#literally what the hell was that i had written priest smut for him by that point

[scorndotexe]

quite genuinely i am in awe of smut writers. i tried it once and nearly died of embarrassment and i'm not even particularly shy about sex.

[gerri-godmother]

20 author questions

tagged by the lovely @badcatholichusband

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 11

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 153,683

3. What fandoms do you write for? Succession

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

This is not therapy — Roman chooses to go see Dr. Kellman on his own, which she identifies as one of his “strengths.”

Once upon a poolside — She knows by the knock that it’s him. That, and she was half expecting him to come crawling to her, a glutton for punishment. What she’s not expecting is to see him already punished: the blood on his shirt, the tear in his suit, the bruise already forming around his left eye. Not again, Logan, she thinks, only to remember that they’d entombed him that afternoon. Just another hurt-comfort fix-it fic immediately following S4E9.

Soft like silk — roman/gerri with twice the silk blouses (my magnum opus)

I know a place — season three of succession but it's Shiv who's weird about Gerri

Something unholy —something about “in costume” put the image of Roman in a priest’s collar in my head and I can’t get it out. A silly, sick, sexy, and heartwarming romp. In response to: Roman/Gerri autumn date. Takes place in a simpler time (season 2). I am going straight to hell.

5. Do you respond to comments? Not really but I would like to start because I love comments and am so grateful to everyone who reads my fic!!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angistest ending? Honestly I’m not sure how White Ferrari will end, but I’m thinking it will probably be that one. As for existing fics, probably Once upon a poolside, but it’s not even that angsty. I’m all about hurt/comfort on a micro and macro level.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Soft like silk or maybe This is not therapy.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Only one time and it wasn’t even really hate but someone was like “Gerri’s too mean” and I was just like “uh-huh.” because that’s how I like her.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? I pretty much ONLY write smut lol. The kinky kind??

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Yes I love them. Honestly my Hacks one I think is the craziest. One day I’ll finish that. And my Veep.

11. Gave you ever had a fiction stolen? No! But Soft like silk has inspired some stuff and honestly that counts for like a billion kudos

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no but I would! hmu!!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? oh god this is so hard — I really am just absolutely obsessed with bisexual icon Gerri Kellman and will pair her with anybody (even her husband Baird!) but Shiv/Gerri I think

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Meditations in an emergency. I am going to finish I know a place one day but there’s just a lot of pressure (from myself) to make it good (plus I have to rewatch the end of S3 to put myself back in that place/time.

16. What are your writing strengths? kink/smut, dialogue, accuracy to the source material, character complexity (according to my wife who betas everything)

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Self indulgent background on the Kellman family, commas

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? my French isn’t good enough

19. First Fandom you write for? Sherlock (I used to write Irene Adler/Kate the maid, so that’s telling of a number of things)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ver written? probably This is not therapy because I’m a therapist in real life and it was fun to just disregard literally every single element of what that’s actually like and have fun with the idea of Gerri being Roman’s therapist

tagging anybody who wants to do this including my IRL wife @thegables and romangerri folks like @catherineflowers29

[det-loki]

poison & wine part two

 “I don’t have a choice, but I’d still choose you.”

warnings: angst, cursing, slight smut, talk of death/kidnapping

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 3,213

A/N: feedback is welcomed, enjoy!

1  ⌽   3  4  5  6

  You and Loki arrived at the aunt’s house later that night. You followed Loki through the hall as he spoke to Holly Jones about Alex. You observed her simple home trying to find any lead as she watched Loki look through Alex’s room, taking interest in a toy RV. Walking into her home was like walking into a time capsule, everything seemed old and outdated. So far, you had nothing, not a single thing.

Opening the passenger car door of the old Crown Vic, you huffed as you sat down in the seat, hand coming up to your face trying to wipe away the exhaustion. Beside you, Loki sat still, watching you as your mind run rampant. He wished more than anything that he could take away your grievances. He hated what this town did to you, what this case was doing to you. You deserved better than this. Better than this town and better than him. 

“Let’s go home, get some rest, visit the parents in the morning. We can’t solve a case when both of us can barely stand, let alone think. I have a feeling this case is going to be tough.” You didn’t have the energy to respond, only nodding as Loki put the car in reverse and changing gears into drive, pulling onto the road towards your shared home. His hand found yours, intertwining on top of your thigh, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. You wished this was easy, going to work and being able to leave it at the door. Your life with Loki was complicated, some days you were madly in love, others you were just coworkers. You hoped tonight you were in love, you didn’t think you could keep your head above the rising water of emotions if you weren’t.

The warm water cascaded over your back, unthawing your chilled bones as you heard the shower curtain open. Loki’s calloused hand finding its place on your hip, pulling you against his chest. His head dropped to the crook of your neck, lips moving along your shoulder as his fingers wandered from your hip to the space between your legs, murmuring in your ear, “Hey baby.” The soft circles he made sent pleasure through your body, softly whimpering as you leaned further back into his embrace and melted. You needed this. Needed the feeling of comfort and pleasure even if it was just 5 minutes out of the 24 hours in a day. Loki was more than happy to give it to you without the expectation of receiving it. He knew you needed this, needed to feel the overwhelming feeling of his hands, his scent, him. Tonight you were in love, managing to keep each other from crumbling apart and running down the drain. 

