE MAN WHO GETS EVERYTHING HE WANTS BECAUSE THE SHOW BABIES HIM.

This is not some cute little quirk. His wife was never implied to cheat on him first. She was a bitch, but she didn't do anything to deserve this. I can't stress enough that if you showed her playing around too, it would immediately solve most of the hypocrisy with this.

Trying to weasel around that by Blitz trying to say cheating really so bad is fucking gross. It's not like they had an open relationship and Stella got jealous. Stolas is a slimeball. He doesn't deserve Blitz. He doesn't deserve Via.

He hasn't earned any of this.

While it came out of nowhere, the Via song is STELLAR. As a product of divorce, she owes her father nothing. She deserves to feel so hurt and betrayed.

"My tears won't fall upon your shoulder...I'll just get older and you'll only know my name." Hit me like a truck.

So imagine my outrage when we aren't allowed to sit and think about her feelings for more than a few seconds after the song. We aren't allowed to focus on her pain. If they staged a sequence between the number and her finding her dad's pills, I think it would work better.

Or even uploading the song by itself. But no. You have to CONSTANTLY remind us to feel bad for the stupid fucking owl. Feel bad because he's depressed. Feel bad because he's trapped in the same loveless marriage as his wife. But don't feel bad for her because she's a bitch.

Fuck. Off.

My dad was manic depressive, that doesn't mean he got to treat our family the way he did. Stolas didn't even think about her before throwing his life away over his booty call.

This show has so much potential that it just squanders. There are two different series being forced together and it doesn't work. You have the comedy series shoved into the same sweater as the soap opera. They aren't mutually exclusive, but truly the team seems incapable of making this work.

I'm done.

This isn't even fun to critique anymore.

If folks want my opinions on future Helluva Boss content, you'll have to directly ask me to watch the piece in question. I'm still going to give S2 of Hotel a shot, but as far as this?

I'm throwing in the towel. Of the two, I was so excited for Helluva. I loved the characters, I loved the idea, and I truly loved the first couple episodes.

But that show doesn't exist anymore.

Once again, I'm going to take a moment to remind you all:

You are allowed to love this series. I am just a dude on the internet. I am not trying to change your mind. I am not trying to ruin your fun. If you love it, that's awesome. I am so happy you found something that sings to your soul.

Don't let me harsh your buzz. Okay?

[beef-brisket]

Charlie: An archangel-? You killed an archangel?!

Lucifer: Hm. It's been a while since they sent an archangel after us.

Charlie: Shit- this isn't good!

Adam: Calm down, kid. I kill angels all the time. It's no big deal.

Adam sat back behind the two, ready to watch them shoot.

Charlie turns to him: Their not to be messed with, Adam! Those guys- their some of the strongest warriors in Heaven!

Adam: Yeah, I know who they are.

Charlie: If you hurt an archangel, you have to answer to the thrones!

Adam beamed: Oh! Yeah, those fuckers! I haven't killed one of them yet!

Lucifer: Addy. The kids actually worried.

Charlie: Of course I'm worried! I thought we went trying to draw attention to ourselves?!

Adam scoffed: Who told you that? They know where we live, chick. We're drawing attention to ourselves one way or another.

Charlie: Look, Adam. My father was an angel-.

Adam: And my mother was a Seraphim. Didn't know we were going to di a dick measuring contest.

Charlie blinked: A Seraphim?

Adam: Uh... yeah?

Charlie: J-Jesus...

Adam: Never met him. Did hear he's a bit of a stuck-up prick, though.

Charlie sits down with her head in her hands, her eyes wandering to the angelic corpse in front of her.

Adam glanced to Lucifer, then back to Charlie.

Adam: ...am I missing something?

Charlie: ...we're nothing alike. A fucking- Seraphim?! Who was your father?! Satan?!

Adam rolled his eyes: Worse. Fucking sex demon.

Charlie: ...oh my god. Oh. My god-. You're one of the most powerful beings ever made- and you crave sex all the time?!

Adam glared: I don't crave it, thank you. I just meed dick every now and then, it's no big deal.

Charlie: No big deal-?!

Lucifer: Alright. Enough. You're giving me a headache, kid. Let's just calm down.

Charlie looks away and breathes: Okay... okay, sorry...

Adam smirked: Shit, you're angers worse than mine~.

Lucifer: We both know that's not true.

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[introvert-celeste]

Welp, I can safely say that October and Halloween have been ruined for me. I envy everyone who can actually look forward to the festivities because my heart is just not in it this year :/

[dukeofthomas]

why does every reconciliation fic go like this

[marclef]

about to get started on a long post so, to pass the time i'm dumping a few non-digital sketches i've made the past few months here.

mostly just ones that looked nice enough to post heh but all Fake Peppino (what a surprise) with a couple Eyhm cameos.

(KINDA BIG SO I'VE PUT IT UNDER A READMORE)

friends :) (IMAGES NOT RELATED)

IT'S IN REFERENCE TO THIS COMIC I SWEAR

and three actual colored ones. you can't tell my pens were dying in the last two don't worry.

.... ok images actually related this time.

THIS ONE ISN'T THOUGH I SWEAR SHE'LL BE FINE

(ok time to start working on the actual thing i'm making. it involves cats so. be prepared.)

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[invinciblerodent]

I don't really have time to play him more than like an hour every few days, but man, Marcus really is insufferably pretty. Half the time, I've got my finger glued to the screenshot button, lol.

His personality is slowly taking shape in my head too: so far, he's been a far kinder, more emotional person than the broody, analytical scholar I thought he was going to be (I'm leaning into the "arcane grief councilor, magic is not just engineering but also psychology/philosophy" angle a bit more, so he's approaching all from a place of emotion and analysis), and his softness is a choice that comes from a place of rigorous, painful self-awareness.

In his head, so far Marcus is kind of the king of compartmentalization: he's constantly picking through his own thoughts and feelings and slotting them away into neatly labeled boxes, while choosing which ones he'll let himself feel (and chastising himself for the rest), which then also translates to him being very cautious, guarded... maybe even somewhat cynical. He's keeping his distance in general (as one would probably expect from someone who has never much experienced a warm, emotionally fulfilling environment, and has not really been outside of an academic setting much).

I'm thinking that his personal arc is going to be based around his unspoken suspicions continuing to be confirmed over and over again in the worst ways, causing him to sort of recede more and more into himself, but it'll be the others daring to let their feelings be felt (with Neve forgiving him, and Bellara both relying on him in his field of expertise and dragging him out into the light with her exuberance) that's going to create some much-needed balance in the end.

I like to think that where Ver embodied the moniker of "Rook" from a place of strength and forthrightness (acting as Solas' foil in that way, as a leader), Marcus embodies it more from a literal sense: from being stuck, in the highest room of that (ivory) tower.

He's... probably more like Solas than either of them would like to admit, really.

[foreverxdaydreaming]

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