#and against this prudish dick

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

His girl.

Pairing; Austin!Elvis x reader

Warning: STEP-INCEST! Yandere Austin!Elvis, Creampie, Forbidden love, Asshole boyfriend, Love confessions, Slut-Shaming, Forced filming, Mentions of murder, Gagging, Fingering, Forced cleaning, Innocent kink, Squirting, Humiliation kink, Meanie Elvis/loving Elvis, Innocent and naive reader, Dacryphilia.

Summary: You were Elvis Presley's little sister, his step-sister but it still counts! When your parents left to have their honeymoon vacation they left your big brother Elvis in charge and he swore that it was his job to protect you, even if it meant from yourself..

You tried to hide your excited smile as your parents told you about going on their honeymoon your brother leaning against the entrance of the dining room, his eyes bore into your happy buzzing self but you just ignored him. You were so happy, you can finally show your boyfriend that you were a woman and not a prudish little girl! You could finally show him that you were serious about him! "And Elvis is in charge while we're gone." Your mother broke you out of your daze 'What?' "But Mama I can take care of—" you started to protest but the feeling of your big brother's warm big hand on your shoulder stopped you "Don't worry Ma'am, I'll keep er safe." Elvis smiled, his charming smile that could make the toughest woman swoon and your mother did just that.

'Okay it's a minor setback but I'll think of something' you thought with determination, you promised to show Johnny that you loved him, and you couldn't go back now.

God, you were just cute, with that little pout, Elvis would do everything to make you happy, you were so precious and innocent unlike most of the women of your age, he wanted to protect you but some twisted part of him wanted to corrupt you, having you under him, mewling and moaning, make you his wife, his woman but he couldn't you were his little step-sister and he couldn't betray his father like that. You and Elvis waved goodbye to your giddy mother and father, once they were out of sight you headed up to your bedroom, saying you wanted to talk to your best friend barely staying to hear what your brother had to say in the matter. You called your boyfriend to tell him the great news and as expected he was just as excited about it as you were, he said he'd be there in 15 mins, which give you enough time to get ready.

Elvis knew something was up but he wanted to trust you, really just a nagging feeling kept bugging him. It got too much he decided to see what his good little mama was doing but nothing could prepare him for the anger he felt as moans and groans left your closed door which by the way broke a rule he placed in his house. Elvis took a breath and pushed the door open to peek in and if he thought he was angry before then what he was feeling was undeniable rage. Your limp-pencil-dick boyfriend was thrusting into you in a sloppy frenzy, close to cumming and you were obviously disappointed, unsatisfied, and miserable. He slammed the door open, you screamed out in shock and horror at seeing your handsome brother "What the fuck man?!" your boyfriend turned to curse elvis but stopped at the cold-deadly stare he wears "Camera." He asked cool, calm, and collected, the Calm before the storm "Closet." you answered with a shaky tone "You, go get it, yar goin' film how A man pleases a woman." Elvis order your boyfriend, and he didn't take it so well "Like hell!" Johnny shouted and that was it, Elvis walked over grabbed your boyfriend by the back of his shirt, and yanked him off you, his other hand gripped around johnny's throat "You wouldn't want everyone to know what ya did to that girl? that's right I know." Elvis whispered so you couldn't hear "So be a good lil' boy and get it."Elvis shoved Johnny towards the closet with much force that your boyfriend's face smacked into the door before he stumbles back to get the camera while Elvis took his clothes off slowly as if to tease you like he knew..

As if he knows your feeling about him, the dreams you daydream, the dream of being his cute housewife and stay-at-home mother, going on dates, that he knew you didn't want this to stop, you wanted him. Elvis loomed over your naked body, his clothes laid on the floor and his hardened cock lay against your pelvis bone, Johnny held the camera in his shaky hands. Elvis jerked himself just a bit before pushing into your wet pussy, how that fuck got you wet he didn't know, all he knew is each little inch was driving him mad, once he was balls in, he let everything out, "You're a fuckin' slut, ya know lettin' any man fuck ya? You're mine" He growled, his blues are now black and his skilled hips began to work. You moaned loudly as tears glossed over your eyes from the pleasure of each pump of his hips, his pace was fast and hard, but calculated and his cock hit all the places you didn't know you had, was this what sex was supposed to feel like "More!" you cried, gripping the bed sheets, suddenly Elvis's fingers were pushed down your throat, enough to make you gag around them "You don't give orders lil' girl." he hissed, pounding downwards into you. Johnny gulped, feeling sick that he was getting turned on, seeing his toy being fucked by Elvis Presley, her step-brother, he zoned onto where you and elvis was connected.

You sucked on his fingers, like that of a lollipop, eyes hooded, looking at him with those innocent eyes, Elvis's chest rumbled with a groan, he pulled his digits out, replacing them with his burning hot tongue, his pointing finger rubbed your clit in short, fast circles. You whined in the kiss, the knot in your stomach snapped, your back arched and your hips jerked, walls fluttering, sucking for everything he could offer. Elvis throws back his head, a deep, gaspy groan left his throat, and his hips stuttered. A heat poured into your already warm walls.

You let a small protest when Elvis slipped out of you, the feeling of him inside was addicting and you didn't want that to go so soon, your protest didn't last as Elvis sat beside your slight sweat-coated body, and parted your cum leaking folds, showing the camera his cum dripping out, letting go of your outer lips and sliding his two fingers down your clit and into your cunt, nothing could have prepared you for that was to come next. His digits fucked into you, like a hard-working machine, repeatedly hitting your g-spot, your eyes widened when Elvis bend over and bit-nippled your sensitive clitoris. A deeper pit took over you, screaming, tears flowing, you squinted all over the recorder and Elvis's face, still, even with your slick dripping his face held a smug smirk at your boyfriend.

Elvis got up and, licked away one of your tears "Such a pretty crybaby." He praised you, kissing your temple. His eyes turned to your boyfriend "Clean her." he spoke sternly, "S-sure just let me get a rug." johnny put the video record on a dresser and went to get a rug "With your tongue." johnny stopped mid-step "What?" he turned to look at Elvis in pure disbelief "Clean. Her. With your tongue. Now." your boyfriend gulped and nodded, rushing to get in between your legs. His tongue dragged up your clenching opening, catching your and Elvis's mixed cum on his tastebuds, johnny squeezed his eyes shut as he sucked and licked your cunt clean of cum.

Johnny winced moving from your legs, his cheeks got with embarrassment and humiliation "Can I go now?" he asked looking at the floor, "Sure go ahead," Elvis smiled, wiping his face with a wet rug from the bathroom, "Tell anybody about and I'll kill ya" Elvis whispered, grabbed his arm on his way out, johnny's face paled and he nodded fearfully as Elvis jerked his arm away, once he was free, he ran straight home. Elvis walked over and smiled at your passed-out form, cleaning your pussy with the other side of the rag, and laid beside you "I love ya lil' mama." he kissed your forehead, he was of course, gonna call his Memphis Mafia to deal with your sad excuse of a 'boyfriend' but for right now it was just him and you.

Just how he liked it.

@kiankiwi @18lkpeters @louisejoy86 @chasingwildflowers @crash-and-cure @plasticfantasticl0ver @galaxygirl453 @edgeofrealitys-blog, @flwersgarden.

[arminsumi]

. . . 彡 🗑️ trash draft: goodboy façade.

NOTE: i present to u... nerd armin crumbs. i've sat on this thing for months, it was part of a longer fic that i had planned out but it was too much to write for me so i gave up on it lol

🔞 minors don't read or interact / n.sfw / smut / 18+ content

WARNINGS — stereotypes, m*sturbation, sending nxdes for a paid dare, mentions of alcohol but not being drunk, mean reader, min's fantasies include creampies, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

He was sick of it. Sick of seeing that red tint on your lips. Sick of the way his pants tightened up at your flirting. Sick of only having your lips around his dick in his fantasies.

And good god, he had an endless stream of fantasies. As far as his imagination's concerned, you've had sex with him every day.

His fist isn't enough. His daydreams of you aren't enough. He needs to really feel you, or he might actually explode.

But despite his overwhelming lust, his hands are tied behind his back, and his shirt collar is as pristine as his goodboy façade.

You know how you turn him on, in fact you're sorely aware. It's almost amusing to see him suffer.

He blushes up to his ears when you compliment him. His pants tighten when you murmur dirty jokes into his ear. He nearly chokes on air when you 'accidentally' press your thigh against his during Levi's lectures.

Your scent lingers on his T-shirt and he can't help but inhale them and start rubbing his hardening cock through his sweatpants.

He's focusing hard on the image of you pawing at his bulge, teasing him for being too wimpy to make a move himself. His fantasy grows bigger with each stroke of his hand, his pretty pink tip is flushed and throbbing underneath the grey fabric. The outline of his cock looks like something right out of a hentai, and the same goes for his moans.

He muffles his whimpers on his hand, imagining that it's your lips muffling the sound instead. He gives his aching cock a few squeezes through his sweatpants. He heard a rumor that you tend to tease like that.

Just as he gets into it, his phone erupts with dinging notifications. Right then, it's the most annoying sound on earth. He's torn right out of his fantasy of you.

The repetitive sound gets on his nerves, that is, until he checks who its from, and sees that it's you messaging him.

His jaw fucking drops at the message. His brain short circuits. Is his vision deceiving him? Is this real life right now? He's just about losing it.

Meanwhile, you're giggling over your phone screen with your girl friends. The time glares at you in the corner; 2:45 am.

Everyone at this party thinks that you're wasted, but that's one of the many talents you possess; acting drunk when actually you're as sober as a priest.

Your girl friends can't stop with their stupid, drunk giggles.

"Alright, I did it. Pay up." You smile evilly over at your favorite blond, Tori.

She groaned and pulled out her phone. Within a couple of minutes, you received a notification that your wish list was 'anonymously' purchased.

"Thanks, Tori, 'love you!" You coo and smile, pulling her in for a hug.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it..." She giggles to herself, "Armin is probably too prudish to stare at it too long, you know."

Your smile morphs into a cruel smirk. In this friend group, there is no debate about Armin's 'prudishness'. What's the problem with being a virgin at twenty-two years old? Nothing at all, there's nothing wrong with that; but your opinions have molded to fit the shape of your friends, haven't they? So you just agree that Armin is the biggest prude at your college.

And that poor boy, that poor boy, he's laying in bed freaking out over the fact you sent him a nude of yourself, meanwhile you're getting back to partying.

You did not just accidentally send him your best nude, there's no way.

What's worse than the lack of context is the fact you went offline right after he read the message. There's no way, he thought.

Armin can't even form a thought. His eyes are just glued to his screen. He subconsciously brought his face closer, and his hand dove under his pants.

There's no way it was an accident, he knows that, he's not an idiot. He's the valedictorian of your college.

Whimpers fill Armin's dorm room. His mind is racing. Heart palpitating. Your name falls off his lips while he approaches one of the best orgasms he's had in a while.

Before he knows it he's spurting hot ropes of his cum all over his shirt, the shirt that smells like your scent. Your name echoes off his walls, and in his mind he's just deliciously filled you up to the brim with his milky white release.

[jess-moloney-malarkey]

Funny how the other blog compares female nip slip with male “dick slip” - because they know too well there’s nothing wrong with male nip slip, so they deliberately compared a whole different body parts together. Because if anything, shouldn’t a male dick slip be an equivalent to a female vagina slip instead?

And they said “nobody consented to seeing it” when referring to her nip slip, like she went around and shoved her nips in people’s face against their will, when in reality it’s just her dresses and people can barely see her nips unless they look.

They also claimed they didn’t sexualize her, but then in another ask that was sent to them, they also compared female nip slip as a trend to women leaking their own s3x tapes to get famous as a trend. Like???????

Then they said how inappropriate her nip slip was because apparently the majority of her boyfriend’s fans are minors. And they can’t see how they make no sense at all. Because she’s not responsible for her boyfriend’s fans in any way. Her boyfriend isn’t responsible for his own fans either. It’s not her or her boyfriend’s job to take care of strangers or to be responsible for them. And mind you, her “crime” in question was a barely visible nip slip.

(By their logic, they should criticize her boyfriend for smoking and selling lighters as merch too. Because the majority of his fans are minors. Oh wait, they did. But they blamed HER for “manipulating and influencing” him. Of course, because every single thing is about her being manipulative.)

I’m not her stan, and there are some other things that blog said about her that did make some sense, but it’s wrong and ridiculous to blindly attack her for anything and everything.

She has the rights to live her life ffs.

They also recently made a compilation post of her face and attacked her for how her eyes looked “cold” then claimed that it was the reason she always wore sunglasses.

At this point, she literally cannot breathe without being “manipulative” or “a red flag” in their eyes.

I mean I admit I used to find their blog somewhat reliable, but they ruined their own credibility by making it look like everything she did is wrong. So now they just look like an outright hate blog instead of a legit and creditable criticism blog.

I’ve never consented to see male nipples, yet they’re everywhere. The only difference between male nipples and female nipples is that one feeds babies. It’s so prudish to be up in arms over seeing nipples through a shirt. Let people live, goddamn. Stop sexualizing women’s bodies in the year of our lord 2024.

[limonadecandy]

as a lesbian, the prudish attitude of radfem spaces sincerely makes me laugh my arse off.

according to them, penis in vagina is torture, a crime against humanity which soils the Pristine White Pureness of the Wombyn from within, and so is sucking dick. using straps is compulsory heterosexuality. so is fingering because apparently Wombyn don't come from penetrative sex. tribadism is only done in evil porn for Heterosexual Men and does not exist in real life. rimming is humiliating. lesbians don't practise BDSM because it is just a way for Heterosexual Men to act out their misogynistic fantasies, and lesbians who do practice BDSM are just collaborating with the patriarchy. eventually, if you show them that the only sexual practices they deem morally acceptable are hugging, kissing and a cunnilingus once in a while, they'll whine that you are promoting a desexualized vision of lesbianism that once again is removed from the pristine white truth.

it is pretty clear that many radfems actually are sex-repulsed asexuals, but are so deep entrenched in their bioessentialist propaganda & internalised acephobia that they instead try to police & shame queer women on what they do with their sexual lives (which is also a form of internalised homophobia, and of course of transmisogyny)

[not-bcring]

"Such a sweet whore," Seto breathed out as he relentlessly pounded into Shuichi from behind. "Everything about you is so sweet. How you sound, how smell,... how you taste." The vampire then emphasized his statement by plunging his fangs into his boyfriend's neck and sucking down the delicious nectar. ( Just giving your boy what he wanted. ) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ncughty-uwu 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Despite being forced trained from childhood to subdue the very creature who mounted him, Shuichi is clearly the one being destroyed... If his Uncle saw him now, there would no doubt be disgust at the debaucherous display. Once the prudish yet predatory man got past the initial disbelief that his precious prodigy could be capable of such a thing. Frankly, even Shuichi had been shocked by the direction his relationship with Seto took. Emotionally let alone physically. But somehow— against all common sense on both their parts —the pair became so intimately intertwined, Shuichi can't envision going back to the way things were before.

