#Whisky the mouse

[raccoon-crown]

Whisky (Whiskers) the mouse

The owner of the "Snow Whisker Café & Bar"

Finally done! The digital version of Whiskey the mouse. The favorite bartender and coffee maker in Snowpoint (@son1c AU not really an AU) and the mug he usually gives to Sonic!

I may even do something else today about him! (please ignore yesterday's cómic and that ugly resolution...)

[atrwriting]

thinking about logan with his cigar.

...and you know you are too.

you weren't sure why, but you did know when it started... it was the first night you had ever seem him in his preferred outfit and setting: outside, in boots, jeans, leather belt, and tight white tank top tucked into his jeans. his chest and facial hair on full display, in the same way a person would accessorize with gold or silver. and in his mouth? between his lips, that he always ran his tongue over? a fat, dark cigar. lit at the tip, influencing him to take small puffs of smoke into his mouth.

"you don't inhale, sweetheart," he would tell you. "not a cigarette."

you rolled your eyes. "i know – jus' don't understand why."

"that's just how 's done."

you were both the type to escape outside, sharing the same terrace as you were neighbors. sometimes, from your window, you could see him sit back in his chair – manspreading, staring off into the distance at the tres as if he longed for the forest. to you, logan was the epitome of masculinity – rough and rugged, around every edge of him. sometimes – late at night, when you could see him through your window from your bed – you would let your glances linger. linger for just a little bit longer than they should have, but who could blame you?

"if you're gonna stare, sweetheart –" he'd begin before he took a pull from his cigar, keeping his eyes on the window as he did. he would puff his cheeks once, twice before he would hold the smoke in his mouth for a moment – just a moment – before he would let it escape past his lips. "– you might as well come out 'ere."

like a good little mouse, you would come out onto the terrace. in the night – and only in the night – you would have enough courage to walk over to where he sat on the bench. as always, he was leaning back against the back of the outdoor couch with his arm across the back – usually you'd be scared and weary, but not at night. never at night. at night, he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks. at night, he couldn't see how the heat that rose on your face was hot enough to rival the heat at the tip of his cigar. at night, you felt braver.

you would sit next to him – planting yourself right on his side, leaning into his warmth. the first time you did it – he was surprised. but every time after? he never winced again. every time after, he'd eye you through the window – as if he was wondering why you weren't already out there, and chose to instead pretend to not stare at him through the window where only the glow of his cigar could illuminate his handsome face. it was like he could see through the window in the darkness – staring right into your eyes.

soon, every time you tucked yourself into his side – his arm would fall from the back of the outdoor couch. it would fall, and his fingers would catch themselves on the skin of your upper arm. they would lightly rub against your skin, goosebumps immediately rising. you would shiver, and he would hide a chuckle. soon, he wouldn't even try to hide the affection. he would wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his side – until the only thing that hit your senses was the smell of whisky, cigar, worn leather, and wood.

logan. all of those things made up logan.

and when you continued the charade after some time – pretending he couldn't see you through the window – he had enough. why weren't you already out there, and instead insisting on playing these games?

"cigars only keep me so warm, sugar," he'd say, sparking the end. "better come out 'ere and keep me company."

____

brothers soft logan has got me feelin some type of way -L xoxo lmk ur thoughts

[zablife]

A Cozy Night in with Tommy

Tommy Shelby x female reader

A/N: Wrapping him in a blanket and putting logs on the fire, requested by @brummiereader. Children's story referenced is the Aesop fable The Lion and the Mouse. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Warnings: drinking, unwanted advances, bodily harm Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

"A lion lay sleeping in the forest...," a soft voice lilted, the melodic tone wafting into Tommy's office like a gentle spring breeze.

Removing his spectacles and dropping back into his chair to listen, Tommy hummed in contentment. This was his favorite part of the evening because it signaled the beginning of the children's bedtime routine. Within the hour, you would be here with him, reading your own book quietly on the sofa as he finished his paperwork and stole glances across the room.

It had taken weeks for you to feel comfortable enough to accept his nightly invitation, thinking it improper to be alone with a man twice your age whom you'd just met. However, you acquiesced as the pained look of sorrow grew in his eyes.

Frances explained he'd lost two wives under tragic circumstances which left him an achingly lonely widower. Upon hearing this, your kind heart urged you to look after him. It was the least you could do considering his benevolence, offering you shelter when you came to him for help.

Now you'd been with the Shelbys six months and you'd made it your duty to bring cheer to the entire household. One thing the family seemed to enjoy was your storytelling and though Mr. Shelby didn't often finish his work in time to join you, you always hoped he was listening.

You had no way of knowing he cracked his door at the same time each night, straining to hear every word. In fact, he was in rapt attention at that very moment. When you imitated the roar of the lion followed by the high pitched squeak of the captured little mouse, he couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips.

"Spare me! Please let me go..." you begged in an overly exaggerated plea, clasping your hands in prayer dramatically until Charlie and Ruby erupted in giggles at your theatrics.

However, little Ruby soon turned pensive. "Does the lion hurt the mouse?" she gulped, clutching onto your sleeve.

The contact startled you as Ruby had been decidedly standoffish, unwillingly to accept any sort of mother figure so quickly after the death of her own. You placed an arm around her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "No, he's quite generous," you assured her.

By the time you'd finished, Tommy was relaxing with whisky tumbler in hand, trying to be patient as you answered the children's questions about the moral of the story.

"It's about repaying debts," Charlie nodded solemnly. "Dad says a person should always pay their debts. Do mice?" he pondered, tilting his head to think for a moment.

You giggled at the firm assertion and his businesslike tone, so much like Mr. Shelby at times. "Well, according to this fable they do," you conceded. "But more importantly it's about kindness and how it's never wasted." Ruby hugged you tightly in reply, proof that the time you'd spent with the Shelby family was bringing her out of her shell.

Your heart swelled at the notion, a contentedness coming over you as you tucked the children into their beds and watched them snuggle beneath the covers. With a feeling of satisfaction, you skipped happily down the stairs toward Mr. Shelby's office in hopes of brightening his evening as well. Only then would you feel your day was complete.

However, the moment you glimpsed his hunched postured and tense looking jaw in the fading firelight, you paused. He seemed as though he were considering something of great importance and you were reluctant to disturb him. "Is everything alright, Mr. Shelby? Would you like to be alone?" you asked, peering into the shadows of his office.

He slowly raised his head from the desk, exhaustion evident in his bloodshot eyes. "'M fine," he mumbled before straightening in his chair. "Come," he urged with a wave of his hand.

In accordance with your nightly routine, you crossed to the fireplace and carefully added enough wood to last until you retired. However, as you turned to select a book from the large shelves by the desk, the now roaring fire illuminated Mr. Shelby's face, which was much paler than usual. Your fingertips lingered over the spine of a leather-bound volume as worry began to crease your brow.

Noticing your hesitation, Tommy asked, "Haven't found what you're looking for?"

You shook your head softly to indicate that wasn't the problem. Meeting his gaze earnestly, you ventured, "I hope you don't find this presumptuous, Mr. Shelby, but I think you could do with a bit of rest. You look unwell."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a heavy sigh. The silence that followed set you on edge, wondering if he might correct you once again. He was insistent you call him Tommy, but the informality of it still seemed disrespectful.

As you studied his graying temples for a hint of what he might be thinking, Tommy revealed the problem. With gravel filled voice he admitted, "It's true, I can't sleep...haven't been sleeping for some time now."

You felt an ache bloom in your chest at the thought of his suffering, wishing you could ease his discomfort. Without hesitation you complied with his request to join him on the sofa, happy to see he was taking your advice.

Removing the cozy blanket from the back of the sofa, you lightly draped it over his shoulders. With a warm smile, you offered to read aloud while he closed his eyes. However, he politely declined as he reached for your hand instead. Your heart skipped a beat as his long fingers closed over yours, giving a gentle squeeze.

"I like having you close to me, Y/n. Say you'll stay." His penetrating gaze made you feel small beside him and a ripple of anxiety coursed through you at the thought of confiding your plans for the future.

You took a deep breath for courage as you explained, "Mr. Shelby, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness, but it isn't my intention to rely on charity the rest of my life," you began. "I've taken a job so I won't be a burden to you any longer."

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly at your statement. He disliked the news coming from you even less than Maggie at the exchange. She'd dutifully informed him of every call you made to town inquiring about job opportunities for young women. It was the beginning of his many sleepless nights, wondering how he might keep you here.

When your plans sounded like idle gossip, they were easy to ignore. Now the threat of you leaving was real and immediate. He knew he had to do something drastic. Opposite hand rising to stroke your cheek with his knuckles, his sharp blue eyes darted to yours as he blurted, "Marry me."

"I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, head spinning at his overly familiar show of affection. In all the time you'd spent with Mr. Shelby, he'd never once touched you. You felt it had to do with the respect he held for you, or at least that's what you told yourself until now.

"Mr. Shelby..."Tommy," you corrected yourself. "I'm very fond of you, but you've been like a father to me. So you see, I couldn't possibly mar..."

Before you could finish the thought, you felt the rough, chapped skin of his lips brushing against yours. He was tender at the start, but the first taste of you only made him hungry for more. Deepening the kiss, he slipped his tongue into your mouth roughly, making you startle.

He paid no attention to the way your body stiffened, a firm hand coming to rest at the back of your head. Locking you in place, his opposite hand unclasped from yours to roam your supple curves. Heart slamming against your ribcage, you tried to speak, but only a pathetic squeak emerged.

Tommy chuckled darkly, the innocent cry reminding him of the little mouse from the fable. He not only found your shock amusing, but arousing as well. Although you tried to jerk away, he forced your hand higher on his thigh until you brushed against the growing bulge in his trousers, making his need for you apparent. "I've been more than patient with you, darling."

"What do you mean? Please, you're scaring me," you pleaded in a quivering voice. As his teeth grazed the column of your throat, a strangled cry escaped. "Stop!"

He pulled his face from the crook of your neck, a storm of emotion passing through his eyes. You watched them darken menacingly as he wound his fist in your hair and gave a harsh tug. "I don't think you understand how this works. You came to me, remember?" he emphasized, tilting your neck back at an awkward angle. "Show a bit of gratitude," he scolded.

Tears pricking your eyes, you countered, "I know you don't want to hurt me."

The force he was exerting over you proved otherwise, a sneer curling his lip as he watched you tremble under him. "I gave you everything," he spat. "For what?" he asked rhetorically, tossing you away in disgust.

"Kindness is never wasted," you implored, reciting the message from the fable you so fervently believed.

Tommy scoffed at your childlike naïveté. "You've mistaken my kindness for weakness, love. You have no idea what I'm capable of," he threatened. Then with all the rage of a spurned man, he grasped your throat.

Fingers clutching onto his wrist, you silently pleaded with him for mercy, but his grip only tightened in response. "Spare me," you mouthed, unable to croak out the words.

Tommy shook his head at your request, "I won't let you go."

