#no matter how many times i fuckin draw them

[conceptofjoy]

I ALWAYS FORGET THEIR TATTOOS???

[deoidesign]

Time and Time Again comes back tonight!

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it was a long hiatus.

My health was struggling, my arm was (is) hurting, and I decided it wasn't worth it. I'd rather be slow!

So thank you for giving me that grace, and I hope you'll be there with me for the rest of the series.

[ofbatsandballads]

a love like religion

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smut MDNI, unprotected sex, gentle dom!jason, size difference, creampie, biting and scratching hard enough to draw blood, all the pet names from Jason (baby, sweetheart, ma, mama, darlin’, honey), lots of aftercare, hints of codependency from jay and reader.

a/n: was daydreaming about jason (as per usual) and got to thinking about how if he were real I would be so down bad for this man it would be borderline unhealthy. something something about your lover becoming your god or whatnot. ngl wrote this with a bit of a “bones and all” vibe in mind of just needing jay in every conceivable way and it uhhhh…spiraled. so here, have some fucking with copious amounts of aftercare and maybe codependency if you squint?

divider credit: cafekitsune

There aren’t many things in life you can be certain of. The ever changing tides of fate have washed you ashore and swept you back into drowning more times than you can count. You’d grown used to it, the ephemeral nature of being alive. You relied on the two things you knew to be unwaveringly true: you are currently living and breathing; and one day you will die, and the living and breathing will be over. You did not anticipate adding any other unchangeable qualities to this list. You now have one that supersedes every other: you love Jason Todd.

You love him more than anything in this universe or the next. You love him like you love air to breathe. He’s your entire world. The sun holds itself in the smiles he reserves only for you, the stars in the gleaming of his seafoam eyes when the moonlight hits them just right, gravity residing in the weight of his hands on your waist.

You love Jason so much you wish you could crawl into his chest, nestle yourself between his ribs and feel the beat of his heart from within. You can’t, of course. But right now, with his broad frame between your thighs and his hips rocking relentlessly into yours? It’s as close as you can get.

It’s intoxicating, the combination of physicality and emotion. Jason feels so good. His cock pushes against every sweet spot you have, delicious toe-curling drags that have you whimpering his name. And he’s so big. It feels like he’s splitting you in half even though he’d spent a good half hour prepping you on his fingers and his tongue. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Feeling your body give way to him, conforming to the shape and weight of him—it’s like nothing else you’ve ever experienced. Nothing compares to Jason.

That’s part of it too. Sure, the feeling of him driving his thick cock into you would be amazing no matter what. But doing this with him while knowing how much he loves you, how much you love him? It’s divine. No heaven could come close to this. You’d take an eternity with him over anything else.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, ma. Feel so fuckin’ good around me,” Jason moans as he trails kisses down your neck.

“Jay–Jason, please,” you whine.

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for. He’s giving you everything you need. His hips rock back and forth at the perfect pace, deep thrusts that you swear you can feel all the way in your throat. Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing over his lower back in an effort to keep him close. He’s buried to the hilt inside you and yet you still want more.

“What is it, baby? Tell me what ya need,” he pants. “I’ll give you anythin’, sweetheart. Anythin’ you want.”

“You.”

The word tumbles from your mouth over and over and over again. He’s reduced you to a crying, needy mess, incapable of thinking about anything other than him. But he knows you all too well and indulges you in your request. He leans in closer, using all his weight to pin you between his warm body and your disheveled blankets.

All you know is Jason. His large frame above you, so big that he blocks the candlelit bedroom from your sight. His voice cooing praises in your ear—you’re so beautiful, takin’ me so well darlin’, I’m all yours sweetheart. His lips kissing and biting adoring bruises into your neck, your collarbone. How heavenly the wet strokes of his cock feel inside your over sensitive cunt. He moves his hand down to rub your clit at the same time that he licks his way into your mouth and you’re done for.

Burning, bright—a white hot supernova that explodes across every nerve ending from your head to your toes. Your legs lock around him as your whole body shudders. Your nails rake across his back and biceps, pretty red lines blooming over his scars. Your teeth sink into his shoulder and you recognize the coppery taste of his blood. The pleasure-pain of your bite draws forth Jason’s orgasm and the warmth that floods you makes you dig your claws in deeper. You mark him as he marks you. A permanent claim, tangible evidence of the love that hums between you. You have one semi-coherent thought before your mind becomes static: you’re as full of him as you can be; mouth, nails, pussy—you’ve got him in every part of you now.

You don’t realize you’re sobbing until you feel his gentle hands wipe the tears from your face.

“You with me, mama?” he whispers, forehead resting against yours.

You hiccup. It takes all your energy to nod weakly in confirmation. You cling to him, not letting him move an inch away from you. His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you as close to him as physically possible. The movement causes his half hard cock to grind deliciously inside you and you’re gasping into the crook of his neck.

“Stay. Please,” you beg through tears.

Jason just holds you tighter to his chest, and you find safety in the strength of his embrace.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m stayin’ right here with you,” he assures you.

After a few moments, your head clears ever so slightly. You become conscious of touch. Your hands twitch back to life and you discover that Jason has placed them around his neck. Your fingers rest against his pulse, the steady badum badum badum lulling you back to lucidity. You blink open your teary eyes and see concern swirling in the deep sea green of your lover’s.

“Was it too much? I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, baby. I’m sorry,” he whispers, gentle as the winter rain that’s beginning to fall outside.

“Not overwhelmed,” you mumble into his neck. “I just love you.”

Your voice cracks on those four words. You break under the bruising weight of your love for him. You think it could kill you, could bury you six feet under, and you would happily die for it. You would happily die for him. You don’t think you’d want to go out any other way. His hand in yours; it’s the only way you can exist now.

Jason feels it too. He knows you almost as well as you know yourself. He knows how complete your devotion is to him, how he could ask for anything and you would offer it up without hesitation. He knows his is the same. You could demand his heart on a silver platter and he’d go grab his daggers that are displayed neatly on the wall and the fine china back at Wayne Manor. And maybe it’s a lot, maybe you’re both a little too attached. But how could either of you possibly care when loving each other felt this good?

So he handles you delicately. He soothes you when your sobbing returns as he goes to grab a warm washcloth. He wipes your tears as he cleans your combined spend off your thighs. He gently pulls a pair of his boxers over your hips, one of his hoodies over your head. He cradles you in his arms as he carries you to the living room to eat some snacks and continue binging The Great British Baking Show. You’ve come back to reality now. A soft peace settles across your overworked body and mind as you lie intertwined with Jason on the sofa.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little there,” you mumble into his chest, cheeks flushed and more than a tad embarrassed.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for, honey. How many times have I done the same?”

It’s true. Most times it’s Jason that’s the sobbing, fucked out mess in the afterglow. It’s part of why the come down hit you so hard this time. You feel almost guilty, like you should’ve been able to hold yourself together better for him. You swear he can read your mind when he gently grabs your chin and turns your head to face him.

“Hey, none of that feelin’ bad bullshit. We take care of each other. It’s what we do. You’re the one always sayin’ that, right?” he asks, softly nudging his hooked nose against yours.

“Yeah, we take care of each other,” you whisper. “Forever and always?”

Jason absolutely beams at you, and suddenly nothing matters but him and the love you share in this little bit of time and space that’s all yours.

“Forever and always.”

[ikinremu]

i have a feeling tommy’s so talented in bed he can make girls squirt… maybe a fix about that!! please and thank you!

Hi anon!! Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy <3

Messy

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

! Smut warning !

—> drabble <—

Tags: fingering, oral (f receiving), squirtin, praise

“Tommy-“ You mumbled as his head hovered between your thighs, spread gently by his large, splayed hands, veins running prominently under his skin.

“Trust me, love.” He smirked, eyes flickering briefly over your own, the heat of his breath brushing over your exposed cunt - sopping with anticipation. “You can do that, eh?”

You certainly were capable of that, trusting his touch was no issue. You gave a clear nod of confirmation, thighs twitching beneath the possessive grip of Tommy’s fingers, spreading you apart for his taking.

“Such a sweet fuckin’ cunt, isn’t that right?” He groaned out the words, raising a single, tame brow expectantly as his mouth lingered a mere inch from where he knew you needed him most, “Just begging for me, isn’t it?”

Your fingers found securely into the chair beneath you - the very same chair Tommy worked upon everyday, pinned behind his desk. Though today was different, he simply had to have you exactly where you were. And you certainly hadn’t a thing to complain about.

His tongue swept against your soaked folds, stroking slowly upward, eyes set entirely on you. Instinctually, your back formed a soft arch, pushing your trembling hips against his tongue, drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“I know,” He spoke lowly, “Be patient for me.” He instructed, blatantly amused by the manner in which you pulsed against his tongue, “Let me take my time with this sweet little cunt of yours, mm?”

