#he wears leather boots everywhere he goes

[vvizardz]

Look me in the eye and try to truthfully tell me that Eddie is not some sort of metalhead

[yayll]

IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT!!! Opposites attract are literally my favorite trope ever, i love bad boy unhinged rockstar Dazai and him developing a crush on the cute, considered the industry sweetheart who dresses in frills and bows idol/pop star Reader, and considering that idols change their outfits to support the themes of songs/tours i can imagine they get a matching outfit set one day and its rock style…..idol reader dressed in black and other dark colors, rips in their clothes and some skin showing……Rockstar!Dazai is biting the bars of his encloser-TeenZai anon

so sorry this is so late angel.... also i may have gotten a bit carried away w this concept................ i love u teenzai anon this one's for u and all the rockstar!dazai adorers out there (and for me bc i'm INSANE for this whole thing put me downnn) basically idol reader taking up dazai's rocker aesthetic for the concept/theme of the tour is literally the DEATH of him. and not in the way he's always wishing for >:3

~ a little something about Rockstar!Dazai and Popstar!Reader finding a middle ground ~

You show up to soundcheck one morning completely in tune with the plan for the show but thinking nothing of it, because you're sweet and cool and in perfect flow! Something Dazai simply isn't and it makes him practically gawk as you saunter past him into the dressing room. a few moments later you walk out in a matching outfit that compliments the one he's wearing and it's all over. Completely fucking done. The man practically goes non-verbal for a few moments when he suddenly calls for his assistant to fetch him his pack of cigarettes so he can dash outside to the alley of the venue to get himself together. The nerve of you to look absolutely ravishing in a completely different aesthetic... So hot. So annoying.

Of course you follow behind him, curious and also hoping he's genuinely okay (you're not just a sweetheart for show and he hates that!) You find him leaning against the wall, his lighter failing to give him the flame he needs for his sweet relaxation. All he hears is soft giggling and light footsteps.

"I'll light it."

You take the lighter from him and flawlessly flicker it alive while he just watches you with the stick between his lips, amazed and slightly aroused. He can't help but notice the way his nerves seem to immediately settle with you nearby and it both comforts and concerns him. Dazai looks down at your face as you lean forward with the lighter, a tiny moment of softness appearing in his eyes as he watches you light the end of his cigarette, the flame from the lighter making his Hazelnut eyes light up slightly. He quickly takes in a long and deep drag, his shoulders visibly immediately relaxing once the smoke hits his lungs, and his cool guy demeanor is back on. You chime in, poking your head back into his line of sight.

"Better?"

You smile at him sweetly, always keeping things cordial.

"Much."

He stares at you under his messy bangs, his narrowed eyes softening by the second as his lips curl upward. You're just too true.

You simply hum, standing around idly though not in the way that claims awkwardness, but rather the comfortable kind of silence neither of them get to experience often in this fast paced industry. You look down at your black platform leather boots, a sheer contrast from who you usually present as and it somehow feels liberating. You breathe out, matching his coolness.

"Thought so."

He almost snorts at that, and turns back to look over the features of your angelic face. no amount of black you wear could overshadow the glimmer that follows you everywhere you go. You're a lucky star that's gone as quick as it comes. One day he'll make a wish on you.

"You know me so well."

You huff into a soft laugh that lingers and eventually dies in your throat when you realize the fluttering in your chest is only growing. Yikes. You mutter, low and careful.

"I just... Didn't want you to have a bad night tonight, I guess. With the concert and the album dropping and all... I hope you don't mind I'm sort of dressed like you, heh."

You end it with a shrug as you look ahead at the clouds in the sky and for the first time in a while you feel a tinge of nerves. you, the industry's sweetheart can still feel that after your major lasting success? shocking.

He huffs slightly in response, leaning his back against the wall and tilting his head up, staring up at the sky as he mutters back.

"It's not like I ever really have a totally good time on nights like this, anyway."

You flash your attention at him, tilting your head. In all your years of the supposed 'clashing' between you, you have never heard him speak this way.

"Nights 'like this'?"

He glances back over to you, bringing the cigarette back to his lips for another quick drag before responding, watching you stare at him intently.

"Ahh, performing. All the people. The fans being all over me. The media. All of it, all the time. It's exhausting, actually. I know I'm super hot and talented, but the performance doesn't always end when I get off that stage."

This causes you to lean in just a tad and murmur, curiously.

"... So why do it? All of this?"

And just when he's about to truly spill it all, talk about his never ending battle with his mortality and his career and the way you dominate every single topic in his mind, he simply just looks at you and blows cigarette smoke in your face with that signature smirk of his you always pretend to find so irritating.

"Sometimes it feels real and constant. It's the only thing I can count on... Other than seeing your silly little imitation of me on stage. Hate the mesh, by the way."

You simply stare, taken aback by his oddly sincere and blunt answer. You mutter under your breath as you bite your freshly manicured nails.

"...Yeah?"

Dazai hesitates a moment, his dark eyes glancing away from you as he takes another drag from the cigarette, a moment of vulnerability flickering through his expression. He takes another moment before responding, his voice gruff and a little shaky.

"Yeah..."

He continues to stare off to the side for a long moment, a hint of something like longing and painful restraint crossing his expression as he seems to internally struggle with something. Dazai's expression hardens a little as he finally looks back at you, his shoulders visibly tense as he puffs on the cigarette again, blowing out a long stream of smoke as he tries to push down his own feelings.

But you can tell, you can always tell. Media training, baby.

After what feels like an eternity, you reach out for his cigarette and take it in between your lips, taking a long drag of it yourself. You puff out smoke in a far less cool way than he made it seem, feigning nonchalance as if this isn't the first time you've ever even TRIED one of these damn things.

"Minty..."

He glances at you as you take the cigarette and take a drag yourself, a small but subtle flicker of curiosity in his expression. He watches you exhale and blow out the stream of smoke, before responding in a sardonic voice.

"Since when do you smoke, little miss bubblegum pop?"

You choke out a laugh, waving away the smoke to regain your breath. You smile faintly with a shrug as you hand it back to him after taking one more drag for good measure.

"I don't."

He raises his eyebrows slightly, giving you a look of mischief.

"Then why are you puffing on my cigarette, hm? Your manager would have a stroke if they saw you like this, you know. I'd be marked as a 'bad influence'~"

You shrug again and hum with all the bravery in the world your little heart can muster.

"...Tastes like you, is all."

He just continues to stare at you for a moment, processing your answer. Dazai's expression still remains as unreadable and emotionless as ever, but his eyes flicker for a moment, something indiscernible flashing through them for a fleeting second. It's the internal panic from how badly he wants to kiss you right here and now. He seems to hesitate for a moment before responding with a small smirk forming on his face and sounding wayyy too eager.

"...Is that a good thing?"

You exhale, the smoke leaving your nostrils as you murmur softly, eyes locked on his.

"...Yeah. It's a real and constant thing."

His breath hitches, shoulders visibly reacting by scrunching up as you give your answer. He doesn't say anything, but there's a flicker of something like vulnerability in his expression, a hint of softness around his eyes that betrays his usual cool and careless exterior. He remains silent for a moment longer before responding, his voice a low murmur.

"Yeah... Real."

And before you know it, you simply decide to say fuck it! And do something you'd never have the guts to do before Dazai and his ridiculous self entered your life. You lean in slowly, inching closer and closer to his lips. You're within an inch of kissing him when you whisper.

"... For good luck tonight, Osamu."

Dazai watches you in silence as you lean forward towards him, his expression going from unreadable to filled with pure unfiltered need. As you pause just inches away from his mouth, his eyes flicker once more, his dark irises shifting down to your lips for a second before returning to your eyes. For a moment he doesn't move, just staring down at you with an almost pathetically vulnerable expression on his face. You know better than to say his name like that. Then, in a low voice, he whispers back.

"... Shut up."

He leans down suddenly, pressing his lips against yours. Dazai's lips press against yours in a firm, almost desperate kiss. One of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, while the other hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, threading his fingers through your purposefully messy yet somehow still soft hair. The kiss is passionate and intense, you can't even fathom how it's all gone down like this but you don't care.

Dazai thinks about how you taste delicious, sinful, and more importantly: Real.

For a few seconds, he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, before he finally breaks away, the both of you gasping for breath as he speaks in a quiet and hoarse voice.

"I can't think straight around you like this you silly little thing."

You smile, suddenly back to being bashful and absolutely ready for whatever happens tonight. You both look stunning and it's not just the outfits that speak on it. It's the genuine spark between you two, the collaboration everyone wanted but you NEEDED.

Just when you're about to reply to his snarky comment, your managers bust through the door to the alley and frantically fuss over you both as they yap about how late you are to soundcheck and the pre-show meet and greet. And why do you smell like cigarettes?!

Dazai turns up the charm and bad boy persona while you play up the apologetic and totally easygoing idol who's more than happy to make up for the lost time with the fans! And now in a different color scheme than they're used to!

Before you and Dazai are whisked away into opposite ends to finish getting ready, he leans into the shell of your ear, barely grazing it with his lips as he whispers playfully.

"You drive me crazy. See you on stage, and then maybe backstage~"

You swear you can feel every nerve in your body twitch when he smugly prances away from you after saying that.

... And of course the concert is a total jam, everyone's raving about the new music + matching outfits you're both sporting along with the undeniable chemistry you're cooking up. It's in the way you smile at each other in between songs, or when Dazai's singing a particularly flirty lyric he gazes at you instead of the screaming fans in the crowd. You dance and he watches, just like everybody else always does when you're in the room. Spellbound.

He may be wishing on you a little earlier than he thought he would be, but you don't seem to mind one bit, his lucky star. ⋆｡°✩

[cupidscrule]

BLACK CAT

Leon X Fem! reader

P in V, smut

[ no tw, vanillaish idk ]

1.2k wrd

”Woah, woah, slow down” Leon chuckled as you started explaining another cool story to him.

Your relationship was like the definition of a black cat and a golden retriever. You always have so much energy and are nice to almost everyone. Leon on the other hand is a tough agent who doesn’t really enjoy showing much emotion. He’s pretty stern towards others— but his softspot for you is clear.

”Okay, i’m listening. Tell me” He said while you were walking together with your fingers interlocked.

"okay okay! So THEN after Fluttershy wrote an entire song, rainbow dash just decides to throw it out? Ugh she's such a bitch. Don't you agree? I mean her friend went through all the trouble to try and get them to win the battle of the bands but she's so selfish.." you said, going on about a children's movie. You loved cute things, hello kitty, my little pony, really anything a 12 year old girl would be obsessed with, wearing cute little outfits and rambling about pointless stuff. But hey it made you happy and Leon thought it was adorable

"Mhm, yeah, so selfish" Leon couldn’t help but chuckle a little about how into the movie she was. by now he knew EVERYTHING about these stupid colourful horses, rainbowdash, fluttershy, twilight, pinkie, apple jack, list goes on. Honestly from what he knew rarity seemed like the best- I mean she was a boss bitch.

He found the whole thing pretty amusing, you were just so excited about it and he’s glad you have stuff you're so.. passionate about

"I mean, it would probably get annoying if her friend just wasted all that effort right? " He said trying to show his interest in her story.

"exactly! Ugh finally you get it" you said smiling up to him, leaning closer into his side as you two walked down back home, it was a long day. Like REALLY long, you took Leon shopping, got your nails done, bought some new skirts, and a new album. All that sort of stuff, but y'know dragging Leon aside you cause someone had to carry the shit, you were gettin really close to the outside of your house, skipping beside Leon holding hands. Life was like a dream.

But the long day out had Leon pretty tired— he had to drag a lot of your stuff around and you insisted they go to multiple stores (you tried to be nice and let him pick something out but he was too tired and grumpy, I know right such a dick head?)

When you were about to arrive home, he looked at you as you skipped around excitedly and smiled softly. Despite what he’s put through, he can’t deny that he finds your behavior adorable.

He squeezed your hand and chuckled a little before you guys got in front of your door.

"Oo Leon tomorrow we should watch rainbow rocks, then you'll understand what I'm talking about better" you say giggling as you step into your house, taking off your little boots and walking away from Leon plopping your ass on the leather sofa, even if you were like if you gave a six year old crack mixed with sour gummy worms even you could get kinda tired. Right, ain't that surprising? Little princess bitch face getting tired, after crawling over Leon like a little kid and skipping everywhere, runnin, jumping, god doing everything known to fucken man kind

“don’t know if we’ll have the time because of..” Leon muttered under his breath, he didn’t want to upset you and ruin your mood when you’re so excited.

He walked over to the couch and sat beside you silently and just observed you as you started talking about the movie. He placed a hand over your thigh, brushing up and down just silently smiling hearing you decribe your weird ass fictional horse people argue with other creatures from mythology, honestly sometimes he wondered if you needed to be checked into a mental hospital. Little grippy sock princess

“Wellll, maybe we can watch it tomorrow..” He shrugged. “I mean, i’ll do anything you want” Leon chuckled looking over at you.

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, his body was pretty warm given how hot the day was and his arm was pretty comfortable.

He kissed you forehead before wrapping his other arm around you, squeezing you a little. You loved when he was affectionate, but not in a creepy way, a cute way. But after a long day a girl can get a bit needy, like sue me but when you have a hot ass man cradling you and taking you everywhere, GOD it's like an angel is sent from heaven to fuck you. But fuck you in a good homemade porno way, not one of thoes shitty ones with a whole plotline. Just straight raw fucking

You turn around, breaking his grip on you before climbing onto his lap, placing yourself onto his thigh "Woah Woah, calm down- y'know I'm tire-" he was trying to speak, silly men. You land a big fat kiss on his lips to shut him up, slowly moving yourself on his thigh, pulling away from him getting a breath, saliva dripping down your face like an animal, staring at him in the eyes, his face slightly shocked you made the first move. But you felt something perk up, bingo. Always know what can make your man want ya

"God I can't just stare at your handsome face and do nothing-" you mutter under your breath, pushing yourself closer into him, kissing his face like a big ol' dog, your free hand finding its way to his jean zipper, undoing it his fat dick springing up, he grabs you by your hips, pulling your panties aside, slapping you onto his cock, a groan coming from his lips, honestly didn't expect the day to end like this, went from talkin ponies to getting your brains fucked out. Like a good girl you ride him, his hands are placed on your hips moving you at a decent pase, bit fast but he did do A LOT of work today, guess he deserves it. Nothing else in the world matters right now, euphoric feeling, he thrusted up into you, taking one hand off your hip and grabbing your face, making you look at him, god his eyes make you MELT. He could take care of you, he was real nice with it. He groped your tits sometimes in public, but just made you love him more.

You're at your high, he knows that. Few more thrusts and you whine, feeling your body melt like butter, your weight collapses onto him, but he's not done practically druling on him, limp body he keeps fucken like a doll, if you still have a tight pussy thats all that matters, few moments and he finishes, pressing you down onto him, filling your cervix, still collapsed on him both of you breathen all heavy. "So babydoll, what happened next?" He groaned, a sly ass smirk on his face. "Mm that cunt rainbow got put in her place and they play fluttershys song" you mutter, pushing on his fat chest, rollin off him like a little kid, pussy dripping. His pants stained with you, and a heavy chest.

"I wanna-"

"No"

"Pleaseee"

[canadianfangirl-95]

Karma 

Frankie Morales fanfiction x f! reader pov 

Summary: Triple Frontier guys attend a night club to see a band that isn’t typically their style. Frankie seeks solitude at the bar but becomes entranced by a mysterious stranger on the stool next to him. 

No mention of the events of Triple Frontier, character based only. 

Rating: 18+, minors DNI 

Warning: smut, p in v, oral m receiving, alcohol consumption, talks of anxiety, mental health and therapy (we love a king that goes to therapy) 

Word count: 8600+ 

Loud rock music sounded in the club as Frankie, Santiago, Benny, and Will squeezed between the crowd of people to find a tall table to lean against. The floor was sticky, and the music was so loud they had to all but yell at each other to talk. There were lights flashing everywhere to go along with the music the band on the stage was playing. There was a dance floor where a mosh pit of customers collected to head bang to the heavy metal music the band was currently playing. Frankie looked around feeling completely out of place from the small-town tavern he was used to.  

“This place is fucking nuts.” Will shouted at the group.  

They all nodded I agreement, trying not to talk if they didn’t have to in order to save their lungs the exhaustion. They would normally never come to a place like this, but Benny wanted to see the main band that was going to be on stage shortly because the drummer was a buddy of his at the gym. The rest of the group obliged as he had promised to buy a couple rounds and of course they didn’t have much better to do that night. Frankie was soon regretting his slow social life as he would definitely prefer to be anywhere he wasn’t getting shoved up against as people moved past him.  

Frankie leaned into the group, “What’s this band called anyway?” 

“Karma and the Catastrophes!” Benny shouted back at him.  

Santiago interjected, “Where are those beers you promised us? Definitely gonna need it with this crowd.” 

Benny reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills, “Can one of you get them I’m gonna go see if my buddy is backstage before he goes on.” 

Frankie reached over and snagged the money out of his hands. “I’ll go, it looks a bit quieter over there.” 

They all nodded as Frankie broke from the group and made his way to the back of the building where the bar was nestled. He noticed a considerable difference in the noise once he got back there and there were less people as most of the crowd was still enjoying the current band.  

He leaned into the bar and got the attention of the bartender, signaling for four beers with his hand. He looked over to his right and noticed you sitting on the stool beside him with a glass of water. He was taken aback by your beauty. You were wearing a black tank top and ripped black jeans with leather boots. Your arms were adorned with various traditional Sailor Jerry tattoos.  

He didn’t have much luck talking to women, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat the second he saw you. He leaned in and said hi shyly.  

You turned your head towards him, “Hey.” You smiled.  

He drummed his hands for a beat on the bar before the bartender brought the beers back and he handed him the bills.  

“This place gets pretty crazy huh?” he asked, trying his best to make conversation.  