As you slowly lost the fight against him, he leaned down, stubbled cheek brushing against yours to place a kiss. The low whoosh of blood in your ears nearly drowned out his final declaration whispered calmly into the night. "You belong to me."

-----------

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[moineauz]

helooo, 1 ticket for Exodus, starring Boothill & gn Reader as main leads

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ノ𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 — boothill !

synopsis: a gradually rekindling bond between two ill-fated souls. in other words, you encounter a partner you never thought you'd see again.

side comments: not me writing more boothill... also this was partly inspired by the song too sweet by hoizer.

extra: boothill calls reader 'doll', uses the word pretty for the reader, mentions of alcohol, boothill and reader have their issues ig, gn reader, boothill backstory spoilers, fluff and angst word count: 1, 385

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket to an expressway: smooth sailing amongst galaxies and stars. You could have slipped your wrist in the rings of planets; allowing them to adorn your human flesh in glitter and gold.

"I reckoned the IPC would send one em' tonight," insinuated the man beside you, his voice husky and gruff, "Didn't think you'd fancy your whisky neat."

You share a winsome smile, still gazing ahead, lifting the glass to your lips unfazed, "Who said I couldn't have my whisky neat?"

The man scoffs before chuckling lowly, "Well, I thought the IPC are a little..." he leans forward, his cool breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "Soft, don't you think doll?"

The bar is thronged that evening. Chatter warms the walls while candlelight swishes above in scintillating opulence. One chime after another, click and sway, swish and pull. Your ears heed the bar lines of inordinate movements like a song. Even the subtle whirl of the man's arms and the click of his heel is oddly pleasant.

"And I thought galaxy rangers keep to themselves," you languidly turn your head to meet his face; fixing your eyes on his like the head of an arrow kissing its bullseye. "A shame I have to endure your presence. Considering you're a ranger, you're awfully loud," you riposted.

"Ha! You don't know what you're missin' doll," the man teases, yet, there is an edge to it, "Do all IPC members talk like that? All bark and no bite?"

"I'd like to say bite and no bark," you reckon smoothly, like velvet curtains draping over the walls. "Why waste your breath when all you need is a single shot?"

A splitting grin grows on his face while he shakes his head charmed, "Now you're talkin' my language doll! One bullet does make a heck of a difference."

You bite the insides of your cheek, your jaw tight before him, "Spare me the small talk Boothill," you retorted placidly: a facade of indifference casting a shadow over your face. "You know I don't fancy playing cat and mouse in your boots."

"Oh you never change," he chides, placing his left shoulder on the bar's smooth counter. Boothill's face rested in his metal palms as his shiny eyes settled on you. "That's your only fault."

The corner of your lips quiver slightly, he doesn't notice. "Even metal carries its dents," you pause, your words suspending in the air's murky atmosphere, "And it seems you carry that burden quite well."

Boothill stills as you call for another fill. Whisky trickles into your glass; swishing in hues of sweet amber. It soothes the bitter lump in your throat as it gushes down sip after sip like the ocean current churning away.

Silence draws you closer; knitting you together. You heave a sigh, gingerly placing the glass on the counter, not a sound echoing above. "You always drank your whisky neat," you remarked bitterly, "And you always got drunk afterwards."

Boothill's smiles echo some ineffable tenderness and it caresses your cheek despite its distance. "Ha! Don't make me all sappy over here doll, might have to bring her out if you keep this up." Despite his words, Boothill's voice is strangely hushed: hollow like the crevices of a skeleton. Or a body that doesn't quite fit its soul.

You smile, pushing the bounds of his words with your voice, "Then bring her out Boothill. It's been some time since I last saw your precious gun. A shame you hold her so much closer."

"As sharp as ever," Boothill conceded; twirling the gun like a toy. Its varnish slick like butter as it glistened under candlelight. "Seems I have to up my ante."

In one swift movement, Boothill instinctively slips his nippy hands around your waist: his belt of bullets pressed against your hips with benign familiarity. His other hand intertwines with yours, like the lacing of a corset- tight and tender. Boothill lifts your arm, raising it with frivolous flare accompanied by a wicked grin. Your shoes click against the bar's smooth surface and Boothill leans forward. The shadows of his bright face made known to you anew. Now, the two of you stand, one breath apart.

"Seems like old habits die hard," he mutters, his eyes following the curve of your lips and the pools of your eyes, "Can't help it when you keep sittin' here all pretty. Sippin' whisky for fudger's sake..."

You raise your eyebrow tentatively before an unabashed smile stretches across your face and you giggle. Your laugh slips through the air like a fine mist and Boothills breathes it in. The cogs of his chest whirl a touch faster as you sparkle in all your quiet limelight: tucked away in a corner bar, it beats boldly one step at a time

"Looks like the IPC employee can laugh," Boothill teases, the jazz band kicking off its rhymes with the beckoning call of the trumpet.

"Is that all you think of me?" you surmised, a mirthful expression pressed against your skin, "I expected better from you," you teased.

"Shallow?" Boothill muses, the band's drummer now pushing the song as you and Boothill shuffle to the center of the bar, feet moving as one, "I'm all but shallow; especially when I'm dancing."

You press your hand on his metal shoulder, the spark in your eyes dimming slightly, "Then show me."

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket past the waiting rooms and into the hospital bed: refuge under the captive's wings. You could have laid your heart there to rest; allowing yourself to be part of a grand tapestry, one of them.

"Looks like you still have it in you after all this time," remarks Boothill as his fingers find their way to your waist, "One more song?"

"I've had enough," you state, yet, the roused smile on your face still beams, "It's late."

Boothil clicks his tongue. "Come on... just like the old times, wouldn't hurt for another spin," surmised Boothill, his voice oddly mellow with a trace of dejection.

"You don't want to dance," you rebutted, "You want to talk."

You slip your hand off his metal body, its coolness lingering on your fingertips like a ghost. Boothill blinks, his hands now fallen by his sides, the grin on his face tight as he shakes his head.

"I'd reckon you'd... catch on. You always had bigger fish to fry."

"You know I hate fish."

Boothill chuckles. However, it's mellow and lush. Reminiscent of the open plains the three of you once wandered. Sweetgrass brushing against your legs in rhythm with the breeze. The cusp of the morning sun nestled in the palms of your hands like a nest. In the evenings you lingered amongst free horses; braiding through the stars and their lush mane while weaving through riverbeds, singing sweet dreams.

"I miss the kid too."

Boothill smiles, "I know."

"Then keep your promise," you amble towards him, your shoulders in parallel as you promptly seize his hat, swiftly placing it on your head. "If you want your hat back," you jested, "Meet me at the bar when you're done catching your 'Acheron.'"

Boothill smirks, placing his hands on his hips, languidly leaning to the side, "And why would I do that? I've got plenty of hats."

You scoff, "Is that so? Then I guess I don't owe you my answer."

Boothill pauses abruptly, his eyes wide, "You-"

"I still have the ring," you interject, a subtle quiver emerging from the back of your voice, "But I never gave you my answer."

"Doll I-"

"You vanished before I could give you my answer."

Boothill grows quiet and you sigh. Neverthless, you slip your business card into his pockets and press a curt kiss on his cheek, his hat still on your head, "So keep your promise, Boothill."

Boothill nods; heaving a prompt sigh before gazing up at the ceiling, a spark flickering within the corners of his eyes, "I won't let you down."

"Good," you surmise, gradually ambling away, his back still turned from you and vice versa, "I won't let you down."

Boothill grins quietly, muttering to himself as the aroma of whisky clings onto his metal body, "You never did, not once doll. Not once."

masterlist.

[winchesterwild78]

On the Sixth Day of Christmas

Master List

Characters: Ben/Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, SMUT, Oral-Female receiving, Fluff

A/N: Day 6 of my holiday fics. I hope you enjoy this short series. I’m really excited about it. All work is my own, please don’t take it. Reblogs and likes are welcomed. 

I do not own the rights to the characters I use, these will not follow the story lines of the series the character appeared in. This is a work of fiction.

Written fast and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

I hate parties, especially at Vought Tower. As a newer employee I wanted to play the part and attend, even if it was just for a little bit. Annie convinced me to go, and even picked out my dress. 

It was a formal Christmas party, because Ashley wanted everyone to “dress to impress” as she put it. I would have much rather been at home with a carton of ice cream, my warm pajamas on, snuggled under a blanket and watching Christmas movies. 

But, here I was in an uncomfortable dress, in heels and eating food that would barely keep a mouse alive. 

“Oh come on, Y/N. You’re going to have a great time. It’s Christmas!” Annie, the ever enthusiast, was excited because it was her first Christmas with Huey. I loved her like a sister, but sometimes I wanted to punch her in the face because she could be a bit much. 

Huey stood near her, his hand on her lower back. Looking like a dutiful boyfriend. “Huey, wouldn’t you rather be at home?” I asked with a chuckle. He looked at Annie and then at me, “Naw, I’m good.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. 

We talked as the night wore on. Huey and Annie going on and on about what they wanted for Christmas and how they didn’t want anything from each other because being with them was enough. 

I rolled my eyes. They were head over heels in love with each other and it was nauseating at times. 

“What do you want for Christmas, Y/N?” Annie asked with a grin. She knew what I wanted, but she wanted me to say it. I glared at her. “Drop it, Annie.” 

Huey looked confused, “What? What’s wrong?” Annie giggled, “Nothing, she’s just got her eye on someone is all.” 

“Annie, I mean it. Let it go.” I warned her. She put her arm around me, “Oh come on. It’s Christmas, you never know he might be open to it.” Huey looked at Annie and back at me, “Who?” “Nobody, Huey. She just needs to drop it.” I glared at Annie. I really didn’t need her telling everyone, especially Huey who I wanted to be with. 

About an hour later my feet were killing me and I was a bit buzzed. Between the free alcohol and the mice sized food, I was feeling a little better about being here. 

Ashley told Annie and I to get on the dance floor, because people were starting to complain the party was lame. “That’s because it is, Ashley.” I snorted out. Annie laughed, “She’s drunk, Ashley. She didn’t mean it. Come on Y/N, let’s go dance.”

She pulled me by my hand to the dance floor and we started moving to the song. The alcohol in my system loosened me up a little more than usual. 

I started dancing seductively, not caring where I was or who was watching. That is until I caught his eye. 

I saw him around the office and of course I knew who he was. Who didn’t know who Soldier Boy was. He was an asshole, a womanizer and a chauvinist. But damn was he hot. 

I had often thought about what he would feel like pressed against me or dominating me in bed. The thoughts often led to some pretty intense play time with my battery operated toys, and an increase in my battery budget. He was all I wanted for Christmas, and Annie knew it.  

Annie and I were dancing close, bodies moving together and I was dancing very seductively. Running my hands up and down my body and through my hair. 

I glanced up and made eye contact with Ben. His piercing green eyes now darker with lust. His jaw clenched and his grip on his whisky tight. 

I licked my lips and bit my bottom lip. He chugged the last sip and set the glass down, walking towards me. 

My pulse quickened and so did my breathing. I knew what I was doing, but did I just bite off more than I could chew? 