Neither you nor David slept well that night. Beside you, David tossed and turned and you couldn’t get your brain to turn off. Two little girls were out there missing and you were trying to sleep in a warm bed next to someone you loved. It wasn’t fair. You counted the days it had been since it happened. You lost count after 2,500, the years and days blurring together. 

Morning came faster than you liked. The clock read 6:14 A.M., mocking you. You could hear the shower running, you were sure David had been awake much longer than you, he rarely slept through the night. You knew he didn’t need to shower, thoughts of the previous night floated through your head. He was only doing it to wake up and mentally prepare himself for the day. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, standing and making your way to the kitchen. You needed coffee. 

Sitting on the couch in the living room with your mug in hand, fingers gripping the handle much harder than you needed, knuckles flexing white. You watched the news display information about the case of the two missing girls with bleary eyes. You had written the media release last night which was now being played all across the state. David emerged from your shared bedroom, kissing the top of your head as he walked past you. He had on fresh clothes, his blue button-up fastened up to his neck like normal, his dark circles more pronounced, eyes already tired. You, on the other hand, opted for something more comfortable, not having the capacity to care about your appearance as much as you normally would, a basic sweater and slacks, face void of any makeup, only leftover mascara the shower didn’t wash away. This case had your full attention. 

"This morning we'll go by the parents. I can do the talking. You can stay in the car if you need to." David looked at you softly as he sat next to you on the sofa, bringing your sock clad feet to his lap, fingers working the tender muscle. Cases with children were always the worst, tension findings its way into every muscle in your body. Especially with your background. David didn't want to see you spiral, he would do anything to save you even if it meant jeopardizing himself in the process. He had done it before and he would do it again. You were his person, the only one in his life that knew enough to be considered more than acquaintances. You knew his coffee order by heart, how he hated nutmeg, refused to wear gloves even when the weather permitted them. It gave him the excuse to shove his ice-cold hand against your neck just to hear you laugh. You also knew the deep dark depths of what made him who he was. The boys home, the priests, the lack of familial support, the illegal activities he used to take part in. You were literally and figuratively his everything. It was always you and Loki against everything. 

"No, I'm fine. I'll be okay, Loke." Loke. The nickname you gave him at the delicate age of 14 when you met him. It wasn't special by any means, anyone could have come up with it themselves, but when it came out of your mouth, it meant everything to David. 

"Okay, but if you need a break, you have to tell me, baby." Your heart physically aches at Loki's words. He would save you from any cliff even if he was tumbling over with you. 

You look up from your mug at him with a soft smile on your face that didn't quite reach your eyes, "Same goes for you."

Loki pulled up to the Birch's home as you take a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself. Your stomach was clenching in pain, a knot in your throat, choking you. At least it wasn’t raining today.

"Y/N, you can stay in the car if you need to." David was worried about you. He knew you like the back of his hand. Hell, you were literally tattooed on the back of his hand. Your zodiac symbol etching itself on his ring finger knuckle so many years ago, his version of committing himself to you. A month after the funeral.

 "I'm fine, David." He nodded, wanting to believe you as you both exited the car, walking towards the Birch family's front door. Each step taking entirely too much energy. 

After three quick knocks, Franklin Birch pulled open the door, his bloodshot eyes meeting David's then yours. David knew that feeling. Helplessness.

You walked into the home after David. Walking around the corner of the entryway you were met with a sight that tore your heart in two. Nancy Birch sat at the dinner table surrounded by half-eaten Thanksgiving food from the night before, numb. You knew that feeling. Although your little girl didn't go missing. She didn't even have a chance at a decent childhood, let alone a decent life. That was torn away too soon. 

You quietly excused yourself, darting out the door and towards the car, avoiding Loki's concerned gaze. Your hands trembled, you were never able to get rid of the feeling of her body in your arms on that fateful day. You hated the universe, angry at the world for what it had done to you, what it had done to David. You shouldn’t have even gotten out of bed this morning. 

Minutes later, Loki returns to the car with pictures of Joy Birch in hand. "Hey, you okay? You practically ran out of there."

"I just-, I fucking hate cases with kids. I know it's not that case, but that doesn't make it any easier."

It’s not that case. It’s not that case. It’s not that case.

"I know." That's all he could say. He knew. He knew what you were feeling, all too well, the indescribable pain nipping at your heels, slowly making its way up your body and consuming you whole. It was only day two.  

The next stop was Dover's. To say you were dreading it was an understatement. Loki put the car in park and turned to face you, his brows furrowed in concern, regret swimming in his eyes. 

“You ready?” You knew Loki was giving you a way out, he was more than okay with going in alone. 