The taunt shot a shiver down your spine, only fuelling your arousal with the gravelly tone he spoke in. You didn’t quite know if you could be patient; not if it meant being unable to touch him for much longer.

Tommy swept his tongue in small, supple circles round your clit, purposefully teasing as he flicked the tip against the swollen nerve, groaning at the mere taste of you on his lips. It was as though he completely lost himself in your taste everytime his head was buried between your legs, tongue thrusting in and out of your bare, drenched pussy.

“Give it to me, good fucking girl.” He uttered, muffled by the warmth of your cunt, snaking his palms over your ass, the silk of your skirt tickling his knuckles as he squeezed possessively beneath.

Your thighs shook a little against his jaw, struggling to maintain steadiness as his lips suckled softly at your clit, making you writhe in pleasure against his desk chair.

Your thighs twitched around his face as his lips suckled softly at your clit, making you writhe against his desk chair.

“Oh my- Fuck-“

Tommy was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you; he knew what he was doing and he absolutely knew he was good at it. It didn’t matter how ever many times you two were together like this, he’d always have you ruined by the end. Like a cycle - one you didn’t wish to end.

His two thick, skilful fingers pressed together, tracing your pussy in time with his tongue, pushing slowly inside the sopping heat.

“Get them wet for me, that’s right.” He encouraged, the lustful words coming out amidst a heavy groan, feeling you soak his fingertips.

A rather loud, breathy sound escaped your throat as they entered.

He thrust his tongue over your clit so very flawlessly, beginning - only gradually - to pump his fingers inside you, curling against your most sensitive spots at a teasing rate.

You allowed your head to drift back a little, eyelids fluttering like blinds over your vision as his smirk brushed your thighs. His tongue further stimulated your clit, drawn between his wet, pillowy lips occasionally as he quickened the pace of his fingers, stroking them over your g-spot.

“There- Fuck, right there..” You mumbled, nodding desperately, harshly gripping the chair as Tommy directed his focus to the very spot you desired.

You clenched hungrily around him, squeezing his fingers tightly, never quite able to resist seeking more.

The pressure of his fingers combined with the utter pace of his tongue was driving you completely insane, making your chest rise and fall at a shallow pace. His hand, warmed and slick by your skin, caressed the curve of your ass eagerly - as if claiming it as strictly his own.

A familiar sensation possessed your stomach, winding like a tight coil as Tommy worked tirelessly against you, the feeling of a release heating within your abdomen.

“Do you feel that, sweetheart?” He muttered against you, fully conscious of the answer, “You love the way I make you feel, hm?”

It was insatiable.

You nodded, a gentle whine fleeing your mouth as your hips bucked hungrily against the pleasure he provided. A breathy sound followed as you felt yourself near the very brink of your orgasm.

He maintained the pace of both his mouth and fingers, endlessly driven by the feeling of you trembling against him, clenching mercilessly around his thrusting fingers.

Suddenly, your orgasm struck, and he showed no intention of halting, fucking you through the intense wave of your release, fingers curling repeatedly against your g-spot. You let out a particularly loud moan, and without a morsel of warning, your arousal coated his tongue, shooting against his mouth as it sprayed down your thighs.

Your eyes couldn’t resist but widen, a gasp slipping your tongue as the colourless release covered his tongue, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tasted you.

“Fuck, come on my fuckin’ tongue, love, that’s right. Feel it.” He encouraged as your breathing grew far heavier, “Let go for me.”

In utter disbelief, you allowed yourself to melt into the feeling, arousal trickling down your thighs, practically soaking your skin - it was unlike anything you’d felt before.

Tommy knew the feeling was fresh, entirely new to your senses, and he only devoured the taste more.

“Oh my- Tommy..” You whimpered as you came down from the feeling, warm skin dripping with your own release. “I’ve never-“

Tommy pressed his open mouth to your upper thigh, hot and slick, trailing his tongue over you, soaking up the taste. You failed miserably to steady your breath, watching his eyes burn a path to your own as he ran his thumb over your sensitive flesh.

“Just look at that.” He taunted, vacant hand utilising itself by cradling the back of your neck, thumb pressing against it as he soothed you, “Shame, all over my desk chair.” He chuckled. “Made a pretty fuckin’ mess of yourself there, eh sweetheart?”

You truly had, and it was blatantly obvious Tommy was overly pleased by the event, satisfaction painting his lips as he studied your marvelling expression, “Let’s clean you up.”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! I’m working through a lot of requests so thank you for your patience if you’ve sent one in <3

[corazondebeskar-reads]

could be

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

this ficlet is brought to you by @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my assigned color was "pretty clicker" (which tbh idk if we needed to include the color but I did anyway lol).

genre: pwp (I tried my best) prompt: "whoa, that's a new one."

words: 1.7k

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

warnings: pwp, oral (m&f receiving), handjob, fingering, joel and reader are astoundingly bad at emotions, a few playful spanks, tommy makes an off-screen cameo, old man joel my beloved, antics, absolutely no proofreading or beta reading whatsoever rip sorry

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Whoa, that’s a new one,” drawls the man as he steps out of the shadow of the copse. “ If it ain’t the prettiest little clicker I’ve ever seen.” 

You scowl, tugging the hat off, boot scuffing the dirt as you grind the frustration of being caught out into the soil. It gives with some difficulty, the late autumn’s early frost already turning the ground to stone. “Shut up, Joel,” you mutter. 

“That always work for ya? How haven’t you gotten shot yet?” He says, jerking his head down at the ball cap you’ve adorned with the decapitated clicker’s face.

(Or should you say disembodied? Dessicated? Desecrated? Whatever, you cut the fucking mushrooms off a dead fucker and stuck them on a hat. The terms don’t matter.) 

“Yep. Not too many fools out here who will go looking for a clicker when they hear one.”

“It’s a good impression, darlin’, but it’s not quite enough to trick me.” He’s drawn close, maybe too close, and curls two fingers under your chin, drawing your gaze to his grizzled face. 

You roll your eyes. “You a clicker whisperer or something?” 

His lips curl. “Not quite, no.” He lets his hand fall from your chin, and you watch it go. 

When you look back up at his face, you’re caught. Trapped. His grin is solemn, as if he, too, feels the snare.

“You got somewhere to stay tonight?” he says, instead of acknowledging the way you’ve drawn a breadth closer. 

“Sure do,” you drawl. 

He chuckles. “Alright, keep your secrets. But, uh—my back ain’t what it used to be, so the forest floor ain’t gonna work for me today.”

Your lips curl. “Presumptuous, are we?”

“You’re lookin’ at me like a piece of meat, sweetheart.”

“Well, ain’tcha?”

“Guess you must be desperate, then, ‘f’you’re back for an old man like me.”

“Guess so,” you hum and give in. “How d’you always find me?”

“Hmm, don’t you worry ‘bout that, alright? All you gotta know is that I do always find you, and I’ve got some of Tommy’s peanut butter cookies in my bag for ya.”

“My hero,” you press one hand over your heart while the other makes the universal ‘gimmie’ gesture at his backpack. 

“Could be, y’know,” he mumbles. 

You both ignore the slip. He rifles around in the bag and pulls out a tin. You try to snatch it from him, but he pulls away with a wagging finger. 

“Nope, not yet,” he says with a teasing lilt, his drawl drawing out. He hands you one precious sweet and tucks the rest back into his bag. “If I give it to you now, you’ll just run off, and then what’ll I have?”

“A sense of satisfaction from being kind?”

You share a laugh at your joke as he leads you not to the safe “house” but up to the old, creepy lodge you avoid like the plague. Or. Well. Like the Infected. 

“Calm down, I already cleared it,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s got a real bed, though, sweetheart, so I can take my time with ya.”

“You mean so you don’t break a knee fuckin’ me over a log?”

“It didn’t break. Jesus. How old do you take me for?”

“Old as shit,” you mutter. 

He just grins. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’. You just get brattier the longer you’re away. Ain’t got any good cock back home?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, but it’s close to the truth. There’s cock back home, sure, but then you’d have to fuck one of those losers, and you just know Joel’s ruined you. 

Ruined you with intent and precision, and now he’s taking you by the hand and leading you up into the lodge’s dusty halls and into what must have once been a nice guest room. 

You whistle. “Did you clean this just for me?” You ask, batting your lashes. 

“If I say yes, you gonna be sweet for me?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I was.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, lying down on the bed with his hands behind his head. “So get your ass up here.”

You quickly shimmy out of your sweats and climb up to straddle him, but his grin splits wider in a lecherous stretch. 

“You think I brought you here for you to ride me? Y’can do that shit in the woods. Get up here.”

You hesitate. “I live in a fucking camp, Joel.” The “without running water” bit is obvious but unspoken.