Annie chuckled as my face flushed red. “You did it now, Y/N.” She said looking at Ben as he walked towards us. 

“Blondie, who’s your friend?” His voice is smooth and dominant. “Ben, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Ben. Soldier Boy.” She giggled, because she knew. 

I bit my lip and looked at him with a smirk, “Oh I know who he is.” I placed my hands on his chest. 

He grabbed my wrists, “Oh do you now?” He growled. “Yep” I said, popping the “p”. “You’re Soldier Boy, the strongest supe and the biggest jackass to ever live.” I giggled. Annie’s eyes went wide. 

“Ben, I’m sorry. She’s not usually like this. She’s drunk. Jeez, Y/N. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” She said, trying to pull me away. 

I stood my ground, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m dancing with him.” I started dancing against Ben. My body moving around him and rubbing against him. 

He grabbed my waist and pulled my back flush to his chest. Moving my hair away from my ear and neck his lips ghosted my pulse point. “Careful doll, you might not like what you get.” Ben whispered into my ear with a growl. 

“Hmmm maybe I want Santa to bring me a big bad supe for Christmas. Are you up for the challenge?” I smirked. 

Before I knew what was happening Ben grabbed my hand and was pulling me towards the elevator. Annie tried to protest, but I shot her a look that told her to leave it alone. 

Once on the elevator Ben’s hands pinned mine above my head and his lips ghosting mine. “Tell me to stop and I will.” He whispered. 

I loved that he was asking permission. Damn that was hot. “Don’t stop, please.” I whispered back. 

His lips crashed on mine. His hands let mine go and then found their way into my hair. 

I moaned as he deepened the kiss. The elevator dinged and opened to his penthouse and he pulled me out. 

Throwing me over his shoulder we headed straight to the bedroom. Ben dropped me on the bed with a bounce. 

I giggled as I saw his eyes turn darker with lust. 

“You’re playing with fire dancing like you were.” He smirked. I leaned up and got on my knees on the bed, face to face with him, “Maybe I like playing with fire. It’s hot.” 

I grinned as he grabbed my dress and ripped it off. I gasped. “Ben! My dress!” “I thought you liked fire, doll?” 

I was still kneeling on the bed when he started to remove his suit. I slid my hands over his belt and started to undo it. 

He removed his jacket, tie and shirt. Leaving his chest bare and exposed. I bit my lip looking at his perfectly toned body. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” I groaned. He chuckled. 

I couldn’t get his belt undone and got frustrated. He pushed my hands away and took his belt and pants down. Leaving him in his boxers. 

I could see his arousal starting to grow and my body reacted in a way that surprised me. 

The need to feel him, to take every inch of him filled me up and set my body on fire. 

I bit my lip as he pushed me down on the bed. “I need to taste you” he growled as he hooked his fingers in my panties and pulled them down. 

His strong, calloused hands pushed my thighs apart as he kissed up my legs. I squirmed under him as he took his fingers and spread my lips, feeling how wet I was. The chilly air caused a shiver to run through my body as it swept across my wet folds. 

He licked a stripe up to my clit. I gasped. “Mm, you taste amazing, sweetheart.” He licked again, and then sucked. I moaned and wiggled under him. His strong arms hooked around my thighs holding me in place. “Stop fucking moving.” He commanded. 

I moved my hips off the bed and pushed him further into me. He ate me like a man starving. His fingers slipped inside me and hooked up, hitting my g-spot. 

“Fuck, Ben! Don’t stop.” My hands found his head and pushed him in deeper. I felt him smirk against me. His tongue worked my bundle of nerves perfectly. Before too long I felt the familiar feeling deep in my core. I was close. 

I bucked my hips into him, “Ben I’m close.” He sped up and soon I was being thrusted over the edge. My vision blurred and I saw stars as I came hard on his tongue. 

He kept licking and sucking my engorged clit. “Ben, oh god, I’m close again.” I came again. Panting and moaning his name like a prayer. 

After Ben helped me ride my second release he leaned up and kissed my lips. 

“You taste better than I thought. Damn, sweetheart. I can’t get enough of you.” 

Ben stood and removed his boxers. His cock hard and dripping with precum. I bit my lip looking at the size of him. I wasn’t sure if I could take him. 

Ben grabbed a condom and slid it on and positioned himself between my legs. “Relax sweetheart. I’ll be gentle.” My mind was spinning. Soldier Boy was going to be gentle? Did I want him to be?

He leaned forward and kissed my lips as he pushed in. I gasped. He stretched me and filled me up. As he bottomed out my hands gripped his biceps. 

“Ben, move, please.” I begged. Ben began to move. Pulling out and snapping his hips back flush to mine. 

Moans and the sound of our pleasure filling the air. “Oh god! Faster!” I begged. 

“You can call me Ben, sweetheart.” His thrusts picked up. Ben grabbed my legs and put them on his shoulders as he pushed in deeper, hitting my cervix.” 

Ben’s lips landed on mine, all his desire pouring onto my lips. Our bodies are in perfect rhythm. 

Without warning Ben pulled out and flipped me on my stomach. My ass is in the air on full display for him. He grabbed my hips and buried his cock deep inside me with one thrust. 

I screamed in pleasure. Ben’s thrusts picking up. The way he felt was incredible. More than any fantasy I’d had over the past few months. His hand coming down on my left ass cheek. I yelped in pleasure.

Ben’s hand rubbed the spot where he hit me. Being gentle again. As Ben continued to thrust I felt another release coming. “Ben, I’m close.” I panted. “Me too, darlin’.” 

A few more thrusts and my release hit, pulling Ben’s out too. He spilled his seed in the condom with a grunt. 

As he pulled out he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “That was incredible, Y/N.” I smiled softly, “Better than I dreamed.” He chuckled as he got up to clean himself up.

I laid down and pulled the blanket over my naked body, completely blissful. Ben crawled into bed and offered me his arm. I snuggled close to him. My body pressed against his side. 

His arm wrapped around me and his fingers lay lazily on my arm. “Ben, that was amazing, thank you.” I tilted my head up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. My hand rested on his firm chest.

“Yeah it was, baby. You are the best Christmas gift ever.” He smirked. I chuckled, “You’re not so bad yourself, Soldier Boy.” 

He looked down at me and smiled, eyes full of lust and love, “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for tonight.” “I love you too, Ben. Thank you for saving me from that party. Ashley was a bit much.” 

Ben laughed, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.” “Merry Christmas, Ben.” I snuggled closer to Ben and drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man I loved.

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[eternal-love]

GIRLFRIEND

Pairing: Sebastian Kydd x Female!Reader

Summary: It’s your first time being with Sebastian alone. And you never liked how Carrie treated him anyways.

Warning: cheating, sex.

Note: for my darling @aust-een who’s also a sebastian girl. Me and my homies hate Carrie Bradshaw (i’m just like her)

You found yourself alone on the diner, Carrie, Maggie, Mouse and Walt had all told you that they would come too— turns out they lied.

You ordered a burger and sat down alone to eat it in the booth, that’s when you saw Carrie’s oh-so-gorgeous boyfriend, Sebastian. His blond and tall frame shone anywhere he went, he turned towards you and smiled, he walked towards you, you panicked but at the same time you were glad that Donna wasn’t there because she would have totally stolen his attention.

“Hey, y/l/n.” He sat down, with that awful smile of his that made you giggle like a child.

“Hey, Sebastian.” You smiled at him, pushing away your burger and fries. “I thought you’d be with Carrie.”

“I could’ve. But my father told me we could have lunch together…” Sebastian trailed off. “But he left me hanging again.”

“That’s a bummer. What a dick, no offense.” You said, he laughed and shook his head.

“And you, why aren’t you with them in New York?” Sebastian asked, confused. You were a friend group, weren’t you?

But you had no idea that the other had gone to New York with Carrie.

“I had no idea we were going to New York.” You said with a smirk as you grabbed a French fry, you were hurt, of course.

They had excluded you once again.

“Well, they left us both behind.” He laughed as he carelessly started to eat your French fries too.

This was it, it was your opportunity.

“We should hang out.” You said, like a suggestion but you really wanted him to say yes. Sebastian simply smiled and nodded.

“My house or yours?”

You were in his house, he had been kind enough to give you something to drink, albeit, you two started drinking his father’s whisky.

“So you and Carrie have been having problems?” You asked, playing with the glass in your hands.

“What? Why? I don’t,” Sebastian was cut off mid sentence by you.

“Because she’s been bad-mouthing you with us.” You said after cutting him off.

You were doing something that wasn’t in girl’s code, but Carrie hadn’t exactly followed girl’s code since you met.

“I don’t believe you.” Sebastian said, shaking his head.

Busted. You were busted. You tried to think of something, you tried to remember all the times you had to console Carrie after a fight with Sebastian and out of rage she over-talked.

“She does. She says you’re too carefree. Pampered and spoiled.” You lied again, Carrie had never said those words.

Sebastian stared at you, his mouth wide open. He couldn’t believe it, he believed you, you were a good girl and a good friend. But he had a hard time accepting it because he knew that Carrie would say those words.

“Really?” He looked up at you, his eyes glimmered with insecurity. A part of you felt bad, but then again, you really wanted Sebastian for yourself.

“I’m sorry, Seb…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it.

You were dying inside, really. Screeching really.

“I know she tries to be good to you but it never works.” You said, trying to appear comforting.

Sebastián didn’t even say anything, he just kept drinking the whisky.

“You’ve got any boyfriend?” Sebastian asked, trying to change topics.

“Not really. I’m the only single one.” You answered, you were indeed the only one in the friend group who was still single.

“Nah.” Sebastian shook his head while laughing. “You’re bluffing me. You’re gorgeous, how come?”

He called you gorgeous, this was going well.

“I haven’t found the right one yet. And I doubt I’ll ever find him.” You said, lying, of course. Because the one was sitting besides you.

“You will. He’s somewhere out there.” Sebastian said with a smile, bringing the glass to his lips one more time.

You didn’t know if to answer or not, so you stayed silent. And the silence continued, shit, you should’ve answered.

“Somehow, we always get abandoned by the guys.” You said, chuckling. The friend group always seemed to forget to tell you or him about any plan.

“Maybe it’s us against the world.” Sebastian rolled his eyes as he smiled, his hand instinctively going to your knee.

“I like how us sound.” You smiled at him once again, did you ever stop smiling at his direction?

There was a silence before your mind passed on like a train. A part of you wanted to be a good friend and be liked by Carrie and your ‘friends’ but a part of you wanted to get back at her and finally get what you want.

So you leaned in, your lips immediately finding Sebastian’s, you had seen him and Carrie kiss many times, how quickly their kisses would turn into make out sessions. And that wasn’t a reservation for Carrie’s lips, because he was quick to grab your jaw to deepen the kiss.

His tongue dancing with your as he kissed you hungrily, and so did you. You were finally getting what you had been dreaming for months. His kissed were really passionate and hot, you felt yourself getting hotter by the minute.