White-knuckled hold upon blankets stings from the force, Shuichi only faintly aware of the discomfort. Cheek pressed into the bed and ass raised for his boyfriend, body shakes with each ruthless slam of Seto's hips. Throat raw from screaming singing praises, the crude melody remains surprisingly-strong considering how soft-spoken the hunter normally is. Yet amongst the pleasure still lies pleading... Demands for more that he's not certain how Seto could give. Or that Shuichi even expects. But in the fervor of the moment, he can't help but beg.

❝ Pl-Please... Seto, PLEASE— M-More... Please, I want— I wa-aaAAH~ ❞ Broken by moans, body continues on his behalf even when the hunter is taken by gasps and mewls. Tight around Seto as if terrified of the vampire ceasing his onslaught, warmth urging his boyfriend deeper into his depths. ❝ S-Seto... SETO~... ❞ He whines, eyes squeezed shut as he pants for breath. Dizzyingly close to the edge, sweat-dappled form BURNS in a way that makes Seto's nearly chilling to the touch in comparison. A striking contrast that sends an appreciative shiver down Shuichi's spine.

And then... Seto gives him more.

Crying out when fangs sink past porcelain skin into his delicate neck, body tenses around Seto's cock as he topples over the edge of ecstasy with such sudden force it feels as though he was SHOVED. As delicious nectar is sucked from his neck— Shuichi feeling the rush as it rises to sustain his boyfriend —one of a different sort shoots from his throbbing dick, dirtying the blankets as hips spasm. Fighting for air as the waves subside, flushed face ( cheeks red as the ones Seto slams into ) is buried into the mattress. Shuichi whimpering, ❝ D-Don't stop... Don't— I don't want you to stop... ❞

Depleted dick twitches in agreement, Shuichi still eager in his exhaustion. Desperate for Seto to have his fill— and fill HIM —in every way. To enjoy his body... The sound of him, the feel of him, the taste of him. Tears bead in the overstimulated hunter's eyes, glossing golden hues as they blearily blink open. Shuichi weakly panting through soft lips, ❝ Keep... going until you're satisfied... ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[alcalavicci]

tl;dr in case you don’t like reading long court transcripts: Cop with iffy eyesight claims dancers were nude in a few scenes, lawyers question him and make him seem like a total idiot. Magistrate rules show is immoral, taking this to trial. I also added further research at the end to explain what happened in the end.

7/12/30:

GAUZE CURTAIN DIDN'T STOP COY COP VIEWING CARROLL 'NUDITIES'

"The extended monologue of Police Capt. James Coy, the leading man, yesterday prevented the conclusion of the drama 'Are We Immoral or Are We Merely Beautiful?' presented by Earl Carroll's 'Vanities' in Jefferson Market court. Next week: Essex Market court.

"That, in the language of the theatre program, is what happened on the second day of the courtroom run of 'Vanities' special command performance.

"Coy-by-name-and-nature, Capt. Coy stole the show, from the time he said mincing Faith Bacon was 'stark naked from the nape of her neck down to her heels,' until Magistrate Maurice Gottlieb suddenly adjourned the hearing on Wales law indecency charges with the explanation that he had important business to transact.

"If Earl Carroll, Jimmy Savo, the low comedian, and the eight beauties the police are attempting to jail for their antics in the current revue at the New Amsterdam theatre are jealous of Coy's performance yesterday, they must take advantage of their day on the court stage in Essex Market on Tuesday next.

"Coy, kittenish ex-star of 'Pleasure Man's' courtroom run, gave a monologue that for stark realism matched the supposed stark nakedness which caused Wednesday's matinee raid at the New Amsterdam and the arrest of the eight coryphees--Naomi Ray, Irene Ahlberg, Eileen Wenzel, Faith Bacon, Kay Carroll, Constance Trevor, Betty Veronica and Frances Joyce.

"Blushing furiously, Capt. Coy began by identifying Miss Bacon, who not only wore clothes, but even furs in court-a gray fox fur choker, a gray-and-blue sports ensemble and a purple cloche hat.

"Q: 'Now, Capt. Coy, your version, please?' said Assistant District Attorney Louis Wasser. A. 'I bought two tickets for the "Vanities" performance at a ticket agency near the theatre and went to my seat which was marked "M," the tenth row.' " 'Tell us everything you saw in the theatre?' interrupted the magistrate.

" 'But your honor,' said Wasser. 'that will take all day.'

"'Well, then will you continue with the alleged objectionable scenes?' Gotlieb replied. A. 'The first scene I considered objectionable showed a number of females lying on their backs on the stage. The defendant, Faith Bacon, came down the center of the stage, swinging two large fans, and danced. When she turned during her dance I could see her naked body from the nape of her neck down to the heels, from a side and rear view.'

" 'Could you see the front of her body?' asked the magistrate. A. 'No, she swung her fans in such a manner that only her face was showing.'

"Capt. Coy, who objected later to being styled an expert, described the entrance of Miss Bacon onto the stage, clad similar to Lady Godiva, in long blonde tresses and with two fans instead of a white charger.

" 'Was she naked?' Magistrate Gotlieb asked. 'Absolutely and positively,' the captain replied.

" 'Do you wear glasses?' asked Attorney Vorhaus. A. 'Only for reading.'

"Q. Did you notice a gauze curtain between the dancers and the audience? A. Yes, a curtain of thin gauze.

"Q. But still you insist that with eyes that need glasses to read with and a distance of thirty-five to forty feet away you were still able to see whether or not Miss Bacon wore absolutely no clothing? A. Absolutely, she was stark naked.

"At this point the star in question smeared on some lipstick and turned her eyes heavenward in utter boredom.

" 'If I had a couple of fans here I would show how it was done,' said Coy waving his hands in circular motion. The crowd roared but newspapermen recalled the splendid imitations Coy had given when prosecuting Mae West and her cast in 'Pleasure Man.'

"For a time Magistrate Gotlieb considered clearing the courtroom, but officers circulating through the 300 men and women restored order and quieted the laughter that followed Coy's offer to mimic the dainty Faith Bacon.

"Q.- 'Will you admit the stage was darkened?' asked Vorhaus. A. - 'Sure, partly darkened,' said Coy.

"Q. - "Were you shocked, captain?' said the magistrate. A.- 'I certainly was shocked, your honor.'

"Several times during Coy's testimony smill Jimmy Savo would grit his teeth and make utterances under his breath at the captain. Carroll and others in the defense group would laugh and pat him on the shoulder to quiet him.

"Attorney Benjamin J. Rubin, who defended the show girls, was next to cross-examine Coy. He said:

" 'Your honor, it is my intention to show that all stage dances are meant to bring out an illusion.' Turning to Coy, he said:

"Q. 'Do you know what the illusion of a dance is?' A. 'No.'

"Q. 'Have you ever seen Isadora Duncan dance?' A. 'No.'

"Q. 'Have you ever seen Pavlowa dance?' A. 'Yes, at the Metropolitan Opera House, but she wore clothes.'

"Coy then described the scene, 'A Window at Merl's.'

" 'The girls were in a window effect, posing as models when they stepped out of their statue parts and started to talk. Naomi Ray and Savo came on the stage and she said to him: "Now, I'll tell you how to dress a window." She sent him over to Miss Frances Joyce and he started removing her stockings, under her direction.'

"Q. 'Was she sitting?' asked Vorhaus. A. 'No, standing.'

"Q. 'While she was standing did he (Savo) kneel down to remove the stockings?' asked the magistrate. A. 'Yes.'

" 'Then,' when on Coy, 'Miss Ray said, "Do you follow me?" and Savo said, "I'm way ahead of you." Then he went to Miss Kay Carroll and took off her gown--'

"Q. 'Was she--was she standing there then in her--er-er-er-what shall we call it--lingerie?' asked the magistrate. A. 'Yes,' said Coy.

" 'Go on, go on.'

" 'Then, while she was putting on a gown with a fuller and wider skirt her bloomers dropped off and Savo put his head under the gown to adjust the apparel. I could put on the bloomers without putting my head under the dress.'

" 'I didn't,' Savo muttered. 'I did not.' Carroll and the others quieted him.

"Coy was the target of a barrage of questions from Attorney Vorhaus concerning a visit he made to the New Amsterdam theatre on Wednesday a few hours after the raid.

"Q. 'What did you go there for?' asked Vorhaus. A. 'I went to see whether any of the crimes were still being committed and intended to make summary arrests, for the persons were out on bail.'

"With Coy's testimony finished, the magistrate said:

" 'I have important business to attend to, and we'll adjourn until next Tuesday and resume this trial in Essex Market court.'

"Objections by Wasser brought no answer from Gotlieb.

"As though the pale Carroll, who hints that rivals instigated the raid on his 'Vanities,' hasn't enough court troubles already, the Shuberts crashed down on him with an injunction suit yesterday.

"Seeking to force Carroll to discontinue the sensational under-sea ballet-a big feature of the current 'Vanities'- the Shuberts charge he stole the idea for which they paid good, hard cash.

"The Shuberts say they bought the American rights to the idea after they saw the under-sea balley in the famous 'Folies Bergere' of Paris."

7/16/30

Coy, Ex-Elephant Washer, Proves 'Vanities' Lewdness

"This ex-Maharajah of Baluchistan--otherwise Capt. James Coy, official police censor--convinced Magistrate Maurice Gotlieb in Essex Market court yesterday that Earl Carroll's latest 'Vanities' is, or was, an indecent performance.

"Cross-examination of Coy revealed his identity as the ex-maharajah. Before becoming a police officer-and later the moral watchdog of Broadway shows-the captain confessed he had worked for a circus washing elephants for 50 cents a day.

"His laundry work was done in the morning; so Coy was able to pose as the maharajah on the elephant line, when the crowds trooped into the circus grounds for the afternoon performance.

"The captain, who caused the arrest of Carroll, Jimmy Savo, the pantomiming comedian, Faith Bacon and seven other beauties of the 'Vanities' cast, freely admitted that rajahing and washing elephants was the limit to histrionic experience.

"But he so graphically reiterated previous testimony and stuck to his description of scenes 5 and 12 in the 'Vanities' so tenaciously that Magistrate Gotlieb said he was convinced that the 'Vanities' had been a lewd performance.

"He gave Louis Vorhaus and Julius Kindler, Carroll's council, until Thursday afternoon to file briefs, but he said:

" 'I believe that nudity existed in this show, and whether indecency takes place on the stage or any other public place in the jurisdiction of the courts of New York, the defendant must respond.'

"The 'defendant' means Miss Bacon, principal in the fan dance, Carroll and Savo with Irene Ahlberg, Constance Trevor, Eileen Wenzel, Frances Joyce, Kay Carroll, Naomi Ray and Betty Veronica, the latter seven participants in the window dressing scene, considered objectionable by Coy.

"All arguments by defense consel could not change Gotlieb's position and he brought the hearing to a close by saying:

" 'There is much at stake for the defendants, and it will do no good to file a defense here, for it has gone out of my jurisdiction.'

"This remark seemed to indicate that the magistrate had determined to hold the defendants for trial in a court of record.

"Just as he did at the first session of the Vanities courtroom scenes, Coy stole the show from the time he was called to the stand for questioning until he was excused.

"The first question was by Kindler, conducting the cross-examination.

"Q.-Captain, now in your previous testimony you testified that the defendant Savo put his hand under the dresss of the defendant Joyce and his head under the gown of defendant (Kay) Carroll. Is that your recollection? A.-He put his head under the Carroll dress and his hand under the dress of the defendant Joyce. That is true.

"Q.-Can you tell me what hand he put under the dress? A.-Yes, it was the right hand because it was the right stocking he took off.

"Q.-You're absolutely sure of that and even from where you were sitting you can tell us how he did this? A.-Absolutely, if you bring the defendant Joyce here and the court permits it-

"(The Court) 'We'll have no such demonstration as that here. Let that be settled once and for all.'

"After several minutes of wrangling over technicalities in which the court, prosecuting and defense attorneys figuered, Kindler asked Coy:

"Q. Now, in that window dress scene 'A Window at Merl's,' Miss Ray was posing as the owner of shop and was instructing Mr. Savo how to dress a model. A.-That's correct.

"Q. You could see from where you were sitting all right? A. Perfectly.

"Q. But you didn't notice any panels in the dress which you say Mr. Savo stuck his head beneath did you? A. Not to my recollection.

"Q. But you know that Miss Ray took the first dress off the defendant Carroll and put on another dress, don't you? A. Yes, I saw that distinctly and the defendant Carroll was standing on the stage in her underwear.

"Q. And you didn't see any panels in the dress into which Savo might insert his head without placing it under the skirt? A. No, it looked like an ordinary evening gown to me.

"Kindler: Do the panties fall off this defendant Carroll? A. (coyly) Yes, the little panties fall down.

"Q. Does Savo put the panties on? A. Yes, he puts his head under the dress and is concealed from the audience--

"(Court) Do they fit up to the waistlines? Panties do don't they? I don't know much about panties.

"Coy: I saw the defendant Savo deliberately (an objection against this word caused him to leave it out of his answer) take the edge of the dress, and pull it over his head, which disappeared under the dress, and to my mind he put the bloomers back on the woman Carroll.

"At this point, Savo's mouth twitched and his hands were rubbing nervously while Carroll, who sat in a high backed chair, nibbled at his well manicured fingers and a half a dozen wrinkles secured fixtures on his brow.

"Kindler: The dress going over Savo's head might have been an accident, captain? Coy: (half-smiling) Absolutely not accidental.

"At this point, Kindler waved a page from a New York paper in the air and shouted at Coy: 'Did you not give this interview?'

"(Court) Please don't screech or yell.

"Kindler: Did you see 'Lysistrata'? Yes.

"Q. Did you say that, in your opinion, 'Lysistrata' was not obscene because it was an artistic production? A. I don't recall saying that.

"Q. When you saw the Vanities performance was the audience laughing? A. I don't know. I wasn't laughing. I was shocked.

"Here Attorney Vorhaus resumed the cross-examination.

"Q. How old are you captain? A. (after some hesitation) Going on 49 and I've been 20 years on the force.

"Q. You have been referred to here several times as captain. What is meant by that? A. (sarcastically) It means a grade above lieutenant.

"Q. (Vorhaus) Well, does it mean that you're a captain because of your own histrionic ability or talent? A. Because I do my duty.

"Q. But you have been an actor, haven't you, Capt. Coy? A.-Well, I used to be with the circus. (Coy appeared not to like it and his face became flushed.)

"Q. (by Vorhaus) What did you do in the circus? A. Well, I'll tell you. They used to say that I had a big job with the circus. I used to wash elephants. And O, yes, I was the Maharajah of Baluchistan, the High Potentate, but in reality I was merely a supernumerary getting 50 cents a day.

"The answer seemed to stop Attorney Vorhaus for he asked no more than a couple of other questions and Assistant District Attorney Wasser asked:

"Q.-Captain, how many nights did you see the pants drop? A.-On Monday and Tuesday nights.

"Q.-Then it couldn't have been accidental? A.-No.

" 'The people rest,' said Wasser.

"As other defense counsel sought to question Capt. Coy, the magistrate said:

" 'That's all, that'll be all. You can go now captain.'

"Vorhaus moved to have the case thrown out.

"Magistrate Gotlieb responded by telling Vorhaus that a defense in Magistrate's court would be wasted endeavor and in his opinion the dance by Miss Bacon was sufficient to convince him the show was immoral.

