#i need to lie DOWN

[sugarcoated-lame]

But beneath that hardened exterior, you know a truth few others see: he’s sweet—or can be. Less gruff, less heavy, a man who, in another life, might laugh deeply instead of hiding it behind a snort.

His fingers are the second reason you gasp, two of them, swiping across your flesh as he lifts it, playing with it, coating his touch in your two's pleasure, bringing it to his lips as you watch, in awe, captivated.

Then you crash your mouth to his, lips bruising— devouring, feasting.

"Stay," he asks.

Holy shit, this was absolutely DELICIOUS and just beautifully written and I am so unwell I need him 😵‍💫🫠

touch me. move me.

javier peña x f!reader wordcount: 910 warnings: smut. just ridin', after thigh ridin'.

Javier’s mouth lingers against your breastbone, his warm breath unfurling in soft trails along your skin.

Thick beads of sweat slip down your spine, skimming and sliding as his fingers dig further into your hip. It’s almost bruising, biting, likely leaving a pattern as you bear down. Hoping later you’ll be able to run your hands over each mark, even if his grip is nothing but guiding, aiding.

He’s perfect inside of you.

Real; something that's not formed of dreams or fantasies, chest heaving as you sink down, slow, inch by inch, a roll of your hips—dragging your needy, swollen pussy up and down, up and down.

There are still lines of silvery pre-come scratched across his lower stomach, drying in the hair around his naval. It’s there from when you’d stained his jeans, dragged your slickened folds against the rough fabric—him wanting his pleasure drawn out, wanna watch you come first. A glint in his eyes, lips moulding over yours until he’d whispered, no demanded—úsame, hermosa, you can use me.

You did, had done. Riding his thigh, chin lifted, eyes taking in his ceiling and the fan which struggled to disperse the thickening heat. His sofa had groaned when his leg raised, forcing his covered thigh up against you, scratchy, your chest heaving—pleasure desperate, it trying to rip its way through you, clawing. One hand on your waist, ribs expanding as you choke on mews, the other hand on his freed cock, it twitching, not able to take his fucking eyes from you—need to fuck you, Peña.

Now you are. A reward for being good, he’d smirked. His eyes now taking you in atop him, brown depths, holes. Enough to dive into, drown. Ravenous, incensed, it’s all utterly maddening as his thrusts meet yours, his fingers sliding up your neck. They catch, his nails, as your pussy makes vulgar noises around him, it grounding you as his lewd mouth slants over yours. Overcome by it all, every scent, every sound and the pleasure that shouldn’t be there for him, but it is, it is, it is.

You disliked him, or you did half a year ago. It had changed thirteen weeks ago, having found yourself introduced to his bedsheets, to how his bedframe clangs against the wall—plaster crumbling as he hissed in your ear.

The way the two of you have been, you’re surprised it’s not a crater, a cavity signed with your initials and his.

Been thinking about you all day. A shiver sparks down your throat as his voice pulls you back, his teeth grazing against your jaw—eyes finding yours, dark, voracious. You're lightheaded from it, your pussy spasms as a whine forcing its way out.

Too good, you think. Too good at this.

At knowing the spots, the ways he can undo you, turning you into a tangled mess, a puddle, a mess. The room is thick with sin, sweat, all heady—his thumb pressing to your swollen nerves, circling, nodding as you emit a needy cry as if knowing. Taunting. Always cocky, always having a right to be.

But beneath that hardened exterior, you know a truth few others see: he’s sweet—or can be. Less gruff, less heavy, a man who, in another life, might laugh deeply instead of hiding it behind a snort. He licks into your mouth, carrying a faint trace of smoke, a dark, lingering burnt taste. A dusky stain—one you cling to, let the hint of fire and ash burn your lungs.

Your movement flows in reaction, molten, magnetic, sticky fingers pressing to your neck as he leaves your clit. His eyes lock on you, a silent devotion, mouth agape as you take him to the root, fluttering, pressure building.

It builds, feverish—humming in your ears, a rush in your veins.

He’s so deep it’s unforgiving, hitting deep, skin prickling. Close, I’m close. His voice an anchor, eyes meeting his, body rolling with him, fingers tangled in the longer strands close to his neck. I know, let me have it. Hips snapping to his, almost trembling—face buried in his neck as you moan. The pace faster, praise there nestled between hisses, occasionally breaking through, forming words, good girl, like that.