He pulled you into his lap so you’d straddle him, continuing the kiss. Until he pulled away, his big hand on your cheek.

“This shouldn’t be happening.” Sebastian said, your face fell, shit, was he backing up now?

“What? Why not? You know that Carrie doesn’t care about you.” You said immediately, you stumbled upon your words, your nervousness and guilt were eating you up from inside.

“This is not about Carrie.” He sighed. Your hand went to his chest.

“Then what is it about?” You looked at him with puppy eyes.

“You’re a mess, y/n, no offense. I don’t care if this will be my revenge on Carrie or whatever but I would never take advantage of a distraught girl.”

Aw, you melted completely. You had never wanted to get laid this bad before.

“I’m not drunk, I’m just nervous.” You whispered before leaning down again.

Your lips on his again and your tongue made its way inside his mouth. He moaned into your mouth as well as groaning as he grinned his hips against yours.

“Can you feel how you get me going, y/l/n?” He said as he went to kiss your neck with wet kisses. As you straddled his lap, you fell the hardness of his cock through his pants, it was pressing against your thigh.

You moan in response, his plump lips felt like heaven all over you. He could do anything to you know, you were at his disposition.

It didn’t take long before he laid you down on the couch, he crawled on top of you as he continued to kiss you, his hand went exploring your whole body, until they reached the hem of your pants, his middle finger played with it, as well as with your underwear hem.

He unbuttoned your jeans and helped you take them off, he threw them onto the floor. His attention was then again all on you, his hand teased the sides of your pelvis, drawing small circles with his fingers.

“Please…” it escaped your mouth, but you were in the clouds, you didn’t even notice.

“Good girl.” He muttered softly as his hand pulled aside your already damp underwear, his finger traced your wet slick, making your back arch. That’s how badly you wanted Sebastian.

His thumb went to rub your palpitating clog, he was gentle, he was just getting you ready! You were a moaning mess, you seemed so desperate that it was embarrassing.

“Such a desperate girl.” He didn’t even think Carrie or Donna had ever been a mess like this. But you were different. Specially because of the moans you let out once he inserted two of his long fingers. “There we go…”

He said, curling both his fingers inside of you as his thumb still rubbed your clit. You were up in space. That’s for sure.

You both ended up on his bed, he fucked made love to you and you were smiling ear to ear. Your face buried in his neck as your hand traced his torso.

“You know, Carrie-“ you placed your finger on his lips before starting to kiss his neck.

To be honest, the last thing in Sebastian’s mind right now was Carrie.

It was another day at school, it had been two weeks since you slept with Sebastian. You always saw him with Carrie. But now you knew him.

The way he looked at you, and even when he was talking with Carrie, he was thinking of you. He could do better than Carrie, better than a girl who broke up with him every time she found a slight thing wrong in him or her own life. She didn’t treat him right, he deserved someone like you.

You could be his girlfriend, because you knew he liked you and it wasn’t a secret.

You wanted Carrie to disappear, she was so whatever.

But he was getting sick of it, sick of you looking so hot all the time. With your big hair, your jeans, he hated how tempting you were. One day, he pulled you into a classroom.

“This is what you wanted?” He asked as he towered over you, looking like a total snack.

“I want you to break up with her.” You said, smiling at him.

“Only a girl like you would want their best friend’s boyfriend.” He placed his hands on your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Best friend? She’s not my best friend. She’s so stupid, I don’t know what the hell were you thinking.” You said, leaning in to kiss him, he was a few inches away still.

“Such a slut.” He whispered before kissing you.

Sebastian knew he had to break up with Carrie, he needed a new girlfriend anyways. And you were that girl, the girl he needed. It left everyone speechless when Sebastian broke up with Carrie and a week later, he was seen with you.

The friend group didn’t even take a second glance before bad mouthing you every time they hung out and saw you and Sebastian on his car. You were living the life, enjoying it while it lasted.

Because with a guy like Sebastian, you never knew.

I’ve had this is drafts since last Wednesday, because I finally finished my final projects!!

[andy-wm]

Does he lust?

A brief response to Jimin's Be Mine

<I had several asks about this song. This is my response for all of them.>

Does he lust?

Yes. Yes he does.

And you will too.

He's gonna set you alight with his pretty, pretty words.

Dont you rush this feeling

take it slow...

Dancin' in the moonlight all night long,

If you're questionin' my love,

then don't

I want you to be mine...

You can try to resist, but his voice is so enticing... why would you want to?

If any song is a siren's call, it's this one.

If you're still fighting the seduction after reading the lyrics, his breathless, almost ritual recitation of

moving, coming, loving,

yeah yeah yeah

will surely render you helpless.

The staccato delivery of those lines, repeated with increasing urgency, will brand his words into your soul.

But hes not done...

Baby come

Baby come

Show me what

Show me what

Love is

He presses the words into you like kisses.

And just in case you didnt get the sultry vibes he already laid down, he couples those sensual words with a Latin rhythm, flowing over an afrobeat baseline like a warm wind on a hot summer night.

You don't think he chose the rhythms by accident do you?

Jimin tells you in a way only a dancer can tell you, he knows what he's doing.

He doesn't have to think. His body knows how to move.

The sex is tangible.

Light and feathery, then fast and hard, he switches it up and down like he's playing cat and mouse...

But Jimin didn't come here to play.

moving, coming, loving, yeah yeah yeah

I want you to be mine

He knows that urgent thrum of the Spanish guitar will make your skin tingle and your body hum. He knows if you close your eyes you can feel him pressed up tight against you.

moving, coming, loving, yeah yeah yeah

He's taking the lead - taking you places you can only dream of. He moves you with his voice, sweet and fluttery, then suddenly hard. He's demanding.

I want you to be mine

Percussion hits you from all sides with a steady pounding beat that you can feel in your bones. He has you up against a wall of sound when it all comes together.

moving, coming, loving, yeah yeah yeah

His voice is everywhere, surrounding you, pressing in relentlessly. Layers and layers of him, rasping, calling, yearning, gasping in your ear. it's overwhelming.

And then...

You resurface to an almost gentle refrain of

moving, coming, loving, yeah yeah yeah...

as his voice slowly fades out.

A bang, a crash, and suddenly hes gone, leaving you a smouldering wreck.

Its over?

But you want more.

You want it again.

That's why this song is on repeat.

That's why

There's no denying it...

You're HIS

Now imagine being the person he wrote this song for.

Go ahead and get yourself a glass of water - or a whisky - while you think about his infamous words

"I can handle it..."

I feel obliged to include this gif to illustrate his words. I'm not sorry.

I feel justified...

If I was an island

You'd be the party...

<I'm still smirking over those lines>

[trixter-god]

Classical Conditioning

Paring: Bruce Wayne x Logan Howllet

Summery: Logan and Bruce play a game of cat and mouse or is Bat and Wolverine?

Warning/tags: smut, 18+, one shot, mlm, gay, old man yaoi, cursing/profanity, jealousy, crack ship, self indulgent, oral (male receiving), I gave Bruce normal friends

Chapters: 1/1 (completed)

Words: 4572

An: Merry Christmas and happy holidays you filthy animals. Everyone thank MCR for keeping me up long to finish this lmao.

How did he even end up in this situation? That question had become a staple in Logan's everyday life as of late. It certainly didn’t help that he somehow found a home in the worst city on the east coast. Gotham city for all its mysteries and ever rising crime rates was at its core just some shitty new jersey city. Yet only this one kept Logan coming back like he was out of cigar’s needing a nicotine fix. He’d normally blame his old age for making him circle back to old haunts wondering if anything he remembered stayed the same but he’d also be stupid to admit he was sticking around for merely nostalgic reasons. He could still hear Scott’s laugh ringing in his ears thinking about the call he made what felt like forever ago telling Scott he was staying in this hellhole for a bit longer than originally planned only to find increasingly dumber excuses to not head back upstate. No he was here because he somehow found someone who understood him before they even said two words to each other. Someone that he could relate to without having to hide the darker parts of himself. A fact that still made Logan uncomfortable if he thought too hard about it but luckily his thoughts don’t normally linger. Plus he hasn’t made a run for it yet so he assumed this was going well. Logan would never say it out loud because it would make him sound like one of Rouge’s shitty romance novels but he was stuck in Gotham because of a man. A paranoid, stubborn, hypocritical, annoyingly charming, and very pretty man.

Which is why Logan was now sitting at the bar of some overpacked, overpriced club he swore he wasn’t gonna be at. With a dark whisky in one hand and his other digging into the meat of his thigh so as not to leave dents in the dark wood in front of him. The deep crease in his brow and the almost permanent frown on his lips gave out the obvious signs he didn’t want to be here. Though that didn’t stop the occasional drunk girl who was dared by her equally drunk friends to talk to him. Thankfully they were easily shooed away with a raised eyebrow or a firm no to their advances. Not like he wouldn’t be interested if it was any other night he just had a very specific itch he needed to scratch that only could only be done by the only other person in this room who probably had every exit mapped out in his head just in case. He was just about to ask for a new drink when that fucking addictive smell hits him again. Leather, citrus, pine, something else that Logan didn’t know but made the crease in his brow deepen. Sharp brown eyes cut through the crowd of drunks to the vip lounge where sat the reason why Logan was sitting in a hard ass barstool in increasingly uncomfortable jeans.

Bruce Wayne.

Orphan, playboy, millionaire, pain in his ass, and dressed like the fucking Holster store mannequin he was. Sleeves rolled to the elbow accentuating his arms in that dark blue practically see through button down which was unbutton to an outrageous degree. Bruce’s synthetic second skin worked overtime to cover up the miles of scarred and torn flesh that only Logan had memorized like the back of his own hands. Giving anyone with a pair of eyes the view of his tone physique. All tucked into those fucking pants.

Where the fuck did those even come from? Logan wasn’t one for keeping close attention to someone’s fashion choices but he would have definitely remembered tearing those in two. black slacks made from some expensive fabric just tight enough to accentuate what Bruce woke up at unholy hours of the morning to train for. If the place wasn't packed in like sardines Logan would have dragged Gotham’s sworn protector by his perfectly disheveled hair back home to that obnoxiously big bed of his. Finally get to sink his canines into that teasing smell that has been following him the whole night. Just a hint of that disgusting concoction of scents it was over. Logan was hot wired to it like the good hunting dog he was and he wasn’t leaving without his prey. Yet why did it feel like he was the one being hunted?

Bruce was barely listening to whatever the story was being told to the table. He’s been barely participating since that pissed off Canadian took a seat at the bar. Giving a nod or a laugh when it was appropriate but studying the way Logan’s shoulders would tighten when the air vent perfectly positioned above his head would turn on in ten minute cycles knowing with that enhanced sense of smell that Lo possesses could pick him out even in a room full of sweat and alcohol. Bruce normally hated the feeling of being quietly tracked but it was different when he was asking for it. That rush of adrenaline he’d been normally numb too thanks to his nightly escapades now crawled over his skin. The bat did have a reputation of killing the mood. He just wasn't aware how much it had bleed into his personal life. That was probably why Bruce has gotten increasingly attracted to danger over the years and what's more dangerous than willingly being stalked by an apex predator.