“Yeah, I don’t mind it though. I like the energy.” You responded, eyeing him up and down. He had a rough looking baseball hat and stretched grey T-shirt with jeans on. You could see a chain hanging underneath the v line of the shirt and assumed it was dog tags considering there is an army base on the other side of town. Military guys didn’t typically like your exciting lifestyle, but this one seemed harmless enough to at least flirt with.  

“You come here often?” You asked, turning to him in your seat.  

He grinned at you sheepishly, “Isn’t that my line?”  

You smiled up at him, “Well I guess I’m better at this than you are.”  

He nodded, “Yeah, I’d say you probably are. I’m a bit out of practice.”  

“Don’t worry you’re doing fine. What’s your name?” You winked with a devilish grin. 

“Frankie, and yours?” he asked, reaching out his hand.  

You gave him your name with a shake of his hand. 

He repeated it and immediately felt the noise of the crowd lesson. Suddenly it was just he and you and the beers that were slowly warming on the bar top. 

“So, what do I say now since you’re so much better at this than I am?” He leaned in and you could feel his breathing against your cheek. The closer he got you could almost see your reflection in his deep brown eyes. 

“Hmm, you should probably start with some cheesy pick-up line.” You replied, keeping your tone light, and popping your eye brows up and down. 

Frankie thought for a second, “Oh so I should say something like; you should feel my shirt.”  

You looked at him puzzled for a second, but obliged and reached your hand up to run the material on his arm between your fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin as you did so. The fabric was so tight on his flexing arms you had to do your best to not skip a breath. 

“Know what’s that’s made of?” he asked, slightly giggling to himself.  

You shook your head and pulled your hand back to rest on your lap.  

“Boyfriend material.” He said with a wink.   

Your face went red, and a laugh came tumbling out as you swatted him playfully. He joined in on your laughter and covered his face with his hand.  

“Wow, if that’s you out of practice you must be just swimming in women on a good day.” You jousted back at him.  

Frankie shifted and leaned with his back on the bar. “If my friends ever found out I said that they would never let me live it down.” He smiled at you, one of those big dork smiles that always made you melt.  

“Oh, I will absolutely tell your friends when I meet them.” You grinned at him. 

He nodded back at the bar, “Can I get you a drink?” He asked.  

You were suddenly very aware of what the night was to bring, you weren’t exactly in the bar for a social visit. “No, I’m sorry I’m uh- working tonight so I need to stay sober.”  

“Oh, are you working here? Like your shift hasn’t started yet?” he asked intently.  

You nodded, “Uh yeah something like that. Hey, Frankie I should really get going but can I find you before the end of the night?” You asked as you climbed off the bar stool and nodded at the bartender as he took your glass away.  

He stood up straight, “Yeah that’d be great, I’ll see you later.” He smiled as you retreated through the crowd. He watched as you left, replaying your conversation back in his head as he finally turned his attention to the beers he was supposed to be bringing to his friends.  

Frankie grabbed the four bottles in his hands and held them high enough as he walked through the crowd that he wouldn’t get them spilled by some drunk idiot getting too rowdy. The first band had seemingly ended during your conversation, so the room was now filled with the sound of voices from the customers. He set the beers down on the table when he finally rejoined his friends. Benny had also returned before he did.  

Will reached for his drink, “Geeze took you long enough Fish. Get lost back there?” He asked.  

Frankie took a sip from his beer and leaned with his forearms crossed on the table. “Actually, I was busy talking to a very pretty girl I met at the bar thank you very much. Now drink your piss warm beer.”  

Santiagos interest was suddenly peaked, “A girl? Really? Frankie Morales actually spoke to a living, breathing woman?” His eyes widened with his sarcastic tone. 

Frankie rolled his eyes, “Yeah I did, Pope.” 

Santiago pressed on, “Well, come on now. Tell us all about this totally real girl.” He put quotations around real girl to prove his point that he didn’t entirely believe his friend who has always been the worst at picking up woman. Normally needing to send Will or Santiago in first to act as a wing man. He never used Benny anymore. Benny gave off too much of a golden retriever vibe and women instantly wanted to keep him.  

“If you must know she is beautiful and funny and,” His voice trailed off as his attention was caught by the stage. You were walking out onto it with the rest of the band and situating yourself in front of the microphone in the middle of the stage. “Right there.” he said inquisitively.  

“Hey Houston, are you ready to rock tonight?” You shouted into the microphone and were met with a roar from the crowd.  

“What do you mean right there?” Santiago leaned in; Frankie still unable to take his eyes off you.  

He stuttered, “She’s, right there that’s her on the stage.”  

Benny yelled back at him, raising his voice now that the instruments had started up again. “Who, Karma?” 

“What?” Frankie asked, confused by the name. 

“Karma, the lead singer.” He replied.  

Frankie turned his face back to the group, “Well, that’s not the name she told me.” He scratched his chin as he knew he heard your name right.  

Will spoke up, “That’s probably just a stage name for band.”  

Frankie nodded, realizing he must be right.  

“So, you’re telling me you just picked up the lead singer from the band tonight?” Santiago asked, even more skeptical.  

Frankie hummed to himself, realizing he didn’t actually pick you up. He was so dumbfounded by the conversation that he hadn’t even asked for your number. “We had a great talk and she said she would come find me before the end of the night.” He looked down, slightly dampened by the fact that you may have just been being nice and you might not actually find him.  

The show wore on and he was amazed by your talent and charisma. You enveloped the stage with your big personality and had an amazing voice to boot. The guys all watched on and nodded their heads along with the rock music. Frankie was falling even more for you, watching your body as you danced along to the music in your tight black outfit. He grew a bit of jealously at the men gawking at you on the dance floor but held his head a bit higher knowing he was the one you were flirting with earlier.  

You finally ended the show with a big thank you to the crowd. The guys all clapped their hands and whooped along with the rest of the club. He watched as you collected your things on stage and disappeared behind the curtain. Frankie turned his attention back to the group.  

Santiago said, “Wow, they were really good. Not totally regretting the hearing aides I’m gonna have to get after tonight.”  

Ben patted Frankie on the back, “So you gonna try to find Karma before she leaves?” 

Frankie looked flustered, “I don’t know man did you see her up there? She’s this beautiful, fun, rock star and I’m well. Not that.” He sipped his beer and looked down, unsure of himself.  

The guys all looked to each other with empathy, their friend never had the confidence they had. Santiago conceded in an effort to make Frankie feel better. “Oh, come on man, she’d be lucky to have you. I’m sure she’ll find you before the end of the night.” 

You finished packing up for the night and said goodbye to the band and crew. Except for the guitarist who drove the equipment van and was your ride home. You promised him you wouldn’t be too long, you just had one thing you needed to do before heading out. You were adamant about finding Frankie before the place closed down for the night. You had to move quickly though, as your cool down took longer than you thought it would.  

The crowd was still bustling as you made your way out of the backstage area. Fans cheered for you as you walked by and you smiled at them, trying to scan the crowd for the baseball hat you had seen earlier. Luckily that wasn’t really the look for this kind of crowd so you were hoping he would stick out fairly easily. Just as you were about to give up, you found yourself on the far-left side of the venue and caught sight of a silver chain poking out of the top of a grey T-shirt. You were elated that you had finally found him and pushed yourself through the crowd to tap him on his shoulder. He turned and his eyes went wide at the sight of you standing in front of him.  

“Hey!” He gasped.  

You bit your lip, slightly nervous. “Did you enjoy the show?”  

“Yeah, I did you were awesome!” He said, “I’m so sorry I had no idea who you were when I was talking to you earlier.” 

You smiled back at him “That’s okay, it was a nice talk. I’m glad you didn’t know. Guys tend to act a little differently when they know I’m headlining. They get a bit of a complex about if they can get me home that night.” You answered honestly. 

Frankie nodded; he definitely did not want to be thought of as one of those guys, so he knew he had to play it right. “Well, I really liked talking to you too.”  

Your heart fluttered, he seemed so nice. You didn’t normally have a connection with the guys you met at your shows, but there was something about him that made you want to see him again. “Um, Frankie, I’m glad I caught you and I know I’ve already done this once tonight, but my ride is waiting for me, so I have to get going. Could I give you my number?” 

His mouth gapped, “Yeah, yes that’d be great thanks.” He dug into his pocket to pull his phone out and give it to you.  

You took it from him, after entering your name and number you handed it back to him and motioned you were leaving.  

He nodded goodbye and then thought for a second, “Hey, wait! What do I call you?”  

You winked back at him at him and pointed to his phone before slipping through the crowd. 

Frankie looked down at the contact you had just created on his phone.  

Karma ;)

He looked back up and you were gone, he felt like all the air in his lungs had disappeared in an instant.  

The next morning, you were moving about your kitchen with a spring in your step. You were so used to the punk, tattoo covered guys that frequented your shop and shows, so Frankie seemed like such a breath of fresh air. He was so innocent and spirited. You couldn’t help but check your phone on the kitchen island as you made your brunch. Hoping a text would pop up and you would get to see him again. He didn’t seem the type to take a girl’s number and ghost her, and he definitely didn’t seem like the kind to wait the typical three days before texting a girl to not come off as eager. No, Frankie was different, and you could tell right away. The way his smile was so big when he laughed and he snorted a bit. The way he leaned in to talk to you with so much respect and ensuring not to touch you even once before you’ve shown real interest. The steam coming off the stove top finally snapped you out of your trance. You carefully finished your omelet and settled onto the couch with your coffee to continue your annual binge of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  

Meanwhile, across town, Frankie was doing his own daydreaming about the night before. He sat on the couch with his phone flipping up and down in his hands as he rested his head on the back of the sofa. He let out an agonizing moan as he continued to think about what to do next. He hadn’t felt this lovesick in forever, and you seemed so confident, so he didn’t want to mess it up and scare you off.  

Santiago rounded the couch and sat down on the opposite end. “You gotta calm down man it’s just a text.” He sipped from his coffee and turned on the tv to find a sports channel to play in the background.  

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut, “It’s not just a text, you’ve said it yourself man.” He propped himself up straighter on the couch, “I’m shit at talking to women. I know I’ve only talked to her for like, five minutes but I like her. I don’t wanna screw it up before it even starts.” 

His friend shook his head, “Look man, she could had gone home with probably a dozen guys last night but instead she found you. Asked to give you her number and then went home. She obviously likes you too. Just be yourself and it’ll be fine.” 

Frankies head spun, he knew Santiago must be right, but it was so hard to trust the process. Be myself, he thought to himself. What would Frankie do if he really liked a girl and wanted to see her again. He’d probably call her if he was being honest with himself. However, that seemed so old fashion, and you were a rock star with tattoos and a confidence that would shake the ground. Would you like old fashioned? Or would it be annoying? He figured there was no time like the present to find out.  

He stood up and patted his friend on the shoulder as he made his way to his room for some privacy, closing the door behind him as paced in his room for a minute before finally dialing the phone. He stood with his hand on his hip and bit his lip waiting for the call to connect. 

You had finished your meal and were scrolling on your phone as the show played in the background when it suddenly started ringing. It startled you so much the phone nearly flung out of your hands as you tried to calm yourself. An unknown number, but definitely local based on the area code. You don’t normally answer calls right away, preferring to send it to voicemail and then call the person back if needed, but something about the timing of this call peaked your interest so you decided to answer it on speaker.  

“Hello?” you said, holding the phone just below your mouth with a curious look on your face. 

“Hey, uh- it’s Frankie.”  

Your mouth gapped, you couldn’t believe he was calling you so soon. It made your head spin at his forwardness, but your heart flutter at how old-fashioned he seemed to be. 

“Hey Frankie, what’s up?” You asked. “What’s up” you thought to yourself. What are you seventeen? You rubbed your palm on your forehead. 

“Oh, nothing just at home. I hope I’m not calling too early I’m sure you had a late-night.” 

“No, no it’s fine I’ve been up for an hour now.” 

“Good, good. So, I hope I’m not being to forward but I was uh- wondering if you would be interested in going out sometime?” 

You bit your nail in your nervousness, “Yeah I would love that.” 

“Great, what are you doing tonight?” 

“Nothing, tonight would be perfect actually. This is one of the only Saturdays this month I don’t have a show.” 

“Oh perfect, uh- do you want to go for drinks or dinner or,” 

“Uh- drinks and some appetizers would be good if you want?” You held your breath.  

“Yeah, that sounds great, how about I pick you up at 8?” 

“Okay, I’ll text you my address.” You replied.  

“Sounds good, I’ll see you tonight.” 

You grinned to yourself, “Okay, bye Frankie.” 

“Looking forward to it, bye K-, uh, what do you actually want me to call you?” 

“Oh, yeah you can call me Karma. Kind of a nickname, I think there’s only like, four people that call me by my other name.” You scratched your head, hoping he wouldn’t think your sultry nickname was a red flag.  

“Oh okay, cool. Well than, bye Karma.” 

“Bye.” You said as you clicked the phone off.  

You rocked your head back against the top of the couch and then looked down at the time. You had nothing else planned for the rest of the day other than tidy up the shop and apparently figure out what to wear tonight. He obviously liked your edgy style as he had seen what you were wearing the night before, but a part of you wanted to mix it up a bit and give this old-fashioned guy a treat.  

You got up and immediately ran to your closet, throwing dresses and rompers and shirts all over your room. Trying to find the perfect ensemble to hypnotize your new gentleman friend when your eyes locked onto something in the far back corner of your closet.  

Frankie returned to the living room, grinning at his phone as he sat back down on the couch and looked up at the tv, not saying anything to his friend who was looking at him with squinted eyes.  

“What’s that face all about?” Santiago asked.  

Frankie leaned forward to slide his phone into his back pocket. “Just got off the phone with Karma, we’re going out tonight.” He looked over at his friend with a sly smile on his face.  

Santiago tapped his hand on Frankie’s chest, “Well hot damn, look at you go. Wait did you call her?” he asked, puzzled. 

“Yeah, you told me to be myself and that’s what I wanted to do.” He shrugged.  

“Huh, well more power to you. I like this confident Frankie. Where are you gonna take her?” 

Frankie thought for a second, he would very much like something quiet considering his ears are still ringing from last night, “I think that one pub downtown by the Walgreens is nice and quiet?” He chewed the inside of his cheek as he considered a few other options. Ultimately deciding to just go with that place as it isn’t nearly as busy as some of the other options around town. 

He waited patiently for your address, which you texted to him around dinner time. His face lit up when your name came across the screen with the wink emoji.  

It was 7:55pm when Frankie rolled up outside your house. He looked up at the sign on the front, “Karmas Chaos”. He figured you must run a business out of your house and wondered what it was. He got out and rounded the front of his truck when you opened the front door, and he was suddenly star struck.  

You stood before him with your hair curled in a summer like wave, your white converse on and a beautiful yellow sun dress that showed off your many tattoos. The dress had small straps and a low neckline, it dipped at your waist to accentuate your curves and then flared out to rest at mid-thigh. It had a knot on the back with a cut out just below. It was far more feminine than you were used to, you think you bought it years ago for a cousin’s wedding, but something drew you to it and you thought it would make a good first impression on Frankie.  

He stood there mouth gapped as you walked down the steps, “Hi.” You smiled at him and gave him a little wave. You hiked your shoulder bag higher as it had begun to slip, and you needed something to do with your nervous hands.  

Frankie stalled for a second and finally replied, “Hey, you look great.” He said with a big smile. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscience about the fact that he is wearing an outfit almost identical to the one he wore last night, except now his T-shirt was black with a band logo on it from a concert he can’t even remember. The material long stretched and over washed to point where the logo had begun fading and breaking apart.  

“You do too.” You responded before leaning in for a quick hug.  

He shuffled his feet, “I was thinking we could go to Burt’s, downtown if that’s okay?” 

You beamed up at him, “Yeah that would be great.” You broke your gaze to round his truck, but before you could reach for the handle Frankie appeared beside you and opened the door. You looked startled, but really you were just amazed by his chivalry. You’ve never had anyone open your door before, so you just nodded your thanks and stepped onto the step bar to jump up into the truck. He swiftly closed it behind you and made his way to jump into the driver’s side.  

As he turned the ignition, the radio fired up again and a familiar tune from Motley Crue came through the speakers. “Oh, I love this song.” You remarked.  

He smiled, “Me too, they’re probably my favourite band.”  

You hummed along to the music. He glanced over at you, “Well come on now, don’t keep that beautiful voice to yourself.” He smiled, the curls peaking out from under his seemingly signature hat dancing in the wind.  

You felt yourself blush but obliged, singing along to the music with the windows down, blowing your hair about as the music filled the cab. When the chorus came around Frankie gave his best imitation of the lead singer and you laughed. He chuckled, “Maybe I’ll leave the singing to you.” 

“No, no you’re great. I could listen to you all night.” You winked at him and he grinned, finally taking his attention back to the road. The rest of the commentary for the drive continued to be about music and favourite bands to see in concert, yours being his new favourite of course.  

You thanked the waitress for your seats and settled into a booth along the wall of the restaurant. It was a little more modern than you thought it would be given what you’ve seen from Frankies taste but definitely not a chain restaurant. There were vintage movie posters adorned on the walls giving it a warm look, but it was met with modern furniture and paint to keep it lively. There was a poster hanging in your booth of a movie you guessed must be from the 50s at least and you stared briefly at the faded colour, reminding you of the faded T-shirt currently sitting across from you.  

Frankie looked at you nervously, “So, I saw the sign on your door. Do you run a business out of your house?” 

You nodded confidently, “Yeah I’m a tattoo artist.” He nodded along, listening intently. “I have a shop in my house that is just me. It’s nice because then I get to choose my hours and can line things up really well with my band practice and shows.” 

“Wow, that’s great. You must be pretty busy balancing both those.” He stated.  