"More than 500 persons who gathered at 2nd Ave and 2nd St. were dispersed by a squad of patrolmen who allowed none but those having business in the court building to enter."

I also searched to see what the turnout of this case was. Apparently, Coy went ahead and demonstrated the fan dance during the trial, using his straw hat to represent the fans, but the jury wasn’t amused. The jury would not indict, but Carroll agreed to drop the scenes with almost-nudity from his show. Also, of the women who were arrested, only the ones who were directly involved were held. So that means Betty was soon let go, along with three of the other dancers. 

Also, Earl Carroll was used to flirting with trouble. He’d previously served jail time for exhibiting a naked/half-naked (depending on who you ask) girl at a party in a tub full of (then) illegal alcohol during the 1920s, even though he tried to claim the liquid was ginger ale.

[l4deeznuts]

Humanized Monty/Freddy smut —

(rough oral)

ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ ϟ

Freddy was never really a sexual person. Sure, he dabbled here and there throughout his life, but no where near as much as the average person would. It just wasn’t something that he was all that interested in. Some would say it was a little ironic given the fact that he’s such a big rockstar and whatnot, but he barely partook in the typical rockstar lifestyle. He did always enjoy alcohol, but the drugs and the sex and the parties just weren’t really his thing. His friends would tease him, calling him too innocent, too prudish, but it didn’t bother him. He would always laugh with them because it was true.

So when him and Monty started to regularly sleep together, it was definitely strange, especially since for the longest time they didn’t get along too well. They couldn’t really tell you how exactly it happened, just that one day they were a little too drunk and things just sorta.. happened. It’s still a little foggy for both of them, honestly.

Now whenever Monty gets drunk, usually Freddy gets a knock on his door. Some would say that the whole situation is unhealthy, but shockingly.. Freddy didn’t care. He couldn’t explain it, but being with Monty just made him feel all sorts of things. It made him feel sexy and naughty, something that he never would of felt comfortable with, but the way Monty talked, the way he acted, the way he treated him—

Their eyes were seductively locked to each other’s. Monty softly placed his hand over Freddy’s cheek, then ran it down to his chin, where his gentle touch turned rough. He gripped Freddy’s jaw and tilted his head side to side slightly, admiring the man’s face.

“You really are handsome,” Monty spoke slowly, clearly intoxicated. He continued to study the other’s face, his lips curled in a crooked smirk. Freddy could feel that his cheeks were a noticeable shade of pink, as they always were when it came to being with Monty.

“Sooo.. sweet..” His voice trailed off as he ran his hand back up to his cheek, feeling the warmth of the blush. He lovingly rubbed his thumb over the skin, still staring into Freddy’s eyes. They were so mesmerizing, especially with how they were slightly lidded and how they paired with the pink flush of his cheeks.

Freddy didn’t say a word. Even though on the outside he was stolid, he always felt so flustered. His face always red and hot, heart beating fast, and his breathing just a bit hitched. Monty could see right through him, though. He could tell he was fighting so hard not to let it be known. He knew Freddy was such a soft being, and that’s why he had such an interest in him. It was so easy to control him.

With Freddy’s cheeks still in Monty’s hands, he felt him start to pull down. He knew what that meant. He slowly dropped down to his knees, his face now inches away from Monty’s bulge. Through his underwear he could see just how eager he was. He peeked up at the other man, who was staring down at him with his usual intimidating smirk. Monty grabbed the hem of his underwear and pulled them down, revealing his dick. It practically bounced out, the tip hitting against Freddy’s lip. He gripped the shaft and hit it against Freddy’s cheek a couple times before positioning the tip back to his lips. He ran his fingers through his soft brown hair before gripping a handful, then guided his dick into his mouth. As he pushed it back into his throat, he immediately let out a low groan. Every time it shocked him how he was able to get his entire dick, down to the base, into Freddy’s mouth. He held it there for a moment, feeling Freddy choke just slightly, before pulling it back out. They both let out a breath at the same time.

Once it was back in, it was Freddy’s turn to take over. He placed his hands on the sides of Monty’s thighs as he began to bob his head. He kept a nice rhythm as he sucked quite passionately, in which Monty couldn’t help but eventually start thrusting his hips. Still gripping his hair, he fucked his mouth steadily, letting out groans here and there. He didn’t show any mercy towards the other man. He didn’t let him take a break, he didn’t slow down— he continued to fuck his mouth for almost a couple minutes straight. Near the end he gave a few hard thrusts, the tip hitting the back of his throat, causing him to gag.

“Nah— You keep that shit in—“ Monty groaned as he held Freddy’s head, pushing it into him.

Before pulling back out, he kept his dick as far back as he could until Freddy physically couldn’t handle it anymore. He watched in bliss as Freddy coughed and tried to catch his breath. He knew he looked like a mess, with his face red, saliva covering his mouth, and his heavy breathing, but to Monty it was a beautiful, hot ass mess. It didn’t take long for him to get back to business, Freddy not even fully recuperated yet.

“I won’t be too mean to ya,” He said as he slapped his dick against his face, “Just sit there and be pretty—“ He grinned as he tilted Freddy’s head back a bit, then began to pump his dick with his other hand. Freddy watched him pleasure himself, but Monty pulled at his hair.

“You look at me—“ He snapped, his teeth now gritted. Freddy shifted his eyes up at him.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ look at me—“ He groaned as he continued to pump at his dick. He was an animal in pure bliss at this point. Looking down at Freddy in such a sweet, yet vulnerable state, it drove him crazy. With the saliva that was once on his dick now dried, he jerked Freddy’s attention back to his dick.

“Fuckin’ spit on it,” He demanded, and Freddy immediately obliged. With his dick now covered in spit, he went back to jacking himself off in front of his face. Freddy could tell he was getting close now, with how furrowed his brows were, how he was baring his teeth, and how heavy his breathing was. Monty truly was an animal.

“Are you going to cum for me?” Freddy finally spoke as he put his hands back on Monty’s thighs. He gripped them tight, causing a loud groan to escape the other man. Freddy was usually so quiet, so when he actually engaged in words during moments like these it definitely fueled Monty’s libido.

Before he could even give a warning, his body stiffened as cum shot out of his dick and all over Freddy’s face. He let out a loud groan, his knees basically buckling and causing him to fall to them. He rested his head against his collar bone as he tried to catch his breath, and he could feel a hand rubbing up and down his back. Because his whole body was already so sensitive from orgasming, it sent a shiver down his spine.

After a moment of gathering himself, he finally sat up. Cum was dripping down Freddy’s face like a pornstar. Monty grinned at the sight, and then leaned in and licked some off of his lip. Freddy couldn’t help but grin as well. Their lips met and they shared a nasty kiss, tongues crashing together and all. This continued for a bit, with Monty pulling back a couple times and licking the cum off his cheek, before things were interrupted by a knock at the door.

[doctorgerth]

Me again to bother you :3 Hope this will work : is it possible to ask for n°2 (clothed sex/dry humping) from the NSFW list, with fem/reader and Smoker, Doflamingo or Paulie ? Reader is recieving if possible but either way is perfect UwU Happy Anniversary again <3

a/n: I don’t think I’ve written for Paulie before?? So I had to take the opportunity! Plus I think he is absolutely perfect for this prompt. 😌 I got to briefly explore the idea of waiting to have penetrative sex until marriage which I don’t think is talked about enough in ff? Hope ya like it and thank u for the support!

prompt: BOX A - ⑵ Dry humping

pairing: Paulie x F!Reader

warnings: nsfw | 18+ content | dry humping | dirty talk | ropes | waiting until marriage

word count: ~470

Paulie wanted to wait to have sex until he married you simply because he respected you and he believed himself to be a virtuous man. Yet, prudish as he was, that didn’t stop him from finding creative ways to relieve the sexual tension; most of which were equally as sinful.

You were on all fours. Ass high up in the air as you positioned yourself at the end of the bed. Paulie approached behind you and tapped at your wrists in a silent request. You easily obliged, offering your hands as your chin dug into the mattress. He kissed your opened palms tenderly before securing a rope around them.

He then pulled your thin underwear tight, burying the fabric between your labia, offering him a delectable outline of your precious cunt and the small wet spot that was beginning to form. He ran his fingers through his hair with a deep groan, the erotic position he had you in already making his cock strain in his underwear, and so he wasted no time in rubbing against you.

The idea of clothed sex hadn’t appealed much to you, until Paulie. He had an inexplicable way of making it intimate, sexy, and it felt oh so good. You couldn’t help but cry out as he continued grinding against you, the feel of his dick, despite the layers, sliding between your folds was dizzying. One of his hands tugged at the ropes around your wrist, while the other gripped at your waist like a vice.

He began a steady rhythm of humping into you. His grips tightened, pulling you in an addictively painful stretch as he rammed into you over and over.

“Fuck, angel, I can’t wait to be inside you.” He grunted in time with his thrusts, “I know you’ll feel amazing.”  

Perhaps it was the thought of Paulie’s thick cock at last stretching you wide open that brought you closer to your release. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d imagined it as he humped you. Either way, he could tell you were close and he reached around to rub at your clit as he encouraged you on, revealing his own impending release through sporadic thrusts.

He stilled as he released inside his boxers and you could feel the warmth of it against you. The prospect of his hot seed trickling out of your fucked out cunt someday paired with his fingers working at your sensitive bundle made you return the favor. Paulie grabbed a pair of clean underwear for the both of you and untied your wrists as you came down from your high.

“Good thing I get to marry you in a month.” He smacked at your ass with a lazy grin, “I don’t think I can hold myself back any longer.”

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[zeeroweenies]

Pastor’s son Megumi🥵?

the way my pussy just throbbed 🦋

cw: sacrilege, god complex, corruption, fucking in the church

Cute little pastor’s son Megumi, he’s just so.. perfect. Straight ‘A’ student, captain of the football team, and overall seemed to be a good guy. You’d often hear the murmurs of the churchgoing women talking about how he’ll make a fine husband one day, and they weren’t wrong. He was always so humble.

His charming personality and dazzling smile never failed to woo any of the other young girls at your church. They were all practically swooning over Megumi, chattering about the vile things they would let him do to their bodies during the pastor’s sermon.

All you could do was turn your nose up at them in disgust, wondering how they could think of such repulsive things in the House of the Lord. It was sinful, that’s the only thing that came to mind. Lusting after a man especially when you weren’t married was wrong, it was a sin. You weren’t like them, you were a good Christian girl.

As you helped pass out communion bread and wine to the congregation, you felt a hole being burned into the side of your face. Looking up, the pair of eyes on you belonged to Megumi. He flashed that bright smile of his at you, to which you returned.

“Can I help you, brother Megumi?” you ask him with widened eyes, curious if he needed something.

So when he asked you to join him for a private Saturday Bible study session, you didn’t expect that you’d be on your knees with Megumi plunging his thick cock down your throat.

“Look at you, dirty fucking bitch” Megumi ruthlessly slams his cock in and out of your throat, gripping the sides of your head so roughly you swore he was ripping your strands from the root.

You looked up at him; the angelic face you were used to was now replaced with a sinister one. Tears streamlined from your eyes down your cheeks and drool leaked onto the pearly floors of the church as he pumped his sticky seed into your throat, spitting into your mouth when he was finished.

“Swallow, bitch” you obeyed, gulping down his saliva along with his hot cum that he graced you with earlier, letting the mixture slide down your throat all the way into your tummy.

Before you knew it you were bent over on one of the pews with Megumi splitting open your little virgin cunt on his fat cock as he relentlessly snapped his hips into your dripping pussy, your pained screams resounding in the Holy place.

It hurt, but the pain was soon replaced with inconceivable pleasure with Megumi’s fat dick bumping against a foreign spot inside you that you never knew felt so good, a weird feeling forming in your core.

“Not such a good girl now are you, church slut?” Megumi preened in your ear, slamming in and out of you so deliciously as you shook your head no.

Your sweet moans were like music to his ears. Megumi truly got off on turning out girls like you, prissy little bitches who were too prudish for their own good.

He loved how easily he could corrupt you, make you a slut for his cock. He felt like he was on top of the world right now; no one could stop him in this moment.

“I must be your God now, huh? I wanna fucking hear you say it you worthless bitch.”

His words now contrasted his usual sweet demeanor, the sentences spewing out of his mouth like venom while he fucked you like a whore.

You felt your morals slipping away from you, all you could think about was Megumi, the way he was making you feel was out of this world. Before you could even think you felt the words spilling from your defiled lips, coming out in broken sobs.

“Yes— You’re my God! You’re my God, Megumi!”

Megumi sneers, not missing the way you tighten around his cock as he arches your back even more by he pulling your head taut by your hair, pounding directly into your sweet spot.

“Fuck yeah, cum for your God.”

[necros-writing-stuff]

Syd pounding away at PC's tight heat, not even trying to keep quiet; his lover's back pressed against the library counter. Your hips were definitely going to bruise when he was finished. Lost in his own lust and unaware of the strength he had, he was using more force then necessary. Not that you minded, wrapping your legs around him and spurring him on. You'd broken your vows together, something that meant so much more to him that it ever could you. It was only fair you let him impale you on his fat cock when and wherever he wanted.

"God, fuck," He let out a needy moan. Drool slipped down the corner of his mouth. His glasses laid discarded, and his shirt open. Not that he'd care if you squirted all over him and ruined it. In fact, he loved it. He lived for the fact he could wreck you so good that came hard enough to do so. That he could fuck you so hard he had to carry you to his father's car just so you could get home. Hell, every now and then he'd insist you ditch the temple early; just so he could bring you back to his home and screw you in his own bed. You weren't sure how, but you'd managed to make the prudish library assistant into a sex hungry degenerate.

"You feel so good wrapped around my dick." He panted, his pace increasing to something harder, deeper. Like he wanted to fuse your bodies together. He hit all your deepest parts. You could swear he hit your cervix a few times. You clung desperately to him when he stared aiming for your g-spot, your body beginning to shake and his name a desperate whimper on your lips. He groaned again, strawberry blonde fringe falling in front of his eyes. He grunted from the force of rolling his hips into your's. The sound of skin hitting skin would be definingly loud if not for the lewd duet of your cries and moans and the wet squelching of his enormous prick stuffing you full.

"Oh fuck yes, cum on my cock, love." Sydney increased the speed with which he bottomed out inside you, a hand leaving your hips to play with your clit. It was enough to have you sob his name as an orgasn rocked your body. He hissed out a swear above you, your inner walls milking his cock for cum, but his hips didn't miss a beat. He fucked you through your climax and into overstimulation. It was going to be one of those days then. At least it was friday and you didn't have to worry about school the next day. You squirmed under him, but never the less wrapped your arms around his neck. You keened loudly, pussy clenching when he hit your sweet spot again.

"D- Daddy-" Something that did make his hips stutter. He groaned your name, nearly pausing so he wouldn't bust a nut right there. Sydney leaned over you, pushing your knees to your chest. You weren't entirely sure who was moaning like a whore, you or him. Maybe it was both of you.

"Fuck, love! Daddy's gonna fill you up, okay?" He let go of one of your knees, trusting you to keep it in place for him. You did, the best you could anyway. With his free hand, he removed one of your arms from around him so he could entwine your fingers together. He covered your neck in kisses and love bites, trying and failing to muffle himself as his balls began to tighten.