It was a simple case of classical conditioning, something that Bruce found increasingly more entertaining even if it was an accident. Who would have known Logan's mutant genes made him more susceptible to being easily persuaded by just a bit of cologne. Now Bruce knows he isn’t absolutely innocent that his instinctually inclined friend seemed to want to jump his bones the moment he got even a single inkling that Bruce was gonna touch that bottle that sat in the back of his bathroom cabinet let alone wear it out anywhere. Sure it was “brucie’s” signature scent and maybe it's the only strong cologne he wears in general but he did have no intention of turning Logan into a Pavlo’s dog experiment. Happy accidents and all that.

A hard glare was shot his way after only five minutes of Logan pretending he wasn’t sitting roughly 13.65 feet away. Not that Bruce cared all that much, Logan can stew at the bar for as long as he wants. He doesn't assume that that will be much longer, coinciding Logan's right hand having been firmly drugged into the thigh of his well-worn jeans for an hour now. Not to mention that prominent vein just peeking out of the collar of his flannel. Wonder how long it would take before Bruce finally got to see it pop.

Now Bruce did ask if he wanted to come out with him tonight. Maybe finally meet the few people he considers his normal friends but no. Logan said he was quite content staying home watching tv and loosely keeping an eye on the kids while Batman was off duty for the evening. Which Bruce was fine with even if he did intentionally rummage in the “what happens in boring school stays in boarding school” section of his closet. Squeezing his now built frame into pants that used to be baggy on him. Getting an ego boost that he could in fact still fit in them yet increasingly more humbled as he struggled to button them for longer than he’d say aloud.

Bruce’s calculated thoughts were broken up by a soft hand against his chest bringing him back to the party he was supposed to be participating in. The semimonthly gathering of his old college friends. Michael, Ben, both his college roommate at Gotham Academy for the five months of pre-med he took before realizing there was no fun in being his father. Michael’s wife Michelle who hasn’t looked up from her phone since they arrived, and Nicole, an old fling of his, highly intelligent woman, sat pressed against his side batting her heavy lidded eyes at him innocently as if her stiletto nails hadn't been not so subtly tracing any portion of his exposed skin all night. He gave a smile that wasn’t meant for her catching the sudden hard scrape of a bar stool from the other side of the room.

Logan can’t tell what’s pissing him off more, the shitty DJ that doesn’t believe in too much base, the cheap ass whiskey he was forcing down that was more bite than burn or the way those famous steel blue eyes catch his glare just long enough to tell him what he already knows. He’s being played like a goddamn fiddle. Actually it was probably that pretty little blonde who’d been hanging off HIS billion dollar baby the whole night. Sitting so close she was practically in Bruce’s lap.

The blonde makes a bold move which makes the glass in Logan’s hand threaten to crack under his grip. Her hand slipped down the front of that deep navy button up, ghosting over the very open front of Bruce’s shirt to get a feel of what Logan’s knows first hand is well trained muscle. Logan bites back the growl that wanted to crawl out of his throat when Bruce— no not Bruce. Brucie cracked a shit eating grin at the bold blonde. Well truly it was a gentle charming smile but Logan knew fucking better.

He should’ve been embarrassed of how fast he succumbed, It was probably a new record honestly, if his brain wasn’t busy imagining the way he wanted to become front page news for Vale’s gossip blog. He could see the headlines now. “Bruce Wayne bent over in front of the crowd” maybe she’d make some shitty pun that he’d have no choice but send it to Wade, that's if that loud mouth wouldn’t already be blowing up his phone with those fucking emoticons that somehow mean something suggestive. Why did he even mention that walking ball of cocaine and cancer? He’s not even here and yet the mere thought killed his very small buzz. Logan rubbing his face before downing the rest of his whisky hoping it would keep him satisfied for now. He had a point to prove. A point he didn’t know but peeled himself out of his favorite recliner to follow Gotham’s Prince downtown to some shit club anyway. Logan gave his head a shake before getting back up, keeping his back to temptation to go sneak a smoke outside.

Bruce gave a pout watching Logan head out the front and not towards him. Looks like Wolverine is finally getting used to his tricks. Bruce noted that for next time already thinking of the needed adjustments.

“What’s wrong Bruce? Is Michael boring you as bad as he is me?” Ben’s voice cut through his thoughts making his pout turn into an awkward smile. Bruce couldn’t even think of an excuse before Michael’s heavy old Gotham accent butted in.

“Oh piss off benny boy, everyone loves my stories.”

“They love your stories all right. Everyone at this table knows that after you took that fist to the face Kevin had to pull you out.” Ben crossed his arms leaning back into his chair. His signature smirk landed on his lips.

“Tomatoes, tomatoes. So I took the first hit. It doesn't matter who actually finished the guy off, we all won.” Micheal tried to wave Ben’s comments off.

“If I remember correctly we all got detention for a month.” Bruce finally found his footing picking up his barely touched glass of champagne. Giving the glass a small swirl in his fingers just keeping busy. “Not to mention you got a concussion.”

“Yeah, but we won. Which reminds me of another story.” Micheal retells some story about his football years. Snapping at the young waitress who was checking another table. Earning him a solid hit in the shoulder by his wife, Michelle, making Ben let out a snort.

“Eyes in the back of her head.” came a much softer voice to his left. Nicole made her quiet presence known with a hand on this thigh looking out in the direction Logan disappeared from. She rested her chin in her hand giving him a knowing glance.

“Who’s the cowboy?” She asked, amused.

Bruce gives her his best shifty eyed confused expression as he made sure no one else was listening. Luckily Ben was too focused on correcting everything that’s coming out of Micheal’s mouth and Michael is just trying to yell over him that they don’t notice. Michell never looked up from her phone.

“What?” Bruce breathed out pretending to be flustered in confusion.

She only narrows her eyes looking him up and down. The woman used to be an analyst; she could smell tension before she knew there was tension. Dangerous skill to have so close to you, one he had even closer at one point in the past. He Should have known better than to date a physiatrist but you live and you learn.

Nichole drums her well kept nails on the top of the table. “Oh please, you’ve been pining all night.” She lowered her voice taking a long sip of her martini.

“He’s a good catch, how’d you get him?”

Bruce chuckled, his eyes couldn’t help but drift over to Logan’s now empty seat at the bar. How did he do it? Bruce remembers how it started, a rather intense argument over something he couldn’t remember that turned into an event that The Hall of Justice had seen before. Yes, those tapes were deleted and yes, it did end up happening again. Far too many times until it evolved into whatever it was now. Too serious to be a fling yet they were far too old to be boyfriends. Maybe partners was the correct word even if it made Bruce feel very old. He didn’t like to linger on a title and Logan ever cared to name it.

“Just picked him up one day, haven’t let him go yet.” He shrugged at the blonde. “I have a problem with picking up strays.” That earned him a small chuckle even though he was serious.

“I understand that.” Nicole tipped her glass to him and he in turn did the same. The soft clink seemed to echo between them.

・・・・・

The night air in Gotham was always cold. Something Logan found oddly comforting about the city. The end of his cigar bloomed in the darkness of the alley as the music from the club thumped quietly through the wall behind his head. He rolled his shoulders back hearing a rare pop from his spine. The tension in his neck released, making a string of repetitive words tumble out of his mouth on instinct. “I'm too old for this.”

He debates with himself again, that urge to leave, another to just throw his patience out the window. Logan watched the smoke disappear from his lips into the dark night around him as the sound of rusty hinges echoed in alleyways. His nose twitched. Leather, citrus, and pine. A dangerous combination and yet he didn’t make a single effort to leave. The sound of expertly polished shoes echoed in the small alley until that smell turned into heat by his side. Logan picked up his head to look over at his… at Bruce. Bruce didn’t return the gesture instead staring off at the door he just snuck out from. How he managed to get away from a crowd without worry was something only he could pull off. The tension was softer than it was inside.

“Does this mean i win?” His voice was rougher than intended as he talked around the cigar on his lips. Logan mentally thanked the cold for that as he took one last puff before snuffing out his cigar against that palm of his hand. That burn was welcomed as the action made the heat beside him scoff. “Got something to say princess or you just gonna play mute?’

Bruce hummed softly in response. If Logan didn’t have such good hearing he would have missed that almost mocking sound. “Thought you didn’t want to come out tonight.” Bruce’s words teased him just an octave higher than normal. That pretty boy persona got harder and harder to slip from when he was being smug. Logan could knock his perfect teeth out right now and not feel bad.

“Changed my mind.” Logan shrugged, pocketing his cigar in for later. “Not that i had much choice” he gave the taller man a well deserved once over. The glow of the moon above mixed with the club’s neon casted the dark knight in a familiar way. It was honestly unfair that one man could look good no matter if he was pretending to be an urban legend or slumping with the first class. Now closer Logan could see that Bruce decided to wear his earrings for the first time in who knows how long. Little black studs glistened in the low light. And was he wearing eyeliner? It was smudged to an unrecognizable degree but it was there. Detailed oriented his bat was, which only solidified that he was set up from the start. Logan ran his tongue against the inside of his cheek as a poor attempted to silence himself but since when has that ever worked. Logan unconsciously leaned closer, his senses burned. “Can't have you walking around like a cheap whore, bub”

The smallest of smirks formed across Bruce’s lips as his eyes dropped to watch that vein in Logan's neck finally pop. Letting out a rare chuckle as he pulled his gaze away shaking his head. “Please, I'm anything but cheap Lo.”

His nickname felt like velvet in winter as it rattled around in the night. It was the same unoriginal name he’s had for years but it alway sounded different from him. It sounded right. If he wasn’t already so stupidly obsessed with that man next to him. Bruce would have caught him off guard just enough to shut him up.

“So you’re a rich whore?” Logan didn’t miss a beat with his comeback as they somehow got even closer.

“Why? Want one?” Bruce countered with a skilled practice. It was instinctual, the joking comment slipped from his lips like a bullet in the chamber even as the shot rang out it left a heavy weight behind.

There was a stand still then, as they stared silently at each other. The sting was pulled so thin between them it didn’t take much for the snap. This time it was Bruce’s callused hands making their way into Logan's hair pulling him into a heated kiss which pulled a deep growl from the other as thick fingers dug into the artificially perfect skin he forced himself to wear in public. Teeth clacked against each other as animal instincts kicked in. Logan took advantage of his strength and pressed that intoxicating smell into the cement wall. Not caring as the noticeable smack of what had to be Bruce’s skull hit the brick. Logan’s knee slotted between Bruce's legs pressing into his harding cock. The whine that slipped his lips was like a well deceived award for having to put up with his well planned torment all night. Reasoning thrown out the window as their bodies gilded messily across each other like horny teenagers practically devouring the other until those dangerous hands tighten in Logan’s hair pulling another growl.