“I try to take Sundays and Mondays off and then I never work before 11am so I definitely still get some free time. I was supposed to have an appointment today, but they rescheduled so I got a totally free Saturday for once.” You smiled; very glad you had the extra time to get ready for this date. “What do you do?” you asked as the waitress reappeared with some waters.  

“What can I get you for drinks?” she asked.  

You replied, “I’ll have a whiskey sour, please.” 

She nodded and looked at Frankie. “Just a Corona, thanks.” 

With that she left the table, leaving you and Frankie alone.  

You looked back at Frankie, unsure if you needed to repeat yourself but before you could speak, he replied, “I’m an instructor at the base, I was a pilot in active duty.”  

Hm, your suspicions on the dog tags were correct. “How long have you served for?” You asked, leaning with your forearms against the dark wood table.  

“Since I graduated from high school, I enlisted right away.”  

You popped your eyebrows up, that’s a long time to be in the service. Most guys you have met from the base were a five-year contract and then out.  

“Wow Frankie, that’s really really amazing. I’m not surprised by the way you carry yourself though that you’ve been in that long.” You said, slightly bashful.  

He looked confused, but still flattered, “Why do you say that?” 

“You just, uh- you know you seem really old-fashioned and proper.” You replied sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear, and averting your gaze back to the poster.  

Frankie looked down for a second, “Oh, do you not really like that?”  

“No, no, it’s great.” He perked up at your response. “I actually love it; I’ve never been out with a guy that’s treated me the way you do.” You smiled at him and reached your hand out for him to take. He let out a relived huff and reached his hand up to take yours and give it a slight squeeze.  

“Well, I don’t know hermosa. You just deserve to be treated the best and I’m sorry no guy has ever done that for you.”  

You both beamed at each other, eyes sparkling with desire when the waitress seemingly appeared out of nowhere with your drinks. You quickly broke your hands apart and nodded politely. You wrang your hands together, still feeling the warmth of his much larger hand on yours.  

“Do you know what you’d like for food?” The waitress kindly asked.  

Both of your eyes widened, neither of you had even thought about the food as you were too busy making googly eyes at each other. You looked at each other and gave out a chuckle. “Um, I think we’re gonna need a few more minutes actually.” Frankie nodded along as the waitress left.  

The evening wore on and you shared food and stories. He told you all about his time in the service so far and the friends he’s made along the way. You told him about your business and band and how you’re a really creative person and need all these outlets. You also spoke about your anxiety and how when you’re focused on a tattoo or a song, you get to ease your mind and allow yourself to relax. He commended you and spoke about his time in therapy for some anxiety he had after he was done active duty. None of your exes ever went to therapy or spoke about mental health, so your heart warmed listening to him speak so intentionally.  

Frankie’s truck pulled up and parked out front of your house and you gave a huff of disappointment that the night was coming to an end. You looked at your phone and noticed the time wasn’t too late. You bit your lip and thought to yourself, would it be too much to ask him inside? Would he want to hookup, or would he think that’s all you’re interested in? He looked to you with a sheepish smile on his face, he was clearly disappointed the night was slowly coming to a close as well. You thought it couldn’t do more harm than good if you at least asked him inside for a little bit.  

“Hey Frankie, um- do you? Do you want to come in for a drink?” You asked, trying not to make eye contact so you could hide your reaction should you be met with rejection. 

His face lit up at the suggestion, “Yeah for sure thanks.”  

Your face darted up to meet his and you smiled, getting out of the truck and wandering up the steps to your house. He followed closely behind, placing his hand on the small of your back as you went up the steps, seemingly ready to catch you should you trip.  

You eased the door open and stepped aside to let him in. He passed you with a nod and stood in your living room looking around as you flicked on some lights, kicked off your sneakers and settled your bag on a counter. The room flowed from the living room to a dining table and a kitchen with an island. There were band posters and your own artwork on the walls. The furniture had a 50’s vibe with lots of red and black and white checkers. Your kitchen cabinets were an emerald green with gold accents. He loved how much personality you put into the space and stood staring at one of your drawings of a mermaid covered in tattoos on the wall beside a door.  

You approached him with your arms crossed and looked to the drawing as well. 

“You’re incredible, this is such a cool piece.” He said, smiling at you.  

You nodded back, “Thank you, if you like that you should see the one’s I have in my studio.” You tilted your head to the door beside you and opened it. He followed you in and was greeted by the smell of cleaning products and alcohol wipes. Your studio was small with one tattoo chair in the middle of the room and a workstation along the back wall. The walls were covered in photographs and drawings you’ve done.  

You plopped down on your wheely stool as he lingered around the room, looking at seemingly every piece you’ve posted. “So, mister military.” He looked down at you, resting his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t ask, do you have any tattoos?” 

He looked slightly embarrassed, “No, no I never did. I’ve thought about a few but never pulled the trigger.”  

You nodded, “Well,” You spun in your chair and grabbed your tattoo gun behind you. Spinning back around his eyes went wide, “you want one now?” you giggled to yourself.  

“Uh- hm.” He laughed, looking nervous. “Fuck it yeah let’s do it.” He clapped his hands on his thighs and shook out some nerves with his fingers.  

You beamed at him, extremely excited for the turn the night took. You rolled over to your drawing board, “Okay so what are we thinking? A little cartoon helicopter, a bottle of tequila, a tramp stamp?” He laughed at your line of questioning.  

“Actually uh- there’s this one helicopter I loved flying. The code was UH-1N. I think I’d like that, just something simple.” He kneaded his hands together.  

You started writing, doing a couple different styles of handwriting. You leaned back and showed them to him, and he picked one of the more structured looked fonts. “Alright, get in that chair and I’ll get you prepped.” 

He sheepishly moved over to the chair and rested himself in. “So where do you want it?” you asked as you collected your supplies and prepared the station.  

“Just here below my elbow on the forearm.” He pointed to his right arm.  

 Frankie sat still, watching you work. He could see the wheels turning in your head as you laid down the plastic wrap on the arm rest he would be using, getting the ink ready, sanitizing everything and getting the stencil cut.  

You finally pulled some gloves on and placed the stencil on his arm. “How’s that look?” 

He shifted in the seat to look at his arm, “Yeah that’s great, thanks.” He smiled at you.  

You started buzzing the tattoo gun, “Alright I think we’re good then.” You could feel the heat of his arm through the gloves and your glance waivered slightly to his bicep in his sleeve. Pulled tight from his straining muscle trying to stay still.  

“How much does it hurt?” he asked? 

Your attention went back to him, “Hm? Oh, um, not bad at all. What’s the worst pain you’ve ever had?”  

He took a beat, “Well, I’ve been shot so.” His voice trailed and your eyes went wide. He said he was in active duty for a long time, I guess it makes sense that he was in live fire. However, the thought of him going through something so traumatic made your stomach flip.  

You stuttered, “Yeah, um, that would definitely hurt more than this will, so I think you’ll be fine.” You did your best to put on a confident smile, but really you were now nervous.  

He nodded as you began. His arm didn’t even flinch beneath your hands. You held your head as close to it as you could so you wouldn’t get too distracted by the burning eyes you could feel coming from him.  

Frankie looked at you so intently and he felt a familiar twitch in his pants as he glanced down and caught a glimpse of your cleavage as you were bent over. He tried his best to look around the room, until his mouth gapped at the sight of a photo on the wall which featured a woman topless, holding her breasts showing off a colourful butterfly splayed out on the top of her ribs. The face was cut off, but he instantly recognized the tattoo on the left hand, as it happens to be the one holding onto his arm right now. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling the stretch of his jeans even more now. He couldn’t even feel the needle of the tattoo gun anymore, too busy trying to pry the unholy thoughts from his mind. Everything about you made him burn with desire. He didn’t know where the night would lead, but he was aching to feel your touch more.  

You wiped the last bit of ink off him and smiled at him. “Okay, here you go. Take a look.”  

Bringing his back up from the seat he pulled his arm forward and looked at your work, “That’s great thank you.”  

Nodding, you started cleaning the site and then placed the second skin on it tightly. Pulling off your gloves you grabbed one of your standard info flyers and a small tube of cream. “So, leave that on for a day, take it off in the shower with some soap. It will hurt like a bitch, sorry about that.” He smiled along with you. “No hot tubs or pools and keep this moisturizer on it for a few weeks as it heals. Oh, and no itching. It’s gonna suck but just don’t do it.” You stood from your stool and reached out your hand to help him stand from the awkward seat.  

He grabbed your hand and stood, looking down at you as your faces were so close. “What do I owe you?”  

You flushed, the tone in his voice was suddenly so deep and arousing. You did your best to not show how flustered you were with the sudden change in his demeanor and took a step back. “Oh gosh nothing, I do little tattoos for free like that all the time.” You waved your hands casually. “Plus, I kind of peer pressured you into it so.” You had backed up enough that your ass was now resting against the drawing table with your arms crossed. You hadn’t meant to back up that much, but as you kept stepping, he had followed you. His body still so close, you could see his eyes flick around your face, seemingly taking in every little bit of you.  

He breathed out of his nose deeply, “You wanna go sit down? You look a little lightheaded.” He said as he tucked your hair behind your ear.  

You nodded, looking up to him with sparkling eyes. Full of lust and need. He turned his body so you could pry yourself from the desk that had been digging into you and followed as you headed towards the living room. You positioned yourself on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you as he sat beside and rested his arm on the top of the couch behind you.  

Nervously looking around, trying your best to ignore the ache between your legs as he looked at you with darkened eyes. “Do you need a drink or-?” 

 “You know, I never did ask you why your nickname is Karma?” His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply.  

Chest turning red, pupils dilating. You were so entranced by this man, you answered softly. “I’m just a uh- big believer in karma and I’ve always really seen it around me. You know, people are good to me, and good things happen and then people who have really wronged me, they uh- don’t always have things work out for them. So yeah, just became something I grew a lot of interest in and then others started noticing it with the people I had in life and so the nickname sparked. Almost like I entice karma into people’s lives, who surround me.” 

He peered down at you, usually this explanation makes people nervous. Frankie only seemed challenged, like he wanted to prove something to you. You’re not sure what happened during that tattoo, but something flipped in this seemingly wholesome man which resulted in him growing a hunger towards you.  

“So, you’re saying if I do good things to you, good things will happen to me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. You could hear only his breath and your heartbeat.  

“Yeah, I guess.” You lightly giggled, not breaking eye contact with him.  

His eyes grew even darker, and he leaned in. Your breath was caught in your throat as you felt the intense ache between your legs watching him lean into you. His eyes flicking to your lips, you turned your head slightly and leaned in as well, meeting him in the middle with a soft kiss. He brought his hand to your knee and started drawing circles with it on your soft skin. Your hand rose up to cup his face and the intensity suddenly grew. You didn’t expect this first date to go this way, but now you’ve found yourself straddled on his lap on your couch making out like you may die tomorrow. Pulling each other’s hair, nipping at jaws and necks, the incessant moaning growing between you. You felt like you were drunk, but this intoxication wasn’t from any kind of substance, no this was all Frankie. The way he ran his hands all over your body and pulled you down to grind your hot and wet core through your panties on his hard bulge made your head spin.  

He grabbed the bottom of your dress and looked to you with pleading eyes, “Is this okay?” 

You took a deep breath, “It’s more than okay Frankie, I need you.”  

His face turned to a smirk, and he pulled your dress up and over your head, throwing it aside. You had thankfully chosen to forgo your usual everyday bra that gets washed once a month and went without one altogether. He sat back and basked in your exposed breasts. You shivered as he traced a finger on your butterfly tattoo beneath them. His mouth curled into a devilish grin leaning down and sucking on one of your nipples as he palmed and squeezed the other with his hand. You moaned and began grinding on him harder. He pulled himself off and you reached down to pull his shirt off him. The chain and dog tag laden on his chest made your knees quiver. He was so broad and full, a real man you thought to yourself.  

You rejoined your lips, sucking on each other’s tongues as his hand moved down and swiped around on the front of your panties before dipping a finger in and starting to draw little circles on your clit. You bucked up at the sensation and started to lose your technique with your kissing. Your head fell to his shoulder as his pace picked up and he sat there watching you break resolve and come undone to his touch. You felt the build up and then suddenly the knot in your gut broke and you flowed into your orgasm. Frankie somehow knew exactly when it happened because just as you started, he slipped his fingers further down and slid two of them perfectly in your pussy. You groaned at the relief of being able to squeeze onto something. He pumped you slowly as you came down from your high and peppered kisses along your neck while you slumped over him, regaining your breath and strength.  

He pulled his fingers out of you, and you leaned back, holding onto his broad shoulders for balance. He looked at you intently, and you burned for more. You reached between the two of you and startled pulling apart his belt as he held your waist to keep you balanced. He lifted his hips so you could get up and slide his pants and underwear down to the ground. You saw his length spring free and felt your mouth water, it was so perfect in every way with beads of precum seeping from the tip. You quickly fell to your knees and in one fell swoop took his member completely in your mouth. His head fell back at the sensation as you sucked and bobbed your head up and down. You used your hand to stroke the part of it that couldn’t fit into your mouth even if you tried. You worked him up and down, doing your best to take as much as you could down your throat, he reached down put his hand along your neck, feeling it throb with his cock inside.  

“Oh, baby, you keep doing that I’m not gonna last much longer.” He finally sputtered out, trying to keep himself composed.  

You glanced up and finally popped his soaked cock from between your lips. You hurriedly pulled your panties down your legs and took your previous position on top of him.  

“Do you need a condom? I’m on the pill and I’m clean but if you,” you said, scanning his face.  

He ran his hands down your back, “I’m clean too so as long as you’re comfortable.”  

You nodded quickly, kissing him to assure him of your consent and then raised yourself up. His hand slid between the two of you to guide his cock into your wet entrance. You felt it line up and started to slowly ease down onto it. The stretch both burned and excited you.  

His mouth fell open and his head fell back against the couch, “Fuck – baby you feel so good.” 

You smirked at him and groaned when you finally had sunk entirely onto him. He quickly encapsuled your lips in his and squeezed your ass with his hands. You took that as a hint to start moving, so you slowly rocked up and down, rubbing your clit on his hair above his cock. He steadied you as you quickly lost your resolve again, head spinning and becoming more and more heavy as the feeling in your gut grew again. You suddenly felt it happen again as your orgasm crashes into you, squeezing him so tight he moaned and rested his head against yours as he tried to pump your seized body through the feeling. You slowed and looked deep in his eyes, he was truly so handsome, and sweet and fuck was he good at this. You felt something in your chest, a warm feeling that you hadn’t felt in years. You liked this man so much, holy fuck did you like this man. You wanted to spend all your time with him, you wanted to learn everything about him, and learn each and every part of his body.  

You were snapped out of your lucid trance when you felt him buck into you, chasing his own high. You braced yourself by holding onto his neck as he rocked further into you. He bit his lip and held your hips so tight it might bruise. He came to a slow stop when his orgasm hit and he pushed into you one last time, coating your walls.  

The last thing you were expecting was for his cock to swell so much in it’s release that the sudden change in stretch would barrel you into a third orgasm. You squeezed him tight, and he moaned as your bodies slowly fell into one another and stilled. He breathed deeply into your neck as you ran your hand on his chest.  

Through stuttered breaths he said, “You know, I’m really starting to like this whole karma concept.”  

Snickering you pulled your head up and matched his gaze. He too looked like his brain was spinning, trying to analyze everything that just happened and everything that he felt for you.  

Pulling yourself off him, you quickly found your underwear and retreated to your room, excusing yourself. 

By the time you had cleaned up and thrown on a loose band shirt and sleep shorts, he was dressed again and had taken it upon himself to fill a glass of water for each of you. You liked the way he looked in your kitchen, so domestic and loving. You graciously accepted the water and walked back to the couch with shaky knees, he followed you sitting on the couch and putting his arm around you as you both sipped from your drinks.  

Frankie put his glass on the painted black wood coffee table, “So, rock star, what do you typically do on your nights off to relax?”  

You hummed, “Well, I don’t know if it’s your thing but I’m rewatching one of my favourite shows right now if you’d like to stick around for a while?” 

He smiled back at you, “Oh yeah, what is it?” 

“Buffy the vampire slayer.” You looked to him, worried he may be turned off by your choice in television, you pegged him more for a sports or war show guy.  

Thankfully, he was nothing like you thought he was going to be. “Buffy really? Fuck I love that show, watched it when it came out.” 

“Really?” You gapped, “Well then, we’re definitely watching it. I watch it every year at least once.” You reached for the remote on the coffee table and started queuing it up.  

“What’s your favourite episode?” He asked.  

You looked up, trying to figure out your answer, “Oh man, that’s hard. I really like the majority of the episodes in the first season to be honest. That season is by far my favourite. How bout you, any episode in particular?” 

“Oh yeah that’s easy, season four, episode one. Best episode in the series for me, it’s a classic. Great guest actors.” he says confidently.  

You looked to him, taken aback by the fact that he even knew episode numbers, “Really?” you ask, “Well I guess I know which one we’re gonna watch right now.” You scrolled through the series and selected the episode he requested.  

Both of you fell into each other and snuggled on the couch, watching the show and talking about anything that came to mind. It felt so easy you thought, and maybe that’s okay. Love is supposed to be easy after all. It will take time to accept that, but if Frankie continues to be the man you think he is, you’ll be falling endlessly for him.  

It will be easier than singing on stage, it will make you forget about your troubles more than the sting of a tattoo needle, and soon enough, he’ll make you forget all about karma because he’ll bring nothing but good into your life.  

[alexkaneinq]

Rabbit's Greed

Rating: Explicit

Contents: Wolf/Bunny, shifters, size difference, rimming, anal sex, knotting, multiple orgasms, praise kink, prostate milking. Light belly bulge, cum inflation, scent kink.

Word Count: 7,423

As a rabbit shifter, Boyd has never been taken seriously in the village. Of course he hasn't been. He's small, barely reaching five foot two, thin as a rail everywhere except his strong legs, and barely noticeable around his brother and sister who took after their ox father. He is small, and like all other small shifters, he is overlooked by most. 