"Fuck! Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna fill you with my-!" Sydney squeezed his eyes shut so you wouldn't see his eyes roll back in his head. It didn't matter if you could actually get pregnant or not. The thought of knocking you up, of having the person he loved carry his child; it always made him cum the hardest. He continued fucking you through his peak, elongating it and leaving him as overstimulated as you.

When he finally stopped his assault on your sex, he lazily kissed you. Your tongues dancing in a wordless show of affection. After a bit, he ghosted his hands down your body, slowly pulling away from you.

Only to hoist you along with him as he sat back in his chair, cock hard inside you again. His hands resting on your sore, bruised hips. He hadn't quite caught his breath when he spoke.

"I love you so much. I can't get enough, I need more." Sydney began moving you up and down over his erection, rolling his hips up to meet yours. You weren't sure of he meant more of your body, more orgasms, or just more cumming inside you. He never pulled out and you had a feeling he'd be apposed to the idea. He seemed pretty offended when you brought up condoms. Thank fuck the pill was free (should you need it). The sharp crack of his hand against your bare ass was enough to let you know he wanted you to ride him like a racehorse. It was going to be one of those days. You hoped Sirius wouldn't mind giving you another lift home.

(- anon 🚩 I'm hopping on the Sydney thirst train.)

"I'm friend zoning Sydney," I said. Send in this and make me thirst for them, 🚩 does.

I love how much he swears when you corrupt him. It's ridiculously hot how he goes from a shy, stuttering mess to a sex-crazed breeder.

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Demon Shit [Part 4]

~4000 words

| NSFW warnings: threesome, overstimulation, dabi being a bit of a dick, tomura being creepy and also a bit of a dick, really intense smut

Tomura lead you forward, chuckling when you stumbled in the dark. He pushed you out into the alley as soon as the door was open, making you trip and fall onto your hands and knees with a yelp.

The door slammed and Tomura crouched behind you, pulling up your dress and leaning in to plant a few kitten licks to your still-wet slit. You squeaked, lurching forward before his hands gripped your hips harshly, pulling you back against his face. He groaned, lapping at you and kissing your twitching cunt for a little longer before leaning back, spreading you carefully with his clawed fingers and taking in the sight. You whimpered, and he gave a final light kiss to your clit before putting your dress back down and helping you up.

“Don’t cry,” he huffed, wiping your slick off his face and pressing his lips to your cheek. Keeping in mind what Dabi had said about affection, he wrapped his arms around you, letting you lean into him.

“I’m not,” you whined into his chest, snuggling close with a little shiver as the breeze picked up. He shrugged out of his coat and affixed it around your shoulders, snatching up your hand and dragging you along like an annoyed older brother.

“Food, yeah?” He peered down at you over his shoulder. You nodded, gripping his hand as you struggled to keep up with him. Was it a demon thing or did yours just walk fast?

“Can you slow down a little?” you stumbled, gripping his sleeve with the hand he didn’t have in a death grip, “And what are we eating?” His pace slowed and he gave your hand an apologetic squeeze.

“Uh,” he scratched at his neck, occasionally creating a wound that sealed up as fast as it opened, “What do you want, er, little sacrifice?” Your face warmed a bit at Dabi’s nickname coming from him. You hummed in thought as he guided you out into the main street, significantly less crowded as the sun set.

He got you what you asked for from a food stall and you sat together on a bench nearby, Tomura intently watching you eat. 

“Wanna taste?” You offered, holding your food out to him. He took a little bite and grimaced, spitting it onto the pavement as several people sneered at him as they walked by. You giggled, leaning against him as you munched.

“Some human food tastes okay but the stuff with salt is disgusting,” he watched you take another bite.

“Is that a demon thing?” You asked. He nodded, swiping his finger across your lips where some of it had smeared and pressing in, depositing it into your mouth as you obediently suckled on his finger. He licked your spit off the digit and slung his arm over your shoulders.

“I like you,” he murmured, softly kissing the top of your head. You snuggled into him, letting him take the empty food container and throw it into a nearby trashcan.

“I like you too. And Dabi,” your face heated up as you admitted it aloud. He grinned down at you, pinching your cheek,

“Keigo is gonna love you. Might be a little rough, though, cause he’s still mad at Dabs. It’ll still be fun, though.” You perked up, leaning to look at Tomura more directly,

“What did he do?” You asked, scooting a little closer. He squished your cheeks absentmindedly as he spoke,

“They got into an argument over a contract they both wanted and Dabi let him have it instead of warning him when he found out it was a shit deal. He ended up having to hang out in the same place and couldn’t leave for several centuries,” his hands started wandering, toying with the clasp of his coat draped over yours.

“That doesn’t sound that bad,” you said softly, shifting to sit in his lap. He scoffed,

“It doesn’t until you realize he couldn’t go into his pocket dimension and visit his sacrifice in all that time. He didn’t get to tell anyone it was there either so it died. He’s probably still pretty pissed off,” he nuzzled into your hair, sniffing briefly before pushing you off, gently this time so you didn’t fall.

Noticing your slightly upset expression, he quickly added, “You’re gonna have three of us, though. You’ll be fine,” you shuffled a little closer to him.

He stood, taking out his phone and messing around on it for a moment. He took your hand after, pulling you down the darkened, nearly deserted streets.

“Are we going back to Dabi?” You asked, squeezing his hand. He nodded with a quiet grunt, tugging you along for several blocks until you stopped outside ...a lingerie store?

“Why is he here?” Your face crinkled in confusion as the demon dragged you inside, ignoring the greeting from the worker and heading for the back of the store. Dabi was there, comparing a couple of bustiers. You felt your face heat up as he immediately slipped Tomura’s and then your coats off your shoulders, holding the lacy white material up to your chest.

“Which of these do you think will make Kei hate me less?” He muttered to Tomura, shoving the coats in his hands.

“I think you’re going to have to worry about me hating you if you don’t let me shove my cock inside your sacrifice in the next hour,” He growled, jabbing at Dabi’s side with one of his claws. He side-eyed you with his wide grin as your breath hitched, shyly looking away.

“Pocket dimension is open in the back of the store, it’s the permanent one so you can leave your stuff wherever. Doll, did those panties fit okay?” he said in a monotonous string, still holding up various lacy numbers to your chest. You were starting to think he had an obsession with putting you in white.

“U-uh they fit fine,” you said with a slight grimace, shuffling your feet awkwardly as Tomura dug through his pocket.

“Get more like this,” he said, holding them up. You felt a massive rush of blood to your face, desperately grabbing for them and frantically whispering his name. Dabi snatched them up, glanced at the size, and shoved them back in Tomura’s pocket,

“Don’t do that out here, dumbass,” Dabi chided him, shuffling through another rack of clothes with an exasperated sigh, “I’m only gonna be another minute just get out of here,” he sighed, tilting your chin up for a brief kiss and nudging you back to Tomura.

“Whatever, humans are so prudish,” he snorted, pulling you toward the back exit of the store. He stuck your coat around your shoulders and guided you through the door, cold hitting you immediately as you stepped into the pocket dimension.

Snow crunched under your feet as you entered, wind and snow chilling you to the bone instantly and causing you to immediately attach yourself to Tomura. He wrapped his coat around you tightly and scooped you up, trudging through the snow towards a huge house.

“I hate the ones with outside space, why can’t it just open directly inside,” He grumbled, stroking your arm fervently as you shuddered against him, “and why the fuck do they make ones with blizzards like this?”  He got up to the door and kicked it open, carrying you in and setting you down as he closed it and shook snow off himself. The warm air was nice, but you were soaked down to your skin quickly as the snow melted, leaving you dripping cold water onto the wooden floors. The house was big, lavishly decorated, and seemed to have lots of rooms and even more up the large staircase. You caught your demon companion shaking himself off like a dog out of the corner of your eye. “He must like you a lot, this dimension looks expensive,” Tomura pulled off both your wet coats, sliding his inhumanly long tongue across his rough lips as he took in the sight of your wet dress clinging to your skin, “Remind me to thank Staples for these,” he slid a finger under one of your stockings and let it snap back against your skin. You shuddered, the wet fabric clinging to your skin and making you increasingly uncomfortable. “Oh yeah, he treats you like a dolly,” he scoffed, leaning down and taking your boots off for you, “sweet and dumb, right? He got so damn lucky,” he came back up and planted a soft kiss to your lips, brushing against them as he spoke, “Or should it be ‘we’ got lucky?” You brought your arms to your chest nervously.

His teeth latched onto the neckline of your dress, shredding it off you in one motion and letting it drop to the floor. Red eyes scanned over your body, now only covered by a bralette, stockings, and your own hands clasped over your pussy. You sniffled, shivering and shuffling a little closer, “Can we get warm?” You asked, giving him what was certainly a pathetic expression. You probably looked like a wet little rat, shaking and giving him doe eyes as he ran his hands up and down your sides. “I’ll warm you up,” he grinned widely, pulling your bralette over your head and discarding it on the floor. You winced slightly, pulling him close for warmth and being slightly disappointed he wasn’t as warm as Dabi. The lack of staples scratching against your skin was admittedly nice, though.

He ducked down, sweeping up your legs and carrying you as he tried several doors before finding a bedroom he carried you into. You were deposited on the bed and watched as he peeled his wet clothes off, immediately pushing you further onto the bed and crawling over you until he hovered above your trembling form.

“I’m going to devour you,” he rasped, tongue trailing along your lips before slipping inside and thrusting down your throat. You gagged, struggling to keep your mouth open for him as he fucked your mouth with the wet appendage. He moaned, closing the gap between your lips and pulling his tongue back to kiss you as normally as a half-feral demon could.

He broke off, giving your tongue another flick with his before withdrawing and dragging it along your skin. Rough lips latched onto your neck, suckling over the massive bite wound Dabi had given you. Your head fell back and you gasped as he licked along your breasts, swirling his tongue around your nipples until they pebbled and he popped one into his mouth. Sharp teeth grazed the sensitive skin, making you arch your back.

He licked and bit roughly along your chest, sharp teeth trailing lower until he placed light kisses directly to your cunt. You whined as he forced your legs apart, drinking in the sight of you clenching around nothing with slick coating your thighs. “Fuck,” he breathed, enclosing your entire pussy in his mouth with and winding his tongue inside without hesitation. Your hips bucked involuntarily as you cried out, gripping his hair. His tongue was so long it was coiled deep inside you, lapping directly at your cervix and writhing against several sweet spots. Rough lips stimulated your still-sore clit too harshly, making you tremble and groan as the painful pleasure rocked through you. “I,” you gasped, barely able to speak as you squirmed, held in place by strong arms and nails digging into your hips to pin them, “’M’gonna c-” you moaned loudly, head pressed back hard and eyes rolled up. You gasped for breath, twitching as he continued through your orgasm, making you squeal and tug his hair.

“No more,” you cried, trying to crawl away. His grip was like iron, and you couldn’t do anything to escape his torturous ministrations. Turning your head, tears spilled from your eyes and you saw Dabi in the doorway, watching his friend torture you with a faint smirk on his face. Being watched had you flushed and cumming again on Tomura’s tongue, sobbing as he kept going despite your pleas.

“Dabi,” you cried, reaching for him, hoping he’d tell Tomura to calm down, but all he did was saunter forward and hold your hand, pressing his lips softly to your knuckles as his friend coaxed another painful orgasm out of you. Your other hand tangled in Tomura’s hair, pulling hard and eliciting a deep groan from him. He mercifully parted from your slit, crawling back up and giving you a deep kiss, letting his drool and your slick transfer into your mouth.

“That’s nice; choke me too,” the pale-haired demon ordered, pulling your hand out of Dabi’s and placing both around his neck. You tried to squeeze but your limbs felt like jelly. He gave you an annoyed tut, flipping to make you straddle him. “Do it right or I’ll choke you instead,” he gripped your wrists and you pressed harder, earning a soft moan from him. His hips bucked up, lifting you and making his fat, engorged cock tap against your back, smearing some of his pre on your skin.

You felt the bed dip and turned to see Dabi situating himself behind you, lying with his face between Tomura’s legs. He took his cock in his hand, pumping it and licking at his balls, earning another involuntary buck of Tomura’s hips. You watched him drag his forked tongue up the back of his cock, swirling the wet muscle around the head and even briefly dip into his slit a little.

He took the head into his mouth and teased him for another moment before unhinging his jaw slightly and taking the whole thing down his throat. Tomura groaned loudly, gripping your thighs and digging his claws in until you bled, whimpering and slumping forward to rest your chest on his. His hands wandered frantically, squeezing various places on your soft form as he tried to ground himself, lifting you as he bucked up into Dabi’s mouth.

You crawled up slightly, wanting to swallow the sounds he was making and sealing your lips over his to do so. He moaned into your mouth, red eyes rolling back in his head when you licked up the drool spilling down his jaw. He clawed at your back, thighs, and arms, dug his claws into your ass and pulled your hips against him, forcing you to essentially ride his stomach. The friction to your clit had you squirming against him as your orgasm built back up.

Dabi released him with a wet pop, reaching up to spin you around and pull you to his face by your throat. He kissed you, sharing the taste of Tomura’s precum before guiding you to his saliva-coated cock. Tomura’s hands smoothed over your ass, spreading your cheeks and giving him a perfect view of your twitchy, drooly little cunt. He teased your clit with his tongue, flicking it around all over and smearing your juices from there up to your puckered back entrance, making you yelp. If he hadn’t had you locked in place you’d have tried to squirm forward, away from his intrusive tongue as he let you feel just how far it could reach.

“Doll, focus. Use your mouth,” Dabi recaptured your attention, kissing you wetly from the other side of Tomura’s cock, flicking his tongue against your lips as you both lapped at him. You groaned as he thrusted his tongue deep into your ass, fingers carefully pinching at your clit using his knuckles so he wouldn’t scratch you there.

Dabi left you to tend to his cock, lifting Tomura’s legs and spreading them, kissing and suckling at his balls for a moment before diving lower, giving him the same treatment he was giving you. You took initiative, cupping and massaging his balls with one hand and using the other to guide the head of his cock to your mouth to lap at his slit, alternating between licking up the copious amounts of pre he was leaking and kissing his shaft all over. Your other hand stroked over his thigh, threading your fingers through Dabi’s and squeezing as Tomura’s rough treatment of your clit had you cumming, mindlessly humping against his chest as he watched you clench around nothing, withdrawing his tongue from inside you. He gave your ass a smack, squeezing harshly as he bucked his hips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, one hand gripping your hair and pushing you onto his cock, “I know you can’t fit it in your mouth just take the tip, ah,” he moaned, “swallow it,” he grunted when you obeyed. You took his tip into your mouth, stretching your jaw wide to accommodate him and suckling. Dabi’s hand flashed in your peripheral as he slapped his balls, Tomura immediately shrieking and releasing into your mouth. You tried to swallow it all, gulping down the thick, foul-tasting liquid as it flooded your mouth, spilling out the sides and dribbling down his cock where Dabi licked it up.