“Yes, I’m ready.” No, you weren’t. You were going anyway. You had to in order to restore some sort of justice for your little girl.

It’s not that case.

You sat next to Loki, who was next to Grace Dover on the sofa with a blanket sprawling across her lap. You were sure it belonged to Anna judging by the color and the pattern. That poor woman.

“So, did we pass?” It was clear to you from Grace’s voice and the dark circles under her eyes that she hadn’t slept at all. 

You gently nudged Loki, who had been on his phone answering emails, “I’m sorry, what did you say?

Grace croaked, “The poly thing. The lie detector we took this morning, did we pass?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Loki responded before looking back down at his phone and sliding it into his coat pocket, “Yes, we appreciate your cooperation.”

Grace speaks again, “It’s embarrassing, all this-all this fuss. Everyone’s gonna think we’re crazy when those two come out of hiding, wherever they are.”

“Do you have some reason to believe they ran away?” Loki asks. In a perfect world, these girls wouldn’t even be missing, but in an ideal world, they did just run away. The sting in your gut said otherwise.

“No. They’re happy. They must have run away. I think they must have run away. Right?” She wasn’t trying to convince you or Loki, she was trying to convince herself.

Loki tries to show a comforting smile but the words won’t come out, he can only nod. 

Grace changes the subject, trying to smile although the only thing it reached was her mouth, “Um, your police captain told me that you two have solved every case that you’ve ever been assigned. Is that right?” There was never a time Captain O’Malley didn’t brag about the two of you. You just wished he didn’t do it now, not with this case. It gave too much hope to the parents. Too much pressure that you were sure you or Loki would eventually collapse from. Again, neither you nor Loki could find the words. 

Grace begins to get emotional again, hand clutching her mouth, you couldn’t blame her. However, what she spoke next ripped apart your soul that had just begun to get stitched back together by the calloused hands of David, “Do either of you have children, detectives?” You’re back straightened and your mouth fills with the rancid taste of bile. Suddenly you’re nineteen again, in pain and scared, tears streaming down your face, hands raw from scrubbing off the blood that never seemed to go down the drain, bleach stinging your nose. Like so many years ago, David is next to you, except this time he isn’t in a hospital chair with his head in his hands finding out his daughter had been pronounced dead at the age of two. No, this time he was a detective trying to comfort this poor woman about her own daughter. You shoved your trembling hands in your coat pocket, although Loki already took notice. He didn’t even have to look at you to know, you and Loki were connected on a much deeper level. 

It's not that case.

Loki speaking brings you out of your toxic minefield of thoughts, “We’re going to find your daughter, Mrs. Dover.” Pausing, he speaks again, shoving his own emotions down, “We believe that they came back here after they left you at the Birch’s yesterday.”

Keller Dover appears from the hall with bloodshot eyes, “They were looking for Anna’s red whistle.” You shakily stand alongside Loki, your body swaying as he shakes his hand, “Right. I read your statement. I’m Detective Loki, this is Detective Y/L/N. We’re heading up the investigation into your daughter’s investigation. Please, sit down.” 

Keller disregarded Loki, choking out words to the best of his ability, “Uh, uh, m-my son already told you th-that the guy was inside the RV just watchin’ em’, right?” 

You speak up from behind Loki, finally finding your voice, “We haven’t found any physical evidence inside the RV. Or his aunt's house where he lives.”

Keller looks at you as disbelief paints over his features, “Nothing?”

“Alex Jones, unfortunately, has an I.Q. of a ten-year-old. There is no way someone with the I.Q of a ten-year-old could abduct two girls in broad daylight and then somehow make them disappear.” You were able to confirm your suspicions about Alex’s cognitive ability early this morning after a briefing with a forensic psychologist. 

“Uh. well. How can he drive an RV? If he can’t answer a question?” Being honest, it didn’t make much sense to you either, it was a fair question.

Loki speaks up in front of you, “Well, he has a legal Pennsylvania license.”

Keller pushed, “And he ran, right? They said he tried to run away. Why would he do that? Why would he run?”

Loki speaks before you, “We’ve just spent ten hours questioning this boy. Okay? I hear what you're saying.” 

Keller speaks in disbelief again, this was overwhelming, “Uh, did- did you give him a lie detector? You gave us a lie detector. Did you give him one?”

“Sir, I understand what you’re asking me, yes we did. We gave him a lie detector and there's no way of-” Loki cuts short, stifling a laugh and scoffing. Not at Mr. Dover or the case, but at the number of unanswered questions we had, “A lie detector doesn’t work if you don’t understand the questions.”

Mr. Dover’s face changes, angry, “Well, maybe he wasn’t on his own. How could he drive an RV with the IQ of a ten-year-old?”

You speak with a softer tone attempting to de-escalate the situation, “Hey, we’re considering all possibilities.” You were, everything mattered. Everything.

Keller shakes his head, “I don’t think you are considering all possibilities.”