“I do not give a shit,” he says bluntly. “Get up here.”

“Your funeral,” you say with a shrug, and let him help you settle over his face. You’re barely steady when he grabs your hips and pulls, bringing you to meet him. 

It’s been… longer than you can even remember, and oh shit. Either your memory hasn’t done this justice, or the last man to eat you out was fuckin’ terrible because this is nothing like you’ve ever known. 

But he doesn’t dive in and rush it. He doesn’t go straight to sucking on your clit; he doesn’t push three fingers into your cunt to work you open for his cock. 

Oh, no. You’ve been had, you think. This setup was an elaborate trap to wipe your mind clean and replace everything with thoughts of him. He’s brought you here to the second closest place of safety he knows so he can take his fuckin’ time with you. 

His hands are gentle on you, and he nuzzles into your mound to part your folds, his wide nose pushing between to seek out his prize. The tip of his tongue pushes out to help, tracing the tiny slit of your cunt. At the first taste of you, he groans, drawn out and filthy. 

“Shit,” he pants, hot breath scattering across the soft peaks and valleys. “It’s been too goddamn long.”  He seems to be talking to himself, which is good because you can’t wrangle more than a tangled gasping whimper in response. 

He brings his hands up underneath you to grip your inner thighs, pulling to spread you more so he can watch you start to glisten. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling back in to lap it up. “Mmm, baby, is all this for me?”

“Shoulda known you wouldn’t shut up,” you mutter, even though you’re addicted to his filthy mouth most of the time.

“Shut me up then,” he says in a way you simply cannot refuse. 

You grind down on his face, expecting protest, but he moans in a way you can only classify as slutty. He buries his face between your thighs with a growl and gets to work. 

You can barely hold yourself up after the first orgasm he coaxes from you, all powerful tongue and gentle lips. 

“Y’ain’t quittin’ on me, are ya?” He taunts. 

“I thought you were gonna shut up.” 

He smacks your ass. “Turn around.”

When you do, he pushes you down to lay on him. “Get nice and cozy with my cock, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

You take the invitation but before you can pull him free from his jeans, he’s diving back into his personal all you can eat buffet and showing no sign of slowing. 

Eventually, you manage to pry his ridiculous monster cock from its denim confines and try, really try, to focus on it, but it’s so hard (you giggle as you tell him) when he keeps doing that thing with his teeth and your clit. After the third time, you find yourself just moaning and drooling around it; you give up and rest your head on his thigh, content to hold it in your hand and lick. 

He spanks you again. “Don’t be a tease.”

You try to protest, but he bests you by attempting to suck your soul out of your clit while hammering two thick fingers against your g-spot, and it’s all over for your brain. Poor thing never stood a chance against Joel anyway. 

You squirm away from the menace when he attempts to keep going and smack him in the face with a pillow when he whines. He wipes his beard on it and throws it back at you. 

You can’t hold back your questions now that you’re back up and running. “How d’you have the time for this?” 

“Hmm?” Joel grunts, a hand tugging lazily at his dick while he surreptitiously slides his hand down the length of your thigh and back up. 

You turn on your back, swatting his hand away. “You’re usually in a rush.”

He turns a little pink. “Don’t matter.”

“Uh, it clearly does. I’m asking.”

“Well, it’s nunya.”

You groan. “Think I liked it better when you were too busy eating me out to talk.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

You throw the cum-stained pillow back at him but miss by an embarrassing overshot. It arcs over him and into the floor between his side of the bed and the wall. 

You shrug. “Gone forever,” you say and throw an arm over your eyes dramatically. 

It’s a good thing, too, since the pillow hits you in the face. 

“I’m on watch here,” he says once you stop screeching indignantly. 

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” you let him know solemnly. 

“Ain’t alone. M’brother—Tommy,” he clarifies unnecessarily, “S’here too. He’s got it handled.”

“Oh my god, did you ask your brother to cover for you so you could get laid?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Aw, Miller. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” you drawl. 

He plays it off with another eye roll and scoffs, but the thing is—you know. He stopped asking you to think about moving to Jackson a long time ago. But slowly, he’s been taking you closer and closer to town when you meet up. 

And you’re pretty sure he’s using Tommy’s cookies as a reward. Each time he lures you closer, he brings more treats the next time. You’d be mad at the absolute gall, but… it’s not not working, so you only have yourself to blame.

When you catch his eye again, he makes a point to hold your gaze and draw it down to his leaking cock, and you know he knows. You won’t go with him, so he’ll have you here. Jackson is not your home. But that quiet drawl in your head that sounds unnervingly similar to the man sprawled before you whispers, it could be.

[gothghostiie]

In the spirit of Christmas approaching, and as someone who prefers making gifts to buying them (for many reasons, the main two being that I love making things and forcing ppl to look at them and that I’m fuckin broke lmao), how do u think the 141 lads would react to receiving a gift from their spouse that was made by them? Like a drawing, something they knitted/stitched, or even a sculpture?

using this as my merry Christmas post so

merry Christmas and happy holidays yall<3 I hope ur having a great time and enjoying urself, sending much much love, mwah <3

cw: fluff, gn!reader + bonus what they would gift you

Price is a sucker for that stuff. handknit sweater? he'll wear that thing until it's barely more than a thread. nothing more cozy than something someone handmade with love specifically for him, nothing will ever be as comfy. that goes for anything handmade, he'll treasure it until he can't. nothing makes him feel more loved than anything handmade. hes has a hard time gifting things usually and will flat out ask and get what you asked for, but also add some stuff that he thought you might like. huge fan of practical gifts.

Gaz absolutely adores anything you make yourself, especially decorative items. paintings, stitching, sculptures, little trinkets, adores all of it with his whole heart. will keep everything with him, everything around the house/apartment. and he notices is somethings missing too, absolutely upset until he finds it again. he immediately finds a place for whatever you gave to him. kyle isnt really the one to gift materialistic things (sure, you get some jewelry or those new headphones you wanted) but he always gifts creative dates that he takes you on.

Soap is also a sucker for anything handmade. is a huge, huge fan of handmaking presents himself (he mostly draws, will 100% gift you a drawing too) and loves receiving them just as much. your skill level doesn't matter one bit, whether it be a patchy painting, a wonky mug or a sweater with holes, he'll proudly wear/display it and make sure you know just how much he loves it. as I said, you'll get a drawing - probably a portrait he secretly drew of you while you were doing the most mundane shit ever and he couldn't help but think you're gorgeous.

ghost is a secret christmas lover imo. colourful lights, christmas tree, sinple deco. he doesn't really want/ask for gifts, tells people there's nothing he wants when they ask. but listen: handmake him a balaclava. that man will propose to you on the spot. I'm so serious. appreciates any gifts he gets, especially handmade, keeps saying you shouldn't have, but that will make him fall hard. hes the type of guy where you think youll get a gift card at best, but you get almost anything you wanted but didnt get over the year. that cute mug? that sweater? those earrings? all yours, he remebered.

[kerrslvr]

occupied // sam kerr

summary; in which, sam recognises the hotel housekeepers face, and when she walks in on sam in a compromised position, she sees if she fancies giving her a helping hand.

warnings; cocky!sam, dom!sam, sub!reader, oral, fingering, spitting, finger gagging, language, strap ons, penatrative sex, multiple orgasms, i think that's it lol. this hasnt been proofread so i apologise for spelling errors/things not making sense. i got very overwhelmed at the end of this and i just wanted to get it out. thank u to @landopeaches for being my hypewoman every single time x

****

as you pushed your trolley down the hall, you noticed how quiet it was, with most of the guests still sleeping, and while you wished you were still sleeping, your shift had just begun.

your job was inarguably one of the most boring, mundane jobs in the world, but the money was enough to keep you afloat and if any relitively nice or unused clothes, jewelry or cosmetics were left in rooms, you normally kept them for yourself which was really the only bonus. that, and you got free use of the bar, pool, gym and sauna.

most people that stayed in the hotel would have a paper hanger on the door if they were still using their room, whether they were there or not, although some rooms were just luck of the draw. you could swing open that door and wouldn't know whether you'd see a dead body or a couple going at it, although it was entertaining regardless.

room 724 didn't have a hanger on it's door, and so you figured you'd at least try it. regardless of whether somebody was in there or not, they'd probably be sleeping, or be down at breakfast, or in the gym round the corner. at least, that's what you thought.

oh, how wrong you were.