You kept sucking even after he’d stopped spurting the white fluid down your throat, making him grip your hair and pull you off to keep you from overstimulating him. He brought your back to his chest, having you lie on top of him as his cock deflated slightly between your legs briefly before perking up again. He sighed deeply, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around you, kneading at your breasts.

“We’re cool now,” he muttered, perking up and making you sit up with him, shifting you to sit in his lap, “Can I use her ass?” he asked Dabi, gripping your hips and dragging your cunt along his length to lubricate it, the friction making you gasp. Dabi rolled his eyes, “You know she can’t,” he ruffled your hair, pressing several soft kisses to your cheek and jaw, “I’ll have to stretch it out first.” You gawked at him with wide eyes as he reached down, swiping his thumb over the spit coated hole. Tomura continued making you hump his cock, watching how sweetly you gazed at his friend despite how scared your expression was. A cruel smirk stretched across his face, catching Dabi’s attention and making him quirk a brow at him.

“Why don’t you start now? Ream her little ass while I take her pussy?” His hips rolled up for emphasis, making you moan as you came, releasing your hips and watching you hump him on your own as you rode out your orgasm, too blissed out to protest his proposal, not that anyone would listen to you anyway. You slumped back against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you panted, coming down from yet another high. He trailed a finger down your cheek, kissing you softly and positioning you to face him on your knees, straddling him and hovering just above his twitching length.

Dabi positioned himself behind you, gathering your slick on his tip and gently pulling you back, impaling you on himself. You moaned, dropping your head to rest on Tomura’s shoulder and nibbling at his rough skin a little. He stroked your hair as the other demon gave you a few shallow thrusts before leaving you empty and lining up at your smaller hole.

“Ever had your ass fucked, little sacrifice?” You panted, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stop him and opting to relax and take it. Maybe if you were good he’d go a little easy on you. You peered at him over your shoulder, lip trembling as you shook your head no. He smirked, slapping your ass lightly and rubbing it, pulling your cheeks apart as he started to press in.

Tomura gripped your face, forcing you to look him in the eye so he could watch your expression as Dabi took your ass for the first time. His mouth opened when yours did, tongue flicking into your mouth and along your face as your eyes rolled back into your head. It was so deep, too big, too hot, too much and your breath caught in your throat, practically choking on the feeling of him so far into your guts. You surprised both of them when you pushed back, eagerly accepting him as your neglected cunt twitched and drooled, slick dripping down Tomura’s cock underneath you.

Dabi grunted, “Good fucking girl.” His hips stilled, watching you pant and get used to the stretch. He pulled out about halfway, then buried himself to the hilt again, gripping your thighs and picking you up so you were leaned back against his chest with him holding your legs up nice and wide. Tomura licked his lips, leaning forward with no hesitation and kissing at your cunt, tongue slipping along your folds and down to where Dabi was pressed tightly inside.

They both stood, allowing Tomura easier access to line himself up, kissing along your chest as it heaved with panicked little breaths. He nudged himself in gently at first, slipping along your walls and fitting several inches inside. Your back arched, babbling pleas and a string of unintelligible gibberish. Dabi made sure he was ready and let you fall forward, gravity forcing you to take both of them entirely. A scream ripped from your throat, arms limply trying to clutch Tomura’s shoulders as they started moving without mercy, quickly settling into a rhythm that made you lose consciousness for a few seconds, stars dancing across your vision as white hot pleasure coursed through your veins.

You choked and sobbed, both holes spasming as pain and pleasure became indistinguishable and you could swear you felt little cracks forming in your psyche. Your whole body both felt numb and pulsed with too much stimulation as you were filled over and over, both of them cumming several times inside you without stopping their assault. Eventually you were reduced to groaning, exhausted to the point of being unable to move as they pawed at you, occasionally grunting praises that seemed to float by you. You weren’t sure how many times you came, abused little clit smacked and pinched over and over again until it hurt to cum.

You’re not sure when they moved or how long you’d been there, but you found yourself flopped back in bed as they both filled you for the last time, locking lips over your spent body. A whimper breezed past your lips as they slipped you under the blankets, kissing various parts along your skin.

“I think we might have overwhelmed her,” Dabi frowned, running his fingers down your cheek. Tomura shrugged, claiming his preferred side of the bed and snuggling in close to you,

“She’s fine she came like a million times,” he affectionately nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head, slinging an arm across your unconscious form and motioning for Dabi to join. He settled in on the other side of you, kissing the back of your head and allowing himself to actually sleep for once. It was a special occasion, after all.

[wooahaes]

feeling that way about sex (or smut) isn't stupid. so don't feel like its weird. and its not not normal. just as there's a ton of people who might have sex on the first week of dating, there's people out there who would wait much longer. with the amount of people on this earth, i promise you that a great handful of people would be willing to wait for you until you feel completely reassured. and maybe this is me thinking hopefully, but you're not abnormal for feeling this way, the way you feel is completely valid. it's hard but try thinking on the bright side of things! you're telling me that there is about 7.8 billion people in this world and not a single one would be willing to wait? keep ur head up <3 and i totally understand the concept of doing intimate things without it turning into sex, the bathing together hc was really cute. so continue to post soft domestic things like that because u are not the only one who feels this way :) i hope this also doesn't sound too bossy 😭 i'm rereading it thinking i might sound a bit harsh but imagine someone with a soft and comforting voice saying this to you because tone conveyed through text is pretty hard sometimes (but anyways... enough of me rambling) i hope u feel better

gonna put all of my response under a readmore bc i can already tell i have thoughts lol sdfkhsdf

i think the way society talks about sex a lot now is like... basically tipping it hard into the other direction of things. it feels like it used to be a taboo topic that no one ever spoke about because it's a private thing, and now it feels like people have gone entirely in the idea of sex being something that should be 100% open and if you try to have a private life, you're a prude. if you wait, you're prudish and boring. i fully know it's not everyone (i have friends who are sexually active and don't give me shit for not being bc they recognize that being sex positive is the decision to choose whether you want to or not and getting support either way).

i think it's just discouraging to be someone who like... knows i can't just do that sort of thing without knowing i'm not going to get fucked over again by someone who just wants to get off and feels some need to pull someone else into it bc they know someone's vulnerable. that i'm not going to trust the wrong person again and walk away used again. it just feels like no one's going to hear that and want to stay because it's baggage, and that anyone who stays is going to eventually walk away because i took too long.

you're fine, anon, don't worry. it kinda helps until my mind starts spiraling a little (which i deleted out from this ask) and im just... a mess, i guess. i like writing domestic things, though. it's nice to just have non-sexual intimacy in my fics.

i literally have nothing against writers who write smut (as long as they're not hardcore glorifying shitty behaviors--it's one thing to explore those kinds of things in writing, it's another to promote it like it's something good and condoning people who actively want it because fucking trust me, i've seen that shit before), some of my mutuals do and i love them even if i have to hardcore avoid tht sort of thing sometimes (it rly depends on my mental state on whether i can like... cope with it lol). i just want more non-sexual intimacy in fics, y'know? i don't always want to read about getting dick when the prompt involved giving someone a massage or something. that's good for the people who do want that sort of thing, but not everyone does and that's okay.

although if someone does take an innocent/fluffy/domestic prompt and turn it into smut with zero warnings anywhere, i will bite them to death. tag your content correctly. thank u.

anyway thank u for taking the time to write this anon. i appreciate it a lot <3

[beggingwolf]

sidgeno: soulmate AU + erotic dreams

Sid's standing at a river.

He thinks it's a river. It feels half-formed. He can feel the rumble of the water under his feet. If he doesn't move, the flash flood is going to swell to his soles, ankles, knees, and sweep him away.

"Beautiful," he hears. It doesn't sound right. The word twists in his ears, and a large hand wraps around his elbow, pulling him a step back up onto the bank. "Careful."

Sid wakes up with a gasp. Across the room, the little blue S on his wall has fallen to the floor with a crack. It's his last night at home before he ships out to Minnesota. He'd heard his mom crying after Taylor had gone to bed.

Sid reaches up to touch his elbow. He can still feel the ghostly touch, heavy and strong.

Sid stays up for another hour, thinking it over. Replaying the sound of beautiful over and over again, even though that's not how it sounded in the dream.

He closes his eyes. He tries to say goodbye to home. He tries to push off the dream; he doesn't have the time to think about it, not now, not when—

-

"Beautiful," Sid hears. He lets out a shuddering breath. The hands are everywhere. There's a heavy weight between his legs. There's pressure on his stomach, on his chest. A mouth pressing to his neck. He needs to move. He needs to be touched, he—

The pillow hits his face hard.

"Take it to the showers, Croz!" Duncs groans, his bedsprings creaking as he rolls to turn his back on Sid from across the room.

Sid's face grows hot as he fumbles at his blankets. He slips out of bed, feet hitting the linoleum floor with a loud smack, and he grabs the first article of clothing on the ground—a hoodie, fine, that's fine—before making a break for the hall.

The light of the hallway is blinding, and Sid stumbles to the bathrooms to lock himself in a shower stall and breathe.

His boxers are wet.

Sid shudders on his next inhale. It's been... it's been so long since this has happened, but not like this, never with that voice in his ears or the feeling of a body that's bigger than his covering him so completely.

Sid's been looking at his teammates too much lately. He's been thinking about how tall Matty is, how he's got a wicked smile and a stupid laugh that rivals Sid's own.

"Fuck," Sid whispers to himself. It echoes off the yellowing tile.

-

Soulmates, Sid learned early, don't account for everything.

His mother told him that she'd had dreams of the Eastern Shore back at the height of the whaling trade. She'd remembered the scent of blubber burning, how his father's clothes would stink of blood and salt after he'd return from a voyage.

She had older ones, too. Ones of living in a cramped house in an old country with too many mouths to feed, spending her days working in a horrible factory and sneaking away to find a sweetheart in a back alley.

Older than that, even: one of his aunts liked to claim she could remember as far back to before electricity was discovered. His mom fondly told her sister she was full of shit, but Sid always wondered.

Then there was his grandmother, who never talked about soulmates at all. She was happy with Kenny, but Sidney knew Kenny was not his grandfather by blood. His grandmother was tight-lipped about it, even when the family was swapping dream-memories with each other like cards over the dinner table.

"Soulmates can mean a lot of things," Sid's uncle had told him out on the patio later. "Sometimes they're just the person that leaves the most scars on you."

Years later, as Sid tries to keep his eyes to himself in the locker room, he finally understands how his love could leave him with more scars than he could count.

-

It's a gentle touch to his hair. Long fingers playing in the curls. They're too long. They're always too long, it's not presentable, it's not to code, but war is cruel and bloody and Sid's fucking hair is the least of his concerns.

"Morning, beautiful," a low voice rasps to him. The words are tilted like they always are, but Sid understands. He always understands.

He turns, eyes still closed, and reaches out.

Lips connect with his. There's a dusting of pathetic stubble on both of their faces. The dry, cracked lips he's kissing are still the best thing he's ever felt.

"My watch shift's almost over," Sid whispers. His throat is hoarse, because last night he'd—god, he'd taken the whole length down, and it had felt good and powerful and if he died today he'd be okay with it, he thinks. The war has taken so much. At least he had this. "I need to go back."

"Stay," is murmured up against his mouth. The lips move up to press against his forehead, and the hand in his hair tangles in it, pulls him closer, drags him against a strong body, long legs tangling with his own.

He can feel a hardness pressing into his thigh, and he cracks open his eyes.

His head smacks against glass.

"Shit!" Sid snaps, jerking upright as the bus rolls over another curb.

"Sorry, fellas!" the driver calls, and there's an ugly chorus of groans from the Rimouski Oceanic.

"Jesus," Sid grunts, shifting back upright in his seat, yanking his backpack onto his lap. His skull is still rattling from the rude awakening, and he's achingly hard.

It's a small mercy he has the row to himself. He leans back and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the pain radiating from his head, and his hip where that stupid fucking Moosehead had laid into him, and his tweaked wrist from two weeks ago in Chicoutimi. The street lamps they drive under flare his eyelids pink and then black, again and again.

As he slows his breaths, the urgency fades out of his bloodstream. He's not hard up for it anymore. He's just sore.

More than the feeling of a heavy cock pressed against his leg, Sid misses the gangly arms that had been wrapped around him. He'd had to make out with a girl at a house party before they'd left for Halifax. The team had gotten too nosy, their teasing of Sid's prudishness tipping from "hilarious novelty" to "prying questions," and Sid had swallowed his anxiety and used it as fuel to find a girl and pull her into a corner in full view of half of the blue line and press his lips to hers.

It had felt deeply wrong.

He tries to keep his breaths even as he thinks about how right his dream had felt, and how that deep, sleep-weary voice sits in his skull like it belongs there.

-

Sid pulls his goalie pads off. His eye is swollen shut from the puck he took to the face in the second period; it happens once every few months, and it's incentive to be faster. He laughs as the team around him starts cracking open beers. Their captain lights a cigarette and leans back in his stall with a grin. They're on fucking fire, and they're going out on the town tonight.

Sid comes back home drunk. Drunk and happy and dumped unceremoniously on the steps of his Montreal townhome by his teammates, who cheerfully wave at Sid's roommate.

Sid's roommate.

Sid's roommate picks Sid up. Sid's roommate peels off his clothes slowly. Sid's roommate leads him to bed, where he tucks himself into the cave he makes out of Sid's chest.

Sid's roommate, who grinds back against Sid. Sid groans. He can't get it up, not like this, and his roommate laughs, a low noise, and tells him in the morning—in the morning they'll have some fun, he'll reward Sid exactly how he deserves.

Sid wakes up alone.

They've lost the Memorial Cup. He's still in London. He's not playing for the Habs in their glory days. He's not playing for anyone right now. The season is over. Tomorrow he gets to go home. He gets to hope the draft goes on.

He feels very small and lonely in his hotel bed.

-

The night before the draft, Sid dreams about getting fucked.

He's goddamn lucky Jack sleeps harder than the dead. He's goddamn lucky in so many ways, because he feels those big hands push his legs up, his thighs pressing into his stomach. He feels those chapped lips drag against his neck, his chest, his cock. He feels those long hands stretching him open.

He takes every inch. He gets fucked within an inch of his life. He's held down by that powerful body and he's never wanted something this bad, because it's good and right and he wants it more than anything. He's had it before, in another time, and Sid tells himself he'll find it again someday, he has to.

He comes so hard he cries.

Jack's still asleep when Sid wakes up and ducks into the bathroom. He lets the shower rain scalding water down onto him as he wipes the cum off of his hips.

-

Sid plays hockey in Pittsburgh.

He kisses a man for the first time. It's not his soulmate. He can tell; the man's fingers are too stubby, but he has wide shoulders and a smart smile and it feels good.

It leads to him getting his dick sucked. That's good too.

The dreams don't stop. He's in rural Canada. He's in some ancient country that looks foreign. He's in a busy city center that looks nothing like anywhere Sid has ever been.

He's always wrapped in those long arms, holding those delicate-looking, strong hands.

It's his second season, the morning after another dream—a bad one, where Sid had been old and arthritic and holding a cold hand in his—when Mario looks up from the morning newspaper and tells Sid Malkin will finally be getting in from Los Angeles that evening.

"It's been long enough, he should be out of his contract by the time camp starts," Mario says. "We'll have him over for dinner tonight, I think."