Using a sharper tone, you tell Mr. Dover as he interrupts you, “I-I hear what you're saying. Sir- Sir-”

“You listen to me! Just shut the fuck up for a fucking second!” Keller booms as his wife flinched on the couch beside his standing form. You take a step back as Loki positions himself in front of you, throwing his hands in front of him in a calming gesture, Loki speaking, “This is what I’m gonna need you to do for me. I need you to calm down.” You hated yelling, you despised it. Although you understood Keller and had no animosity for him, he was living in hell and you had no room to judge. You had been there. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please listen to me for a second.” Keller was pleading and he didn’t need to. You would sit with and listen for hours if you could. But you couldn’t, you had to find his daughter. You had to fix this. 

“Mr. Dover, I understand this is an incredibly hard time.” Loki did know that, better than anyone. “But I have every uniformed police officer in this state looking for Anna.”

From behind Loki, you can see Keller’s face break, “I don’t understand what any of this means. They said he ran. They said he tried to get away. I don’t understand why he would try to run away.”

“We’re considering all possibilities, Mr. Dover. I hear what you’re saying. We’re not crossing anybody off our list. Just, let us do our job.” 

Walking out of the Dover’s felt like you were trudging through molasses, you hated this case and it was only day two. You sat in the passenger seat as David put the keys in the ignition, Keller Dover running out of the house made him pause.

“Hey! Detectives!” 

Both you and David mutter “oh shit” under your breath as Loki rolls the window down to speak to Mr. Dover.

Keller approaches, eyes darting between you and Loki wildly, “Hey! He stays in custody until my daughter is found, right? Right?” 

Loki shakes his head, not wanting to upset Keller any more than he was already, “We have a 48-hour hold on him that ends tomorrow unless we bring charges.”

“Well, charge him with something. Charge him.” It wasn’t that easy, you wished it was.

Loki protests, “Mr. Dover, I understand-”

Keller interrupts, “Detective, detectives, two little girls have gotta be worth whatever little rule you have to break to keep that asshole in custody. Now, I know you can’t promise me anything, I understand that, but I’m asking you to be sure. Be 100% sure. Thank you. I appreciate it.” and with that, he walked away back into the house.

Loki sat idle as you turned to him, “We have to at least try. If we- I would have wanted to someone to at least try when-”

Loki snaps at you, stopping you, “No. No, this isn’t that case and you can’t think that. We will do our best, but I can’t have you going down that road.”

“I know it isn’t that case, David. But we can’t pretend that it isn’t similar. Ours was attempted kidnapping, she-” You’re chest stung as you tried to get out the words, lungs on fire and brain pounding. You were too close.

“Y/N, saving these little girls won’t bring ours back.” Loki's voice cracked on emotion. You knew that. God, you knew that. A freak incident, a failed abduction. The smell of antiseptic burning your nose, David’s hand clutched tightly in yours as the doctor left the room after telling you your little girl didn’t make it. A suspect was never found. You had only gone inside for a second. 

Neither you nor David spoke for the entire ride back to the station. There wasn’t anything to say, it all had been said before in the late hours of the night, everytime one of you woke up with a nightmare, whispering words to each other, too afraid to say them too loud, staring at the ceiling. You were living in a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

taglist: @lexie-wayland @whew-oh-em-gee @winterlavenderskysworld @buck-this-nasty​ @heeyirenee 

[redhoodieone]

I Want to Suck Your “C”

A/N: Hiiii everyone! I haven’t written smut in so long, so I thought…what the hell? Write something dirty for the hell of it! So, here it is! Hope you enjoy it! P.S…if this becomes a big hit…I’ll write a Part 2 where Jason Todd returns the favor for the reader and eats her…you know…hahahha!!!!

Warnings: Smut…language…just filthy stuff.

Plot: Reader wants to suck Jason’s cock so bad. He doesn’t mind one bit. Once they’re alone in church, she shows him how much she needs him. Two horny teenagers in Catholic school give into temptation and they soon learn being bad is so good.

  I Want to Suck Your “C”

I know I shouldn’t be proud. This revelation should be a wakeup call to get help, or go all our church services to beg for mercy and forgiveness.

Because what would my parents say if they found out I was secretly a cock slut? What if they think if I just came right out and said I’m a cum slut...

For Jason fucking Todd.

Here I am, an eighteen-year-old who is about to graduate from St. Mary’s Catholic School, sitting in the church with my other classmates and listening to Father Peter telling us stories about...wait for it...

Temptation.

I silently whimper, wiggling my ass in my seat to properly pull down my plaid skirt to my knees, but the length isn’t as long as it should be. I swallow hard when I chance a glance at the other side of seats where Jason Todd is sitting with his friends.

For an eighteen-year-old boy, Jason isn’t like the other guys in our grade who still look like they’re growing out of puberty. Already taller than most boys, Jason’s body is as masculine as I could imagine despite always wearing his school uniform of gray slacks, a white button down, blue blazer, and blue and yellow striped tie. I can’t lie and say I’ve never noticed how his pants really define his rather large bulge and how his biceps flex every time he’s reaching out to throw a football on the front steps of the church before and after school.