And that is perfectly fine by him. No one gives attention to a small bunny darting around large rooms filled with bigger shifters as the evening of revelry starts in the tavern. The Dusty Firefly is a huge tavern, with the first level holding the main bar, the second holding a few private rooms for rent as well as the place where the high-rollers hold their games separate from the common hands of cards and dice that people get up to in the corners of the first level. And the third floor has the rest of the rentable rooms for travelers going through the city. It's a large, lively place where plenty of other creatures come for a night of indulgence, to find companionship, and gamble-- and it's a place where a small, plain rabbit can go unnoticed as he slips through the crowds and slices coin purses from belts. 

He's careful, he's been doing this for six years now, and he only ever takes a few coins from each before dropping the pouch near their feet so that when they stand to leave the table, or bar, they find the rest on the floor. Usually they look startled, sheepish maybe, that something like that could happen, relieved that they didn't end up losing the thing entirely, enough so, that if they do notice a bit of money missing, they think it must have been scattered to the floor, and are mostly grateful that more wasn't lost. Boyd hasn't made a name for himself as a thief because he is a rabbit, he is small, and skittish, and incapable of being a threat-- or even an annoyance-- to most other large shifters from predator to prey. That suits him just fine. No one pays him any attention and they can go on pretending that the money he gets selling baskets at market is what lets him live in his little apartment. 

Tonight, he knows, will be a good one because spring is right around the corner. Deer have grown their antlers, and everyone is awake from their winter slumber if they chose to slip into it, and they are all desperate to find someone to spend time with in the coming weeks to sate their instincts. Which means that the Firefly will be stuffed to the brim with people who are already too distracted to focus on anything other than finding a partner. He ignores his own need as he prepares for the night. He doesn't have a taste for other rabbits, especially doe, given he doesn't want children or anyone else peeking in on the little life he's carved out for himself. He still makes sure that he puts a bit of effort into his appearance for the night, wearing a loose, open top of pale olive green to make the green bursts in his hazel eyes stand out a bit more, and carefully mussing his curls so that they look appealingly tousled instead of wild, and puts on a pair of dark, tighter trousers that he tucks into his boots before tucking his shirt into the pants so that it bunches up artfully. His belt goes around his waist with his own small leather pouch that hooks with another leather buckle to the accessory, and his daggers, with their blades so small that they're barely as long as his pinky, are slipped into little bracers hidden under his sleeves. He forgoes a cloak even though the early spring air is still chilled, and heads off to the Dusty Firefly. 

///

He had been absolutely underestimating how busy it was going to be at the tavern. But in his defense, he really, really didn't know that a new herd of deer would be coming through the town alongside a large pack of wolves. Having so many new faces means he's far less worried about being noticed than he usually is, and as Boyd makes his way through the bar, he manages to take a great deal more coin than he usually manages. By halfway through the evening he thinks he's gotten enough gold to live comfortably in his home for two months. Enough, that it is definitely an unwise risk when he spots one of the wolves stepping in to break up a fight between two stags, both hands away from his sides, his attention clearly away from anything else going on around him, and his purse abandoned at his table with a few of his packmates who are also trying to step in before anyone gets gored. 

Boyd darts around the growing conflict and manages to get to the table. There's enough of a commotion that he just gets his hand in the bag and palms a few of the coins. He's fully intending to move away then, but he realizes, with some shock, that the shape of the coins is different. That the half-full pouch is not filled with the round gold coins with the circle in the center, but hexagonal ones with a square. Platinum. Not gold. It's recklessness that has him reaching again, distraction over the possibility of such a big score that leaves him unaware of his surroundings. And when one of the stags goes crashing through the table, he yelps as he's knocked back. 

His elbow hits the floor hard and the pain sends his instincts screaming to run, but he's not the only one on the floor from the fight getting so out of hand, and he doesn't want to draw any more attention to himself. Especially not when he sees one of his daggers has slipped from its brace and is laying among the shattered remains of the table. 

The two of the wolves alongside Oliver, a fox who works as a bouncer, gets the two stags off the floor and starts to get them out of the building. He's not expecting the third to offer him a hand. 

"Are you alright?" The wolf is easily six feet tall. Moon and stars, he might be seven as Boyd looks up, and up, and up, at him even as he crouches down to help him. He has olive-toned skin with a shock of wavy grayish hair that blends into the fur across his ears that is a mix of blacks and browns. A Gray Wolf then, with dark eyes, a long curved nose, and high cheekbones. Pretty features, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Boyd can see the large dangerous teeth glinting behind his lips. 

"Uh, I'm okay." He doesn't dare reach for his dagger, instead taking the offered hand and holding the platinum clutched in his other tight. His hand is tiny in the other man's, and as he's pulled up, he pretends that the wolf underestimated his strength and stumbles into him. "Oh!" His head barely comes up to the bottom of his sternum, and he very quickly slips the pilfered coins into his own purse before he starts to straighten up. It's not a surprise to feel the hard planes of muscle beneath the other man's shirt, but they are noticeable as he pushes away carefully. "I'm sorry!" 

"It's fine, are you sure you're alright?" 

"Yes, that was just startling!" He says, bringing his voice a little higher and letting his ears droop back to lay against his hair. He looks up at the wolf with wide-eyes, brings his hands in front of himself to fiddle nervously. "T-thank you for your help." Cute bunny things. A nervous prey animal who probably shouldn't be talked to any more out of fear of startling him further. 

But the wolf ignores it as the others start to get their cloaks and pouches out from beneath the rubble. "I'm Nicolas. Let me buy you a drink for the trouble?" 

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary-- it wasn't your fault." 

"Then let me buy you a drink so I have an excuse to keep talking to you?" 

He feels his face heat slightly. Of all of the people to get noticed by. He's about to decline again when he sees one of the others pick up his knife out of the corner of his eye. "Okay," He agrees. 

The wolf, Nicolas, picks up his coin purse and smiles at him, a little crooked, his mouth closed to hide those sharp teeth, and ignores his packmates who are still sorting through the rubble for lost coins. "And who am I drinking with?" 

"...Boyd." He gives over the name reluctantly as they start to move over to the bar. One drink. Then he'll escape before the wolf has a chance to confer with his packmates and notice the missing coins. With how much platinum he's gotten from the wolf, he'll buy a new dagger. 

///

Nicolas buys him a drink, getting an ale for himself, and they find a little corner of the bar to talk in. And they do talk. The wolf seems to want to get to know him, and asks about the village, his interests, his occupation as a weaver, and anything else he can learn. Boyd does his best to give simple, shy answers as he sips at his much smaller cup. A small cup for a small creature, and one that he can tell has been heavily watered down. He could have three of these before he even started to feel flushed. But he's just a little rabbit. Surely the bartender, an owl who Boyd thinks must be filling the vacancy for Tara, is doing right by such a small animal who's been cornered by a predator like Nicolas.  

The wolf, who is personable, and willing enough to give information about his life in turn. Their pack is actually three, soon to be five, consisting of his grandparents, parents, and he and his sister who both are at the age where they're going to be breaking away to find mates of their own . Hence the sudden departure from their normal hunting grounds and traveling from the wild forest and mountains stretching across this part of the country, and to populated cities. They normally don't see the other packs unless it's for a celebration like a wedding or the birth of a new pup. 

"If your grandparents are expecting to see you mated by the end of the season, shouldn't you be looking for a mate, not wasting your time with a rabbit?" He offers sweetly.  

"I don't think this is a waste of my time." He says in immediate response. "I'm enjoying talking to you. I hope that you don't think I'm wasting yours." 

"You aren't," Just making it more uncomfortable the longer he lingers as he notices the weight of his coin purse more and more. "I just don't want to keep you from finding the love of your life. We have a pack here too, I'm sure that there's a wolf among them who could be a good match for you." 

"Who said I was looking for a wolf?" 

His face goes very hot as he fumbles for something to say in response. He's never been interested in other rabbits, the only partners he's ever taken were a sparrow and a gopher, both prey and both near his own size. Predators and prey are already an uncommon coupling, but the sheer size of the wolf-- well, he supposes his parents made that work, but it's nearly as whispered about as a wolf and a rabbit going to bed together would be. "I--" he doesn't know if he's going to decline the thinly veiled offer or not, and he doesn't get the chance to make that decision for himself. 

"Boyd?" His brother's voice and shadow fall over the table suddenly, his tail flicking with his agitation when he sees that he's sharing it with a predator. 

"Hey, Jon." He doesn't usually come to the Dusty Firefly, preferring to stay out by the fields and the bonfires there for his revelry.

"You ready to head home?" Jon says, reaching for his arm. Trying to get him away from this 'dangerous' stranger. "Come on, I'll walk you." 

He bristles and pulls his arm back before those much larger fingers can close around it and take away his choice. "No, I haven't finished my drink, or my conversation, yet. I'm good." He only realizes in hindsight how bad of an idea that was. He was supposed to be looking for a reason to bail. But his brother's condescension immediately made him lose sight of his goals.  

"Boyd--" 

"He said he isn't finished." Nicolas tells him evenly.

"He's my brother--" 

"I don't see why that means you get to ignore what he said." Nicolas turns his attention back to him. "But I have taken up a lot of your evening, and if you'd like to leave, you're welcome to." 

Take the out, take the out, take the out-- "I thought you were interested in taking up all of my night too?" The wolf's ears perk up slightly. As his brother tenses further. He barely glances at him. "See you later." Unlikely. He avoids going to their family farm now that he's got a place of his own. His brother looks like he's going to make a fuss, but Nicolas growls softly, and even as big as his brother is, he's still a prey animal himself. He bristles and pales, and Boyd takes a sip of his watery drink to hide how that sound makes him tremble slightly as well. Jon gives him one last glance before he disappears into the crowd, though Boyd is fairly certain he'll be back with their sister if she's here as well, or someone else he thinks can extract him from this situation. 

Nicolas watches his brother go before turning back to him. "I am going to see if there are still any rooms available. Whether or not you'd like to share it with me will depend on if you're still here when I come back. And if you're not," his voice is gentle, his grip very careful as he takes his hand in his own, "Then I had a nice time anyway." His lips press to the back of his palm lightly and he is struck again by how much smaller he is than the other man. 

"Okay." He sounds a little breathless as he says it, but Nicolas doesn't linger. He smiles at him, and then lets go and slips away from the table. Okay. Get up and go. Leave right now and hope that there are so many people in here that he didn't catch his scent and won't notice when his coin purse is so light.

He stays right where he is, finishing his drink in two gulps. It's so watery it barely burns. Nicolas is a nearly seven foot tall predator, he reminds himself frantically. Not only did he steal from him, but he is a wolf on top of that, and wolves have extra features he should worry about on top of the claws, and strength, and teeth. He should leave right now. Leave, leave, leave. 

When the wolf comes back to the table with a large iron key in hand, his tail wags a bit behind him as his smile returns, slow and smooth, and his eyes linger on his body. He offers his other hand and he needs to leave. He takes it instead. 

///

The walk upstairs is blanked from his mind entirely. There's a constant whine in the back of his head of thin panic because he is a rabbit and this is a wolf and he should not be preparing to sleep with him. But he goes upstairs anyway. Goes into the darkened room of the inn, only big enough to hold a water basin, wardrobe, and bed, the sounds of activity still filtering up from the floors below. He hesitates as the door shuts behind him, but when Nicolas steps into his space, when he catches his chin between his fingers, and his claws just barely touch that thin, soft skin, a shiver goes through him and the other man pauses when he feels him tremble, looking worried. 

He's spent his whole life with other people 'protecting' him from making his own choices. Becoming a thief had been a dangerous one that he ended up taking for himself. This one is a little more dangerous, a little more stupid, but he takes it for himself when he gets up on his tiptoes so that he can get his hands in the loose collar of the other's tunic and pulls as much as he can. Nicolas makes it easier for him, wrapping his other arm around his waist and pulling him up, until his toes aren't even touching the ground, and seals their lips together. 

The dull heat of spring feels like it's gone from inert kindling to a flame spilling out across his entire body as the wolf kisses him. He shifts his grip, moving one arm to around his waist, but the other hand catches one of his thighs and uses that to hoist him higher like he doesn't weigh anything at all. Boyd adjusts his grip too, trying to hold on a little tighter as the press of their lips turns into tongues moving against one another and he feels consumed as it happens. His instincts scream at him to run when his tongue is coaxed behind such big, sharp teeth. Teeth that were made to tear into flesh. He has never enjoyed feeling small or fragile, but this-- this puts a need beneath his skin that he's never felt before. 

He moans as he's easily carried over to the bed, Nicolas sitting on the edge and situating him in his lap. The blush spilling out across his face feels impossibly hot as he's forced to spread his legs so wide around the other's muscled thighs as he's left straddling him. One hand stays on his back to keep him steady, but the other goes to his tail, easily enveloping the entire thing in his palm and squeezing and stroking the soft fur and sending a bolt up his spine that has him gasping. He hears the other's tail swishing against the sheets, 

"Does that feel good, bunny?" So good as he keeps doing it that his cock is stirring already. He nods weakly, leaning back in and being given a kiss immediately, this time the wolf licking behind his teeth as he keeps playing with his tail. He's not thinking as he shifts in the other's lap, trying to push his tail back into those touches, pressing back and bringing his pelvis down harder in his lap as a result and letting him feel the start of the wolf's arousal as well. Just the start of it and he already feels a big that Boyd loses any coherent thought for a moment. Nic hums low in the back of his throat using the grip on his tail as leverage to pull him even closer, until Boyd's rapidly hardening cock is doing so against his stomach, and the predator can grind his up against the swell of his ass. 

"Ah," he gasps, his instincts going haywire as the scent of the other man starts to fill his nose now that they're away from the crowd downstairs. Musky, earthy, and... violent. Something in that smell that reminds him of blood even though there hasn't been any spilled between them. His claws are held carefully, his teeth never even chancing a light nip. But that smell is there as Nic noses down his neck and his tongue laves over his skin. 

"I'm going to eat you up, little bunny." 

That should not make him moan. It really, really, shouldn't. But it does as the wolf lets go of his tail so that he can pull his shirt from his pants. Yeah, okay, this is definitely happening. His hands tremble a little as he starts to pull at Nic's shirt too, tugging open the laces of the vest over his tunic to loosen it, but he can't take it off, not when the other's hands are so insistent as they pull his shirt over his head. He expects his ears to get tangled and pulled on-- it's happened every other time he's gone to bed with someone-- but the other catches the ends of them carefully as he pulls away the shirt. He can't resist keeping hold of one though, holding it between his fingers and stroking along the velvet soft fur along them, and Boyd shivers again at that sensation, at the feeling of the predator's large, dangerous hand against such a delicate part of his anatomy. 

"Do you need me to slow down, Boyd?" Nic murmurs, his other hand resting against his chest once his shirt has been tossed to the floor. His shirt that was covering his bracers. Boyd tries to make his brain work through his lust and quickly wraps his arms around the other man's neck, undoing the buckles as he speaks. 

"I'm not glass. I can handle anything you give me, puppy." It's enormous talk given that he's never had someone like Nicolas before, but it has his eyes darkening and the hand on his ears going to the base where they connect to his skull and giving an enticing, little tug that puts a delicious ache beneath his skin. He nearly forgets what he's doing, but he leans in and noses up under the wolf's chin to where his scent is strongest. To where, he's been told, they bite each other to become mates. It's incredibly reckless when he licks his skin, tasting the faint tang of sweat and that overwhelming woodsy scent on his tongue, before he skims his teeth over his skin. 

Nic goes stiff under him and he thinks he's overstepped hesitating dropping the bracers off the other side of the bed in case he needs the tiny knife-- and then he has a hand around his hip and he's pulling him down against him roughly as his hips grind up so he can feel how hard his cock is now. Boyd moans, fumbling and dropping the bracers anyway, but he forgets to care as he's pulled back into another hard kiss as Nicolas shrugs out of his vest and tunic. 

The muscle he'd felt beneath is curved across his chest and down his arms, the skin puckered and scraped with scars from a life, he assumes, of fighting. No wonder he hadn't blinked as he'd broken up the fight downstairs. He doesn't get a chance to enjoy the view for long because the wolf is catching his hips and pulling him up, closer, so that he can get his hand on his belt and pull that loose as his mouth seals over his neck where he doesn't have a matching scent gland. It doesn't seem to bother the wolf as he presses his teeth to his skin and sharp nips and bites make his skin tingle and him whimper in the other's lap as he's coaxed out of the rest of his clothing. 

When he's naked in the other's lap, his cock is hard and curving up against his stomach, and he's never felt so vulnerable. He doesn't know if he's ever been this hot either as he whimpers and tries to get his hands into the other's pants as well, not wanting to be cowed. His cock is so big, as it presses against him, and his hands feel way too small as he gets them to his belt and button. 

But he doesn't get further than that, because Nic grabs him around his hips and moves him like he weighs nothing. The wind is knocked out of him as his back hits the mattress and then the wolf is blocking out the rest of the world as he braces himself above him. "You smell so good, bunny." The words nearly a purr as they leave him, as he moves down his body, mouth first going to his neck as his hands curl around the soft skin of his inner thighs as he holds them open wider than he even knew he could spread them, just to make room for the other man. "Tell me if you don't like something." The words breathed against his skin as he kisses across his chest, down his flat stomach, along his thighs. 

He whimpers when his mouth goes to his hole, his tongue licking a wide stripe over him. His mouth feels so hot as it touches him there, pleasure surging like lightning beneath his skin and making him cry out as one hand clutches in the sheets and the other tangles in his thick hair. The wolf hums approvingly and licks at him again, getting him drenched in his saliva, as his tongue moves over and around his entrance, flicking and teasing at the ring of muscles until he's moaning and his hips are trying to twitch weakly in his strong grasp to try and get more. Never had someone give him their tongue over their fingers, but as he moves he feels the prickle of his claws against him again and he supposes that he doesn't have much of a choice in it if he doesn't want to tear him open on his cock. 