Sid doesn't dress up, but he does put on jeans and combs his hair in the bathroom before Malkin and his translator arrive. He should look presentable, he figures. They want to make him captain. He should make a good impression, especially after all that Malkin's been through.

The doorbell rings, and Sid hustles down the three flights of stairs to get to the foyer.

Malkin's big. Lanky, really, and golden from the California sun. He looks tired but happy, and he's staring at Mario with big eyes and a bigger grin, his chapped lips stretched wide. Sid knows the feeling well.

Malkin turns his gaze to Sid, and something wobbles in Sid's chest.

"Evgeni Malkin," he says, offering a handshake to Sid.

His palm is huge. His fingers are long and handsome.

Sid swallows and takes his hand.

[babybluebex]

the proposal [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: ceo!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 3.9k ➽ summary:your pushy boss forces you, his assitant, to marry him in order to keep his visa status and avoid deportation.  ➽ warnings: forced marriage?? except not really?? ➽ a/n: this is loosely based off the sandra bullock movie of the same name which i recommend you watch bc it’s good classic rom com, but i just see tom being a dickhead and bodying this

I gasped as hot coffee spilled down my front, and I looked at the mail cart that had run into me. “Sorry,” the person steering the cart shrugged, and he continued on his way, totally unaware that he had just ruined my day. I gritted my teeth and looked down at my black-coffee stained shirt, knowing that my boss would be out of his morning coffee, had I not ordered a second. I always ordered a second coffee in case a disaster like this occurred. Mr. Holland could be just awful sometimes, and I only made the mistake of forgetting his coffee once. 

The door to the office opened, and I looked to see my boss striding in. Mr. Thomas Holland was one of the foremost editor-in-chiefs in the world, and he was deserving of it. While he was a great editor-in-chief, he was the meanest man I had ever met. He expected everything to be just his way and, if they weren’t, he would work to make it that way. Past assistants had been fired for less than forgetting a coffee. 

I followed him into his office for his morning briefing, and a single sculpted eyebrow lifted at the stain on my shirt. “Rough morning, Y/N?” he asked with a laugh. I kept my comments to myself and handed him his coffee, and he sat down at his desk.

“You could say that, sir,” I mumbled. “You have a meeting at eleven, and Penguin needs that manuscript by tomorrow--” 

“Who is Jake?” Mr. Holland asked suddenly. “And why does he want me to call him?”

I stopped talking and noticed my boss staring at the coffee that was at first mine, and my face went pale. Written on my cup was the name of the barista that made my coffee every morning, along with his phone number. Mr. Holland looked at me, expecting an answer, and the look in his blue eyes made me want to puke. “Oh,” I stuttered. “That is-- He’s--”

“Do I want to know?” Tom asked. 

“No, it’s better if you don’t,” I replied. “Um, also, you got a call from Immigration Services last night. They need you to come in and do some paperwork.” 

“I sent it in last week,” Tom said cooly, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Not according to them,” I said. “Umm… Can I ask a question, sir?”

“You just did,” Tom said. His dark eyes stared deep into me, and I held down my shiver. 

I sighed. “You know what I mean,” I said. “I thought you were a citizen?”

“Nope,” Tom replied, popping his lips. “I’m in America on a work visa. What time do they want me to come in?” 

“They said ‘at your earliest convenience’,” I told him. 

Tom sighed. “Let’s go get this over with,” he mumbled. “Umm… You might want a change of clothes.” 

I looked down at my stained shirt and huffed out a frustrated grunt, and Tom scoffed. “Alright, then,” he chuckled plaintively, his London accent rolling off of his tongue. I wasn’t blind, I knew that my boss was attractive— a strong jaw that was always clean shaven, brown eyes that shifted golden in the right light, and dark hair, usually styled down with just the ends showing their true curly nature. He was tall and built like a Greek god, and his wonderful accented voice would have been appealing if the words he said with it didn’t cut right through me. Some would say Mr. Thomas Holland was mean; others would say he was blunt. I would say he’s just a dick. “Don’t have to get so worked up.” 

“I—“ I began and sighed. “I don’t have a change of clothes.” 

Tom cocked his head thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen The Bodyguard?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he said, “It’s a show on the BBC, I should have known you wouldn’t have seen it.” With that, he pulled off his jacket and draped it against his desk chair, and he loosened his tie around his neck. 

“Mr. Holland, what are you doing?” I asked quickly, jerking forward to stop him. 

He looked at me with those honey eyes as he set his tie on his desk. “I am giving you the shirt off of my back,” he said. “Like the kind soul I am.”

I nearly protested, but I knew that he had a spare; I had brought it from the dry cleaners two days ago. I searched for something to say to him as he disrobed, and the sight of his bare chest made me say “Thank you. It is very kind.” 

“Most would say uncharacteristic,” Tom said, handing his shirt. The hand clutching his shirt had a shining watch on the wrist, and, while the sight was enticing, it only served to remind me of how late we were going to be. The shirt was still warm from him having worn it, and he crossed the room to retrieve his spare from the storage closet. 

“Most would,” I agreed. I pulled my blazer off and began to undo my shirt, but I felt as if Tom was staring at me. I looked over my shoulder to him, already doing up the buttons on his shirt, and his eyes lifted to mine. 

“Do you need help, Y/N?” Tom asked, a snide bite to his words. 

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Can you…” I started. “Ya know, turn around?” 

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Americans are so prudish,” he said. “I undressed in front of you, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, but it’s different,” I said. “Just close your eyes, something, please.” 

Tom laughed lightly, and he made a show of covering his eyes with his hands. “Is that better?” 

I rolled my eyes. It would have to be good enough. I pulled my shirt off and exchanged it for his and, once I was fully dressed again, I said, “Alright. Thank you.” 

“Great,” Tom said and uncovered his eyes. “Are you ready to go now?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Sure.”

Once we arrived at the Immigration office, Tom was brought in almost immediately, and he had me come in to take notes. A secretary’s job is never done, I guess. I stood by the door as he sat before the officer, and I watched the scene unfold before me. 

“Mr. Holland, you’re here on a work visa,” the officer began. “Which means you’re not allowed to leave the country.”

“Yes,” Tom said, and he raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And you went to an international book fair…” the officer began as he shuffled some papers around. “In Germany, last month.”

Tom scoffed and flipped his tie in annoyance. “It was for my job,” he said. “Can’t I go to work functions?” 

“Not when it violates the rules of your visa,” the officer said. “Because you violated those rules, you have to leave the country and go back to your home country for one year.”

Tom straightened in his seat suddenly and gave a laugh. “I can’t do that,” he said seriously. “I can’t work from a different country for a full year. I’d lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Holland, but it’s federal law,” the officer said. “The only way you can stay in the country is if you get married by the end of this month, and--”

I had worked for Thomas Holland for a long time. I knew him well. I knew what shampoo he used, what pants size he wore, and, most importantly, I knew what he looked like when he got an idea. His chin went up, his shoulders went back, and he smiled. He rarely smiled, at least where I was concerned. “Um, yeah, w-what if I am getting married?” Tom asked. “What-What then?”

“Well, it would have to be filed appropriately and the service would need to be witnessed,” the officer said. “But, if everything was legal, you would be allowed to stay in the country.”

Tom turned around to look at me and he gestured for me to step closer. “C’mere, darling,” he said, and his honey eyes widened at me. “Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He turned back to the officer and gave a smile to him. “She’s so shy, it’s adorable.”

I stepped closer to him, and Tom stood up and wrapped his arm around my waist. I was confused as hell about what he was doing, but it clicked when he captured my chin between his forefinger and thumb and planted a quick kiss to my mouth. Oh fuck. If he was fired, I would be out of a job too. I needed Tom to stay in the country, which meant that he had to get married. And who better to marry than somebody who already knows everything about you? Fuck. That’s me. “You two?” the immigration officer asked. “Is she not your secretary?”

“She is, yes,” Tom said, and he laughed nervously. “But it wouldn’t be the first time that someone fell for their secretary, would it?” He then gave a deep laugh, and I quickly giggled to ease the tension. “Yes, no, but… Y/N and I are getting married. We were planning on a spring wedding-- you know how girls and spring weddings are-- but we could fast-track it, if it keeps me here… With her.” 

The immigration officer raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “Where is your ring?”

I looked down at my hands, certainly missing an engagement ring. “Oh, umm…” I began. “Well, you see, we don’t want our coworkers to know yet. Seeing as I’m being promoted to editor, we thought it would be inappropriate for our relationship to be… Known to the office. I have a ring, but I don’t wear it.”

“Yes, editor…” Tom began and looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face for just a moment. “Sure, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” the immigration officer began. “You do understand that, if you are caught in a lie, it’s five years in a federal prison?”

I nodded and gave a tight smile. “Good thing we’re not lying.”

I watched Tom as we left the building and, once we were outside, I stopped walking. “Wanna explain that?” I called. 

Tom stopped and turned on his heel, his phone already pressed to his ear. “What is it?” He asked. “I’m on a call.”

I huffed and pulled his phone away. “Mr. Holland has business to attend to,” I said. “He’ll call back.” I hung up and shoved the phone into my pocket, and I crossed my arms. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Tom asked, and I gestured back to the building with a huff. “Oh. It’s the only way for me to stay in the country and keep my job. We’ll get a legal marriage by the end of the month, then, when the appropriate amount of time passes, I’ll set up a quickie divorce and you can forget that this funny little thing ever happened.”

“What if I don’t want to get married?” I asked. “What about my boyfriend?”

Tom scoffed. “As if you have a boyfriend.” 

“Hey!” I cried. “You don’t know that!”

“You wake up at four in the morning, every morning, in order to get ready and get my breakfast,” Tom rattled off. “You work from eight to four every day, most times until five. You are on call at all times; your phone never rings twice before you answer it, especially if I am calling you. You bring me food at one in the morning if I need it. No boyfriend would be okay with a work schedule like that. So, Y/N, unless you have any other unfounded issues with this, I suggest we start to learn things about each other that an engaged couple would know.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Tom repeated. 

I smiled sweetly. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what?” Tom asked with a grimace. 

“Ask me nicely to marry you,” I said. 

Tom gave me a look of boredom, and he rolled his eyes before he took my hand. “Will you please marry me?” He asked, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“No, no,” I said. “Down on one knee. You’re an Englishman, Mr. Holland, have some manners, for God’s sake.” 

“Y/N--” Tom began. 

“I wonder what airfare is like to London,” I began. “And moving all your stuff over there, it’ll take forever.” 

Tom sighed heavily, and he looked around us at the busy New York street corner. “Damn it, Y/N,” he mumbled, and he worked himself down to kneel on one knee. “Y/N, my love, my sun, my moon, my stars, my darling girl. Provider of late-night sushi and witty comebacks. Will you please marry me, with cherries on top?” 

I chuckled lightly. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but yes,” I said. “I will marry you… Tom.” 

“Well, thank God you’re on time.” 

“I know, it’s shocking,” I chirped. “It’s almost as if I haven’t been reminding you of appointments for the past few years.”

Tom gave a shallow laugh and welcomed me into his apartment. I had been a few times-- he didn’t call me ‘provider of late-night sushi’ in his proposal for nothing-- but never long enough to take in the place. It was nice, a lot nicer than the apartment I lived in. In my apartment, I could extend my arms all the way and touch either side of my living space. 

“We have a lot of work to do,” Tom said. He wore mostly the same outfit from the day, sans the jacket and tie and the first two buttons on his shirt. It yawned open to expose his chest, dusted with thin, light hair, and, under normal circumstances, I would have liked the sight. Absolutely nothing about this was normal, though. “We have to learn enough about each other to pass the questionnaire that the immigration department is giving us.”

“Won’t be hard for me to do,” I said. “It might be difficult for you, Tom.”

“Nothing is difficult for me, Y/N,” Tom laughed. “Right, we can start right there: what’s my legal name?”

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” I replied. “Son of Dominic and Nicola.”

Tom blinked in surprise a few times, and nodded slowly. “How did you know that?” He asked.

“I had to fill out paperwork for you to make an appearance at a book signing about three years ago,” I said. “One of the forms asked for a middle name, so I asked you, and you told me that exactly.”

Tom nodded. “Umm… My birthday?”

“June 1,” I said. “You’re a Gemini, even though you think astrology is fake.”

“How do you--”

“For the past couple of years, you always sneer at the horoscope section of any magazine,” I told him. “It’s not hard to figure out what you think of it.” 

“You’re right,” Tom said slowly. He looked over to a pad of paper with his scribbled writing on it, and he picked it up and scanned the list. “I found this list online… A list of questions similar to what they’ll ask us. Alright, there’s no way you know this: my childhood nickname?”

“Which one, Dutchy or Billy?” 

“How in the fuck do you--”

“On your last birthday, you got a letter in the mail from your mom,” I began. “It was addressed to Dutchy. That was easy; Holland, Dutch, Dutchy. Kinda cute, actually.”

“And Billy?” Tom winced. “How did you find out about that?”

“One of your old uni friends works for a publishing company in Glasgow,” I said. “You sent him a letter to catch up-- but really to get him to do something for you-- and you signed it Billy.”

“Do you know why I was called that?” Tom asked. His honey eyes were unwavering as he watched me, and he seemed to deflate when I shook my head. 

“I have no idea,” I said. “If it’s anything like my college nickname, it came from a night of drinking and something unfortunate happened.” 

“What was your college nickname?” Tom asked, suddenly amused. 

“Oh, right, you don’t know everything about me,” I laughed. “Well… It was DongNose. My senior year, me and some friends decided to go to a-a… Ha, a male strip club. Things happened and… I ended up getting hit, on the nose, with… Yeah. It fractured my nose and my face bruised up really bad.” 

“Oh, shit,” Tom chuckled. The corner of his mouth twitched, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s alright, you can laugh,” I said. “It’s a funny story.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you,” Tom said. “Just… Thinking about you in uni. Would we have been friends, do you think?”

“I doubt it,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You would have been playing rugby or whatever Brits do at uni. I was a TA for a long time, so I hardly left my office at all.”

“Oh, that’s a question,” Tom said, looking at the list. “Where did I go to uni? Or, I guess, college, as you Yanks call it.” 

“Umm, your first semester was at the BRIT School,” I began. “You still get mail from them, asking for donations. But you transferred to Cambridge and graduated from there.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re wrong,” Tom said. “I went to Oxford, not Cambridge. My little brother goes to Cambridge. I don’t usually like to tell people that, it feels too uppity to me.” 

“You say as we sit in your New York City apartment,” I scoffed. 

“See, that’s different,” Tom began pointedly. “I didn’t grow up with much. Me and my mum and dad and brothers lived in this little town outside of London. It was a sort-of poverty area, so we only had what we could get by with. I was young when I told myself that I was going to work to get myself out of that. And…” He gestured to the apartment. “I did. And I was able to get my parents out of that as well.” 

“Oh,” I said softly. “What was the name Billy all about? You never said.”