And don’t get me started on his dark hair and blueish/gray eyes. The guy could be a fucking model when he graduates, but the sexiest guy in school has already claimed he wants to become a priest.

If Jason Todd really becomes a priest, consider me his devoted believer.

Or sinner...

I can’t really say that I disagree with Jason’s future plans considering I do know for a fact that he had a very rough past. Details about his upbringing and parents have never been discussed amongst us peers as Father Peters and our other teachers have told us Jason’s past will always remain a secret. But they couldn’t blame us for being curious anyways since Jason was brought into the church and school when he was just fourteen years old  after getting into dangerous trouble. Father Peters actually saved Jason’s life, and in a way, he gave Jason a second chance at life.

And he gave him a home here in the church.

Maybe that’s why Jason is dead set on becoming a priest...maybe to help others and give them a second chance at life.

I’m completely staring at Jason now. He’s facing forward, listening to Father Peters ramble on and on, while I’m imagining the ways I would commit sin and give into temptation to Jason Todd.

I would suck his cock.

Fuck that. I WANT to suck his cock.

Damn...I bet Jason has a big, heavy, thick cock.

I mean, his hands and feet are huge, and I overheard from some other girls that the size of hands and feet could confirm boys’ dick sizes.

Even my best friend Bree had said her boyfriend Ryan’s dick size was accurate from just the size of his big hands and feet.

My mouth waters from just thinking about Jason’s cock. I bet if I sucked him hard and swallow his dick good that he’d shoot his hot, delicious cum down my throat and have such an amazing orgasm all because of me.

But then to my horror, Jason turns around in his seat and spots me staring at him like a psychotic, creepy stalker. Embarrassed and wanting to die in this church, I slowly sink in my seat and force my eyes away from him.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I suddenly losing my cool? How in the world could I be so fucking horny?

True, as a Catholic teenager, I admit I haven’t ever engaged in any sexual activities because of my vow to wait until marriage. But just because I’m saving myself until marriage doesn’t mean I have to ignore and suffer through the agony and war of my sexual urges. And it’s simple: I masturbate.

Most of the time it works. I’m no stranger when it comes to massaging and pinching my sensitive nipples or finger fucking my pussy until I literally explode through my wet release. But lately my uncontrolled horniness seems to be coming from my longtime crush Jason who has lately been hanging around my inner circle.

True, we do have mutual friends and we are in most of each other’s classes, but I can’t help but wonder why. Why is Jason always close by? Why does Jason always look like he’s watching out for me when I’m by myself?

And why is Jason staring at me right now during our church service?

From just the corner of my eye, I can see Jason staring at me with an unreadable expression.

Is he mad at me for staring at him first?

Is he wondering what my deal is?

Is he trying to tell me I need to get help or he’s going to file a restraining order against me?

The church bell soon rings, and we’re all dismissed to go home.

Standing in the hallway just outside the church doors, I slide my messenger bag over my shoulder. I then notice everyone had quickly taken off to go home. Skipping my way down to the doors, a hand grabs a hold of my elbow and tugs me backwards until my back hits against a strong chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Jason Todd.

I would recognize that deep, addictive, and unforgettable voice anywhere. 

I initially freeze. Is he really talking to me right now, after I made a complete idiot of myself for staring at him like he’s some sort of expensive prime rib?

“I said, where do you think you’re going, Y/N?”

I’m suddenly being turned around to face him. His hands move up from my elbows to my shoulders. I’m able to finally see how serious he is and how he wants me to answer to him.

So, I look up at him and squeak an answer out like a mouse because I apparently can’t speak like a human being. “Home.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “You’re really going to go home right now?”

His hands are still gripping me, and I swear his fingertips are rubbing hard through my blazer so I can feel him touching me.

“Well, everyone else has gone home so...I have to go, too,” I answer weakly.

Jason licks his lips and instantly smiles down at me. “That’s a shame...because I thought you wanted to stay behind and explain why you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me.”

You mean, eat your cock. I think to myself.

“About that, I’m really sorry I was doing that to you earlier. It was...very creepy of me to do that,” I apologize, feeling more embarrassed about how stupid I am, and how I can’t handle this stupid crush I have on him. “I won’t do it again. I know it bothers people, and I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“But you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable,” Jason speaks out fast and stares into my eyes. His pupils are blown. “In fact, you made me feel like you wanted to do something...”

“Something?” I whisper.

Jason leans in closer to me. I can feel his hot breath on me. He smells so fucking good. He must be wearing a woodsy type of cologne, and his breath smells minty from chewing gum earlier.

His lips practically touching mine, but there’s still that thin open space between us.

“Yeah...but what? What were you wanting to do...to me, sweetheart?” Jason whispers.

“I wanted to suck your cock.”

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!