But Nic doesn't seem to begrudge the task. No, the way he licks at him, the soft growls and chuffs that are breathed against his skin as his tongue prods at his center, testing how relaxed his muscles are, seem pleased. Like he's getting pleasure just from being between his legs. His body opens for the other man and the tip of his long tongue slips inside, and Boyd's hand tightens in his hair as his moans pitch louder. Stars, his tongue is so big. It was already big in his mouth, but inside of his hole, fuck, he thinks he's had cocks that were smaller. His cock is drooling against his stomach steadily and he lets go of the sheets, his need so great that he has to have a touch there to go with the ones that are moving inside of him. Each little lick inside, he pulls out a bit before feeding his tongue deeper on the next. His fist goes around his prick as the other man's tongue goes deep enough to find that sensitive gland inside of him and Boyd cries out, 

"Nic!" His hips trying to jump hard in his grip.

The wolf looks up at him from between his legs and sees him stroking himself and growls against his skin. He thinks, for a moment, that he's going to tell him to stop, but he doesn't. If anything, as he watches him stroking himself, the wolf eats him out more voraciously. Encouraged by the response, he gathers his pre that has dripped all over his stomach and uses that to make his skin slick, before he wraps his fingers back around himself. He strokes himself and in turn, Nicolas laps inside of him. His hand moves a bit faster along his shaft, and his nerves sing as that pressure inside his body is mirrored by the other's tongue. The wolf lets him set the pace, and soon he's stroking himself roughly, the grip on his thighs shifting to his hips, fingers curving around nearly to the small of his back, and holding him up so that he's practically riding the other's face, even while he's still on his back. 

It doesn't take long for him to feel like he's going to shatter apart after that, the sounds of his pleasure so loud in the room that he can't hear the noise from the bar below anymore. His balls draw tight as he strokes himself faster, tighter, and Nic matches that by pushing his tongue in deep and moving it constantly against his prostate until everything snaps in a sharp crescendo of ecstasy that sends his release spilling halfway up his chest and leaves him gasping for breath. Stars dance behind his eyes as his cock pulses with the sensation and his insides clench weakly around his tongue. Nic licks and laps at his skin as he moans and trembles through his orgasm, until he whines weakly, his ears twitching, as it goes from good to too much in a matter of seconds as he starts to come down from the high. 

Then the other man pulls back, giving one last lick to his stretched, dripping hole before murmuring, "Gorgeous, little bun." 

He is too starved of breath to offer anything other than a weak moan, as the other moves up his body again, hands staying beneath him to lift his lower half higher so that his weight is easily held up against the wolves thick thighs as they slip beneath him. His mouth goes to his stomach and he licks up his release with another growl as Boyd feels his cock pressing up against the cleft of his ass. He doesn't try to push inside, but he ruts himself between his skin, and he gets even wetter as he feels the wolf's hot pre mixing with his cooling spit. Boyd moans softly, trying to get his heavy limbs coordinated enough to rock back into the motions, even as his brain starts to try and ring alarm bells as he feels how big the other man is against him. He's never had anything so big inside of him before. He doesn't even know if it's possible for a cock of that size to fit. As Nicolas kisses him, his mouth covered in the taste of him, Boyd decides he doesn't care. He would die to try it. 

"Are you ready, bunny?" 

"Please," he pleads, reaching back to get a hold of the headboard as the wolf's eyes flash with his want. 

"Such a good boy, asking so sweetly." He presses a kiss to his cheek and that, of all things, is what he feels makes his blush go hotter again. As the sweet words also make his spent cock ache sharply with the desire to fill again. Then he pulls back a bit, enough that he can see what he's doing as he gets his hips lifted high, his legs supporting his weight, as he wraps a hand around his own cock. Fuck, fuck, he's even bigger than he'd felt, easily twice as thick as himself, nearly as long as his forearm, his head flushed dark and drooling pre, a pretty winding of veins tangled beneath that velvet skin. Definitely bigger than anything he's had inside of him before, and he wants him so badly now, that he can't possibly tighten with his nerves. The other man reaches off the side of the bed and he hears him rustle through their shed clothing before he comes back with a small bottle of oil that he smears over his length before he brings his head to his hole. 

A soft whimper leaves him as he starts to push inside. The oil, his pre, his spit, all ease the way, but his muscles twitch and flutter as they're made to spread wider than they ever have before. He lets out a soft, scared chitter as he wonders if he really will be torn open around the intrusion. But Nicolas, even though he's already been so patient, even when he must be desperate for his own release, goes slowly. He makes his own soft, comforting chuffs and coos as he strokes his skin carefully with big, dangerous hands that could rend his flesh. He kisses his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. Leans in and licks along his ears. 

Boyd moans loudly as his head fully breeches him, sending a dizzying pressure all along his nerves that is so intoxicating he almost forgets that the wolf is submitting to him as he grooms his ears. He can't keep it together then, his claws scraping across the headboard. His cock is so big inside of him and he forgets how to breathe as it keeps pressing deeper and deeper inside. No, it's not that he forgets, it's that there's no room left inside him for breath. All of the air is pressed out of his lings as he goes deeper and deeper until-- until--

Boyd keens as he sees a bump appear in his stomach. So big that the outline of his cock is visible through his insides. He's pretty sure that his brain melts out of his ears then. All he can do is moan and whimper, voice cracking on a sob as his cock swells again and his pleasure goes so blinding even though the other man hasn't even moved. 

"Nic, Nic, Nic," he babbles, tears slipping over his cheeks. Fuck, he's never cried like this in bed before. 

"What's wrong, bunny? Is it too much? Do you need me to stop?" His voice, even thin with his own pleasure, his lust, seems sincere. Really would stop no matter how much he must want more, to make sure he's not broken. 

"More, more, please, Nic, please!" He begs instead. He needs it. Needs anything to make the blinding fullness change before he shatters. 

And the wolf's restraint is torn away with a snarl. He pulls back halfway before he fucks into him hard. Boyd screams his pleasure as he's made so full again. His cock is so big that there's pressure against every inch of his inner walls, rubbing against his prostate, and going so much deeper inside than anything else has ever reached. Nicolas doesn't need to ask if he likes it, if he wants more, the way he's sobbing and trembling apart beneath him must be clear enough. So he doesn't stop. He pulls back even farther this time, and gives another rough thrust that makes their skin meet in a loud, stinging slap. That spark of pain against the pleasure sends his head into the stars as he feels himself getting even hotter. 

He doesn't slow down after that. He curls his hands tight around him, holding his body at the angle he wants, and fucks him like a toy. They fall into a brutal rhythm that he's certain will leave dark bruises against his soft skin and he wants those. He wants to be alone tomorrow night touching the bruises on his thighs as he fists his hand around his cock and remembers how good it felt to be this full, this used, this small. Stars, he's never been so happy to be small in his life as the wolf envelops him in his bulk as he leans in to close those big teeth around his throat again, licking and biting, just this side of breaking skin, as he as he fucks him so hard and perfect. 

Until he stops fucking in all the way, and Boyd chitters unhappily, wanting his full length inside again. It's not until he feels a bump starting to form, brushing against his stretched hole on each thrust, that he remembers the wolf's knot. Oh, moon and stars, how is he supposed to fit that inside? He doesn't ask to stop though, not when he's so close to his own orgasm. Neither of them are even touching his cock, but it doesn't matter. He's going to come anyway. 

"Bunny--" 

"I can take it," he says, not even knowing if it's a lie. "Please, please, knot me, please, Nic--!"

He snarls, catching his mouth in another rough kiss and then he's slamming that growing intrusion back inside of his body. Boyd's voice breaks; he moans so loudly as he's forced so wide, wider, as his knot finishes swelling inside of him as his insides are suddenly drenched in the wolf's cum. He whimpers as he sees his stomach swell slightly from how much is flooding his insides. And his knot. Fuck, his knot is so big and it's putting a fresh, perfect pressure against his prostate that has his own cock pulsing as his orgasm tears through him for a second time. He barely manages two squirts of cum as he feels the wolf's cock continuing to pulse inside of him and fill him with more. He can't help trembling and moaning, the pressing inside of him making him feel like he's losing his mind as it keeps coming. He can't escape his cock, can't make the pressure against his prostate lessen, and even as Nic pants through his orgasm, leaning in to pepper his face with more kisses, smearing against the tears and sweat that are spilling over his cheeks, he doesn't come down. He can't. His whole body is raw with his pleasure. When the other man stops spilling inside of him, he gives low comforting growls and chuffs as he holds him close and strokes his hair, as Boyd keeps falling apart stretched wide on his knot. 

He doesn't know how long it takes for his knot to start to shrink just the barest bit, but when it does, Nic starts to roll his hips again. He's not fucking him like he did before, but he's grinding and rubbing, and he's already touching every oversensitive part of his body. It's too soon for him to get more than half hard again, but even that has him sobbing harder around the pleasure. He can't. This is too much, he can't possibly feel any better than he already does. The wolf shifts a hand to play with his tail again and Boyd whimpers, mortified, as his cock twitches and starts to dribble out a very thin stream of milky cum. Every little roll of his hips as his sore prostate is abused again, makes a little more come out. The wolf nearly purrs as he makes sure that he's gotten every drop of his pleasure out of him before his knot shrinks away and he's able to pull out. 

Boyd's face is impossibly hot as he puts one big hand against his stomach as he does, pressing on the small bloat that wasn't there before as he pulls out. A humiliated whine slips from his lips as the wolf's cum pours from his body as he presses on his stomach, soaking both of their legs and the bed beneath them in a heady tangle of their scents. 

He's pretty sure he passes out before he's empty. 

///

Boyd wakes up with his mouth thick and stale, his entire lower half aching fiercely, and a bone-deep satisfaction everywhere else. And... curled up securely in Nic's arms. The wolf has wrapped his body around Boyd's much smaller form and appears to be sleeping soundly. Neither of them are crusting in dried cum, so he guesses that the wolf had cleaned them up after he-- he feels his blush go so hot it burns across the back of his neck-- after he'd passed out from how exhausted his body was in the wake of so much pleasure. He isn't being held too tightly, but he still shifts, turning into his full form, and more easily being able to hop out from the embrace as a rabbit. He slinks off of the edge of the bed before he turns back. As euphoric as the night before was, and no matter how sore he is, he needs to leave. 

He moves as quietly as possible, retrieving his bracers and clothes and getting into them as quickly as he can manage. He's gotten his boots in hand and is starting to creep across the floor to the door when he hears the wolf yawn. 

"Don't you want the rest of your payment, little bun?" 

He stiffens, but he isn't doing anything wrong per say. Lots of people sneak out after a one-night stand. "Payment?" 

The wolf hums, stretching out on the bed as he rolls over to look at him. "I had brought that platinum to buy a companion for my upcoming rut." 

Fear pulses through him followed hotly by his indignance. "I'm a thief not a whore. If you want that, you can find it at the brothel." He digs into his pouch, furious with himself for getting caught, for being duped by the pretty smile and charming words. He pulls the platinum pieces he'd taken from his purse and tosses them onto the floor. He drops his boots back to the ground, intent on shoving his feet back into them and making himself scarce just in case the wolf decides to send the guards after him. 

The bed creeks as he gets out of it and he flicks his remaining dagger into his hand, whirling to press it to the wolf's chest as he moves across the small room and into his space. Nicolas regards the small knife without any fear, but keeps his hands raised slightly at his sides. "If I treated you like a whore, then I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention when I invited you into bed last night." He reaches for him, hand cupping the side of his face. Boyd puts the blade to his wrist, but it doesn't deter him. His thumb strokes softly over his cheek. "Keep the platinum if you want it. My only hope is that you enjoyed last night as much as it seemed like you were." 

He hesitates. "Why didn't you call the guards last night? I robbed you." 

"You did. You robbed half a dozen other people too, if my count is right. But you never took more than they could spare. That's about as much honor as I suppose a thief can manage." His lips curl up into that soft smile again. "And why shouldn't you? When none of them will even give you the time of day? Even small creatures can be dangerous when they're overlooked." He shifts his hand, carefully brushing his thumb along the edge of the dagger to feel its sharpness. "I won't call the guards on you, and you never have to see me again, little bunny. But if you want to," he takes a step back, his tail swaying nervously near his ankles. "Then I'll be here for another three days before I find someone else to spend my rut with." 

He hesitates, but after another second, the wolf turns to go back to the bed, giving him a good look at the muscle corded along his back and down to his sculpted ass as his tail swishes. He tries to shake away the little pulse of heat that puts in his veins and slips the knife back into his bracer before he finishes putting on his boots. "Don't hold your breath." He grumbles, the humiliation sitting under his skin as he opens the door. 

"I may." Amusement clear in the other's voice. Boyd huffs and slinks away from the room, heading back home as swiftly as possible in case he changes his mind about calling the guards. 

///

It's not too long before he's in his apartment again, stripping away his clothes so he can go take a proper bath. There are bruises against his thighs and ass, little shadows of them around his hips as well from being held in the position that the wolf wanted. They ache softly when he touches them and that little sting feels good under his skin. He tries not to think about that too hard as he goes and scrubs his skin clean of the wolf's scent. 

When he gets back out of the bathroom, he dresses in soft sleep clothes, more than ready to eat and then return to bed for the rest of the day. But he pauses as he passes his purse that he'd set on his side table. He opens it back up and finds that he had really managed quite a good score the night before. Definitely enough to live off of for a few months. 

The single platinum piece still sitting amongst the gold begs the question of if he'll seek out the wolf again before he leaves. Boyd moves into his kitchen as he refuses to answer until he has some distance from the night before. 

Thanks for reading! If you liked this story and would like to see more of my work consider following! If you have a story you would like to see made real, my DMs are open for commissions!

[multi-fandom-friend]

“Let’s do something fun, yeah?” “Like what?” “Let’s go to a rave” “You’re Joking”

COME GET YOUR FOOD UOU SIMPS. so I got this idea from an artist named @razorsystem on here. They had art of Jason and crew in rave outfits, and being a part of rave culture myself, and the little voice in my brain annoying me until I wrote this, this now exists. Enjoy loves! TW FOR FLASHING LIGHTS AND BRIGHT COLORS ON THE DIVIDER AND FOR THEMES OF DRINKING AND BIG CROWDS

🦇Bruce🦇

🦇 when you first asked him to go? It went a little like this

🦇 “Hey Brucie?” “Jesus, I know that tone. You want something.” “Can we pleaaaase go to a rave?” “Absolutely not” “why?” “I’m too old for that. Drinking? Dancing? Flashing lights? Not my thing.” 🦇 you being you? You convinced him. And he got outfits. Pretty expensive ones too but he’s a hot millionaire what did you expect?

🦇 Once you got there he was a little uncomfortable but once he had a drink and started dancing with you? He was fine. He kept his guard up, of course, but he was fine. 🦇 on your way home he stopped and made you two get pizza and everyone in the pizzeria was looking at you two. A 6 something foot tall scary dad aged man and his partner sticking onto his arm as they giggled together in a bright colored rave outfit

🥀Jason Todd🥀

🥀 when you first asked him he was so confused as to what a rave even was

🥀 “Hey Jaybird?” “Yes, love?” “There’s a rave tonight, wanna go?” “What the hell is a rave?” “What’s a— Jason? How have you never heard of a rave? It’s basically a party with a bunch of bright colors, lots of loud music with even more bass in it, and good vibes. Wanna go?” “Will there be lots of people” “…..yeah?” “I dunno. Maybe.” 🥀 Just like his dad he’s hesitant, but he goes eventually. He probably had more fun than you did if we’re being honest. 🥀 y’all got there and he was having the time of his fucking life. And he didn’t wanna tell you but he loved the outfits you two were wearing, but he hated the thigh high latex boots with a small heel that you made him wear. It’s not that they were “too girly” or anything because he doesn’t think clothes have gender he just didn’t entirely understand how to walk without looking like he had a pole up his ass, so you had to teach him. 🥀 once he got the walking down pat, he could dance with you. He didn’t wanna drink because he still had to keep his guard up and walking in these shoes are hard enough sober just in case. 🥀 he made you two leave a little early but you had fun nonetheless. He ordered takeout and you picked it up on the way home.

💎Dickhead Grayson💎

💎 Immediately said yes.

💎 “Hey bluejay? Wanna go to a rave toni-“ “yes. A thousand times yes.” 💎 and then he showed you a photo of him at a rave when he was younger. 💎 You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your Bluejay in short shorts, a latex shirt and leather harness with platform boots and glitter coating his body was in that photo. 💎 then he got dressed and jesus fuckin Christ he looked awesome. Glittery, but awesome. He helped you get dressed and then sprayed you down with iridescent glitter spray that got in your mouth and everywhere glitter probably shouldn’t be

💎 once you got there, he grabbed drinks for you both and started dancing with you immediately. He had so much fun

💎 he still made you both leave early, just for safety reasons. 💎 he also got pizza with you and you two were standing there like two giddy hyenas. Like seriously. You both couldn’t stop laughing for a good 25 minutes.

🐍 Damian Wayne🐍

🐍 it took so much convincing and so much prodding but you got him to break. 🐍 “But Damieeeee!” “No.” “Come on! I promise you’ll have fun!” “Nope.” “Pleaaaase?” 🐍 you did your pouty face and he broke. 🐍 he got his dad to buy you both outfits and you went

🐍 hated how many people there were. Hated it. So much. But you started dancing with him and he calmed down instantly

🐍 you both left after about an hour and went home, he needed a good pair of very loose sweatpants and a very loose shirt, and a good long cuddle session and he was all better.

A/N hi y’all! If you could follow me or even like this post that would be highly appreciated. Thank you!