"oh, f-fuck."

sam's fingers were shaking as she pushed her shorts down her legs with one hand while the other stayed tucked into her underwear. she wasn't sure what came over her that morning, maybe it was the newfound freedom of single life, or the strap-on and toys she had sitting on the shelf in front of her that filled her head with past memories, or the pretty girl she saw at the pool the day before who she hadn't been able to stop thinking about.

it didn't matter in the long run, not really. she was horny and she was desperate for an orgasm.

her fingers brushed her clit multiple times in quick succession and she pulled a lip between her teeth. she wasn't sure why she felt as if she had to be quiet, she'd fucked many different women in this hotel and hadn't had any complaints from her neighbours when they walked out with shaky legs after screaming repeatedly for a few hours.

if the walls were thick enough for her to fuck screamers, they were thick enough for her to sort herself out.

"fuckin' hell," she breathed, allowing her fingers to slip through her own folds and feel herself up. her breath continued to shake, and a moan left her lips when she added another finger to the pressure on her clit.

her free hand felt a bit left out - sam wasn't really one for stimulating her own chest, she normally had a pretty girl on top of her that she could easily slide up onto her face high enough to suck one of her nipples into her mouth and feel the slick of their pussy grinding on her stomach. just the image of that alone sparked a fire inside of sam's body, and her fingers picked up the pace at the thought.

"mhm, o-oh, god," she whimpered, bucking her hips up into her hand and admiring the reflection of her muscles flexing in the mirror beside the bed. "can't cum yet, no matter how good i am."

at least she made herself laugh.

she was really finding her groove, and getting into the rhythm of her fingers, so much so that she didn't even hear the door latch unlocking.

at first, you didn't hear the moaning or the slight creak of the bed, and in a way, you're glad you didn't. she was the hot girl from the pool you'd been eyeing up yesterday. you continued to walk through, only to find her with her shorts round her ankles and her hand in her pants. she was shirtless, completely naked from the waist up and it made your mind spiral.

she still looked as if she'd not been awake very long, her hair still scruffy in a low ponytail and her cheeks and eyes still slightly puffy from sleep, and a glass of water sat untouched on the bedside table along with a mobile phone.

it impressed you that she could get off with just her imagination.

you were so bewildered by the sight in front of you it was as if your feet were glued to the ground, you couldn't move from that spot. even when she noticed you, standing their in your maid outfit. she thought it was a joke, that the people in the rooms next door had heard her moans, and sent up an escort knowing she was alone in the room. that was, until she saw the hotel's name embroidered into the top of the dress.

"oh, uh, s-sorry, i'll... i'll come back later."

at first, she was confused, almost agitated that the housekeeper had come in and interrupted her, and she almost, very nearly, pulled her hand from her underwear and phoned down to reception. that was, until she recognised your face.

the pretty girl from the pool. the one she couldn't stop thinking of. the one she envisioned on top of her, leaving a wet, sticky patch on her skin. she smirked.

"no, you're alright, darlin'," she shifted, her hand still in her pants and brushing against her clit as she moved, "you're the girl from the pool, yeah?"

"uh.. yeah. from yesterday."

"and is this a set up? are you an escort or something? or do you actually work here?"

"well, judging by that," you gestured to the cleaning cart down the side of the room, blocking the entrance, "i'd say i work here."

"great, i don't have to ask you to lock the door behind you then."

your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at her, confused. "i beg your pardon?"

she pulled her hand from her underwear and sucked a finger into her mouth, tasting herself on her fingertips. you couldn't deny the sight before you was already sending heat to your pussy, and you also couldn't deny that she was one of the hottest girls you'd ever laid eyes on.

"help me out, love," she said, so simply, so effortlessly, so desperately, before taking the same finger back into her mouth. "give me a couple of orgasms and i'll give you a pretty good tip."

you hummed, thinking over her offer. "what's in it for me?"

"i just told you," she pushed her legs open further and your head began to spin, "a pretty good tip."

silence fell among you both for a minute as you pondered the offer again. a pretty good tip in her words could've been ten percent or it could've been fifty. or, if your mouth was as good as you knew it was, who knows? maybe you could negotiate the offer.

"if the tips not good enough for you," you expected her to throw the offer away, telling you to forget it if her offer wasn't to your liking, "then i'll fuck you, make you cry, give you a shag that'll be enough to have you desperate for more of me."

"sounds like you're begging."

"do you want to take up the offer or not?"

silence fell again, and for a moment she expected you to turn and run, and you did turn; but to look at her collection of toys on the shelf. she smirked when you bent down slightly to inspect them further, plus, it meant she got to see your arse.

"so, i give you a couple of orgasms, you'll give me a pretty good tip," you hummed, and pulled a dildo from her collection, "and you'll fuck me with this one, how does that sound?"

she smirked and sucked another one of her fingers into her mouth. she knew your answer was yes when you started to pull your apron from the back of your dress, and she watched it fall to the floor.

"it sounds excellent, darlin'," she hummed, "but what doesn't sound good is this little attitude you've got. you're here to help me out, not the other way around. no orgasm, no fuck. understand?"

your underwear were soaked through by this point, and you nodded.

"need to hear you say it, darling."

"i-i understand."

"good," she pulled her finger from her mouth with a pop, "c'mon then, get your dress off, show me those pretty tits and get up on the bed."

you did as she asked, slipping the dress off over your head and taking your bra with it, leaving you stripped to just your underwear, small heeled black shoes and suspenders, which, of course, she wanted you to keep on.

she rested her back against the headboard and you didn't waste any time, your lips immediately pressing into her thighs. she halted your movements for a second and shifted across the bed, in which you followed. at the time, you weren't sure why but you later found out that it was so she could look at the reflection of your behind in the mirror.

she pressed her hand to your jawbone and you looked up at her, "sam, by the way, remember that for later," she shot you a smirk, "and i didn't see the badge on your name because i was too eager to see your tits."

"y/n." you replied, purposely arching your back lower so that she could get a better view in the mirror.

your lips gravitated back towards her inner thighs, your fingers grazing the line of her underwear. she was clearly not in the mood to be teased judging by her hand on your head and her agitated tension, and you wanted a fuck so you stopped.

but, not completely.

your tongue grazed her clit through the soft material of her pants, making an immediate wet patch and she jolted back. your hands pushed at her thighs and spread them apart further so you had enough space to work your magic.

a moan left her lips at your messy, spit covered face. her underwear was completely soaked with your spit, and she rolled her eyes back into her head when you pulled at the material between your fingers and watched as it split in two, leaving enough room down the middle for you to do what you had to do.

"covered in spit already, babe, hm?"

you nodded, a slight hum noise coming from your mouth and reverberating around her vagina, making her squirm underneath you. immediately, she couldn't figure out whether she regretted her decision on fucking you, or whether she thought it was the best thing she'd ever conjured up.

either way, her orgasm was fast approaching.

you hadn't eaten pussy for a while and your jaw was beginning to ache, but you weren't prepared to give up now. one hand slipped between your body and hers, and you spread her lips apart giving yourself more room to work with, and she moaned again, much louder this time.

"gonna make me cum, darlin'."

"already? god, you really were desperate, weren't you, hm?"

"three strikes and you're walking back to reception without your clothes on, y/n," she leaned over your body and slapped your arse, it was loud and the sound ricocheted around the room, leaving a harsh, bright red sting. "that's strike one. don't make me slap you again."

you moaned against her pussy and the vibration rippled through her body and you could feel the muscles of her pubic bone, thighs and stomach all tensing against your skin, and you smirked against her pussy as you continued to eat her out, purposely making your movements loud and sloppy so she could hear them reverberating around her ears for months to come.

"oh, fuck," she cursed, a hand flying to your hair and bunching it in a ponytail, "i'm gonna.. oh, fuck, you're gonna make me-"

"cum for me, sam."

"fuck," she hissed, her hips grinding down on your face as her orgasm rippled over her body, her stomach muscles involuntarily convulsing as her body reeled from the effects of her long awaited orgasm. "oh, jesus christ."

she pulled your head up and admired your skin, glistening with her juices and it was an image that was forever engraved in her brain. she leaned down and carefully, delicately kissed your lips, so as not to ruin the masterpiece her body had made across your face.

you hummed when she pulled away, and followed her lips back up to the pillows, where you instinctively pressed your lips back up against hers and slipped your tongue into her mouth. she allowed the experience, and brought a hand up to the base of your neck where she applied light pressure.

her tongue slipped between your mouth and for a minute you thought about biting her lip and silently scolding her for the move, but you only had two strikes left and the wet patch in your underwear was threatening to seep onto the bedsheets any minute.

you moaned at the pressure on your neck combined with the touch of her tongue on yours and she smirked against your lips, desperate to pull more of the noise from your body. you pulled away first, in desperate need to take a breath.