DID THOSE FUCKING WORDS JUST LEAVE MY FUCKING MOUTH?!?!

Holy shit, Y/N!

I stare at Jason; horrified and humiliated at how blunt I am, how I can’t keep my sexual thoughts to myself, and how I’m going to have to change schools because of this!

Jason is going to hate me now. Any chances I had with him before graduating school are now gone.

I need to leave. I need to get the hell out of here now. I need to leave town.

I force myself to look up at him after having my eyes shut tightly in fear from what I did. But Jason’s eyes are not angry. He doesn’t seem offended or even weirded out.

In fact, Jason looks...horny.

His eyes have darkened, and his pupils are huge. His hands grip my shoulders tighter and I can see he’s breathing kind of hard; almost restraining himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m so-so sorry for what I said. Please. Please don’t hate me,” I plead, after noticing he hasn’t moved or said a word to me. “Let’s just pretend this never happened. Okay? Let’s just pretend I never said that and I never meant it.”

I expect Jason to leave now. I even expect him to tell Father Peters what I said.

But no. What Jason does next is something I could have never imagined.

“No.”

I blink a few times. “Excuse me?”

“I said no. No, I don’t want to pretend this never happened.”

“But...but I seriously made you uncomfortable. I know you don’t like me, but-”

“That’s bullshit! Of course, I fucking like you, Y/N! I’ve always liked you!” Jason snaps, obviously angry at me for a reason. “Why do you think I’ve been hanging around you more? And don’t tell me it’s because of our friends, because if you watched me more, you would see I was the one staring at you the whole time.”

I softly smile. “Really?”

“Hell yeah, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful, and that completely confuses the shit out of me that you can’t or don’t see that.”

I open my mouth to speak but Jason beats me to it again.

“I want to eat your pussy.”

My eyes widen at Jason’s confession. I don’t know what startled me more: Jason having a dirty mouth and swearing, or him actually admitting he wants to go down on me?

Maybe both.

I feel like I’m dreaming. I’m probably asleep in the church from earlier. Oh yes. I fell asleep during Father Peters’ story.

Jason pulls me towards him until our bodies touch. I feel his lips against my ear. “Is that something you’d want, Y/N? Huh? Is that something you’d want me to do to you?”

I feel my pussy tingling with excitement. I know I’m getting so wet in my panties. I rub my thighs together but unknowingly rub myself against Jason during the process.

“Do you want me to eat that delicious, wet pussy of yours?” Jason whispers to me.

“Only if I can suck your cock, Jason.”

Jason quickly pulls back to look down at me with such heat and adoration that he kisses me hard. He wastes no time licking and nibbling my bottom lip for me to open my mouth. His tongue searching throughout my mouth, rubbing against my tongue, and just swallowing each other’s moans is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

Breathless, we pull away from each other; but not for long.

“Father Peters won’t be back for another half hour. Let’s go to the church.”

Not even a second to think, I agree with Jason’s suggestion. We need to be alone now.

Jason takes my hand and leads me into the dark silent church. We stand behind the alter where no one could see us unless they turned on the light. But with the sun still out for another hour, we could see each other just fine.

He quickly brings me close to him so our bodies are touching. He slams his lips against mine and we fall back deeply into our kiss. I can feel his hands running down my shoulders, down my back, until he grabs a hold of my ass with both hands.

I moan into his mouth. I allow my hands to rub his hard chest until I move my hands down his abs and eventually down to his crotch area.

I pull my lips away from his only enough so I can whisper to him. “I want to suck your cock so badly, Jason. I want to suck so hard. I want you to fuck my mouth until you cum. I want to taste your cum so much. I’ll swallow every single fucking drop until you can’t give me more. I just want you, Jason. I want every inch of your masculinity, please,” I plead like a desperate little slut. And I literally feel no shame or embarrassment now.

I can see Jason’s hunger for me in his eyes. He’s panting so much right now that I know for a fact this won’t last long.

“Fuck...doll. Are you my cock slut? Huh? Are you my cum slut now? You want my cock and cum, don’t you?” Jason asks me breathlessly.

I grip his tie so hard. I’m having the hardest time controlling myself until he gives me the green light. “YES! Oh God, yes Jason! I’m your cock slut! I’m your cum slut! I want your cock and cum so much! Please let me!”

Jason grins cockily and unzips his pants. “Drop to your knees, Y/N.”

I fall to my knees. Hard. But I don’t care. I’ll handle the pain because nothing is more important than Jason’s cock.

Unbuckling his belt, I waste no time pulling down his boxers until his long, hard, thick cock slaps against his stomach. I stare in amazement. It’s everything I imagined it to be. I quickly reach up to grab a hold of dick just so I can lick the tip, sucking and swallowing his precum like I’m drinking from a ripe peach.

“Oh fuck...Y/N,” Jason moans out breathlessly. His hand quickly runs through my hair until he’s holding a good handful of it to tug. “Suck my cock good, sweetheart.”