“Fuck, Lo.” Bruce broke the kiss, sucking in the cool night air into his lungs felt like fire. His hips not stopping in their attempts to basically hump Logan’s thigh. His already uncomfortable attire rubbed just right against his cock. Logan wasted no time to dig his canines into his throat. Biting just hard enough to leave an imprint yet he didn’t break skin. Not now anyways.

“What, bub? Ain't this what you wanted?” Logan dragged his teeth over his neck, marking over that pale expanse of his throat. “Huh? Wearing that fucking collone like you don’t know what it dose it me.” His voice was nothing but rasp. Teetering just close enough into Logan's feral territory that Bruce couldn’t help the groan that slipped his lips. “Dressing like fucking sex on legs. Do i even want to know when you got these fucking pants?” To further push his point home Logan hands cupped a fair amount of his ass through the tight fabric. Bruce bucked his hips in retaliation. The friction makes both of them hiss.

“Fucking brat.” Logan spat, grabbing a fist full of Bruce's thin shirt to force him down to his knees. The playboy silently cures his choice in fashion when he feels just how tight his pants pressed back into him. Bruce swears he can hear the stitching against his thighs screaming for help not to mention the actual crack his knees make. He cursed under his breath as hands found Logan’s waist for stability.

His eye flicked from the bulge he was now eye level with to Logan's blown wide pupils. Bruce's hands popped off that obnoxious belt buckle Logan loved to wear with a practice ease acting like he wasn’t the one on his knees. His lips dragged over dented denim making Logan choked out a curse from above. Bruce continued to mouthed Logan through his pants until he felt a hand grab a fist full of his hair tugging a pained moan out of him. Bruce popped off the button of Logan's jeans, unzipping them and pulling him free from his flannel boxers.

Logan’s cock stood proudly now free from its confines. Its reddened head weeped pre-cum from the slit. Bruce smirked, wanting to say something snarky only to look up to meet pleading brown eyes. Okay so maybe he was being too much of an ass all night. Though this was hardly the worst he could have done, still Bruce took the hint and took pity on him. His hand slowly wrapped around the thick base of Logan's cock giving him a couple good strokes. Nuzzling into his hip as he used the leverage to keep Logan from bucking into his hand as he stroked him dry. Not breaking eye contact as Logan's eyes rolled back into his head briefly just from such a touch. The friction makes Logan's head spin just enough to not to complain.

“My poor darling.” Bruce cooed as he pressed a few kisses at the base. Bruce shifted on his knee to straddle Logan's boot so that he could please his own needs.grounding his hips down against worn leather as he nipped at that prominent vein down Logan’s hip, up the underside of his cock.

“Shut up” Logan spat out when Bruce”s tongue flicked the head of his cock before trailing back down the underside only for his hand to replace his mouth again. His hand retreated from Bruce’s hair as his claws fought to make an early appearance.

“Make me” echoed in Logan's ears as his eyes opened in surprise. He stared down at the smuggest person he’ed ever seen on their knees. Logan tried to memorize this exact moment in his very shitty memory. Bruce Wayne on his knees in an open alley, looking at him like a kid during christmas while he stroked his dick actively taunting him. No. Asking him to let go. If Logan believed in a god he'd probably be thanking him right about now.

As Logan's brian took its time to process his request Bruce took no time to wrap his lips around his throbbing cock not stopping into his nose brushed against that tufted of hair against the base. Everything about Logan was thick. His skin, his skull, his fingers but most importantly his dick as it took up most of his mouth. Bruce used his breathing skills to good use not to gag when Logan seemed to finally get the idea bucking into his throat suddenly. Logan’s hand curled back into Bruce’s hair pulling him somehow farther down his cock so he could fuck into the wet heat of his mouth.

“So good baby.” Logan muttered his praises through his teeth.

“Good fucking boy.”

Bruce’s hands dropped to finally free himself from his own pants. Moaning around Logan as he stroked himself to the same hard rhythm that was set in his throat. It didn’t take long for either of them to get close to the breaking point.

“You gonna take it baby? Huh? Be my good fucking boy and take everything i give you?” Bruce was too far lost as he moaned out his agreement. Trying to nod around Logan's brutal trust of his hips into his mouth. “Here it comes baby, here it comes.”

An inhuman noise escapes his lips as Logan’s hips halt suddenly making sure to pull Bruce all the way down around him as he releases down his throat. Bruce followed close behind, spilling out of his fist onto the ground and Logan's boot below. The two of them just stay there for a moment before Bruce finally frees himself with a cough. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he breathed in lungs full of cold air.

“Shit, you okay?” Logan tucked himself back into his pants before kneeling down to Bruce's level.

Bruce nodded between coughs waving it off. “I’m fine. Just forgot to breathe for a second.”

Logan shook his head gently pushing Bruce's now actually messy hair from his face. His eyes now soft and concerned as he gave Bruce a good once over just in case knowing Bruce isn’t one to complain about pain.

“Come here.” Logan muttered pulling Bruce gently into a soft kiss which was pleasantly returned without hesitation. The taste of himself on Bruce's lips didn’t go unmissed.

“You are the worst”

“You love me for it.” Bruce chuckled cupping his jaw, running his thumb across his cheek before pressing another quick kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, I do.” Logan got back to his feet giving Bruce a hand up as they both fixed themselves to be less disheveled. Logan takes another shameless look over Bruce hooking his fingers into one of his belt loops pulling him closer. His voice dropped an octave giving him a weak glare.

“Seriously though, were these fucking pants come from.”

“My first year of college. ” Bruce gave him a little pose looking down at his somehow still intact pants. “I didn’t make it through pre-med but I did party like I was. Honesty impressed they still fit.”

Logan hummed letting him go. “oh, they fit alright.”

Bruce gave him a slap to his arm which Logan overreacted to making Bruce crack a smile. Logan threw an arm over Bruce’s shoulder pulling him down to his height. “Wanna drink? I still have a tab open.”

“You just want me to cover the bill.” Bruce rolled his eyes leaving his grasp to pull open the metal door letting out the loud music spill out into the quiet night for the two of them.

“Promise to repay you when we get home.” Logan smirked, slapping Bruce on the ass as he headed back into the noisy club. Bruce, not too far behind, shakes his head amused as they find two empty seats at the bar.

“Yeah, yeah.”

[mslanna]

Raphael reacting to his little mouse asking to meet with him privately; when he agrees, Tav makes a thorough check of the room (to ensure nothing and nobody is eavesdropping) before explaining. Tav informs the cambion that another fiend appeared before them and attempted to get the adventurer to agree to sellout Raphael by essentially acting as a mole, so now Tav is here to warn him while also trying to figure out some things, "Any idea why that other devil thought that I'd be a good choice for this? They claimed you were enamored with me, but I stopped paying attention when they persisted with flattery rather than give me their actual reasoning." Meanwhile, Raphael is sat there knowing all that "flattery" is true.

Well, that took an unexpected turn at the end. 🤭 nby Tav without body configuration unwise application of whisky Read it on AO3

Double-Dealing Devils

Everything had to be perfect. Raphael made another round through his suite in Sharess' Caress. His favourite future client, his little mouse had asked – asked – to meet him. This could only mean one thing, and he was ready.

The wine was ready. Refreshments were ready. The special occasion outfit in black and red was tailored to perfection and fitting impeccably. Scented soaps and lotions awaited in case the meeting turned a little more – satisfactory than Tav anticipated. The rose petals might clue them in.

On the other hand, they might not. Tav could be deliciously oblivious for all their street smarts and battle prowess. Raphael tugged at his sash and ran a hand through his perfect hair. Archdevil Raphael. Ruler of the nine hells.

Soon.

The door opened and his future swept in, disregarding him completely. Raphael frowned as Tav began a thorough search of his suite – not just with hands and eyes, he felt the distinctive tingle of magic.

"Pray what-"

"Sh!" Tav hissed. Their tone was so urgent, that Raphael obeyed.

Such power in such a small package. He watched Tav doing a full circuit, thinking of all the wonderful ways he could harness their energy. Free it. Shape it to his will. Leaning back against his desk, Raphael let his thoughts roam freely over the subject.

"Happy?" He crossed his arms and tilted his head when Tav finally deigned to approach him.

"You know you are rather unpopular already?" Tav mirrored his pose.

"I'm a devil, my dear. I am popular only with those who are worth the time and effort."

"Maybe you should reconsider who that is, because I got a really interesting offer."

"Is that so." Raphael refused to be fazed. "I am curious why you did not take it."

"Who says I didn't?"

"Would you be here if you did?" Raphael straightened. "If you have found another way to solve your little tadpole problem, I am all agog to hear about it."

"It's not about that," Tav conceded. "Or maybe a little."

"Come, sit." Raphael gestured to the comfortable couch at the pool. "Tell me everything. Have a drink. Refreshments?"

Tav blinked as if they had run into a brick wall. Raphael exploited their surprise by pressing a wine goblet into their hand and guiding them into the desired direction.

They flopped down with their wine sloshing dangerously high in the goblet. It didn't spill though. A pity, but something akin might be happening later. Raphael licked his lips.

Once sitting, Tav gulped down half of the wine in one go. A waste considering the quality of it but the mortal didn't even notice the taste. "I don't even know who that devil was. I don't deal with devils on a regular basis, you know?"

"And you didn't think to ask their name?"

"I don't believe a word they said. Why would I believe the name they gave? Also, they wore a glamour. Four meter devilshape is drawing attention. So they glamoured themselves to look like-" Tav hesitated.

Raphael moved closer and swirled his wine. "To look like who?"

"Um." Tav blushed. "The type of woman I prefer."

"A successful ploy judging by your reaction." A wrench in the works, maybe. Korrilla reported a certain interest in the druid elf travelling with the group.

"The only success." Tav snorted and slurped up the rest of their wine. "Anyway, they wanted me to spy for them. On you," Tav added seeing the incomprehension on Raphael's face. "They want me to sell you out. Your secrets and stuff. Whatever gave them the impression I am a good choice for that."

Tav shook their head and stared into the empty goblet. Oblivious. Raphael suppressed a sigh. Maybe it would be wise to keep it that way. They would certainly be a liability. He was far from admitting that it was part of their charm. So easily fooled and yet so firm in their beliefs.

"They must have given reasons," he prompted.

Another snort from Tav. "They said you have a soft spot for me. Said, you were, can you believe it, enamoured with me." Tav looked up to find Raphael's brown eyes reasting heavily on them. They swallowed. "Anyway, I stopped listening when they kept repeating that instead of giving their actual reasoning."

"Ah." Raphel picked the empty goblet from their unresisting hand. "I see."

It was unfortunate that his – lenience towards his little mouse should be known in infernal circles. That offer would not be the last of them. This time, Tav decided to come to him. But who knew how their decision would fall in the future? Once his deal was concluded and other devils found tempting prizes for Tav. He needed a solution.

"I know. It's ridiculous." Tav leant back and spread their arms over the backrest.

Raphael turned away to refill their cup. Tav sitting like an open invitation was a little too on the nose. Did they really not know? Or were they stringing him along, trying to weasel some kind of confession out of him? And if he did, would it be worth it? Raphael scrounged his nose in thought as he poured them more wine.