[sadhours]

scumbag blues: 2) quick and to the pointless

gator tillman x female oc

previous chapter • masterlist

cw: 18+ minors dni, sex work, oral (m receiving), p in v, phone sex

“Gator, need you to head to the Way’s Inn,” Roy tells his boy, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“The Way’s Inn? Why?” he asks, eyebrows bunched up while he can’t help but picture Daisy’s pretty face and body just at the mention of her surname.

“Looking for a fella named Campbell,” Roy adjusts his hat and looks up to his only son, daring him to come up with an excuse, “Bet if he passed through Dickinson, he helped himself to Ms. Daisy’s hospitality.”

“Campbell who?” Gator frowns, pushing down the jealousy. It’s unfounded, she’s a whore, it’s what she does and Gator’s no better than any of the men who find themselves through them doors at the Inn. Still, feels like he owns her.

“Don’t have a full name,” Roy keeps his expression straight, “All y’need to know is he’s armed and dangerous. Stark County don’t need him here and that’s your job. Find him.”

“Yes sir,” Gator nods and turns to walk out of the room when Roy’s voice stops him.

“Don’t go alone. You’re a weak man when it comes to temptation.”

Gator don’t dignify that with a response, as true as it is.

—

A baby pink bubble of gum expands from Daisy’s lips as she stands at the front desk, flipping through a magazine with her long, bleached blonde hair tied in a braid that falls down the right side of her chest. He takes a deep breath, he’s here on police business. Brought Nugent with him so he doesn’t get distracted and end up $200 poorer. Which is gonna be difficult because it’s the middle of June, it’s starting to get warm and Daisy’s clothes reflect as much. She’s got on a pair of cut off Wranglers, a pair of boots and a delicate pink camisole that barely contains her breasts, nipples hard and poking through the worn cotton fabric.

“Deputy Tillman, Deputy Nugent,” Daisy greets them with a breezy voice once her bubblegum pops. “What brings two handsome men like yourselves here?”

She bats her eyelashes as her eyes bounce between the pair of them. She’s got some bluegrass music playing quietly on a Bluetooth speaker. Her favorite, Gator recognizes and while he’s pretty much forced to listen to country music everywhere he goes, it only sounds pleasant when it’s the background music to the vision that Daisy is. Her makeup is simple, Gator wouldn’t know she’s even wearing any if it weren’t for the mascara smudged under her eye. There’s a subtle sheen of sweat on the high points of her face and Gator first assumes she’s just had a customer, but he notices the bandana on the counter next to bright yellow rubber gloves. He tilts his head to see the round basket full of cleaning supplies on the hardwood next to the front desk and feels pride swelling in his chest. She keeps this place spotless and he thinks that’s a good trait for a woman to have.

“Looking for a fella named Campbell, he here?” Gator asks, hands on his belt as he eyes the short woman.

“Campbell,” she drawls out, like she’s tasting the name. “Hm.”

Daisy reaches for the sign-in register book for guests. Her papa Earl ain’t good with technology so the Inn runs like computers were never invented. Daisy shimmies out from behind the desk, over to the couch in the quaint lobby and slams the leather bound book on the marble coffee table. Gator watches her legs the entire time, flooded with the memory of dragging his hands down them and how tightly they wrap his waist. She sinks down on the couch, her petite body bouncing with it and Gator thinks it’s a lost cause that he left his wallet in the cruiser. He’s itching to get his hands on her and doesn’t believe he has the willpower to leave here without doin’ so. Especially so when Daisy gazes up at him and pats the couch cushion next to her. Gator’s legs move on their own accord, sliding down next to her. The gun strapped to his thigh flush with her bare skin. Gets a little dizzy on the look of it.

“I’m rather good at keeping up with filling this thing out,” she insists and then shakes her head as she exhales a laugh, “But Papa isn’t.”

Gator gazes down at the book as Daisy opens it, Nugent taking a seat on a chair opposite of the couch. He reads the last few entries, lip tweaking up at how girly and pretty Daisy’s handwriting is. But then he’s recognizing the names on the list and his blood boils when he thinks about people he considers friends getting a piece of Daisy. Wills himself not to pay attention to the check in and check out times.

“Campbell… yep! Yesterday mornin’,” Daisy chirps while he points at the name. “What’d he do?”

“That’s confidential,” Gator mumbles, catching the way Daisy rolls her eyes.

“What’d he look like?” Nugent asks and the blonde purses her lips as she thinks.

“Older guy,” she muses, turning her head to look at Gator and he realizes just how close they are. Lips almost touching as she says, “50’s, gray hair, kinda funny lookin’.”

“Funny lookin’ how?” Gator asks back.

“Just funny lookin’,” she grins. “More than most people.”

Gator scrunches his face up in response, just as Daisy’s father walks into the room. Gator is quick to make room between him and Daisy, stands up to shake Earl’s hand and greet him.

“Howdy, boys,” Earl smiles, “Looking for another poor fella?”

“Yep, guy named Campbell,” Nugent speaks now, “Recall him?”

Earl looks deep in thought, when Daisy interrupts, “Ya wanna see the room he stayed in, Gator? Might be some evidence.”

Gator’s throat goes dry, turning his eyes from Earl to his gorgeous daughter, eyes wide and innocent. Fuck her, he thinks to himself but nods, following Daisy up the creaky stairs. Doesn’t avert his eyes from her asscheeks spilling from her ill-fitting shorts. It bounces with the way she takes the steps, and once they’re out of eyesight and in the hallway, Gator’s pressing her against the wall, lips flush on her ear, “Don’t have my wallet.”

“S’fine,” Daisy whispers back, hooking her fingers in Gator’s belt straps and pulling him closer, “This one’s for me.”

Gator smirks, catching her lips in a kiss as he digs his fingers in her hips. Hopes to God he’s the only one she’s offering free services to. Daisy slips him her tongue, tilting her head to the side and Gator graciously accepts it, pants stiffening from a god damn kiss. His dad’s right, he’s weak for Daisy. Can’t resist temptation even if it came along with electric shocks. They stumble into a bedroom, lips locked the whole time. But once the doors closed, Gator’s backs against it and Daisy’s on her knees.

She undoes his thigh strap and sets it on the floor before looking up at him expectantly. He scoffs, though it’s through a smile as he fishes in his pocket for his vape and hands it to her. She places it on the floor next to the strap and nuzzles her face against the erection straining behind his black cargos. Her fingers are nimble as they expertly undo his button and tug his pants down his thighs, eyeing him through his briefs like she’s starving. Licking her lips and bouncing on her knees, hooking her fingers into his underwear and pulling them down, his cock bobbing out. Gator exhales sharply as Daisy’s hands wrap around his base, her mouth makes contact with his shaft. Mouths at him, dragging her tongue along the vein trailing up the side of his cock. Makes his head swim as he watches her with lustful eyes. Daisy licks him like the tastiest ice cream cone, squeezing him at the base. She could be doing porn, has the perfect look for it. With her full tits, bleached hair and huge, wide eyes. Them pouty lips he can’t stop dreaming about, swears to God she’s the prettiest woman in Stark County. Maybe the whole world.

“Ain’t got time for much, Daisy,” he mumbles, “Let’s see how quick you can make me cum.”

Daisy bites her lip as she strokes him in her hand, “Bet I could do it quicker than you think.”

“Thirty seconds,” Gator raises an eyebrow, smirk spreading across his face.

“You’re on,” Daisy giggles before she’s wrapping her lips around the tip of his cock and sucking hard, hollowing her cheeks around him. She literally gets paid to do this, of course she’s a goddamn rockstar when it comes to sucking dick. He’s still mad about it, face scrunching up as pleasure swirls in his stomach. An involuntary moan falls from his lips as she sinks down his cock, swallowing around him— throat muscles contracting as the tip pokes the back of her throat. He feels her smile around him and his hands card into her blonde hair, tugging as he feels her relax around him. She blinks up at him, doesn’t move an inch and Gator scoffs, smiling around it before he thrusts his hips. Fucks her mouth as she’s silently asked for. Sees it in her eyes that she likes being used like this.

Gator grabs a hold of her braid, other hand still gripping the roots on the crown of her head as he drills his cock into her wet, hot mouth. She gags with it, eyes falling shut as drool bubbles at the corners of her lips. With Gator controlling it, he doesn’t think it’s fair. Sure he could cum by fucking her mouth like this but he’s doing all the work, so he lets up. Drags her along his cock slower. So Daisy plays dirty, smoothes her hands up his thigh and cradles his balls, squeezing just slightly enough before rolling them in her palm and Gator’s eyes roll back in his head while his hips snap forward. Daisy swallows around him again, moaning muffled around his aching cock which sends vibrations along it and straight down to his balls. He grunts, grabbing her hair and pulling her up to her feet. He shoves her against the door, pushing her shorts over her ass. Daisy’s keening, wiggling her ass at him in her tiny white g-string. He spanks her hard before tugging the thong down, lining his cock up with her leaking hole and thrusts inside, filling her in one swift movement. Daisy yelps and Gator covers her mouth with his hand as he hammers his cock into her pussy with deep and hard thrusts.

“This pussy is all mine, ain’t it, Daisy?” he growls against her ear, “Only fucker you give it to for free, yeah?”

“Gator,” muffled against his hand, other hand on her hip as he holds her still.

“Desperate for me,” he purrs, bringing himself closer as he says it. Daisy clearly wants him, wants his cock at least.

She’s saying somethings into his palm but he’s on the brink, orgasm threatening to bust into her as his balls tighten. Her cunt clenching around him, sucking in his cock in a way her mouth could never. She’s taken cock in this room hundreds of time, but never this good, never made her legs shake like this. He bites her neck as his orgasm washes over him, seed shooting hot and forceful against her spongy insides. Daisy cries out against his lips, wiggling her ass back against him and milking his cock for all its worth. He grips her hip hard enough to leave little fingertip shaped bruises. Gator pulls out and flips her around, pressing his lips to her in a domineering kiss. She melts into it, grabbing a hold of his forearms as she makes this whiny moans into his mouth.

“Is there actual evidence in here?” Gator asks as he buttons his cargos back up, glancing around the room. Daisy shrugs, pulling her shorts back up and trails around the room and into the en-suite bathroom. Gator reattaches his thigh strap and takes a deep pull from his vape before shoving it in his pocket.

Daisy holds up a condom, tied at the end as she leaves the bathroom. Gator’s filled with rage, disgusted at the thought of bringing it to his father. The both of them looking at the spunk and knowing the only woman Gator’s showed remote interest in was the one to obtain it. But it’s good evidence.

“Fuck,” Gator sighs, rubbing his eyes before he says, “Ya know, I’d kill any man who you’ve fucked but I’d have to clean the entire county.”

“Gator,” she whines, “You ain’t no better than those men. I’m just trying to keep a damn roof over my dads head.”

“I am better than those men,” Gator mumbles, reaching for a box of tissues on the dresser and ripping the paper out of it, holding the box out and Daisy rolls her eyes as she drops the soiled condom into the empty box.

“More attractive, sure,” Daisy replies, “But you treat me exactly as they do. A woman you don’t have to do much work to get naked.”

“For fucks sake,” Gator exhales, “In another life, Daisy, maybe. But my dads the fucking sheriff, a preacher. How do you think he’d look if his only son was courting a goddamn hooker?”

“I get it,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m just saying, you ain’t no better than any of the men that walk into here.”

“Keep telling yourself that, with my cum leaking out of you,” Gator narrows his eyes before he exits the room and jogs down the stairs, nodding to Nugent.

“Alright, Earl, it was good catching up. If you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to call,” Nugent shakes Earl’s hand and follows Gator out of the Inn.

—

Roy looks at Gator with disappointment as he hands him the box, peeking down into it.

“Girlfriend of yours keep evidence like this often?”

“She ain’t my girlfriend,” Gator huffs, turning his eyes towards the ceiling.

“Shame about that Daisy,” Roy tsks, “Damned near prettiest girl in this county.”

Gator doesn’t like hearing his dad’s attracted to Daisy. Knows Daisy would offer him the same services as every other man. Wouldn’t care that he’s Gator’s father.

“Yeah, she’s pretty,” he agrees but quickly moves on, “Who is this fella? What‘d he do?”

“Drugs,” Roy purses his lips, “He offer ‘em to your girl?”

“Didn’t say,” Gator replies, face all scrunched up, “Didn’t know to ask.”

“Ask her,” he adds, “What’d she say?”

“He’s funny lookin’, older.”

“That’s it?” Roy looks at him, unimpressed. “Too busy to do your job?”

“She’s secretive about that stuff,” Gator mumbles.

Roy hums, “All that money you give her… all that time you spend over there… and she can’t help you out.”

“I’ll call her,” Gator sighs as he turns, heads towards the stairs.

“I’m off to see Karen and the twins,” Roy calls after him but Gator doesn’t reply, trudges up to his room with a bitter taste in his mouth. Strips off all his gear before he crawls into his bed and shoots Daisy a text.

Need more

Gator realizes he should’ve clarified when Daisy replies with a rather tasteful, yet salacious photo. It’s her silhouette, clearly nude in her bedroom. The shadow casted displays her pert tits and nipples. Gator feels a stir in his pants and groans, temptation almost too good to let slip. But his dads in his head.

Not that. Campbell.

Jizz not enough?

Describe him.

Gator closes his eyes as he rests his head against his pillows. His phone vibrates repeatedly, he lifts it up and looks at the Caller ID.

Daisy. Simple. Not a photo. He almost doesn’t want to answer it but he does.

“Hello,” he breathes into the receiver.

“I told ya, he was funny lookin’,” Daisy greets him. Gator imagines she’s splayed across her bed, in one of her many lacy nightgowns. It’s nearing midnight. He’s happy she’s not with another man but won’t dare say it. Her voice is honey in his ears. Addictive like every bit of her is. Wants to fall asleep on the phone like they used to when he first started seeing her.

“Yeah, we’re all funny lookin,” Gator replies, smoothing his left hand down his stomach. “Details, Daisy.”

“He was circumcised,” she replies and his blood boils. Has a half mind to hang up on her.

“So is like 90% of the male population in this country. Something I can use, please,” he groans.

“You’re no fun. What do you think he looks like?” Daisy asks with a teasing tilt to her voice. Gator imagines she’s laying on his chest, that the hand on his stomach is her hand and not his own.

“A pill pusher. He offer you anything?”

“Funny you say that!” She giggles, the sound making his stomach tighten. “He did! I said no, obviously.”

“What was it?” Gator mumbles back, hand moving down to his cock because he can’t help himself and Daisy‘s voice is making it fill out. God, if only she weren’t a whore. If only he could court her. There’s a girl at the station who started yesterday. His dad told him to ask her out. Said she’s a good girl. Not like the tramp he wastes his paychecks on.

“I don’t remember,” she sighs, “Probably some good ones. Opiates. You know I don’t do drugs, Gator.”

The way she says his name makes him want to drive to the Inn, tell her she’s the only woman he can think about. Tell her he can save her from whatever the fuck makes her sell her body.

“Funny,” he says instead, “You snorted like half the bag I lifted from evidence the other week.”

“Gator!” she squeals, “You were halfway to the goddamn moon when you showed up here! How the hell else was I supposed to keep up with ya?”

“That was a fun night,” Gator remembers as he squeezes his cock, it’s more than just a chub now, “Had you howling, shocker your daddy didn’t wake up.”

“Ya know, he thinks you're courting me,” Daisy replies, matter-of-factly.

Gator guffaws, “What on earth gave him that impression?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s you showing up twice a week. And you’re the only one he ever sees leaving,” she offers.

Gator has to cool it, he knows. Feels like he’s addicted to Daisy, though. Even now, just on the phone with her and he’s lazily rubbing at his cock. Wonders if she’s touching herself too.

“Where’re your hands?” he asks, quietly.

Daisy giggles, pretty and wonderful and straight to Gator’s raging boner. Squeezes himself as he bites his lip. “Tell me.”

“Should’ve figured,” she hums, “Want me to touch my pussy?”

“Yeah,” Gator breathes out, lamely.

Daisy whines over the phone. Gator imagines she’s smoothing her hands between her thighs. That she’s obeying him. ‘Cause she always does.

“I’m rubbing my pussy, through my underwear. Feels nice,” Daisy purrs, “Are you hard, Gator?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, squeezing himself through his pants. “You wet?”

Daisy moans softly, he pictures her moving her fingers in slow circles against her clit. His cock twitches at the mental image. Has to get himself out of his pants and briefs, squeezes himself at the base. Watches as the tip bubbles out some precum.

“I’m so wet, Gator. Your voice is so sexy,” she tells him and he groans lowly.

“Wish I could see,” he mumbles, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m still rubbing myself through my panties,” she admits, “Is your cock out? In your hand?”

“Yeah… take your panties off for me.”

“Anything you want, daddy,” she breathes and Gator reaches for his bottle of lotion, squirting a bit on his hand and smearing it on his shaft. He lets out a low moan and begins stroking himself slowly.

Gator tells her, “Want you to lick your fingers and then rub your clit. Slow. In circles.”

“Okay,” she replies, he can hear her licking her fingers and then she gasps softly, “Want you to tease yourself, squeeze your cock at the base. Don’t stroke, just hold it.”

“Daisy…” Gator whimpers as he listens, stopping his strokes as he grips himself at the base. “Two fingers, inside. Now. Curl them up and drag ‘em back out.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Daisy moans, all breathy.

“Keep doing that,” Gator breathes out, “Over and over.”

“Okay, daddy,” she purrs and moans some more. “Feels… so good… wish it was your fingers… mine don’t really reach. Need you.”

“I know you can make yourself cum, baby girl,” Gator chuckles, “You got toys. I seen ‘em.”

Daisy giggles again and Gator has to stroke his cock, whines as he does it.

“You bought me my favorite,” she gasps, “But it’s so loud!”

“Fucker was pricey, too,” Gator laughs softly, “Makes you cum in like… seconds though.”