I moan from just the smell and taste of him. Despite the natural sweat of his, his scent is pure musk and it’s just...so Jason.

Jason is literally all man. And I love that.

I then lick his cock from the base back to the tip while looking up into eyes. “Go ahead, Jason. Fuck my mouth. Give me everything you’ve got.”

“Y/N...”

I wrap my lips around his cock while holding the rest I can’t fit into my mouth. Slowly, I begin to bob my head back and forth just to get used to Jason’s cock. I’ve never sucked a dick before so I just try to go along with what seems like could feel good and by the hot sounds coming from Jason.

Jason begins to pant hard; moaning every time I swallow his cock only to pull back and suck his sensitive tip just to get a response from him.

And that’s what I’m getting myself off on: Jason’s moans.

I grab a hold of his hips and begin to push him into my mouth: showing him he has my permission to thrust in my mouth. He starts off slow; gradually gaining speed when he sees that I can take his cock no matter what.

I could feel myself wetting more in my pantries. With one hand, I reach down under my skirt and rub myself against my underwear; feeling the juices I’m making because of this hot guy.

“Ah shit...oh fuck...Y/N,” Jason moans louder. “You suck my cock so good. Fuck...you like sucking my cock, don’t you? You like sucking my big cock?”

I nod my head and moan my answer; humming around his cock that vibrates and makes him whine.

God, I fucking love destroying this guy with my mouth.

I quickly glance up and see Jason with his head tilted back and eyes shut tightly when I begin to go faster. I start to jack him off fast, gripping his cock in a tight fist while sucking harder. I moan around his cock to encourage him to fuck my mouth with every hard thrust he’s giving me.

His hips colliding against me doesn’t bother me at all. The way his cock goes farther and farther into my mouth makes my eyes water, but his whiny moans and the thought of him cumming because of me is worth it.

I start to imagine Jason fucking my pussy. I imagine him fucking me with his deep, hard, and fast thrusts. I know he could make me scream his name and cum. I could cum right now just because of what I’m doing to him.

“Y/N...I’m-I’m gonna cum,” Jason moans and grips my hair tightly. He’s breathless. He’s whimpering because he’s going to cum hard. “Fuck...I’m gonna cum in your mouth. I wanna see my cum on your tongue.”

Just the thought of Jason cumming from me is what I want the most. I know once this is over that this can’t be the end.

It just can’t be.

Suddenly, Jason thrusts hard three times in my mouth; gasping and choking out my name as he cums hard into my mouth; spurting and coating my throat and tongue.

“Y/N...” Jason moans my name. “Fuck...”

It’s delicious. Jason gently pulls away from me as I sit up straighter on my knees and open my mouth for him.

There on my tongue. Jason’s cum. Hot and delicious, just for me.

“Fuck doll...do you like my cum? Does it taste good?” he asks, panting hard from his orgasm.

I swallow all of it. “I love it. It’s yummy.”

Jason’s eyes darken again from what I said. He growls. He immediately almost turns into a predator as he kneels down to the floor and crawls over to me.

Without any warning, Jason pushes me down onto my back. Lying down on the floor, he gets on top of me only to pull down my skirt and panties. I squeal when his hands finally settle on my hips only to hold me down.

My bare pussy is on display. Just for Jason.

 With a cocky grin, he looks into my eyes and licks his lips.

 “I want to eat your pussy.”

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Dynasty Chapter 50

Bea Arthur sniffed the air around her and hissed. She smelled something that could be enemy, could be danger, could be food—

“It’s an old homeless guy,” Deadpool told the creature he was riding. “And I don’t care what the author says—eating him could kill you.”

Wade, please.

“Or at least make you really sick. How often does she need to eat, anyway?”

She’s not really hungry Wade; just bored. Jump a few rooftops and do some acrobatics and she’ll be fine.

“Onward!” ordered Deadpool. Bea Arthur roared in acceptance and jumped onto a fire escape to climb to the top of the building. An elderly woman opened her curtains to see the monster outside them, and there was a small thud as she fainted. “Hey!” said Deadpool. “I’m pretty sure giving a senior citizen a heart attack counts as killing them!”

Calm down. She merely fainted—and her apartment is full of quilts she’s made. She’ll be fine.

“Oh yeah? And what about Aunt May?”

Aunt May has a rare adult version of brittle bone disease. She’s still healing from her broken foot, but other than that she’s fine.

“Are you sure you didn’t kill her off screen? You’re good at that.”

Wade, what is this about?

Deadpool held tight to the improvised saddle as Bea Arthur leaped between rooftops and picked up speed. “That kid. The one in the tank at the lab.”

I remember.

“He died.”

Some time ago, yes.

“Off screen.”

Well, I did write a chapter for it explaining what happened—

“And?” Deadpool’s voice is brittle and angry.

And it was depressing as Hell and didn’t match the overall tone of the story.

“You authors and your ‘tones’,” growled Deadpool. “He was a good kid! You could have saved him!”