"lay down, sam," you sucked on the space of skin just below her ear, your words igniting a fire inside her body, "i wanna make you cum again."

she was so used to being the one on top, the one who made other girls feel good that this was a nice surprise. although, the pair of you knew that she was the one in charge, not the other way around.

she laid herself back down, and you immediately cocooned your body around one side of hers, your naked chest resting on her arm and one leg draped over hers as you pushed her muscular calves apart with your foot. your head buried itself in the crook of her neck and you sucked yet another spot under her neck, allowing a bruise to bloom under your teeth.

she moaned breathily, and your hand lowered itself over her exceptionally toned body, travelling lower until your delicate hand was hovering over her tanned skin, the angle of your hand accentuating the v-line leading down to her pubic bone and it made your clit twitch.

your lips trailed down to her collarbone, and slowly and softly, you started to suck on the skin of her chest. she shifted slightly, adjusting to the feeling of your lips edging closer and closer to her nipple, while your fingers carefully brushed against her clit.

she whimpered, but you shushed her with a soft coo, and carried on with your movements. her pussy was wet, coating your fingers in her own lubricant that made it much easier to explore, while your tongue carefully circled a nipple and it left her reeling.

"f-fuck, oh my god," she groaned, her muscles already shaking and tensing out of sheer pleasure, "feels so good, baby, don't stop."

you hummed, and instinctively bucked your hips into her thigh so she could get an insight into how wet your pussy was too, and it made her chuckle softly.

"so wet for each other, aren't we baby?" she spoke softly, "want me to touch your clit too?"

you nodded slightly too eagerly, with her nipple in your mouth, and she shifted her arm so it was stretched just enough to be able to brush your clit every few moments. you wanted more, so much more, but you knew to be grateful rather than greedy if you still wanted your fuck.

as soon as her finger circled your clit, you let out a big whimpery moan, desperate for more, but then she pinched your bum with her free hand and you knew you had to carry on. her hips began to buck when you sped up the movement of your fingers, adding a second to the pressure point on her clit that left her reeling for more.

you knew she wouldn't be long, and you were desperate to get it over with so you could get your kicks, while also wanting her to enjoy the experience and have it leave a lingering impact.

her breathing laboured as you sucked the other nipple into your mouth, and weaved your free hand between your bodies so you could stimulate her other one at the same time, so she had everything going on all at once that was enough to overstimulate her and give her exactly what she wanted all at once.

she started to grind down on your fingers, much like she did with your face, and her free hand grabbed your wrist and held it flush against her body.

"want me to cum again, hm, baby?"

you nodded, a gasp escaping your lips as she added another finger to the pressure on your clit, mirroring what you'd done to her. "y-yes," you choked, "cum all over my hand, p-please."

the sound of your broken voice, the whimpers tumbling from your lips, she found it all too much and couldn't help herself when her second orgasm rippled through her body. she practically growled, her body igniting in flames.

she looked hot underneath you, your eyes scanning over her body with eagerness as her orgasm rocked through her. you pulled a lip between your teeth and watched with admirable eyes right up until the aftershocks of her orgasm faded away.

"hey," she laughed, "you're good at that, aren't you, darlin'?"

"not just a pretty face, sam."

"no, you most certainly are not," she spun around so she was on her side, and allowed you to fall to your back against the mattress, "i wonder if your pussy is as pretty as your face, hm?"

she slid your pants down your thighs until they pooled at your ankles, and she admired the glisten of your wet pussy that shone in the sunlight, and didn't waste any time in getting a taste of you.

"oh... oh my.... s-sam, you're..."

"i'm a woman of my word, babe," she pulled away from your pussy and kissed across the inside of your thighs, "i'll fuck you, i will, but i just need to open you up first, hm? make sure you're nice and wet for my cock, darling."

you nodded, wriggling around on the bed until she stilled you. the anticipation was agonizing. she stilled you with a hand over your stomach, and her tongue moved back to circle your clit, the fingers from her other hand trailing around the lips of your pussy.

you were desperate, aching for the feeling of her fingers inside of you, and so repeatedly teased with circles around your hole, until eventually she slipped them in. one, at first, gently stretching you out with an expert finger.

this was in fact, not her first rodeo.

"tastes so sweet baby, you wanna taste?"

"mhm, please," you hummed.

sam's fingers pressed in and out of you, in and out, in and out, until she gathered enough of your wetness, and you opened your mouth thinking she was going to stick her fingers on your tongue. only she didn't, she licked her own fingers clean and you sat there with furrowed brows until her body drew closer to yours.

she pried open your jaw and spat your juices into your own mouth which left you spiraling. she held your mouth open and let your tongue hang out over your lip, and she continued to spit into your mouth until your tongue was covered in her own saliva.

"what a pretty little spit painted picture you are, y/n," she teased before her fingers slid down your throat and gagged you. you choked around her fingers and instinctively grabbed her wrist, "you got a safeword in mind?"

you nodded and she carried on, her fingers sliding down your throat until the muscles contracted and you gagged, spluttering and coughing when her hand pulled its way back out. her lips pressed against yours in a sloppy, wet kiss and her still-wet fingers slid between your folds and they slid inside you so much easier now.

"oh, f-fuck, sam, y-you feel so... your fingers..."

she smirked, that was the kind of moaning she was used to.

her thumb rubbed your clit aggressively and her fingers continued to curl in and out of your pussy so to stretch you out, getting you ready for her cock.

your whimpers and moans were enough to send her into overdrive, and she knew she couldn't handle it much longer. she pulled her fingers out of you and pulled her lips away from yours, and you lay there, fucked out, when she'd barely even touched you.

"keep playing with your pussy while i do this, babe," she rolled her eyes when you mewled at the loss of contact and pinched your cheeks together, "or else you're getting fucking nothing."

"o-okay."

you did as she said and pressed two fingers against your clit, carefully applying pressure that made your head spin. you watched sam get up from the bed and immediately pull her legs through the harness on the shelf. you couldn't help but squirm and moan as you watched her from behind, the view of her front in the mirror as she looped the loops so effortlessly.

"you okay there, baby?"

"i... fuck, i need you so bad, sam."

she turned over her shoulder to watch you as her hands continued to loop the loops and tie the knots, and she smirked. "i know, baby, i know," she grabbed the dildo from the bed, "my cock's almost ready for you, isn't it, darling? hm? you keeping your pussy nice and wet for daddy?"

you froze. just for a moment. at the word she'd given herself, unsure what to make of the situation. and then a moan tumbled from your lips. it was hot, really.

"y-yeah, daddy."

"good girl," she turned around once the dildo was secured, and grabbed the lube from the many different trinkets on her shelf and moved over to the bed, "show me your pussy, baby."

your hands spread your pussy apart right in front of her, allowing her full access. she pumped lube into her hand and spread it all across the base of her cock - not that she really needed it, you were already wet enough, but she just liked to put on a show.

she crawled up the bed on her knees to you until she was kneeling between your legs, and in your desperation you hooked your legs around hers and pulled her in. she chuckled at your eagerness.

your breathing was laboured as you watched her balancing herself on her knees and getting into a comfortable position. she guided her dick to your wet folds and allowed herself to tease you, just for a minute, and her lips locked into yours as she slid inside of you.

immediately, you gasped as every inch slid inside of you piece by piece. "oh, oh, fuck," you whined, "i knew you'd have insane dick game."

her hands spread your thighs apart further, and her strokes became deeper as she fought to hit every spot. you couldn't stop the whines and whimpers that escaped your lips, tumbling out of your mouth with every turn.

your legs wrapped around her waist, leaving her body flush against yours and trapping her in so she had to finish the job she'd promised. your bodies were slick with sweat, and it was arguably some of the best sex you'd ever had.

"your pussy is so fucking wet, y/n," she grunted, pulling out all the way and rubbing the tip of her cock along your clit, before pushing back in, "and yet it's still so fucking tight."

you nodded, moaning deliriously as she hooked one of your legs over her shoulder, allowing the stretch to become deeper, harder, stronger.

"it's still a pussy that was made for you, daddy," you breathed, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her down to your lips, "don't you agree?"

sam made a noise akin to a growl, her teeth coming into contact with your bottom lip, biting and tugging on the flesh as if it were her own to play with.

"yeah," she grunted, "my perfect little pussy."

you moaned, raising your back up off the bed and pressing your chest up against hers. her fingers drew messy circles around your clit and you began clenching around her cock, the butterflies in your stomach beginning to swarm.

"sam... 'm gonna, i don't think i..."

"surely you're not going to cum already, darling? i haven't even turned you over yet."

with that, sam pulled out and spun you around, your head pressed into the pillows. she moved you how she wanted you, her perfectly eager little doll, with your arms up on your back and your arse up in the air, giving her leverage to grip your arms as she fucked you full force.

one hand gripped your wrists, while the other spread apart your cheeks as best she could, and as you felt a dribble of spit travelling down from your bum to your pussy you whined and writhed.