“Mhm… only use it with you,” Daisy confesses and Gator’s heart swells a bit. The wand was a gift. Two hundred dollars. But the way Daisy’s eyes rolled back and she screamed when he used it on her was worth it. Came immediately. Gator was unhealthily obsessed with it for a while. Paid Daisy to send him videos of her using it everyday for two weeks straight. Money well worth spent to him.

“You got them dildos too, I know they can reach better than your fingers,” Gator replies, squeezing the base of his cock, waiting for Daisy to give him permission to do more.

“They’re not as big as you,” she complains, “But want me to use one?”

“I do,” Gator admits, “the biggest one you have. Without lube. Bet you're wet enough.”

He can hear her rustling on the other end, digging in the drawer of sex toys in her nightstand. “Maybe the pink one,” he says, quickly, “‘Member when I had that thing in your ass while I fucked your pussy?”

“Gator…” she moans and he bites his lip hard.

“Daisy, I need to move my hand. Please.”

“Yes, Daddy. Stroke your cock but wait, I wanna put it in at the same time. Okay? On the count of three.”

“On three,” Gator mumbles, skin prickling in goosebumps with anticipation.

“One.. two.. three,” they count together and moan in sync.

“Fuck, okay. Hard and fast, Daisy,” Gator instructs.

“Yes,” she whines and they both turn into a puddle over the phone. Moaning into the receiver as they work themselves closer and closer to orgasm.

Gator strokes his cock, tight and quick. Balls tighten as he brings himself on the brink of orgasm. Second of the day, just for Daisy.

“I’m gonna cum,” he tells her, “Cum with me. Fuck yourself harder. Need you to cum with me.”

“Gonna cum with you, daddy, so close…” she whimpers, “Oh… oh, Gator… yes!”

Daisy gasps and then cries out, just as Gator spills all over his fist and stomach. Moaning guttarly as he does so.

They’re silent for a beat, breathing labored into the phone.

Daisy’s the first to speak after she sighs, “Send me… hm… thirty. Since I enjoyed myself so much. I’ll talk to you later. Goodnight, Gator.”

And then she hangs out, and he’s sitting there looking at the spunk on his stomach, phone still held tightly to his ear.

Gator cleans himself up, sends her the money and grabs a pillow, pulling it to his chest as he closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

A Kindness

CW: Runaway whumpee, referenced hunger/malnourishment

Timeline: After Jameson escaped from Robert but before he found a safehouse

For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 3: A Long Cold Night

-

It’s fucking freezing out here. Jameson thought California wasn’t supposed to get cold like this, but just his goddamn luck, it definitely does. 

He’s curled up against the heavy concrete beneath the overpass, using it to block the worst of the wind. There are a scattering of tents around him, others who have figured out some slim form of shelter. There’s a couple fires going, too, but Jameson doesn’t want anything to do with the people circled around them, sharing stories and in-jokes. They’ve been out here for long enough to know each other. To trust each other, more or less.

Like everywhere else he goes, Jameson doesn’t fit.

He sure as fuck doesn't trust.

When he finds other runaway pets, they think he’s frightening. The twisted scar near his mouth catches the firelight too well. He's too brash, too angry, someone who might be violent.

When he tries to stick around non-pets, they read him like a book and treat him like shit on the bottom of their shoes. Or try to sneak up on him when he sleeps and get a hand down his pants, assuming that he won’t fight back, because everyone knows Box Boys will lie back and take it, right?

Well, Jameson isn’t like other pets.

He isn't just any Box Boy.

Nanda taught him how to survive, no matter what it cost. Nanda taught him-

Goddamn fucking dead Nanda.

If he wasn't so fucking dead none of this would be happening.

Jameson closes his eyes against a hot rush of tears he refuses to allow out, not now. Not when he knows he's being watched, considered for whether he might have a few dollars that could be stolen or if he could be held down and made to accept their touch. He won't be.

The ones who try learn that real fast not to try again, once they have busted lips and black eyes and, in one case, a set of balls so bruised and twisted that the asshole who tried to make Jameson kneel for him is definitely sterile now.

Cold nights make his legs ache, the final loving legacy of the braces he’d worn for too long that never let him stand all the way up. Two goddamn assholes had put those on him, and he'll never be free of the pain. Jameson ignores it, grinds his teeth until his jaw hurts worse than his legs ever could. He can ignore it just fine until the weather gets cold.

Mostly.

There’s a scraping off to his left, footsteps crunching on gravel and shards of broken glass. Jameson’s knife is in his hand as easily as he breathes and he’s already got it brandished when he turns, putting a sneer on his face, leaning into the ugliness of the scar that twists one side of his mouth more than the other. “Listen, motherfucker, try to stick your dick anywhere near me and I’ll fucking cut it off-... shit.”

His voice dies as he takes her in.

She’s small, almost dainty looking. He reads her for what she is in a heartbeat, the grace in every movement carefully trained until it was no longer a conscious choice, the soft skin that had spent a long time moisturized and cared for at odds with the hackjob and clumsy box-dye red she’d done to her hair to try and make herself less recognizable. She’s drowning in a man’s overcoat at least four sizes too big and so long it’s dragging the ground, heavy boots that she has to be wearing at least three pairs of socks to fit into. She’s wearing leather driving gloves too big for her hands. 

Her eyes are wide and frightened.

But she's not frightened of him.

She reads him right back, and they recognize each other before a single real word is said. She manages a slight, trembling smile. Jameson feels the snarl fade off his own face. They might have trained together, not that he remembers much of training.

“... can I sit with you tonight?” She asks, voice low, glancing nervously over her shoulder and then back to him. “Please? You’re, you were one too, right?”

Jameson’s jaw works.

He should tell her to fuck off, this is his spot, leave him alone. That he’s not nice, he’s no one anyone can trust. He’s been owned three times and twice they made him live on his hands and knees, once he starved, once he watched people die over and over again until he sees their faces every time he sleeps. 

He didn't deserve to be the one who lived after it all, but he's the one who would do anything not to die, so here they are. Here they fucking are.

Instead of rejecting her need for even one small kindness, he replies instead, "Yeah, whatever. Go ahead. Don't try to talk to me about it, though."

He closes the knife, letting it slide back into his pocket as she makes her way to him, dropping down to sit beside him, curling her knees to her chest and pulling a hood up over her head. Jameson feels… settled, at the gentle unassuming touch, her weight barely noticeable when she leans slowly until her head rests on his shoulder. She smells kind of gross, but he probably does, too. Who knows when either of them last showered?

“Sorry,” She whispers as she slides her gloved hand into his, twining their fingers together. 

“Uh-... what-... what the fuck are you doing-”

“There’s a guy who won’t stop following me around.” She keeps her voice low, turning and lifting her chin so she’s almost kissing Jameson’s cheek right over his scar as she speaks. “I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you-... just pretend to be, for a while? We’re good at pretending we’re in relationships, you can do it, right? I knew when I saw you that you’d been like me.”

Jameson fights the twist of pain.

Pretending we’re in relationships.

That’s as close as he’s ever going to get, and even that was ripped away from him. Jameson never even got to tell him-

He shuts that thought down.

He doesn’t think about Nanda anymore. He doesn’t think about anyone unless it’s to hate them - that’s easier. 

All he does is nod, giving a smile - fake but to anyone else it looks warmly genuine. He can make any expression an owner wants on command, still - the scars and bald patches where hair used to be, rubbed away by the muzzle day after day, make it a little scarier. But it never looks like a lie. 

“I got you,” He murmurs back, and kisses her forehead like they’ve known each other for forever. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a man lurking, skulking around, one eye on the girl all the time, watching Jameson slide an arm around her waist with barely concealed jealousy. Jameson shoots him a serene smile, pulling the girl tightly against him. 

It’s going to be a long, cold night, and he’s not going to sleep at all.

The girl dozes off almost immediately, finally feeling safe enough to sleep, and that… that helps. A little bit. 

It's a kindness.

-

@finder-of-rings  @endless-whump  @arlin-always-writing  @newandfiguringitout  @doveotions  @pretty-face-breaker  @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow  @boxboysandotherwhump  @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump  @whump-tr0pes  @yet-another-heathen @whumptywhumpdump  @whumpiary  @orchidscript  @outofangband  @eatyourdamnpears  @hackles-up  @grizzlie70  @mylifeisonthebookshelf  @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[spacenintendogs]

modern au ask. What are the gangs personal clothing styles ?

ooooo.... i'm not very fashionable nor am i rlly confident abt my knowledge of styles & stuff so i'm sorry if it's not as creative as it could be :')

hiccup i see a lot of layers, similar to how he dresses in the dreamworks franchise. as he gets older there's more leather since he does a lot of motorcycle riding. flannels, graphic tees, baggier cargo pants & shorts & sneakers are his general go-to. has a nice pair of chucks he brings out once in a while. no piercings but he has a tattoo of toothless' strike class silhouette on one of his shoulder blades.

astrid dresses practically. usually in a pair of jeans or leggings. when she dresses more casually it's basketball shorts with a jersey of some kind. she wears jerseys relatively often too. also shirts she can easily move & breathe in. i think she'd like horizontal stripes for shirts but i might be projecting lol. she's got multiple ear piercings on both ears tho. she also loves her headbands!!! gets a specially made one from tuff & snot with stormfly's spines on it!! steel toed boots.

fishlegs dresses like a hipster. have u seen his moustache in httyd 3?? he's a hipster & he fucking rocks it. also rocks a lot of street styles he's one of the most fashionable of the gang & he is proud of it. he looks great always. gets the tattoos on his arms like he has in httyd 3. he also likes wearing rings!! has a wooden bead bracelet he wears from his older sister. uses stuff like beard oil & is super into skincare. u will catch him with a face mask & cucumbers over his eyes.

snotlout prob goes through the biggest style shift. when he's younger he dresses like the usual high school douchebag, backwards cap & everything. once he's a senior & after he graduates he's more biker style (he does become a biker dude after all). super tight t-shirts that show his boobs lmao. he gets his ears pierced & gets a labret piercing. tattoo sleeve on his right arm of monstrous nightmares entangling around each other. old habits die hard tho so sometimes u catch him with his backwards cap. heeled boots bc he likes to be tall.

ruffnut is so fucking cool u guys. she dresses in a variety of styles, sometimes vastly different day to day but she pulls them all off flawlessly. strong fashion is actually how she & fishlegs bond sometimes (or argue lmao). she's got so many ear piercings & switches out what she has by the day. she does her hair the most elaborately out of the gang, when it's long or short. loves long necklaces & layers them. has her nose pierced too. she has a tattoo of barf going down her calf (tuff has the other half so if they stand next to each other it completes the zippleback!!). her fave pair of shoes tho are her sketchers hiking sandals. let the dogs out!!!

tuff is also so fucking cool, though in a more laid back way compared to ruff. more grungy. ripped jeans from falling off his longboard. old sneakers that have been everywhere. shirts he's had since middle school that may be repurposed to have ripped sleeves or become crop tops. that ugly dress u saw at a thrift store? he's wearing it & fucking looks great. he has his septum pierced and multiple ear piercings (like httyd 3). i also think he'd get snake bites. when he's younger he wears beanies a lot but once he's older he puts his hair up in more elaborate "viking" styles with how he braids. also enjoys tank tops & more frayed looks to shirts in general. has belch tattooed down his calf (ruff has the other half, as stated above).

[blackberrywars]

🔀 Aiden/Lambert :)

Well. This song is basically begging for a blue-collar deep dive into Lambert's generational struggle with alcohol, as well as a sillier nod to the long-and-lean Aiden headcanon. She's a tall boy indeed. I'm also making it 70s americana because I personally deserve to imagine butch4butch laiden where Lambert wears nothing but a dirty boiler suit over a gray wifebeater and no bra, and Aiden is head to toe in disco menswear —burgundy flare pants and vest, with an outlandishly patterned green silk shirt unbuttoned to the navel.

Lambert is a mechanic, and has been since before she dropped out of high school, to the dismay of her chemistry teacher. She'd skipped town at 16 without a word to her or anyone else, taking nothing but her tools and her father's last 12-pack for the road —it was the only thing she couldn't leave behind. Everything and everyone else is gone, along with the hair clippings and bloodstains on the bathroom floor. She spends a few days sleeping in her shitbox rust bucket, making loops around the city before she moves on to the next. And the next. It's a good thing every gas station has a beer cooler, the way she drinks and drives her way to the east coast.

She makes it, though, and by the time some old bastard named Vesemir finally hires her after three shops turn her tits down, it's a habit. Ordering an irish coffee at 9am doesn't make the barista bat an eyelid in her neighborhood, and it tides her over until her break. A can there sits just right beside her coworkers', and really, they drink more than she does. No matter Vesemir's tuts, he never stops them, just scolds them for leaving the pop tabs everywhere. She's collected enough to make a curtain with them, hanging instead of her bedroom door.

It's a few years of this and Lambert is...... content. She's good at her job, and the only bruise on her body is from where she dropped a gasket scraper on her foot. If she drinks too much, then at least she has no one to take it out on, and really, she's just fine, really. Beer mellows her out, stops the lava under her skin, and the only drunken fights she's gotten in were well-deserved, in her opinion. She goes to sailor's bars with Eskel and Geralt, and goes to the dyke ones when she's not with them, but she never plays for keeps.

It's this Lambert that Aiden meets when her adorable yellow vespa calls it quits. Garage Morhen has a good word-of-mouth reputation with queers for never turning down a customer for the amount of glitter they put on their bodies. Rumor has it that the owner still vists the leather daddy clubs every now and again. Some other whispers say his second son's wife and boyfriend get along spectacularly. Even more say that the third son is the meanest dyke around.

So Aiden goes in all her glory, pushing her scooter in her five-inch boots, brown leather stained with grime. Looks up after five minutes to find Lambert leaned against her station, tall boy in hand and a scowl on her face. Her hands are dyed black up to the elbow, showing off her thick forearms, and her nipples poke through her wifebeater. Her eyes are a little yellow as they look up up up at Aiden, telling her it won't be a cheap or quick fix. And Aiden just smiles, because she's sure as hell not opposed to hanging around for a while.

EDIT: For anyone not aquainted with them, @whyzowl and @yolki-palki have drawn some GORGEOUS fem!laiden art, and the outfits described above are basically me using their designs like paper dolls. Art linked here, here, here, and here with my screeching commentary.

[jpnriikicore]

── marlboro nights

paring nishimura riki x fem!reader, word count 647, genre fluff, ( masterlist )

a sigh escapes from your lips leaning back against your chair throwing your head back. you can’t stop think about your stupid best friend, nishimura riki who also goes by ni-ki. you simply had hatered for the boy since he was the source of not letting able to study properly. you truly dread having wake up tomorrow and go to school.

you have completely abandoned your textbooks and notes knowing that you aren’t going to stop thinking about the boy anytime soon. you just have to hope and pray that you don’t miserable fail the test tomorrow.

you remembered a few days ago you and riki was walking from school back to your house. you was doing homework that your teacher assigned writing down answers on the piece of paper. riki placed his hands on your upper arms moving you over to the other side of the street.

to everyone else who saw the sight of you two. they would have known that riki was completely head over the hills for you but you was to obvious to notice that.

the short moment you glanced up at him. you breathe got caught in your throat. he was wearing his school uniform: black jacket with the school logo, white dressed shirt, black tie, black pants, and black boots. his dyed jet black hair that looks almost blue when it shines in the sun that compliments his melanin skin tone with moles decorating his face.

what you didn’t know was riki was in the exact position - well not exact. riki turned over to his side for the fourteen hundredth time that night. instead of trying to get some sleep riki couldn’t help but want to stay up all night and think about you his best friend, y/n.

at first he felt guilty even about thinking about his best friend in such a way but as time went on he became ok with the feelings he was having.

pushing the covers off his body sitting up on the edge of his bed. his eyes darted around his dark dingy room landing on a polaroid of you. he stood up from his bed and walked over to his mirror. gently pulled the polaroid off his mirror looking down at the photo soft smiling at said memory.

you two rode the bike you guys used to ride all the time a few years back to the park a few minutes away to go gaze at the dark sky littered with bright stars and crest moon. you just looked so pretty in that moment your hair blowing through the slight wind and the moonlight illuminating on your skin.

you was wearing most of his clothes: his black leather jacket that was a bit too big for you, his black hoodie that you stole one night, black jeans that are a bit bigger at the bottom, and the converses you wore everywhere. that’s when he sneaked a picture of you.

he opened his bedroom table drawer finding a marlboro pack of cigarettes getting one from the almost empty pack searching for a lighter. he remembered that you always have one on hand. you didn’t smoke or anything like him but always had one for when it came useful. on school grounds he would always go to you knowing that you would have one.

finally finding one not the one he was looking for but it would do. flicking the flame to light the yellow part of his cigarette hanging from his mouth. tossing the lighter around in his hand he noticed on the side the initials n.y in faded black marker was on it.

he remembered when you lost this lighter and he found it but never told you he did as he wanted to keep it as a token of you. n standing for nishimura and y standing for y/n.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2023