"I mean, it's all very professional, is it not? You give me a hammer with which I can free Orpheus who will solve all my problems. I give you a crown that will solve all of yours." Tav shook their head. "You're not even coming for my soul."

"As yet." Raphael smiled like a promise and a threat. "Who knows what will happen once you sign my deal and we conclude it successfully?"

"So you have further plans with me?" Tav frowned.

"Perhaps." He took a step towards them. "It depends entirely on whether you are willing."

Tav narrowed their eyes. Willing to do what? Was – was his top button undone? That sure hadn't been the case when they arrived. The words of the other devil echoed through heir head. Soft spot. Enamoured even. Balderdash. Wasn't it? Admittedly, Gale had said something about roses and serenades as well. But Gale was a hopeless romantic.

Tav stopped to look around. A suite, tiles covered in rose petals. Wine. Refreshments. A pool inviting with soaps, oils and lotions. A bed, not even hidden from view with plush pillows and ample space. Raphael, in the middle of the room a goblet of wine in one hand.

Tav reached out. When Raphael handed them the goblet, they emptied it in one go. Shaking their head, Tav grunted. "I need something stronger than that, I think."

"That can be arranged," Raphael purred, pleased that realisation finally set in.

Glancing to the door Tav wondered if they'd make it while the devil was distracted. But Raphael cheated, by simply appearing a bottle of whisky and a filled tumbler in his hands.

"Anything else?"

"How about some privacy?"

"As you wish." With a flick of his hand, the lock of the door clicked audibly.

Tav swallowed. Doomed. They picked the whisky from the devil's hand who made sure their fingers touched more than necessary. Maybe if they got drink fast enough – But who were they kidding? He was a devil and one that looked at them like a cat that found a cream-covered mouse to play with. Detected.

The unveil hunger emanating from Raphael burnt in Tav's stomach even without a single drop of whisky. Words from another place wormed their way back into Tav's wavering conscience. Swallowing once more, they pulled up their tunic slowly and poured some of their drink into their belly button. It ran over because they didn't look away from the devil's intense gaze.

Raphael smiled greedily. He opened another button on his doublet and knelt before them.

Caught. Tav closed their eyes as hot lips closed in on their skin.

[reverse-falls-stan]

It was in the middle of a party, very formal, but she didn't often go to stuff like this, so it was fun! She was wandering around a bit, looking for something to do, Katie was off chatting about something called "ninjago" with some rich snobs. She seemed to be enjoying herself as well!

Mouse bumped into someone, and then realized it was Mr.Pines- "eep... sorry-"

- @ritamouse

To say he was tired was... an understatement.

He hasn't had some good past days. Or years. It took a good while to rebuild his reputation to make this happen, and by now the age was starting to weight on him. While Ford finally had some mercy on his soul and decided to actually be in the party to talk to the important people, he hoped to regain energy by indulging in the bar's selection, siping the whisky on the rocks as of it was sole sacred-

He stumbled around, more worried about saving the drink than his fragile bones, and looked down at his interruption

"Hey! Be thankful this didn't spill over!" He took a good look at the girl. She seemed... familiar "Sorry, do I know ya?"

[raccoon-crown]

Snowpoint Doddles!

Like I said, just some doddles of the SnowPoint AU!

The first: For that time Shadow tough asking for Chilidogs in the Snow Whisker Cafe would be enough to bring back some memories to Sonic (The plan failed and ended up eating some Snowdogs)

Second: One of the many times Honey lost it at the beginning of a snowboarding race, in company of Ris of course (Yup, Honey still aims for Jack to be the first place even after the brainwashing Starline did).

Third: Just some friends Hanging out!

And that's all. I have loved this AU that @son1c made so much! (Just as all their other AUs and art!). And of course I was happy to do something to show it a little.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias - Friends With Benefits Part 1/6

Reposting this cuz it seems to have disappeared from my page

Summary - Reader and Ruben have been in a friends with benefits situation for over three years now, with Reader eventually looking for something more serious. But what does Ruben want?

Enjoy!

The bar was full with people tonight, one of those after work specials, you thought. It was one of those places with that American Psycho feel, where people drank wine and whisky rather than Redbull-vodka and cheap pints of Guinness. And the interior design of the place resembled more of a fancy art gallery than a place to get drunk.

"From the gentlemen " Said a waitress, dressed in forbidden red, handing you a glass of dark liquor, gesturing over to the gentlemen sitting across from you, who's gaze watched you attentively. "He says once you've finished, come over."

By the looks of it he must have been flirting with the poor girl prior to her delivering your drink. Her hands were seen clenching the tray, knuckles white. Perhaps she was feeling guilty to be setting you up with a man she'd suspect to be unfaitful to you if you ever gave in.

You put a hand on your thigh, rubbing your exposed skin. Your other hand held your phone, typing a cryptic message to the unknown number that had previously sent you a message, telling you to chug the drink being delivered to you by the young waitress dressed in red.

"Thank you." You smiled, accepting your drink. You raised your glass, giving the gentlemen across from you a slight nod. The young waitress bowed her head, leaving you to it. Little did she know that two could play the game of seduction.

You took a swing of your drink, almost emptying all it's content in one go. The glass was left half empty now, leaving you with a burning sensation in your throat. The gentlemen across from you held his glass to his mouth, hiding his obvious grin.

The game was on.

You: What now?

Him: Take off your panties, tell me what they smell like?

You smiled at your screen. It was the seductive hand on your thigh, he had noticed, falling right into your trap.

You: As you wish.

You began moving your hand upwards your thigh, slow enough to tease him, but fast enough for anybody else not to take notice.

You kept your eyes on him, watching them widened with interest as your hand slipped under, tugging at the damped fabric that kept your throbbing pussy in check. You wiggled in your chair for the panties to detach from your ass, eventually sliding down the curve of your thighs and to your ankles, where you let them trap your high heels together in a tempting knot.

You smiled, watching him empty his glass, pouring the dark liquor down his throat. He was on his feet now, making his way over to you, faster than you could've imagined. That had been the deal though, whoever finished their drink first had to be the first one to approach. A silent game of cat and mouse, as the two of you had tried to get the other to finish their drink first, practically the entire night. Turns out a man weakness is and always will be a wet pussy.

You: A little help?

"Good evening." He said, taking the chair next to you, scooting it an extra inch closer.

"Evening." You said, cocking your head.

"A lady in distress I see."

You chuckled, but allowed the tip of your heel to put pressure against his outlined calf.

"Care to help?"

He leaned forward, his large frame covering the sight of you, preventing other people at the bar to see the tugging of hands.

"Carful now." You hissed. As his hand which now rested on your thigh, traveled upwards rather downwards towards your fallen panties.

He chuckled, flashing his white teeth. "Your cunt is mine, didn't you know that?"

You jumped, feeling him enter you, his warm hand beneath your dress, a slight panic because of your lack of movement caused by your trapped ankles.

"Carful now." He teased.

The feel of his thumb stroking your bead made you clenched around nothing.

"Ruben, not here." You gasped.

"Then where?" He grinned

You left the bar with a draft between your legs, your apartment only being a ten minute walk away.

You fumbled with the keys to the door as Ruben's groping hands and latching mouth made it difficult for you to concentrate.

As soon as you stumbled over the threshold clothes were coming off. You barley made it to the bedroom before his shaft was locked up inside of you, with you climbing on his cock, clinging on to his neck.

You woke up the next morning with a scolding headache and a naked man sleeping beside you to mend the pain.

Ruben had an alarm of his own. It went off the same time it had always done for these past three years.

"What are we?" You asked, as Ruben pressed your body against his, planting soft kisses down your shoulder.

"What do you mean?" He groaned, clearly distracted by more important things.

"What are we in terms of a relationship."

He paused the motion of rubbing your back, lifting his head to look at you. "We're friends, no?"

"The best of friends." He grinned, resuming the serenading of kisses, this time traveling down the slope of your neck and onto the trace of your collarbone.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Don't you mean friends who fuck on a daily bases?"

"Ruben, I'm serious."

"I'm serious too." He said, a slight irritation in his voice as you forced all motion of kissing to stop once more.

"Okay, if we're the best of friends, how come every time you're in town you somehow always wake up in my bed?"

"Because your bed is the best." He pressed a swift kiss to your lips, sitting up in bed.

You rolled your eyes and fell back against the your pillow.

"Look, Y/N, I thought we went over this? I'm not looking for anything serious right now, neither are you, or at least that's what you told me."

"Friends?" He said in that trustful way he always did.

"Yeah, three years ago." You muttered.

Since then you and Ruben had shared numerous of moments like the one in the bar last night. Moments that would make any sane person qualify you two as more than just friends.

"With benefits." You agreed, grabbing a hold of the hand he offered to you, letting him pull you out of bed.

Maybe you should let things be with Ruben. He was a simple guy with simple needs and you knew exactly where you had him in terms of a relationship. It was just not happening. So what if you kept him around for a bit longer? From now on you would see him as a dick on the side whilst you finally put yourself out there in search for a real man.

[oknowkiss]

fic claim: à bon chat

written for @moonflower-rose & @hd-erised 2023!

Pairing(s): DRARRY, past Harry/Ginny, past Draco/OMC Rating: E Wordcount: 35K Read on AO3 here!

Tags: Art Thief Draco, Crime Scene Investigator Harry, Divorced Harry, Paris, Heists, Cat & Mouse, the Insatiable Pursuit of a Thrill, Enemies to Colleagues to Lovers, Moral Ambiguity (he's a thief, so...), Gawain Robards Loves Penguins, Just a Whole Lot of Impressionism Summary: Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief. His biggest score yet is fast approaching and he's got everything planned down to the minute. Everything, that is, until the unexpected appearance of a newly-divorced Harry Potter. Now that Potter's in the picture, Draco's no longer certain if he's the pursuer or the prize.

rosie!!!! SURPRISE!!!! this was so much fun to write, and tbh it was even more fun pretending i didn't write it directly to your face. ;) but seriously, writing for you was an absolute delight. your prompts gave me so many amazing fun things to sneak in (thigh holsters?! please!!). here's to gifting you many more things in the future!! thank you so so much to @citrusses for the incredible beta, and to everyone who has read and commented and shared throughout the fest. it was truly such an honor to participate in erised's 10 year anniversary. finally: - draco's first steal is this painting - the paintings in the Big Heist are this series - the monet lilies room at l'orangerie is here - you can find my fic inspo playlist here: spotify - the banner above is from the 1915 silent film serial Les Vampires, and was the image that first inspired this entire story.

[fryingpan1234567]

guys the 141 is flying to Disneyland

(hear me out)

Price, for someone’s birthday (probably Gaz’s if we’re honest with ourselves), takes the squad to Disney for a few days. Now these grown ass battle-hardened absolute units of men… are fucking ecstatic. Even Ghost. Especially Gaz and Soap, who literally Did Not Shut The Fuck Up about it all the way from the announcement up until they were there, and then they were speechless.