You keen. Aware, distantly, of nails digging into his skin, piercing, leaving half-moons as your skin burns, it all thick around your neck as your lower stomach becomes nothing but molten heat, lungs utterly breathless. His hand, large, all deft fingers, palms at your breast, nipple pinched between thumb and finger, tongue laving at your neck, teeth grazing. It building, and building. It overtaking, mind rendering—

You tighten, clench—hearing nothing but white noise.

Then, it’s blistering heat. Every other sense fading, dissolving—pleasure flooding you. It spurns, rips up from somewhere. All static, a choked wail in your throat as you uncoil and his grip tightens, likely deepening the shade of your skin under the pressure as his cock pushes you through it, chanting his name, Javier, Javier, Javier.

Over-blissed, you feel his release. A pulse, him spilling into you with a grunt that’s bitten back—hissing it through his teeth, tip of his tongue there as his hips shudder, jolt.

You don’t dare move, simply melt into him, muscles yielding as you dissolve together into a seamless tangle of limbs. Skin sweat-slicked, seeing the wrecked look on his face—admiring it.

His gaze drops to where the two of you meet, yours following. Seeing the sight of his and your pleasure on the inside of your thighs, leaking out—staring down as he pulls himself from you with a whimper—seeing how it glistens, shimmers. His fingers are the second reason you gasp, two of them, swiping across your flesh as he lifts it, playing with it, coating his touch in your two’s pleasure, bringing it to his lips as you watch, in awe, captivated.

Then you crash your mouth to his, lips bruising—devouring, feasting.

“Stay,” he asks.

You smile against his mouth.

AN: drabbles may be posted here. but series/one shots will still live over on AO3.

[drunkeddiediaz]

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

The Vampire Lestat returns

[buildoblivion]

i’m sorry boss I can’t come into work tomorrow they’ve identified the body of a doomed polar explorer

[cangse-sanren]

@pamouche how could you

“If someone made a mistake, how many times would you forgive them? What did you do? I trust you. Whenever you want to tell me, we'll talk then.”

JACK & JOKER (2024) | EPISODE 10

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Unlikely but what if in TMAGP at some point they hear the last tape of TMA and specifically Basira’s ‘I’m sorry, and good luck’. I think that would send me to the shadow realm.

[bohemianblasphemy]

billy eats it like a man starved.

he wants it all day in every way.

on your back, from the back, sitting on his face - he doesn’t give a fuck. as long as his face is buried in between your thighs, he is not stopping until you cum hard on his tongue (multiple times may i add).

[mcmuppet]

landoscar hug has derailed my entire work day

[notevenyou]

This angle is so devastating. The way Pete giggles and smiles the whole time. The way you can hear Patrick’s giggle and stutter after Pete calls him love.

[stellarbit]

Keep Going, Excellent Job

576 words. NSFW Saw a post prompt about the bad batch boys involuntarily cumming inside when they hear you say "I love you"

So enjoyyyy

Perched at the edge of Tech’s workbench, you hooked your legs around him as his pace picked up. Feeling him inside you was everything at that moment.

Tech postured over you with hands braced on the table below you. He was committing the sight of you, flushed and writhing beneath him, to memory. Your eyes unfocused and lips hung in a lazy smile. His hand moved to thumb your lip before hooking his thumb behind your teeth.

Beautiful. You were the most intoxicating thing he had ever witnessed. An endless discovery.

Tech nearly came when your legs pulled him close. Your tightening around him made it increasingly hard to not do so. 

But he still had more of you he wanted to see. More he needed to feel. More to explore.

Your fingers desperately gripped at Tech’s back, even with him inside you it wasn’t enough - you wanted more of him. One hand slid behind his neck, forcing his eyes on you.

Tech recognized the glazed over look on you, it thrilled him to guide you through orgasms. He prided himself on moving with you, anticipating your every reaction, and playing you like an instrument. 

The pull of your eyebrows told him you were close. The grip you had on his cock told him it was only moments away.

“I believe it is time, sarad.” Tech said confidently.