"stop being so dramatic, darling," she pinched your bum, "please just let me fuck you."

your words jumbled in the pillowcase and sam didn't have the patience to stop and ask you what it was. she wanted to see you cumming and she wanted to be the one to do it. her thrusts were rapid, the consistent rhythm making you dizzy, and you didn't think you'd be able to keep your composure for much longer.

"sam... s-sam, please, i-i can't..."

"what do you want, pretty girl? hm? you gonna tell me?"

"i... i need to... please let me cum," you struggled with your words through the relentless thrusting of her hips but you were teetering on the edge and you physically couldn't hold it much longer. "please."

your pussy clenched around her dick and she knew you wouldn't last much longer, "seeing as you asked so nicely, my darling, why don't you cum all over my cock."

your hands gripped at nothing, and you'd be left with the sting of your fingernails digging into your skin for hours to come, but you didn't really care in that moment. sam continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her mind reeling as you practically exploded all over her.

every moan and whimper you had rolled into one and your words became incoherent from just before your orgasm hit you, to until you'd ridden it out.

sam pulled her cock out of your pussy and it was followed by a little trickle of juices, which she immediately bent down to lick up. you shuddered and instinctively moved your body away, and she noticed this, patting you on the leg softly.

"i'm still here, until next wednesday," she said after a few minutes of silence, sliding some shorts on over her strap-on, "i was just wondering if you fancied doing this again?"

"gonna tip me every time? seeing as you think i'm an escort," you both laughed and she handed you your clothes as you sat round the side of the bed, "no, that would be nice. but, maybe not while i'm working."

she smirked. "what time does your shift finish?"

"probably about one thirty, providing i don't get fired."

"don't worry," she threw a shirt on over her head, "i'll make sure to give you a glowing review."

[brayneworms]

closest to heaven that i'll ever be.

featuring. angel devil x gn!reader.

synopsis: angel's first time with you.

word count. 2.1k

content. smut, MDNI I CHECK, loss of virginity, crying, consent checks, d/s tones, sub!angel + dom!reader, gender neutral reader, guided masturbation, pet names (little love), we fuckin with gloves on, aftercare (it's brief but it's there), lmk if i missed anything.

notes. this originally had kobeni and aki in too but angel's part got way longer, so i'll post them separately :3 reqs are open btw so go ahead and req anything, just check my rules first ty.

"This is stupid."

Angel stares at you balefully; beyond the light flush adorning his pale face, he looks distinctly unruffled, no change from his usual apathetic demeanour. He sits cross-legged on your bed, arms folded, shoulders stooped. You pause in drawing the blind, tilting your head.

"What is?"

He throws you an irritable look. "This. The—this whole set-up. Why pretend when we both know the truth?"

You pull the blinds to, cutting the view of your bedroom off from wandering eyes below. The room stays lit with rosy lamps and projected stars, filtering through Angel's auburn hair. "And what truth is that?"

Angel scowls. "I can't touch you. So. What's the point."

"There's more to sex than that," you say matter-of-factly, secretly delighting in the way it makes Angel's blush darken. He rolls his pretty eyes, hands twisting in his lap. What little sunlight that isn't trapped by the blinds illuminates off his hair like gilt.

"Even so," he mutters. "It won't feel the same. It won't be... good. For me, or for you."

"How can you possibly know that, little love?"

His brows knit at the nickname, and it is a little much, but it feels right in any case, and you like the way it ghosts off your tongue, like the way it makes Angel's eyes droop. Still, his reaction invokes an interest in you, and you perk your head up.

"Have you tried? Before?" you inquire, moving back over to the bed. You sit, crossing your legs, keeping a safe distance—but Angel retracts himself all the same, recoiling back away from you and tucking his hands out of sight. You suppose it must be instinct by now, after so many years living in a body undesigned for love.

"So what if I haven't," Angel mumbles. "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out."

"Humans have a saying—don't knock it 'till you try it."

"Humans are weird," Angel says flatly.

"Even me?"

"Especially you. This is tiring me out..."

You whap him on the shoulder. "Nono, stay awake! Okay, let me—okay. Just tell me, 'cause it's the only thing that matters... do you want to?"

Angel stiffens; behind him, his wings curl into each other protectively, the feathers ruffling as though offended. "W-what?"

"Like, just tell me." You fidget, slightly awkward. "I won't judge, obviously. You've heard more than enough embarrassing shit from me from the bottom of a bottle. So... have you? Thought about it?"

"About what?" Angel stares at you like you've grown a second head, but the flush on his face is darker than ever, wine-red and brilliant against the parchment print of his skin.

"Fucking me," you say bluntly, knowing there's zero point beating around the bush with Angel. He sputters, body tense like he's about to spring off the bed. "Or touching me. Or me touching you. Have you thought about it? Do you want it?"

"I—I..." Angel's mouth works soundlessly for a few moments, eyes wide and more awake than you've ever seen him. Then, unexpectedly, his whole form droops; you feel cold water wash over you, followed immediately by panic. "What's it matter? Like I said earlier, I can't... you can't... just stop making me think about it."

"Humans," you say quietly, "are more resilient than you give 'em credit for. 'Specially me. Cleverer, too, I think, 'cause back in whatever century some genius fucker came up with an invention that changed the world forever. Wanna know what it was?"

Angel stares at you, bewildered. "Uh..."

From the waistband of your sweats, you draw out a pair of gloves. They're on the thinner side, just shy of sheer, black. Expensive, woven from fine cotton. More than you'd ever spend on yourself. But for Angel, you can indulge, you suppose.

"Gloves," Angel deadpans.

"Gloves!" you repeat cheerily. "'Cause, yeah, maybe I can't touch you with my hands. But I... thought... I could touch you with yours."

Angel blinks rapidly. "I—I don't understand."

"Can I show you?" you ask quietly, and he makes a choked noise in the back of his throat, small and needy. After a few tense moments, he lifts a shoulder in a would-be careless shrug.

"Do as you please," he mutters. "Humans are so stubborn..."

You giggle and sit back, spine pressed against the headboard, and cock your legs out so they're straight before parting them. Angel looks quickly away, face aflame, but you pat the space between your thighs encouragingly. "Sit here? If that's okay. It'll make it more comfy."

Angel regards you warily. "You're eager to die, huh?"

Behind the petulance is worry, the sort he's never been good at dressing up, the sort he loathes that he has in the first place. You tilt your head, gaze soft, you hope.

"Nothing's going to happen. I"m all covered up, see?" You wave your arms quickly down your body, clothes from throat to toe. "Just have your head against my chest and it'll be fine."

Angel chews at his lip for a moment, torn between, you think, spurning you for your idiocy and accepting human touch for the first time in God-knows-when. Eventually, you suppose, his selfish side wins out; he turns around stiffly and lowers himself to lay against you. His hair splays out against the comfy spun cotton of your hoodie, and you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. You can feel the tension in his shoulders through your clothes and skin.

"There you go." Your voice slides into an unintentional low murmur, and Angel shivers against you, wings beating at your ankles. "You comfy?"

He nods, barely perceptible. Not seeing his face clearly is a little frustrating.

"Can you tell me?" you say, gentler than usual. "Just, you know. So I'm sure."

Angel huffs. "If I wasn't, I'd put my hand under your shirt and kill you. Even though that would mean a lot of paperwork, I'd do it."

"Okay, okay. So, um—can I? Touch you?"

Angel squirms. "I—I guess. If you're going to, then fine."

"No, little love. Tell me." You lower your head, putting your lips as close to his ear as you dare; it's still enough for your hot breath to stroke over the sensitive skin there, judging by the shiver that racks through Angel's body as you murmur. "I mean really tell me. Tell me where you want to touch yourself, where you want me to touch you."

"I—hn." His voice is starting to get a little strangled the further out of his comfort zone you prod him. "Why do you have to say such stupid things?"

"'Cause I like you," you admit, a little stiltedly. "I wanna... make you feel good. So. If you want to stop, we can stop."

"I—I didn't say that," Angel mutters. "I... you're close."

"I am." A pause. "Is that okay?"

He fidgets. "Yeah, I guess. It's fine." He pauses, then sighs. "I mean, it's nice. If that's what you wanna hear."

"Only if it's the truth," you say.

"It is, okay?" Angel sighs. "Okay. I... want... I want you to... touch me."

"Okay," you say, a touch too eagerly. "Okay, little love, can do. Where?"

"I—God." Angel buries his face in his hands; you can see the backs of his ears poking through the waterfall of tawny hair, singing scarlet. "Anywhere. Everywhere. I—hn."

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, palms clammy through the gloves. You lift one hand up and cup his face, feeling the thin line of his jaw, the warmth of his blanket of hair. Angel tilts into the touch unthinkingly, and you swear stars explode over your eyes.

When your other hand comes to rest at his hipbone, just over the jut of his waistband, Angel jolts.