Anyways, a compilation of things that happened:

Ghost was mistaken for the Winter Soldier because of the mask and all-black tact fit and eyeliner by a group of middle schoolers who then demanded a picture

Soap got glitterbombed during a parade and had sparkles in his mohawk for the rest of the day

Price lost his hat to the Matterhorn somewhere in the cave system, meaning it was virtually unretrievable 

Gaz got jumpscared by the fake sharks on the Finding Nemo submarine ride

Soap ate a total of twelve bags of cotton candy over the course of a three day trip

They all spent more on merch than the fucking plane tickets💀

Ghost and Gaz had a pretty epic lightsaber fight, red vs green, in the dark in Galaxy’s Edge so all the lights in the background were on it was DOPE‼️

Price was forced to wear Mickey ears OVER his replacement hat so it folded over the top of his head like a weird reverse Captain taco

Soap got WAY into the Indiana Jones ride and almost got thrown out of the jeep like six times

Same with Gaz and the Pirates of the Caribbean one

Ghost going speechless in awe of the immersion of the Star Wars rides

They all vow to never speak of what happened on the Guardians/ Tower of Terror ride, because no one was actually sure who screamed the loudest.

Soap tried to fight Donald Duck and had to be dragged away by Price before he traumatized the crowd of watching children

Even though he still had a half-face black mask on, Ghost let Soap and Gaz drag him into getting matching face paint

Gaz had a Princess and the Frog themed outfit one of the days and PHEW

Ghost went back home with two pairs of ears: a Jack Skellington one and the sparkly purple one that has a unicorn horn and rainbow train behind it

Also the others convinced him to wear a Mickey Mouse shirt over his hoodie one of the days

I can’t express how much they all fucking lived for the Cars ride (it’s because it’s simply the best one ANYWAYS)

Soap being thoroughly distracted by Ghost and his see-through shirt after they did Splash Mountain and got soaked

The fucking contrast between Price getting some kind of whisky situation that’s just brown but in a cool cup from a bar in Galaxy’s Edge and then Gaz finding some god-awful multicolored milkshake that’s a foot and a half tall and 30% whipped cream

Anyways the serotonin is REAL please ask me to do other characters or continue this I just think the cod boys deserve to go to Disney every once in a while

[daddycassie]

Lucy Gray Baird does not share. 🍺 🌙 🎶

Pairing: Possessive! Lucy Gray Baird x Female! Masc! Reader - 1,333 words

Warnings: Drinking/drunk shenanigans, mentions of prostitution(brief), biting, oral sex, fingering, switch Lucy Gray(only hints at her bottoming though), jealousy, possessiveness, public sex.

At around half past midnight, you’d been working a late shift at the Hob. Bartending and table cleaning weren’t easy jobs with all the drunkards around, but you did your best to manage. Especially in the presence of your lover, the dazzling star, Lucy Gray Baird.

She shined brighter than anything in the entirety of the Hob, the whole district even. She was like a splash of watercolor on everyone else’s colorless world. Nearing the end of your shift, a pretty blonde girl approached you. You hadn’t noticed her at first, entranced by Lucy Gray’s siren-like song.

Nothin’ you could take was ever worth keepin’.

The girl had to snap right in your face to get your attention. “Oh, I’m sorry, what can I get for you?” You speak, rolling up your white sleeves. Her eyes travel down, your arms were toned, but you never thought them something to gawk over. “Whiskey handsome, and maybe an hour or two of your time? I promise I can make it very pleasurable.”

The blonde’s voice is a low purr, you can’t help laughing heartily. You get her the whiskey and she pays significantly more than necessary. You sigh, and elect to play along, not noticing the fact that Maude Ivory was singing now. “I’m not a prostitute sweetheart.” You speak with a smile. 

For some reason you feel like more than one person is staring at you. You try to ignore it as the girl leans closer, taking a long sip of her whiskey. “I didn’t mean it like that… I just feel a little lonely tonight.” She croons. You’re about to respond when someone else speaks. “Maybe you should go feel lonely alone.”

“Lucy Gray?” You turn to her. Lucy Gray stares menacingly at the girl. If looks could kill…

The blonde frowns deeply. “Shouldn’t you be singing songbird?” Lucy Gray approaches you and tightly squeezes your arm. “I’m on break, to come see my girlfriend.” She spat. The blonde mutters something under her breath, but leaves the bar with her whisky. 

Lucy Gray grabs a small bottle of rum, you estimate it’s about the price of the extra money the girl paid. “We should probably give her her money back, or that bottle at lea—“

You’re cut off when Lucy Gray opens the top and nearly downs the whole bottle. “Didn’t that burn?” You frown in concern. “Nope.” She rasps.

“Baby that’s gonna hit you like a truck, maybe you shouldn’t drink it.” She frowns deeply. “I feel great actually, other than that little stunt you were pullin’.” You blink in surprise at her words “Stunt? What stunt?”

Lucy Gray glares, although she looks about as scary as a mouse you don’t like when she’s cross with you. “I heard you call her sweetheart. I mean, sweetheart, come on Y/n! I never knew you were out here butterin’ up all these girls!” The way she wobbles when she moves closer to you indicates the rum is starting to take effect.

“Lucy Gray, I was just trying to deal with her. She was wasted.” You try to reason, wrapping your arms around her waist. She bristles, and speaks, her voice slurring out the words. “How ‘m I posed to know you’re a-tellin’ me the truth!” The way she puts emphasis in the wrong places makes you chuckle despite the circumstances.

“Maybe we should get you home.” You take her hand, only for her to squeeze yours tighter and drag you into the backroom. The second you’re out of view from other people she slams you into the wall as hard as she can, her eyes narrow. “Lucy Gray—“ you’re cut off again when she presses herself close to you and begins drunkenly fumbling with your shirt buttons.

“Mine, n’nody else’s. I don’ wanna share…” She leans her face up into the crook of your neck and you’re shocked by how hard she bites you. You groan in both pain and pleasure. She presses you against the wall with more force. You can see the moment she gives up on the buttons and simply rips the shirt open, buttons clattering to the ground.

“Hey! My nice shirt!” You hiss, only half as mad as you would normally be, seeing how your girlfriend is trying to get into your pants. “That’s mine too.” Lucy Gray babbles, moving down to suck on and kiss any part of your chest that your bra doesn’t cover. “I want you…” she moans.

You bite your lower lip and nod, placing your hand on her head as she moves down to her knees in front of you. You glance at the entrance from the bar, and decide it’s not likely anyone will walk in. You look down just in time to see Lucy Gray slip off your belt and pull down your slacks, then your underwear as well.

“Already wet.” She comments as though you wouldn’t already know that. You fist her hair and she takes that as an urging to lean forward and take your clit into her mouth. It wasn’t often when you thought Lucy Gray’s mouth had better uses than singing, but god, you were thinking it now.

You moan, and press into her mouth, trying to keep quieter than the music. It’s difficult when she’s sucking with such fervor. Her big brown eyes look up at you and become half lidded with affection. Meanwhile, you get off on the idea that Lucy Gray stopped her set early just to show some random girl who you belonged to.

It was Lucy Gray, always Lucy Gray. You loved her and she loved you. The way her tongue flicks at your clit while she unceremoniously presses her fingers into you drives you mad, if you hadn’t muffled yourself you would have screamed. Times like these made you question if you were truly the dominant one in the relationship.

Lucy Gray thrusts hard and fast, passionate and determined as everything she ever does. You cum, grinding against her pretty face, while you both moan a little too loudly. Despite the racket you’re creating she doesn’t stop. Not even a break. She keeps up the pace.

When you cum a second time, you’re quivering against the wall, flushed and sweaty. You wanted to reclaim some dominance, anything to make you feel a little in control. You pull Lucy Gray’s hair — and she bites your clit. Your eyes roll back and tear up with overstimulation. You cum for the third time tonight. 

Lucy Gray toys with you for a moment or two longer before she pulls away, her face is wet, and she smiles drunkenly. “All mine.” She giggles to herself. You look down at her, panting. Finally you move from off the wall, and fix your clothes. “W-we need to clean your face. Come on.” You pull her up from the ground and she hugs you, kissing you all over, just like the usual drunk Lucy Gray. Like she didn’t just fuck you silly.

You sigh, and lift her up, using her to cover your broken open shirt. You’d have to collect your buttons tomorrow, but that was a problem for future Y/n and Lucy Gray. “If you weren’t so hammered right now, I would take you home and take you in every position I could think of.” You speak low enough for only the two of you to hear.

“Sounds like good plans for tomorrow.” She hiccups, laying her head on your shoulder. “Mhm, good plans for tomorrow. Maybe we could visit the lake.” Lucy Gray nods, not entirely sure what she was in for.

You curl up in bed with her that night, her body rest on top of yours while she snoozes. You could still smell alcohol on her breath, but you kiss her goodnight anyway. “I love you.” You say to her, knowing you won’t get a response. Tomorrow was never assured, not in a place like 12, but somehow, with Lucy Gray it still felt bright.

Note: I wish I’d made it a little bit longer — but I’m pretty happy with it! Hope you enjoyed <3

@lucygraysbabygirl ~ thank you for your request, I had a lot of fun making it :)

[thedemonknownasbilly]

Drunk Thoughts

Warnings: Underage drinking

AFAB Reader cause this is my coping mechanism and about an incident before I came out.

Ineffable dads (sort of), he/him for both of them.

“You gave me the world, I gave you my trust. You invested in me, I invested in us. Who would have known you’d hurt me so much?” She mumbled-sang, taking another swig of the Jack, wincing at the taste but remaining on her floor, back to the wall as she sang along, her house empty, parents at some fancy event. Younger brother out with friends. And here she was, at 14, as alone as she could be.

“I’m feeling worthless, I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re right, little mouse.” The red haired demon said, leaning against the wall, just two feet away from her. “You don’t deserve this.” He crouched down to her level and took the whisky from her hand, shushing any protests. “You’re fourteen, seven more years to go.”

“I don’t care, give it back.” She insisted, stumbling to her knees to take it from him. But he simply rose to his full height, towering over her 5’2” with ease.

“I’ll return it in seven years, for now, how about we visit the library, I know that makes you feel better.”

“When can I visit your friend?” She asked, meaning the bookshop owning angel.

“When you’re eighteen or wherever he comes with me, whichever happens first.”

“I’m here, Crowley, oh, this must be R—.” A man dressed in white said, appearing behind the lankier man and offering his hand to the girl. “I’m Aziraphale, I know our meeting is long overdue.” He felt like such a comforting presence, she couldn’t help as she hugged him, fighting tears against his waist coat as his warm hands rubbed her back.

“Never took you for a guardian demon, Crowley.” Aziraphale mused.

“She reminds me of myself. How could I not?” The demon replied simply, stroking her hair as she settled into the angel’s arms.

Okay, so I’m like, 5 fireballs, 2 glasses of whiskey, and 1/4 a bottle of MD2020 deep, excuse any grammatical whateverthefucks. I’m coping by writing and listening to sad songs.