For the first time since I knew him, I watched color rise in Tom’s cheeks. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? “Umm…” He began. He looked to the coffee table and to the shelf underneath it, and he quickly pulled out a leather-bound scrapbook. “Mum made this for me before I moved to the States. Just some pictures of home and all. But…” He opened the book and spread it out next to us on the couch, forcing me just a few inches closer to him. There were pictures of him and his family in the gray background of London, most of them stamped with the date and time. A picture from when he was in secondary school appeared on a page, taken beautifully and professionally. A black blazer and striped tie adorned his frame, an insignia for his school on the right breast of his jacket. His hair was short and done in the spiked look that was oh-so popular with young boys several years back, and he gave the camera a closed-mouth smile, probably to hide a set of braces. 

“I was about twelve here,” Tom began. “This was around the time the nickname came around. I did dance all growing up-- Mum said I was too energetic and chucked me there to tire me out, but I ended up loving it. I ended up auditioning for Billy Elliot, and I got the part. I was on the fuckin’ West End when I was twelve, doing ballet every single day. It was great, but… I went to a Catholic school then, and the other boys in my class didn’t think it was all that cool.” Tom chuckled, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. “But then the nickname came around. People at school called me Billy, even after the show closed. I was tormented with it for years. It carried into college, and then uni. And, even though I’ve long since quit dancing, I still have people from uni that call me Billy.”

“Why did you quit?” I asked. 

“I just lost interest.” Tom mumbled with a shrug. “I was being bullied so much that I quit enjoying it. I sometimes wish I never stopped, but what’s done is done.”

The silence was tense between us, and I lightly cleared my throat to diffuse the tension. “Billy Elliot,” I said softly. “Really?”

Tom’s flush came back, but a smile came with it. “C’mon, I was twelve! And I looked like that! What d’ya want from me, Swan Lake?” 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” I exclaimed. “Besides, it isn’t any worse than what I did in high school.”

“What did you do?” Tom asked.

“You’re deflecting my question, Tommy,” I pointed out. 

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Tom rebutted instantly. 

“Alright, alright!” I grinned. “When I was fifteen, I played Juliet in my school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Which would have been great, but my director was so inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s movie that he made it set in the 1950s, but had us keep the dialogue. It was… Not good.”

“Say a line, won’t you?” Tom asked. “Just a few words of Juliet.” 

I sighed, and tried in vain to recall even a single line from the play. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more?” Tom mused, looking down at his lap. “Or shall I speak at this? I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”

A smile slowly filled my lips. “You know Shakespeare?” I asked. 

“My darling, I’m British,” Tom laughed. “I would have my citizenship revoked if I didn’t.”

I nearly didn’t catch how he called me that name. My darling. A slip of the tongue, a thought from Romeo’s mind? Or more? “I guess we’re more alike than we first thought, huh?” I chuckled. “Anyway, I don’t think Billy Elliot is anything to be ashamed of. It’s a beautiful story.”

Tom sighed. “I hope this works,” he mumbled. “I need this job. I’m sure you do too. We both get something out of it. Which, I was meaning to talk to you about that. Editor?”

“Tommy, if I get caught doing this, I could go to jail,” I said firmly. “I’m not going to commit a federal offense if I’m not going to get some benefits afterwards. You get me?”

Tom nodded slowly. “You are a lovely girl,” he said softly. “Any man would be thrilled to call you his.” 

“You do,” I said. “At least, for the next few months, you do.” 

Tom looked at me with those warm honey eyes. “Have you ever been kissed, Y/N?” he asked suddenly. 

“Um, yeah,” I sputtered out. “Of course.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Tom asked. 

“Who was yours?” I said quickly. 

“Zendaya Coleman, one of my best mates from college,” Tom said quickly. “Answer my question. What was his name?” 

I hesitated as I tried to come up with the name of any boy I went to high school with for me to lie about, but my hesitation was answer enough. A slow smile crept up on Tom’s pink lips, and he bit his bottom lip in amusement. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?” he chuckled. “Earlier today, when I kissed you at the office, that was your first, wasn’t it?”

“Jesus, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I scoffed. 

“It’s not,” Tom said. “It’s just hard to believe. You are smart and witty, beautiful, with a sense of humor… I can’t imagine that boys weren’t falling over themselves to catch you.” 

“Well, nobody’s caught me yet,” I laughed softly. 

“Thank God,” Tom said with a smile. “Or our plan wouldn’t work.”

[alecmagnuslwb]

Right In Front of Him - @doubleredweek Day 3

Read on AO3

Roy Harper came back wrong or at least that’s what everyone says.

He died bloody and violent and just shy of being an adult at the hands of a monster that wasn’t even his problem to begin with. Wrong place, wrong time. That’s what they called it. The young son of a billionaire killed by Gotham’s most notorious monster in the hopes of a payout or just for fun. Speedy and Green Arrow were never mentioned, Star City had replacements in the form of Oliver’s other son and daughter in no time to keep their father and the memory of their dead brother safe.

Jason never even got the chance to meet his big brother’s best friend and by the time Oliver Queen had slipped past Batman’s prudish defenses and no one kills in my city rules and avenged his son Jason had already picked up his mother’s bad habit.

Robin couldn’t be a drug addict, Bruce made that abundantly clear. And while Oliver Queen happily sat in prison doing the only thing he could to avenge the son he never expected, but loved all the same, Jason’s father labeled his son a problem.

Oliver got five years, the one and only time Jason can remember hearing about a rich guy using his money to get a lesser sentence being reasonable and justified. He thinks the jury probably wasn’t feeling too bad for the dead psychopath who had been terrorizing their city for decades either.

And then the son he avenged came back, but he came back angry. He’d been angry and vengeful and grateful and a million conflicting feelings that made the once shining bright example of the sidekick into a rogue, an outlaw.

The entire Arrow family still wanted him back anyways, no matter how wrong everyone said he came back, no matter how many lives his bow started taking. He kept his distance though, the rage of the Lazarus pit he’d been thrown in under control but still boiling under his skin.

And then for some inexplicable reason he picked up Jason. Grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him from a prison in the middle of nowhere that he’d quite literally joked and drank his way into and certain death because Dick tentatively reached out and asked him to.

Why Dick didn’t just do it himself Jason could care less.

Roy helped him get clean, helped him get back into the work of being a hero or well as close to one as he could get with a new identity and new suit and didn’t even bat an eye at some of Jason’s poorer choices.

Hell he hadn’t even mentioned when Jason started a brief affair with their teammate, who also happened to be his brother’s former fiancée.

Jason’s never said it out loud, but the broken angry sidekick that everyone wants to take ten steps back from is Jason’s saving grace. His best friend, the closest thing to home he’s had since Bruce sent him packing, quite possibly the love of his life.

And Roy doesn’t have a single clue.

He just loads his arrows and doesn’t know it drives Jason crazy when he slips past him a steadying hand on his lower back. He doesn’t know that Jason twistedly savors when Roy’s hurt and needs to be patched up just so he can get a little closer to his skin. He doesn’t know how much it makes Jason’s unlovable heart clench knowing that he’s the first and only person Roy has let get close since he came back from the dead. He doesn’t see it and Jason resigns himself to what they have, forcing himself to be content with what they are so he can keep him close.

“You should pick up this time,” Jason says frankly tired of watching Roy pace back and forth across their shared loft in nothing but a pair of low hanging sweatpants. He cares too, but he also really needs Roy to take a call in the other room and put on a shirt while he’s there.

“I don’t know if I can,” Roy says finally stopping his pacing. He pulls out a chair at the small rickety kitchen table where Jason is trying to figure out how exactly they’re going to pay rent this month flipping it backwards and sitting in it his arms resting on the back. He tosses his phone on the table the weekly missed collect call shining brightly on the screen.

“Why not?” Jason says looking up from his budgeting that’s giving him a headache. If Roy would just let them tap into the fund that Oliver has set up for him for things other than technical gear he wouldn’t be doing this. But that’s a conversation for another time, right now it’s the phone call conversation that needs to be had. As long as his good behavior continues Oliver only has a year left on his sentence and Jason knows he’ll call every single one of those fifty-two weeks if Roy continues to not pick up.

“He’s in there because of me,” Roy says running a frustrated hand through the floppy red hair on the top of his head scratching a little harder than necessary at the shaved down sides. “No matter what he says he has to blame me for some of that.”

“Roy,” Jason says reaching out and grabbing his hand that’s scratching far too hard and resting it on the table. “Oliver Queen has never been quiet or subtle about his opinions, if he in any way blamed you he would have said it by now.”

Roy sighs looking down at where their hands are still touching. Jason swallows hard once pulling his hand back quickly.

“He doesn’t regret what he did, you coming back didn’t change that at all,” Jason continues on trailing his fingers along the little marks along his inner elbow a nervous habit he’s never quite been able to shake. “A monster who killed you, who would have killed hundreds more if he’d been allowed to live is gone because he had to do something for you. Because he wanted to do something for you, you coming back was just the icing on the revenge cake for him.”

Roy sighs rubbing at his forehead like a headache is coming on. “How can you be sure about that?”

“Because I may have been three sheets to the wind the whole time the trial was going on, but I still saw the news. I saw his face in that courtroom and I know what someone with no regrets look like,” Jason says. He scratches at his elbow one last time before reaching out to place a hand on Roy’s wrist reassuringly. Roy’s not big on touch these days, like coming back made him sensitive to everything, but that rule doesn’t seem to apply when it comes to them much anymore.

“Plus, he calls every single week, and every time Dinah goes up to visit him he asks about you which results in her calling every other week too,” Jason adds on.

“If it was Bruce would you pick up?” Roy counters.

“Fuck no,” Jason says without missing a beat. “It’s a completely different situation and you know it, but nice try with the deflecting.”

Oliver is painfully sincere in a way Bruce could never be. The bridges were burned between he and Jason long ago, a call wouldn’t be anywhere near what Jason would need to think of him as his father again. Oliver and Roy’s bridge however is perfectly intact just a little neglected and in need of some care. It’s just waiting for Roy to walk across it again and whether Roy admits it or not he’s ready.

He doesn’t have the wake up screaming nightmares as much anymore, he hasn’t killed a criminal in months and the rage in him still boils, but only when it’s justified.

Roy chuckles with one of those tilted little half smiles of his. “Caught me,” he says just as the phone rings the familiar number popping up like clockwork. He takes a deep breath and slips his wrist out from under Jason’s fingers before he picks up his phone.

On the other side of the phone Jason hears the tinny robotic voice asking if he’s willing to accept a collect call from Blackgate Penitentiary and for the first time in nearly two years of calls, he says yes giving Jason a small nervous smile as he walks into the other room.

Roy’s not gone as long as he’d thought he’d be, he guesses that even with all the good behavior and the perks of being rich in prison Oliver still only gets so long on a phone call. Jason’s making dinner when Roy rolls out of his room, a shirt blissfully covering up his tattooed and scarred chest now.

“If Ollie is bulking up the way he claims he is in prison he’s gonna be able to kick Bruce’s ass when he gets out,” Roy says walking into the kitchen leaning back against the counter a reasonable distance from the open flame Jason is working over, but still a little closer than needed. Jason’s not complaining about the choice.

Jason chuckles as he stirs the contents of the pan in front of him.

“So it went well I guess?” he says turning down the flame so he can focus his attention on Roy.

Roy rubs at the light stubble on his jaw tracing along the scar that moves from the bottom of his ear to the corner of his lips, one of the many unhealed remnants of the day he died.

“Weirdly well, I mean there’s a lot still, but it was a good start. Thank you,” Roy says reaching out a hand and dragging his fingertips lightly down Jason’s arm a barely there breath of a touch, it’s unexpectedly intimate.

Jason just shrugs ignoring the tingling feeling of Roy’s fingertips against his bare arm. “I basically just told you to suck it up, it’s no big deal,” he says shaking off any gratitude.

“Not just for pushing me today, I just mean for a lot of stuff,” Roy says with a shrug not quite meeting Jason’s eye. He may not be biologically related to Oliver but that sincerity when he truly means something is a tone they share. It’s rare when Roy lets it out, harder for him to let slip through than it is for his father, but it’s there and Jason is grateful every single time.

“It’s nothing,” he says with a smile. “If the messed-up sidekicks don’t stick together I mean who will.”

Roy laughs at that and steps a little closer. Closer than he’s probably ever been before. Neither of them speaks or moves for a moment and for the first time since Roy pulled him out of that makeshift prison he can’t read what’s going on in Roy’s unearthly green eyes. He remembers Dick saying Roy had been hard to read without words even before he came back, how whatever was going on in his head always seemed out of reach, how he was an open book but only when he wanted to be. Jason has prided himself in being able to pick up on everything in every moment up until now.

And then Roy’s expression shifts like he’s made up his mind about something and before Jason can ask what it is Roy’s hands are on his neck and his lips are connecting with Jason’s. Jason responds immediately his hands flailing a little uselessly before they settle at Roy’s waist. The kiss doesn’t last long barely a few beats, but it’s everything Jason has been yearning for. It’s better than any fix he’s ever gotten.

“Sorry, I’ve wanted to do that for so long and I probably should have given you a warning or something,” Roy says when he pulls back trying to put much more distance between them than Jason wants.

“No,” he reassures quickly pulling Roy back in with his hold on his waist. “No, it’s okay. It’s more than okay.”

“Yeah?” Roy asks, quietly vulnerable in the small space between them.

“Yeah,” Jason says smiling. Roy nods and leans back in kissing Jason slow and softer than he ever thought the big bad Arsenal would kiss.

And it’s in that moment that Jason realizes maybe Roy does have a clue.

[theoverly]

I dare you

Pairing: Johnny/Kerry

Rating: E for explicit

“Who you calling little?”

“Your dick, dick.”

“Fuck you. If it’s so little, then you won’t have any trouble swallowing it down.”

“Is that a dare?”

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Inspired by OGAmy on the cyberpunks discord server

——————————  

On ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/31758226

Or press “Keep reading”

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Another night, another gig - you know how it goes…

The members of Samurai are drinking heavily, bottles and cans piling up on the table in the seating area in the hotel room. The night has turned into a game of truth or dare, but since it is Samurai we’re talking about, it’s mostly dares... It’s started really simple - kiss him, run naked - etcetera - and they all do, because they are a band and that’s what happens. If anyone told them that they are prudish, then obviously they don’t understand Samurai…

Denny and Nancy are the first to bail and go to bed, Henry eventually passing out because - well, he is Henry…

This leaves Kerry and Johnny the only two (awake) people left in the room, both having lost their tops somewhere along the night - though if that was before or after the gig, who can say?

The thing with these two; they both like to take things so much further than anyone else. After all, neither of them can risk being outdone by the other…

“Dare you to take your pants off.” Silverhand looks at Kerry with a toothy grin, aviators riding down his nose a bit, but not enough to allow Eurodyne to see his eyes.