"Here?" you ask, and he nods. You slide your hand over his stomach; his warmth is dulled by the fabric of the glove, but it's closer than you've ever gotten. You can feel everything that matters; the contraction of his muscles as he breathes in and out, the inclination his body has towards your touch, the xylophone of his ribcage singing with each quick breath he takes.

Your hand travels up, slowly, marking a railroad up the pale skin, smoothing over his sternum, ghosting over a nipple. At the contact, Angel gasps, back tensing against your chest as he arches into the touch. You feel him pebble through the cotton, and he squirms, twists his face to hide in your shoulder.

"There?" you whisper, and he gasps out,

"Yes. I—yes. More, there, more—"

He's so sensitive. You suppose it comes from a lifetime of never being touched. You can't imagine how lonely it is. You would've gone insane a long time ago. Your fingers circle over his nipple and then the other, 'till he keens, brows knitted together, mouth open in a small 'o', 'till the fabric of his trousers becomes noticeably strained.

"How about here?" you ask, fingers ghosting at his belt.

"You can't," Angel grits out. "It won't—with the glove, it'll h-hurt."

"I know, I know," you coax soothingly. "It's okay. You wanna touch yourself? I'll watch. It's okay."

Too far gone, you think, to argue like he usually might, Angel gets his hands out from fisting the bedsheets and shakily paws at his belt. There's the pop of a button and the sigh of a zipper, a 'V' of pale skin shrouded with wisps of auburn hair before he's pulling the fabric clumsily down to his ankles, boxers and all. You feel your breath stick in your throat like glass at the sight of him.

His whole body is trembling as he takes himself in his hand; the first experimental stroke has a shuddering breath tumbling out of him, the next a pitchy moan, so ethereal that it makes your skin raise in goosebumps. Angel collapses back into your chest, sweat sticking his hair at the temples, spine squirming against his rutting hand. His long legs twitch against yours, one tangling around like a snake, hooking your ankles together like holding hands.

It's so achingly sweet you could cry. When your hand wraps around his, forcefully slowing his pace, he whimpers out a broken-sounding noise, and your heart flutters.

He's so perfect. So gorgeous. It's a crime you can't touch him for real.

But for now—this will do. This will more than do.

Angel turns big eyes towards you, round as pennies, brighter than ever with fervour and the beginnings of tears dampening his long lashes.

"Is this okay?" you ask, and Angel nods like his life depends on it.

"Yeah," he gasps. "Yes. Want you to—h-hah..."

"What?" you ask, picking up the pace again. Angel writhes, free hand flying up to grip at the fabric of your sweatpants. "Want me to what, little love?"

Your thumb swipes hard over his tip, and Angel makes a high noise like a piano with its strings cut. "O-oh, oh, please, please I'm so close, I'm so—I can't, I feel so—hah!"

"It's alright," you assure him, heart thudding. The whole display has heat surging in your lower abdomen, but you can't think about that, it's about him, your Angel, it's only about him and tears break over his lashline and trickle down his cheeks as he gets closer to his peak, breathing becoming strained and ragged, and he's hot against you, filling you with a burning heat.

"I can't," Angel says wetly. "Hn, hnn, help me? Please, just—do something, I can't—"

Wordlessly, you push your free hand under his shirt again, circle his nipple before taking it between your fingers and tweaking, and Angel's whole body locks up; his back curves, wings twitching almost independently of the rest of his body, legs kicking at the mattress, and he sobs out as he comes, a pitchy wheezing broken sound that's going to live under your bones for the rest of your life.

He collapses back against you, totally spent. You do him the quiet mercy of tucking him away and pulling his slacks back up, buttoning them about his waist as he makes a face of discomfort. You run a tissue over his hands and stomach, mopping up his spend quickly before nudging a bottle of water against his lips. They're full and rosy as they lazily take the nozzle in, sucking absently like a drunkard going back for another swig.

"Was that okay?" you mutter, and Angel scoffs tiredly.

"Mmmn." He turns on his side, digging his face into your stomach. "It was... nice. I'm too tired to return the favour, though."

Fondness beats through you like a heartbeat, slow and syrupy. "It's okay. There's always next time."

Angel's wings flutter in tandem with his eyelids. "Mm," he agrees with a low hum of exhaustion. "Next time."

He's dead to the world within the next few minutes, breathing against your abdomen; as he sleeps, or dreams, or whatever it is devils do, his wings cocoon the both of you, like he's trying to keep you safe even in sleep.

[simplyzeeka]

Warnings: Adult content, profanity, infidelity. MDNI!!! You're gonna hate them, a lot...

Pairing: Terry × stripper!black fem oc (Syrae)

Note: This is a piece about storytelling. This is fiction! I do not condone infidelity in any way, and neither should anyone. Terry Richmond is a fictional character, as well as my Oc. Thank you.

Something Seasonal

Sometimes, life throws you into the damnest of predicaments just to fuck with you, taunting you as a reminder that you could never be in control.

“Your fiancé know you here?” A question slips past the sly smile she had on her lips. He chuckles, gaze unmoving, needing to commit her beauty to memory.

“It's my bachelor party, pretty sure she doin’ the same thing as me.” A shrug, he wasn't worried, pretty confident he would maintain his faithfulness. “Hmm, a shame, really.” her voice echoes, flying like pretty little monarchs into his ear and straight to his stomach.

“And why's that?” Curious, he needed to know, even if it would possibly kill him. “Cause I could've given the greatest dance in your life.” because if it did, satisfaction would most definitely bring him back. “You still can.” A nonchalant shrug, a mistake more than anything… because once lines blurred, it was hard to draw them again.

“Put it on me, baby.” And who would deny him with eyes like that? Syrae wouldn't, and Indigo? Indigo wouldn't dare to.

And no matter how many times you try to take it by its reigns…

“Terry, we said just friends.” Kiss right below her ear, she tilts her head because who was she kidding trying to take control. “And these are friendly kisses” kiss behind her jaw, she shudders because she was stupid enough to even pursue something as mediocre as friendship with him. “What's happenin' in my panties is not very friendly…” a laugh, a pussy fluttering laugh, because how was he supposed to stop this when she said shit like that?

“Could help you with that if you let me.” kiss on her shoulder, faux reassurance he gives because they knew they shouldn't do anything with what's happening between them. A little something to keep the guilt at bay, before it eats at them, like the way he pined to eat on her.

Experience is something you can never avoid, because that's all life was about.

“You fuckin’ him?” Rich baritone, enough to command her attention. Syrae stops stacking her money in the plastic bag. “You not ‘sposed to be here, T.” She says with a sigh, resuming with her task. She'd be damned than to look him in the eyes, didn't want that kind of torture.

“Syrae.” One eye roll grants her one step closer from him, a sigh grants another and by the time she turns to face him, he's right in front of her. “Terry no, how you feel happy bout what you doin’ to that girl? Is the guilt not eating at you? Now you come prancing ‘round here talkin’ bout some ‘you fuckin’ him?’. Get out my face and go home to your wife. What we had was wrong, but it's done, okay? I'm do-.”

Doesn't even give her a chance to finish before smashing their lips together. And like that dumb woman Syrae always patronises herself to be, she reciprocates. Terry didn't want her to finish that statement, didn't want it to be true. She couldn't possibly be done with him.

A little selfish in the way he wanted to have the best of both worlds. Keep her in a little jar like she was a monarch, like the ones she always gave him when her voice reached his ears, or when her smile was directed at him. When he was the cause of her laughs, her content sighs, melodic moans, and ghostly gasps.

Because it was something about the way Syrae looked at Terry, the way she conformed his love, mind, body and soul to be hers entirely, that made him believe that their destiny was written in the stars.

He just hoped that they weren't star-crossed. Because there was a tormenting heartache that came with knowing someone was meant for you, but not meant to be with you

And with experience, comes heart-wrenching lessons.

Syrae Yasirah Belles. Terrence Richmond

"Indigo" "Terry"

Note: "I'm not gon' do it girl, I was just thinking about it...

Might turn this into a whole series because I'm THAT invested, but I also might just leave it like this. The former sounds very much enticing because I'm very much procrastinating.

These are just little snippets between Syrae and Terry. Just a little something to keep my brain at bay.

[joocomics]

tags: jiseok x fem!reader x jooyeon, (secret) poly relationship, fingering in public, brief degradation (f!rec) | mdni

“is she wet?” jooyeon leans at jiseok's ear. “i bet she is.”

thanks to the bright screen of the cinema jooyeon can see his friend's hand beneath your pleated skirt; the same one that was simply just resting on top of your thigh, drawing mellow shapes on the inner side until it snuck in discreetly (to others, but not to him).

knowing that his greedy fingers are probably separating your folds at this very moment and getting to feel how you grow more wet with each second is making him unsteady in his seat. he's frustrated, because if it wasn't for gunil who joined you last minute he would be the one sitting next to you right now, touching you too. but he decided to crash your date and now he's not even watching the movie - he's asleep, because he finds it too plain for his taste.