In a heartbeat, you took him off guard. A moment of clarity passed over you as you searched his eyes in a way he had not yet observed. 

You melted into him again. “Tech,” You whined around his thumb as your fingers slid into his hair. Tech released you, directing his wet thumb to the sweet spot between your legs.

He knew the moan you were about to breathe.

“You are doing well,” his proud tone made you groan. “Keep going and you will finish.” He pressed his thumb into you and you were finished. “Good job.” He gave you long hard strokes as he watched you fall into ecstasy. 

“Oh, Tech.” Your eyes rolled back, a shudder thundering through you, “I love you. Tech, I-” 

With those three words Tech's pace faltered and he completely lost control. He gasped—not loud, but a sharp intake of breath that was wholly involuntary. He fell onto an elbow, grinding himself deep inside of you, coming undone over and over inside you. 

When he stilled inside you, your eyes found each other. Cock still throbbing Tech blinked down at you.

Tech’s mind reeled from what had just happened. The heavy breathes between you filled the silence and Tech pushed himself back up. His eyes fell away and he moved to pull your legs away.

You’d never said, or in his mind even indicated, that you loved him.

You gave your legs a squeeze, catching his attention again. “Tech?” 

“I understand,” Tech said slowly, finding himself at a rare loss for words. “That in moments of heightened emotion, things can be said-”

“I meant it.” You sternly cut him off, “I love you, Tech.” You were done holding the words back.

Tech visibly stuttered. He knew you and thus knew you had no reason to lie. Fascinating. His eyes widened as he slowly lowered himself back down. 

He gave a slow, mindless thrust. Tech was absolutely entranced. 

He brought his mouth to your ear and said in a low, eager voice. “In that case, I wish to hear you say that again.”

[aflockofravens]

I read something about Suguru's power (attracting curses, ingesting and consuming them; literally making them a part of himself) being the opposite of Satoru's power (repelling things, never allowing anything to touch him) and I've felt sick ever since.

[pharawee]

Earth and Oat for Halloween 2024 💧

Source: cooheart & oattrt @ ig

[ingravinoveritas]

David and Michael at Pub in the Park in Chiswick today!

[greytern]

they insult each other (affectionate) ((sort of))

[tenthousandyearsx]

“I am used to the pain. Similarly, I am familiar with death. Don't you already know this?" He was certain that I knew all about him. However, Yoo Joonghyuk was wrong. I didn't know Yoo Joonghyuk. The Yoo Joonghyuk I knew would never do this.

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint – Chapter 185: Ep. 35 - The 73rd Demon King, IV

[samstatsupremacy]

forgive me if someone else said it already but it's days later and i'm still amused that daniel - who famously called claudia a band-aid for a shitty marriage in season one - finally found out that he too was a band-aid for a shitty marriage and that louis' whim is the reason he almost died but then got a second chance at life

just. so Funny to me.

[threestripeslider]

Tired: Rise!Splinter is a neglectful and awful father who doesn’t care about his kids >:(

Wired: Rise!Splinter’s negligence comes from a place of deep trauma that he’s carried with him his whole life – losing his mother, having been betrayed by the love of is life, being imprisoned and forced to fight for his life, used as an experiment and subsequently being mutated and losing his whole identity as a person – and while it certainly doesn’t excuse his behavior, there is no doubt that this man loves his sons fiercely despite his own shortcomings and perhaps it is exactly that love and care that causes him to keep his children at arms length in hopes to spare them his family’s cursed legacy that grooms them into martyrs and are thus destined to die young, a sacrifice for the greater good that Splinter is never willing to make even if it means forfeiting the world to the Shredder. Splinter’s journey of fatherhood began by being completely unprepared as a fresh young single father of four young children that depend on him to survive and there is no surprise he’s hit almost every bump there possibly is when raising a child but never in his life has Splinter ever blamed or resented his children in any way – he is not perfect and he’s aware and he tries to do better all because he loves his kids this fucking much bc despite all the shit he’s been through, those kids made him realize that he can try again. to dismiss him as an awful father is a gross mischaracterization of a deeply traumatized man of color who evidently tried his fucking hardest not to pass on the hurt onto his own children while grappling with his own demons and the crushing destiny of his family’s blood line that took away his mother.