Kerry takes a swig of his beer - now warm - before putting it down on the table, standing up from his chair. It’s not the first time he’s gonna be going pants-less tonight; Denny dared him to run out and get more booze in only his shoes and shirt, wanting to see if he could still get service - which he couldn’t. Still, at least he made it back to the hotel without being arrested, where he did pull his pants back on - he wasn’t gonna sit around the band drinking with his balls out…

Now, Eurodyne is a performer, and a massive show off - he looks good, and he knows it - which is why he starts moving his hips from side to side a little, dancing to the shitty pop that is playing in the background - Henry had fallen asleep atop the radio, somehow changing the channel. At least his lifeless body is good for blocking some of the sound out…

Johnny snorts at the sight, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth to try and muffle his chuckle, leaning back in his chair and stomping a foot to try and beat down his own amusement when Kerry flicks the button on his pants open whilst looking straight into his friends aviators, pulling the zipper down slowly. He teases his thumbs inside the waistline of his pants, hips swaying seductively - or drunkenly, depending on who you ask - whilst biting his bottom lip to contain his own grin. He goes for a slow spin, hips rolling as he slides his fingertips up his naked torso before holding his arms up around his head, showing off his back to the other, making sure to give an extra shake of his ass. He has to hold back a laugh when he remembers that one time a fan came up to them and slapped a juicy sticker on his ass, and a flat sticker on Johnny’s, before they ran away cackling like a maniac, tripping over their own shoes and face-planted against the pavement…

He turns his head to throw a sultry look over his shoulder, finding Johnny has leaned forward in his seat, forearms resting on his knees as he regards his friend from behind his aviators, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Kerry curls his arms tighter over his head, hiding his face - and his moan - against his tattooed bicep, feeling his breathing pick up in genuine arousal. He stays like that for a moment longer, rolling his hips, until he catches himself enough to know that he won’t look flustered when he turns back around, a confident grin curling his lips instead.

Running his hands back down his torso and over the slight - but noticeable - bulge in his pants, he keeps looking straight into Johnny’s aviators, the man keeping his face as neutral as possible - though his pants are looking tight in the crotch.

With a wink, Kerry begins shimmying his pants down his hips - before thinking better of himself and spinning back around so when he bends down to get them all the way off, his ass is on display for Silverhand. When he pulls back up, he does so in a full body roll, making sure to arch his back before turning back around, cocking his hip to the side and resting a hand on it. “How’s that?” the grins.

“Eh,” Johnny starts. “Seen better.” He takes a swig of his beer, Kerry pressing his lips together tightly.

“Yeah, well-“ he cuts himself, wetting his lips. “How about you get your pants and underwear off then?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow at him. “And that’s a dare.” He clarifies.

He’s note sure what he was expecting, but Silverhand just shooting to his feet and pushing his leathers and underwear off in one swift motion before holding his arms out to the sides is certainly on brand. “There.” He grins in triumph.

“Dude, that sucked.” Kerry laughs, eyes drawn down to his friend's hardon. “See little Johnny enjoyed the show.”

“Who you calling little?”

“Your dick, dick.”

“Fuck you. If it’s so little, then you won’t have any trouble swallowing it down.” Johnny growls.

“Is that a dare?”

“You know what? Fuck it, yeah! I dare you to suck my cock.” Johnny huffs, pointing to his crotch with both hands.

Kerry pauses for a second, surprised that his friend hadn’t just laughed it off. Still, he’s not about to lose this game of chicken - not that he wouldn’t suck Johnny’s cock even if it wasn’t a dare, to be honest.

He grins and steps forward to close the distance between them, getting right up in Johnny’s face - his slightly shorter stature forcing him to look up, seeing his own grinning face in Johnny’s aviators. He snatches the signature aviators off Silverhand’s face, shutting down his protest with a cheeky wink as he puts them atop his head, which means he’s now only wearing Johnny’s shades, his bandana, and his underwear whilst Johnny is stood there completely naked, save for his leathers and underwear stuck around his ankles, his boots keeping him from stepping out of them.

Eurodyne doesn’t care if he seems eager as he almost collapses on his knees, the shitty carpet rubbing against his skin coarsely - but he pays that no mind - grasping the base of Johnny’s cock and swallowing about half of it down in one go. Johnny bites back a curse, and Kerry moans around him to encourage him to let it out as he pulls back until his lips catch on the rim of the head, tongue circling the tip before he sinks back down, a steady buildup of saliva easing the slide as he begins bobbing his head slowly, hand warming the bottom half of his friend’s cock.

Johnny scoffs, looking down at him. “That all you got? I’ve gotten better head from virgins.” He chuckles when this earns him a venomous glare from Eurodyne, the effect lessened somewhat by the way his lips are stretched around Silverhand’s cock, cheeks bulging.

Johnny’s shout of alarm when Kerry suddenly pushes forward and takes him into his throat turns into a moan as he almost doubles over, organic hand flying up to grasp a fistful of the soft black hair atop his friend’s head, chrome hand cradling the back of his neck. Kerry pulls back a bit and moans in return, before sinking back down until his nose is nestled in Johnny’s pubic hair. “Oh fuck…” the rockerboy moans, bucking his hips when Kerry moves to pull back, gagging him on his cock.

Kerry yanks himself off the length, gasping and sucking in a hurried breath, swallowing some of the excess saliva before it can dribble from his lips, strings of it connecting him to Johnny’s cock still. “Watch it…” he growls in annoyance, baring his teeth at his friend.

“Fuck you.” Johnny growls right back, reaching down to grab the base of his cock and smacking it against Kerry’s face wetly before using the hand in his hair to pull him back onto it, the rockerboy’s lips parting willingly.

Kerry’s eyes flutter shut the moment the cock is back between his lips, a purring moan rumbling from his chest as he returns to bobbing his head along the shaft, urged on by Johnny’s hand in his hair. His own hand meanwhile begins palming at his own erection, still contained in his underwear, a wet spot of precum blossoming on the fabric.

Johnny’s hand goes loose against Kerry’s head, fingers rubbing against his scalp as he begins to lose himself in the sensation of his friend working his lips up and down his shaft, the occasional lewd slurping noise escaping despite Kerry’s attempt to keep his lips sealed tight.

Silverhand starts bucking his hips, forcing his cock back down Eurodyne’s throat, the rockerboy accommodating the intrusion with little reaction, able to keep his gag reflex in check as he puts his tongue over his bottom teeth and lips, allowing for an easier slide, but also making the excess saliva that he’s steadily building up to dribble freely and pool on the shitty carpet between his knees. The wet noises his throat makes as Johnny fucks it is obscene, and he lifts his own cock over the elastic of his underwear to pump the shaft. He glances upwards through his lashes, waterline wet from the abuse his throat is taking - even if he’s still yet to fully gag. Johnny’s eyes have shut, his jaw slack as he uses Eurodyne as a toy to chase his own release with every roll of his hips. Kerry purrs at the sight, eyes fluttering shut again, hand pumping his own cock steadily as he revels in the feeling of being used, fulfilling a purpose - a warmth blossoming in his chest when he considers the fingers massaging his scalp and metal hand cradling the back of his neck, almost tenderly in relation to Silverhand’s abrasive personality.

When Johnny’s hips begin bucking a little more wildly compared to the slow but powerful thrusts he’d been maintaining, Kerry’s eyes snap back open. He can feel his friend throbbing in his mouth, immediately yanking his head back to prevent him from reaching climax, not wanting this encounter to end just yet. Johnny’s eyes fly open and he lets out a growl at the loss of Kerry’s tight lips and throat around his cock, fist tightening in his hair as he glares down at him. Eurodyne looks absolutely wrecked, face flushed, saliva hanging from his chin and lip - thick strings connecting him to Johnny’s cock still as he pants openly, looking up at Silverhand with heavily lidded eyes, pupils blown wide. “Dare you to cum in my ass…” he breathes, hand still pumping his cock slowly, a dribble of precum coming out to stain the carpet further.

He yelps a little when Johnny’s hand tightens in his hair and pulls, forcing him back up onto his feet. Johnny spins them around and pushes Kerry forward so his knees bump against the chair that Silverhand had previously occupied, forcing Kerry to grab onto the back of the chair and lift one knee onto the seat to not trip over it. Johnny’s hands are already yanking his underwear off, only to get stuck around his knees. The animalistic growl that he emits at the obstacle has Kerry shiver in anticipation, and he gasps loudly when his underwear are swiftly ripped at both side seams and thrown to the side by Johnny, almost hitting Henry’s sleeping form. Neither of them pay their passed out friend any mind - Kerry being pushed further over the chair until he’s got both knees on seat, the surface agitating the rug-burned skin of his knees - whilst Johnny thrust his hip upward, sliding his cock up between his friends ass cheeks, hands gripping each cheek and pushing them together as he frots between.

Kerry lets out a curse, resting his forearms against the back of the chair and letting his head fall limp between his shoulders, thrusting his hips back insistently and wiggling his ass to try and incite Silverhand to get on with it. He moans when Johnny’s hips pull back, spitting on his fingers and prodding at Kerry’s hole. He grits out a curse when he finds the ring of muscles seem to part with no effort, the way already slick. “… the fuck?” he groans, thrusting two fingers into Kerry.

Eurodyne for his part simply pushes his hips back, meeting Johnny’s thrusts. “Fan I was going for earlier chickened out at the last possible second.” He explains, hearing his friend let out a loud snort as he pulls his fingers back, only to replace them with the tip of his own cock and begins to push in. Kerry silently thanks the fan he’d fingered himself open for earlier for ditching him - Johnny’s cock stretches him so much better than that loser ever could have. The lube he’d used earlier and the thick coating of saliva on Johnny’s cock is just enough to keep the slide smooth as Johnny pushes into him in one drawn out fluid thrust, going until his hips are pressing against the swell of Kerry’s ass.

Johnny tilts his hips back and grinds forward again, both men joining in a moan, prompting Silverhand to do it again - and again, each time pulling out just a bit further before pushing back in, Kerry’s hips rolling along with the movement as they decide on the pace, which quickens with each thrust until they’ve built up a near furious pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin starts to ring out in the room, much louder than the muffled sound of the radio laying under Henry’s limp body - the unconscious bassist unaware of his bandmates tryst.

Johnny’s hands are leaving bruises on Kerry’s hips with how hard he’s grasping them, pulling the other man back onto his cock on each thrust. Not that Kerry needs any encouragement, bucking his hips back enthusiastically, craving the stretch of Johnny’s cock filling him, grazing against his prostate on every thrust. When a particularly enthusiastic roll of Kerry’s hips causes Johnny’s cock to pop out they both let out sounds of protest, Kerry starting to push off the chair, having every intention on switching places with Johnny and ride him to allow him better control.

Silverhand has another idea, chrome hand pushing down over the small of Eurodyne’s back whilst his organic hand slide around to cradle the front of his throat, forcing him to stretch his arms as straight as they go where he’s got his hands braced against the back of the chair as he’s forced into a harsh arch. “Stay.” Silverhand growls, a weak whimper the only sound Kerry dares make as he holds the arch even when Johnny’s hand leaves his back to grasp his cock and help guide it back inside Kerry. Johnny’s chrome hand returns to grasp at the same marks they’d previously left on Eurodyne’s hip, grinding his hips into the tight heat as he leans over him, fingers applying just a bit of pressure over the pulse points on either side of Kerry’s throat whilst cradling his windpipe in the palm of his hand. “Whore.” He grits out meanly when Kerry moans at a particularly mean grind, sinking his teeth into his shoulder.

“Slut.” Kerry manages to grit out in retaliation, starting to go a bit lightheaded as he struggles to breathe with Silverhand choking him. He sucks in a great lungful of air when his throat is freed, Johnny’s hand instead sliding up to grip a handful of hair harshly as he straightens back up, forcing Kerry to remain in the arch as he begins to buck his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin once again echoing through the room as Silverhand fucks into Eurodyne at a furious pace. Kerry clenches his jaw and bears his teeth to keep from screaming out in pure ecstasy, wanting so badly to buck his hips back, but the arch of his back and Johnny’s bruising grip on his hip renders him more or less unable to move, only able to hold onto the back of the chair - hand clenched so tightly he’s certain he can hear the wood creek - as he’s fucked by Silverhand at his most animalistic, prostate assaulted with each thrust and cock dribbling precum where it bobs between his legs.  

Kerry lets out a whimper when Johnny releases the grip on his hair, prompting him to collapse forward until he’s leaning over the back of the chair. He has about two seconds to wonder what Johnny intends with his free hand until he feels the other man drape himself over his back, organic hand sliding around to begin jerking Kerry’s cock.

Eurodyne shouts out a string of curses as Johnny’s organic hand works his cock in a pace matching the bucks of his hips, which has started to grow more erratic. Where Silverhand had been keeping his sounds of pleasure muted, he now begins to growl and groan as he draws near his climax, cock milked by the tight heat of Kerry’s hole fluttering and squeezing around his length.

Still, Kerry is louder. “F-fuuuuuck-“ he chokes momentarily, sputtering and letting out a mixture of a groan and a growl.

“Gonna breed you like a bitch…” Johnny pants against Kerry’s shoulder as he bucks his hips wildly, a loud and enthusiastic sound of agreement coming from his friend who’s begun to tremble, trying to buck his hips back against Johnny’s cock whilst also fuck forward into his fist. “Yeah-“ Johnny cuts himself off with a groan as his hips stutter, his orgasm hitting him with full force. “Fucking take it!” he roars as he jerks his hips forward in a particularly mean thrust, feeling his balls draw tight and cock pulse as he begins to spill on spurts, filling Eurodyne with his seed.

Kerry hits his peak not a moment later, cock twitching as Johnny keeps pumping it, shooting thick white streaks - some hitting the back of the chair and some shooting between the cracks, staining the shitty carpet. Johnny lets out an almost wounded sound when Kerry’s muscles clamp down around him, instincts making him jerk his hips back before thinking better of it and pushing back inside, the movement pulling and pushing some of his cum out to overflow where Kerry’s rim is fluttering around him.

Johnny rests his forehead against Kerry’s shoulder, both men panting as they catch their breath, taking a moment to come down from the high of their respective orgasms. Johnny is the first to recover, peeling himself away from Kerry’s back and grasping his hips, holding him steady as he pulls out, groaning a curse when his cum immediately begins to dribble out of Eurodyne’s ruined rim. The feeling makes Kerry let out a sound of discomfort - thought it might also partially be a whine of loss at no longer having Johnny’s cock filling him so perfectly...

He throws a glance over his shoulder when he hears the soft footfalls of Johnny moving away, watching him head into the bathroom, the faucet turning on a moment later. He turns back around, scooting his knees forward on the seat and winching at the pain on his rug-burned skin, sitting down on his knees and folding his arms over the top of the backrest to rest his head against as he takes a moment longer to collect himself.

He hears Johnny come back a moment later, prepared for some snide remark and greatly surprised when a wet warm towel smacks against and clings to his back. He throws a look over his shoulder to see his friend poking around their clothes, though he seems to be searching for something rather than trying to get dressed. Eurodyne peels the towel from his back and reaches behind himself to clean up the mess left as thoroughly as possible - knowing he should better hit the showers before they head out - before whipping his dick clean of some of his cum which Johnny’s hand had rubbed all over his shaft. For good measure he wipes the obvious white streaks and little pool of the chair before pushing himself to his knees and stepping back down onto the shitty carpet - which he has no intention of even trying to clean up - throwing the towel on the chair and lifting his arms over his head to stretch.

He hears the flick of a lighter and Johnny drawing a breath as he lights a cigarette, turning around to try and bum one from the other man, only for Silverhand to pull the cig from his lips and offer it to him. Despite the surprise, Kerry doesn’t question it, just accepts the lit cigarette and puts it between his lips, pulling a long drag as Johnny lights a second one for himself with a long drag of his own.

“Call it a draw.”