[hevanderson]

hi. take some glestern style descriptions. also i must preface by saying this is NOT historically accurate nor is it meant to be. this is based off of vibes alone. thumbs up

quinn: early on, she wears very modest outfits. high collars and skirts that go to the ankles. flat shoes. long sleeves and/or impractical lacy gloves. light colors, particularly blue and white. long hair, either all down or partially up and partially down. cross necklace is always on. classy, expensive looking jewelry, particularly bracelets. later, she wears pants that are clearly second-hand and in relatively poor condition, stolen. big, button up work shirts that are also not in the best shape. the buttons are never fully buttoned. her hair is now short, think her season 3 hair or s2 new york hair. no more cross necklace, and minimal jewelry, if any at all. more durable shoes meant for working. a belt with a holster to carry a gun. carries more practical gloves in the pocket of her pants. darker color schemes with a lot of neutrals. most of her clothes have some visible stress on them

santana: darker colors. a decent mix of tight and loose clothing– usually, her tops are tighter and her bottoms are looser. big fan of shorts and shorter skirts. moveability is a priority for her. likes necklaces, but doesnt own many. the ones she own are from her family and tend to somewhat clash with her outfits but she wears them anyway because she loves her family. ties her hair up when working, high ponytail, no bangs. when shes working with sue's gang, she layers up as best as she can and goes for all loose clothing so its easier to move and sneak around. her hair is tied into a low ponytail to keep it out of her face. at work and in everyday, she wears boots with a mild heel, but when shes on duty for sue she wears discreet flat shoes to avoid making sounds. for the same reason, she also doesnt wear jewelry while working with sue's gang

puck: dark colors. darker blue jeans that have been worn quite a bit. rips in the jeans. black cowboy boots are always on, and are rather simple with no designs in them. shaved head. off duty, he occasionally wears a cowboy hat. he wears button ups that are, of course, never fully (or at all) buttoned. the sleeves to these shirts are often rolled up to his forearms. tattoos on his arm, hand-done of course, random doodles he thinks make him look badass. always has a gun in his belt holster, conveniently placed right in front of his crotch. gross

tina: dark colors strike again, but her outfits have accents of blue. gloves, dyed black leather with the occasional lace. high collared shirts paired with intricate silver necklaces, usually adorned with blue gems. long, ruffled skirts. her outfits between working and day to day dont change much, although she sometimes will wear subtley striped black pants when working. always in heeled boots with looping stitched details in blue thread. her hair is plain back and usually down, but, occasionally when shes working at the saloon, she'll pull it into a low ponytail or braids. wears a black leather crossbody satchel. no guns on her but just in case she does carry around a small knife with a sheath

brittany: finally a break from dark colors. brittany primarily wears whites and lighter colors, particularly blues, pinks, and oranges. a wide collection of white shirts she's customized, either intentionally or unintentionally– grass stains, paint splatters, patterns stitched into her shirts. she keeps it loose. overalls enjoyer, usually wears a blue pair that have doodles and practice stitches all over them. she generally prefers pants and shorts, and usually wears light blue denim. if she does wear a skirt, it is flowy but not long, and must have some form of pattern on it (she likes florals the most). her hair is equally spent down as it is spent up; either, it is everywhere and flowing freely (usually when shes just out and about), but when working on her farm or performing she ties it up into a high ponytail, but leaves her bangs out (think her early s2 bangs). when shes working for sue, she borrows clothes from santana. she also ties her hair into a ponytail and pins it into a large, rather impractical, hat she wears. her gang clothes are dark, both to obscure her identity and to give her more security under darkness

mercedes: glamorous and colorful. the largest parts of her outfits are usually black or dark brown, but anything else is bursting with color. when performing, she wears darker high-low skirts with ruffles in purples, pinks, and reds depending on the costume. more corset-like tops that have ruffles lining the top and spilling over onto the off-the-shoulder sleeves. feathery headbands. gloves that stop at her wrists and are complimented by bejeweled bracelets. tights with some subtle patterns in them in a darker version of what her outfit's accent color is. tall boots that are just a little impractical to walk in. when shes off duty, she still wears skirts, and they range from stopping at her mid-thigh to coming down to her ankles. flat shoes that are comfortable to walk in. she wears the same bracelets, but loses her gloves and headband. her shirts have a similar construction to her performance ones, corest-y and off the shoulder, but when shes just lounging around or creating costumes she wears more relaxed tops– button ups and things like that. no matter what, though, she likes to have a lot of color. her hair, both on and off duty, is most similar to her s1 pilot hairstyle. no weapons, she tries to be a pacifist when she can

sam: light colors, but a bit less soft than brittany's color schemes. cool colors, blues and greens with some greys. his hair is similar to late s2. king of plaid button ups, and he wears them buttoned to the very top bc he takes his job as sheriff seriously. occasionally wears a grey cowboy hat that has his name stitched into the inside of it (courtesy of mercedes). his shirt is always tucked into his blue jeans, which have very faint grass stains and places that look like theyre on the verge of tearing. brown cowboy boots always. if he wants to class his outfit up, and he does abkut 50% of the time, he'll pair his shirt with a brown leather vest and, of course, a bolo tie. he also wears a belt with a medium sized round belt buckle. he has a holster on his belt but rarely has a gun in it because he honestly hates resorting to violence despite his job

[rabbitenn]

Hello, I’d like to request separate HCs for Rikkun and Tenn with an s/o who’s rather mysterious but eccentric, mostly cat-like in nature. She loves and also wears goth/gothic lolita fashion! :D

BE AUTHENTIC.

Under all the dark lace and silent ways, you were loving and often liked to cuddle with him.

ft. Kujo Tenn, Nanase Riku x fem! reader.

cw/genre: fluff.

hello, love ! I’m sorry this took so long… I hope the writing meets your expectations <3 enjoy !

♡ KUJO TENN

— Anyone who knew you would agree that there was more to you than meets the eye.

— Quiet and reserved, but the edge of your smile mirrored the crescent moon rising on starless dusks.

— There was no doubt a cunning soul lay beneath the enigma enshrouding you in shades of mystery.

— And, well, if someone knew about your true nature was your boyfriend.

— Kujo Tenn, the center of TRIGGER is as perceptive as they come; where others might have shied away and assumed you were just naturally withdrawn, he actually made the effort to get to know you, which led to him helplessly falling in love with you.

— The idol wondered at first, who were you really, besides this beautiful person clad in lacy tendrils of night, moving so silently despite your heeled black leather boots.

— And who you were at your core was revealed to him in moments only the two of you were privy to.

— Outside you were pretty quiet, but behind closed doors? You just wanted his cuddles and attention, which, of course, you return.

— With your arms wrapped around your lover’s slim waist, you adore it when his hands comb through your hair, soft headpats making you cuddle further into him.

— You almost reminded Tenn of…

— “Tenn…” You whine when his movements halt, with your face burying further against his stomach. “Don’t stop…”

— …Yes, a cute cat.

— The way you hold him, demanding affection and how you always hugged him when you were relaxing or laying down in bed… To Tenn, you were so precious like this.

— “Tenn!” You call him again, bringing his hand to your head. “Please, I want more headpats…” Comes your pouty request.

— He chuckles, those rosé gaze of him softening, long lashes seemingly dusted in shades of glittery nights fluttering as he regards you.

— “Hmm… Aren’t you needy today?” He teases, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

— Your gaze widens, your breath held as Tenn’s face is inches away from yours.

— Then he leans in, his eyes set on yours, tresses of moondust hair softly tickling your cheek.

— “I think you’re cute.” Your lover whispers, before briefly brushing his lips against yours.

— When he pulls away, you kick your legs happily, as you bury your face into him, cheeks burning.

— Another aspect of you that drew Tenn in was your style.

— The dark shades you don on your clothing, the lace, and silver accessories… They remind him of some of the outfits he sports on stage.

— Tenn also loves the dark ribbons and bows you use on your hair. If you pay close attention, you’ll see his lips curving in soft smiles every time he notices the details you add to your attire.

— He lowkey thinks you could make it in the entertainment industry; your style is gothic with a cute twist. If he didn’t know better, he’d mistake you for an idol or member of a visual kei band.

— Although, in the colder months, some of the dresses you like to wear are definitely not suitable for the unforgiving weather.

— Well, that way he has an excuse to wrap his scarf around your neck, his fingers lingering for a little longer than necessary, brushing against your silver cross shaped dangly earrings.

— And if he’s just finished with a performance, Tenn thinks the coat he was wearing on stage goes perfectly with your fit as he drapes it around your shoulders (he totally steals a kiss from you, pulling you closer by his own coat, now keeping you warm).

♡ NANASE RIKU

— Sunshine and midnight rain.

— That’s what you two resemble at first; you with your dark clothes, shadow and mystery following everywhere you go; him with his big bright eyes, that vibrant hair and his wide smiles.

— But despite your more distant demeanor towards strangers or people that are not your boyfriend, you are super affectionate towards Riku.

— And, naturally, he loves it.

— You’re always holding him in some way: your hand entwined with his, pinkies linked, your head on his shoulder…

— And even though IDOLiSH7’s center was quite shy at first, he just can’t have enough of your affectionate touches.

— Sometimes, you remind him of a cat, with how silently you approach every time you wrap your arms around him from behind; or when you lean against his side on the couch while he reads or watches TRIGGER’s concerts.

— Riku thinks you’re really cool. He’s totally smitten.

— “You know, [Y/n],” he tells you one day, as you curl up beside him in bed while he’s reading. “You remind me of a cat sometimes.”

— You chuckle, sitting up with your legs folded underneath you.

“How so?” You play with the longer strands grazing his cheek, a silky sunset running between your fingers.

— Riku gives you one of his bright smiles.

“Because you’re silent but so affectionate! And you dress in black a lot too, you’re like a black cat!”

— His sincerity is truly endearing, you think, as you lean back against him.

— “You’re too adorable, Rikkun.” You utter, as you kiss his blushing cheek.

— Riku is a fan of your unique outfits too! He loves that at his performances he can spot you instantly, even among hundreds of faces. The dark tulle of your puffed skirts certainly doesn’t go unnoticed, especially not by him, who’s seen you in every single one you own.

— Sometimes you like borrowing Riku’s sweaters, especially when he’s at work. They are soft and smell sweet like him. This way, on nights when you miss him, you can at least slip into dreams where his hugs keep you warm.

— And well, the moment he comes back to the dorms and finds you fast asleep on the couch, your hair half up with bat shaped accessories decorating it, and fishnet tights combined with his red hoodie, your boyfriend’s heart melts.

— He’d love nothing more than to drape himself by your side, holding you close, as the rise and fall of your chest lulls him into sweet dreams with you.

— However, Riku knows he has to be careful and take care of his asthma, he can’t fall asleep wherever.

— So he gently picks you up, carrying you to his bed, where you both snuggle under the warm covers.

— The way you cuddle into him, your soft breaths fanning the side of his neck�� You’re just too cute.

— Riku just feels so lucky, to have such a cool and unique s/o; who not only is smart and permanently surrounded by enigmatic allure, but also loves him unconditionally and never gets tired of letting him know.

[transmasc-wizard]

hi it's me again happy storyteller saturday

in the other ones, how would each of the characters describe their fashion sense?

twoooo weeks late i keep on trucking. i will be adding fashion examples in this because i likey

elisa

elisa wears a lot of cardigans, sweaters, midlength skirts, converse, button downs, headbands, off the shoulder bags, etc and she wears mostly pastel colours. she's pretty put together and also internet-knowledgable so she and i would both use the term "pastel academia" to describe her fashion sense--she knows and enjoys those types of clothing subcultures. (however she does also own one [1] black leather jacket and its sick as fuck.)

hyacinthus

hyacinthus wears a lot of bright colours and patterns that i would describe as, like, casual hyperpop? not the super super detailed layered outfits, but there's still definitely going to be at least 3 popping colours in their outfits and a pattern or two. they would describe their fashion sense as "i dress like someone who likes to have fun :)".

astrophel

i would describe his fashion sense as "casual, dark, and built for fall". he wears a lot of zip-up or button-up outer layers, usually in browns, greys, and greens, and a lot of grey and black shirts. usually he wears baggy pants and black boots. he has limited accessories, except his headphones. he'd describe his fashion sense like: "uh... I dress normal? stuff i like." or something along those lines. (his most distinctive outfit in the story is the bright yellow coraline raincoat he wears when he goes into the forest alone.)

keisha

keisha wears that one specific bomber jacket, like, everywhere (it's a comfort thing). the rest of her fashion sense is a lot of black, white, and red, with star and stripe patterns showing up most. she prefers pants to skirts and likes being comfortable while still distinctly different from her style before she went missing (very, like, instagram-influencer-core). she likes the idea that people can be looking at her because she dresses interesting, not because she's a local legend. i'd describe her fashion sense as just like... "softly emo". she would describe hers very similarly to how Astrophel does, though; she's not really a fashionista either.

[leatherneck-70-blog]

He wakes from his deep sleep. Leatherman Armando lays in his leather sheeted bed so comfortable and black shiny. Totally naked. He feels the smooth leather all over his body. His dick hard all night. He loves the horniness he gets. Having to go take piss He pulls the sheet from himself and reaches for his Black Shiny Leather long cop boots and pulls them on his barefeet one at a time. He gets up off the bed and starts walking down the hall to his bathroom. The precum stains on his leather mattress sheets you can see from himself playing with himself through the night. His boots cluck. He believes anywhere he goes even if it's to the bathroom you must wear something leather. His favorite thing to wear in the morning first piss is his boots. Standing at his toilet his still hard dick let's it's piss out. He let's out a moaning but still leather crackle from his mouth. His dick long and dripping precum as he pisses. He finishes and flushes the toilet. Before he leaves the bathroom he opens up a vaseline can and reaches in and runs it through his hair. Reaching forhis comb on his sink he slicks it back. His now black shiny hair he gets harder and hornier in his dick. Walking back hearing his boots cluck,he grabs his black leather jacket and puts it on. Walking around his apartment he heads to his black leather couch and sits on it. Laying on his back of his couch. He lays his neck on the arm of the couch. Reaching for a pair of long leather elbow length gloves he has on the coffee table in front of him. He puts them on. You can the creaking as the gloves tighten on his hands. Laying there you see his adams apple long and big bobb up and down as his neck lays on the couch arm. He loves neck torture play. He grabs his neck and rubs his adams apple. His dick pulsates and gets harder. Squeezing his neck and feeling the sensation of himself torturing his neck he feels he needs something else. His black leather belt from coming home last night lays on the top part of the couch. He grabs it and places it around his neck. Gripping with both leather hands he pulls tight as he can. He starts to choke and his dark mexican skinned face starts to go red. His tongue popped out of his mouth. He starts cough and choke louder. His chest going up and down. His dick hard and long let out so much precum. He turns around staggering on the couch. His now purple face drooling out Leatherman saliva juice on all over his couch. He starts to fuck his couch from all of the precum. Sliding and and fucking his couch as he coughs and chokes violently. He let's out a loud garrote as he shoots his Leatherman cum all over his couch. Sliding off the couch he lays on the ground as he pulls the belt from around his neck. Coughing and gasping for air. The color comes back into his face but his grayish smoke colored eyes are blood shot still. Leathing against the leather couch he's just fucked. His dick lightly hard still and still wet. He turns and looks at the couch full of his cum. He gets up and sits on the couch and bends forward and goes in and starts to lick up his cum. It's still hot and warm. Itstaste absolutely delicious. Feeling cum slide down in his throat as he swallows it down with that deep gulp in his throat. His Adam's Apple bobbing and he crackling delicious moans come from deep inside him. Licking and cleaning everywhere he drooled and cummed on his couch. Then he pats it on the seat part and says. Well do you do this tomorrow again. Walking away from his couch. The cluck of his boots as he walks away he still has his belt laying on his shoulders and back of his leather jack he lightly squeezes his neck again just to get his tongue to pop out as he walks to go take a shower and get ready for his Leatherman day where he'll be completely Leathered. Pants and all.

[zorilleerrant]

but pursuant to that post about Brucie Wayne being slutty Batman for Halloween. okay. imagine Gothamites voted in some news channel poll or other. and demanded the Waynes dress up as the Batfam. so they're doing it for charity. ok

Bruce: slutty Batman. choker. bat ear headband. eye shadow

Kate: straight up showed up in leather pants and a bustier. they're not even the right color. her necklace is an official Batwoman product but it's also just a bat on a chain. she did a swirl in her eyeliner to mimic a domino mask. at least she's wearing the right wig.

Beth: Harley Quinn, and getting a lot of flack for it. it's not actually Harley's clothes, but Harley did help her pick them out. it's, like, Batfam Harley, tho, not villain Harley (why are people being so mean when she intentionally didn't dress as Red Alice)

Dick: custom tux designed to be Nightwing blue and black. fitted. gorgeous. little gloves with fingerstripes. actually wearing the same eyeshadow as Bruce and they gave each other dirty looks over it

Luke: an old suit he had, covered in LEDs because he finally got a chance to play with making a lightup suit. no it doesn't do anything but it does have a really convincing Batwing profile, especially once you spotlight him and look at his shadow. he has a domino on to complete the look. it also has LEDs

Jason: not wearing a costume. forgot. also showed up in his red hoodie and leather coat so

Tim: regular tux. Hello My Name Is Red Robin sticker

Steph: easter bunny suit she got on sale (can you believe that??) spray painted purple and with a bat stuck on the front in gold glitter. no it is not sealed yes it is falling everywhere

Cass: totally normal ballgown, not custom made (but fitted). originally Halloween themed, so it does have bats on it, as well as spiders and spiderwebs, in tasteful beads and embroidery. there's a silvery spiderweb collar on it that arguably passes for a Batsymbol. masquerade mask with lots of swirls, black arm length gloves, no her shoes don't have heels but you can't see them either

Damian: his actual Robin costume. refused to wear anything less than the best, plus convenient once something goes wrong. keeps getting corrected on details all night

Duke: cheapest grocery store Signal costume he could find, all foam and weird pointy plastic bits. too small of course, so he added in extra fabric. it is silk. it is NOT the same yellow.

Claire: Gotham Girl themed dress that wasn't intended as a costume, it's just a tennis dress that's in the right colors and patterns. also a hoodie that was originally a Batman hoodie and has an iron-on patch on top of the Batman logo. plus these cool boots she found

Helena: thought they were taking this seriously. is alternately laughing and annoyed. actually contacted a semi-professional cosplayer and commissioned a Huntress costume and appeared in multiple process videos, did a whole promotional photoshoot. she has won an award for it

Babs: carboard boxes that look sort of robot-y with a carefully painted Oracle face, part of a series of projects the library did in the lead-up to this charity event, where kids and teens could make their own costumes. and they wanted to make one for Babs

Alfred: the Batmobile. hand stitched. felt