He was being forced to live as his body decomposed around him watching the children he thought of as siblings being tortured as they were tested to destruction for an incomprehensible goal. Trust me; he’s in a much better place right now.

Bea Arthur growled and stalked forwards, her movable toe tapping on the roof in an odd clicking motion. Suddenly she lunged forwards and chomped down on a sleeping pigeon.

“I thought you said she wasn’t hungry!”

She’s not. You’re riding her like a sack of potatoes. She’s a little bored.

“We’ll see about that!” Deadpool clung to the saddle and she raced forwards. She leaped down from the roof, bouncing from clothesline to clothesline, as she made her way to the street before running, jumping over pedestrians. Soon she ran back into an ally and hopped up the fire escape until she made it back to a roof. “How’s that?” Bea Arthur’s mouth opened in a satisfied grin as she lightly panted from the exercise.

Much better. Aren’t you looking for something while you’re out here?

“Oh, like I’m really going to find anything jumping from rooftop to rooftop this time of night. No, I wanted to talk to you.”

I’m feeling suspicious Wade. What do you want to talk to me about?

“How’s Peter and Arachne?”

Fine. They had their little talk, and they’re not watching TV as they wait for you to get back from patrol.

“And why couldn't I be there?” demanded Deadpool. He didn’t like being written out of a heartwarming scene with Arachne—she was his daughter too.

Of course she is. And you couldn't be there because 1) you would have focused on critiquing her one below the belt punch and 2) the incident has traumatized you enough.

“I am not traumatized!”

You’re referring to yourself as Deadpool.

Deadpool—Wade was silent as Bea Arthur bent to sniff something on the graveled rooftop. “All right,” he said. “You’re right. I don’t like the thought of those bastards going anywhere near my little girl—”

And you shouldn't.

“—but I can handle it.”

Can Peter?

Deadpool—Wade—reeled in shock on the back of Bea Arthur who looked up and snorted a low, menacing growl. “What?” he demanded.

Can Peter handle you being traumatized by what happened? And Arachne?

“That—you—”

I realize, Wade, that you are the only one in this story that can hear me, but you are not the only one in it.

“So you were protecting them? Not me?”

This may be a foreign concept to you, but I can be protective of my protagonists. And that includes you, by the way, which is why your boxes aren’t here.

“Huh.” Bea Arthur sniffed the air again and pranced in place as Deadpool sat on her back thinking about what the author said. “That said—you did cause me mental anguish.”

You’re not about to heap demands on me are you? Because you are literally riding a movie-style velociraptor that has laser vision, the ability to create a force field, and happens to be carrying four fertile eggs.

“Four WHAT?” Wade looked down at the creature between his legs.

Chill out Wade, they’re not developed enough to be laid yet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I haven’t decided if she’s going to get spayed yet, or if she’s going to lay them.

“And when were you going to decide that?”

I thought I’d let the comments decide for me.

Bea Arthur suddenly shifted in an odd, sliding movement as she sniffed the air, tracking an elusive, familiar scent.

“The comments. Well, I’ve been thinking about that story you’re going to write me in.”

I’m writing you in a story now.

“No, no—the new one! The one after this!”

What about it?

“I want you to put smut in it. None of this ‘start affection and then cut away at the last moment crap.’ That’s only good for kids stuff.”

Wade, I don’t write smut. I’ve never written smut; I wouldn't be good at it.

“Then you need practice! Like the priest said to the virgin, ‘It only hurts the first time!’” Wade grinned under his suit. “And you’re smiling!”

I am, actually. That was a good book. Shout out to Mercedes Lackey, one of my favorite published authors.

Bea Arthur growled and suddenly lunched forwards as Wade automatically adjusted to her new gait as she began running and jumping between the rooftops.

“And I want good clothes!”

Meaning…?

“I want a cape! Lined with fur!”

Wade, do you even know how impractical that is?

“It’s a fantasy! You can do what you want!”

To a certain extent that is true.

“And no cowboy hats.”

And just what, pray tell, is wrong with a cowboy hat? You wore one not that long ago, if you’ll recall.

“And it was stupid! Come on, there just happened to be a box of cowboy hats in that warehouse? And I just happened to grab a couple?”

Enough. I have had enough. Wade, I wanted to write something fun. Something with action. But were you satisfied with that? Oh, no. No, you’re complaining about my taste in FASHION!!

“Your taste sucks!”

I’ve had it. I’ve had it. I have had it with you.

“Oh?” Wade’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “And what are you going to do about it?”

I’ll show you what I’m going to do about it.

Suddenly Wade felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked down to see the dart piercing him. The plunger had depressed as it hit pushing the drug into his system. His body felt like lead. He was having trouble holding on to the saddle.

And Wade?

“Wha?” slurred Wade as he blinked rapidly trying to clear his blurring vision.

Betty White is the better Golden Girl!

“You BI—”

Wade’s world went black and he fell off Bea Arthur. She tried to defend him against the men who attacked—but she was hit with another dart and it knocked her out as well.