“she’s so fuckin’ wet,” jiseok confirms before his tongue slides along his plush lips as if he's remembering how you taste down there. pushing fingers into your panties is enough to bring back so many memories. “our girl is even more dirty minded than we are.”

he gives your face a quick glance to study it. your mouth alternates between closing shut and opening wider, depending on how often his fingers lower down to your entrance. your glowy eyes threaten to look away from the screen any second now as your fist tugs at your skirt, constantly pulling it over his hand so you don't get caught.

“more, please,” you tilt your head in his direction, pleading quietly.

jiseok leans over till your foreheads touch. he wants to feel your heavy breaths lingering warm on his face, to hear your fragile moans that the on going animation keeps stealing with its sound, and feel how they arouse him even further as he circles your clit in secret.

“gonna make you cum, okay, baby?” he utters before fixing your panties just to feel the wet spot forming underneath his fingertips one more time. they’re turning messier and that might make his mouth drool if he doesn’t control himself. even now when you’re so extremely wet he keeps pulling them and teasing your hole through the fabric, might as well take them off, but he likes having a visual proof of what he does to you no matter where you go.

“okay,” you nod, wishing you could wrap hands around his neck to pull him closer. this row of seats is empty except the four of you, but it’s still a risky move that can draw attention from other positions.

jiseok takes a deep breath before centring his eyes back on the large screen. his fingers increase their speed and he doesn’t miss out on the way your thighs shift from the thrill that’s rapidly bubbling up inside you. meanwhile, he continues to sit still with an unbothered half-smile like he usually does when he’s in the middle of a movie.

“she said she wants more,” he says calmly, fully aware the guy next to him is following his every move.

jooyeon huffs at him as one of knees bounces up and down with frustration.

“then you should fill her up with your fingers if she's so greedy.” he snickers while pressing his shoulder into jiseok’s; pretending he’s not that affected by what’s unfolding next to him as his boner grows inside his jeans. “make her rub herself while you’re at it.”

jiseok’s hand adjusts your underwear to one side and the gasp you fail to keep to yourself from the effortless way he slips inside you makes him grin. your walls swallow his knuckles right away, gripping on them greedily.

“keep it down, baby,” he warns you. the playful dominance in his tone makes your neck burn just like the rest of your body. “we don’t want to frustrate jooyeon even more, right? he’s jealous of us enough already.” his hand thrusts sloppily into your pussy, but manages to build a nice pace despite the circumstances. “now, be a good girl and rub your clit, baby. jooyeon’s orders.”

“i…” you swallow while putting all possible effort into keeping your body from moving. your leg muscles tense, your stomach clenches at the same time as your stimulated gummy walls. “i want to cum so b-bad,” you mewl with desperation only jiseok can hear.

once your fingers follow the instructions by circling around your sensitive point, the pulsing grip around jiseok’s soaked fingers intensifies, causing him to suppress a groan in his throat. it doesn’t take too long before your legs begin to shake against your will; for a quick moment they trap his arm with a squeeze before opening again as the hot wave washes over you.

jiseok’s hand maintains the movements - with some difficulty, but more than that, with determination.

your spare hand hurries to cover your mouth in panic, but it’s your squirming that grabs jooyeon’s attention. he leans forward with head tilting in your direction only to see your face scrunched in the most overwhelming emotion. you’re trying so hard to keep quiet and to remain unnoticeable, it’s cute to watch.

your skin suddenly turns from warm to cold when you sense gunil moving before you even get the chance to calm down properly. he yawns, rubbing the sleepiness off his eyes as you rush to fix your skirt after jiseok backs away.

“damn, this movie is still going.” he comments with slight disappointment. “i need to go to the bathroom.”

you nod with the most normal smile you can form after what you just went through and shift your wobbly legs to make more space for him to walk past.

as expected, jooyeon doesn’t waste time. as soon as gunil continues down the stairs headed towards the exit, he jumps up and takes over his seat - the one on your right side.

when you face him you see a lustful smile already spreading on his lips.

“you could’ve waited for me, doll.” he’s just teasing you as he often does, but something in his tone feels different this time. he tucks your hair behind your ear, admiring how quickly you earn that fucked out expression which he loves. “were you that needy?”

“i still am,” you confess, leaning against his warm hand. “i want to feel you, jooyeon.” and it’s true. you will always feel a certain part of you unfulfilled if he hasn’t given you something too.

“will you moan my name if i touch you now?” his finger lifts your chin in order to guide your eyes up. “stop staring at my cock and answer, baby.” he keeps observing you provocatively until he glances at jiseok. “i think she wants everyone here to find out she’s a slut.” the corners of his lips slide with amusement at the same time as his friend’s.

“she does love attention,” jiseok comments while resting an elbow onto the armchair.

something makes you turn to his direction - his fingers, the same ones you came around a moment ago… they glide up the surface of his tongue once it sneaks slightly through his plump lips.

your own mouth waters at the arousing sight while his gets invaded by your taste.

jooyeon’s strong grip brings your attention back on him once it gets a hold of your jaw. your lips part in a silent gasp as your eyes turn glossy from how turned on you feel by all of this unfolding in such inappropriate place. a chatter of a group of friends few rows in front of you spreads throughout the theatre.

“she does,” jooyeon whispers, feeling your hand travelling over his crotch. “that’s why one boyfriend just wasn’t enough, right, pretty girl? you always want more.”

“more of you and him.” you state, not letting go of his intense gaze and giving his boner the needed friction with your right hand, while your left one, crawls impatiently towards jiseok’s crotch. “you two are all i want.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[hvlcy0n]

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER CUT, ONLY 18+

writing this and immediately posting it no i refuse to come back to edit this

idk about the rest of yall but that one interaction between hiragi and banjo in chapter 130 snatched me up by my throat. plus hiragi with his hair down??? manga hiragi????? listen. stay with me now.

hiragi just oozes authority. STAY WITH ME. he possessed great leadership skills and commanded respect as a member of bofurin's four kings, and such attributes would draw you to him like a moth to flame even as he ages and consequently graduates from the high school. he exudes a casual dominance that makes your heart flutter, and you can't help but feel your brain go all mushy when he tosses his jacket over your shoulders to protect you from unwanted attention or when he nonchalantly drops to one knee to fix the strap on your sandals because you're wearing a dress or short skirt or when he offhandedly points out things that he'd like to see you in but "it's cool if you don't like it."

he takes such good care of you, he makes you want to suck him dry on the DAILY simply because you can. he isn't super well-versed in relationships and may be clumsy with certain situations, but he does his best, and you appreciate the effort. you crave his attention in a way that's almost embarrassing if you think about it for too long, but it's not your fault that almost everything he does leaves your skin flushed with heat and a dull ache throbbing between your thighs.

he may be a strong man, but he's not nearly strong enough to stay focused when you seek him out and invade his personal space, tempting him into your grasp with an alluring sparkle in your eyes and a soft plea for his assistance. sometimes, he may be able to resist for a while, but eventually, you'll get your way, even if you have to pull out all the stops to reach that point. the only exceptions are when you're intentionally acting out or there are pressing matters he must attend to, but that's a conversation for a different time. you're his sweet girl, how could he not deliver?

but, if you're going to demand his attention so often, you should be able to take what he gives you, right? it's only fair.

he's very much the type to crowd you against the wall and finger you until you're creaming all over his hand. his presence swallows you up, engulfing you so completely that it's nearly overwhelming; there's nowhere you can turn where he isn't already. the scent of his cologne wafting off his neck is dizzying, and the only thing grounding you is the low sound of his voice as you drift in and out of awareness. his free hand is braced next to your head for leverage, and you can't help but let your head loll weakly against it as you try to conserve enough energy to prevent your wobbly legs from collapsing under you.

you can't even remember how many orgasms he's pulled out of you with his fingers alone, nor do you care. the sticky squelch of his fingers as he curves them to bully your g-spot for the umpteenth time is obscene and makes your thighs tremble. you whine at the onslaught of stimulation and feebly try to rise up on your tiptoes to escape, but his touch simply follows you.

"nuh-uh, you don't get to suddenly decide to run. i'm not done." his voice, verging on a growl, vibrates in his chest. "i was gone for two hours, and i didn't even have time to take my fuckin' jacket off before you were all over me wantin' more. this is what you wanted, right?"

you nod, tongue too cumbersome and uncooperative to speak. you gasp sharply when the heel of his palm grinds against your clit, lidded eyes popping open attentively. "eyes open. answer me, sweetheart." his voice is firm but not unkind, searching for some type of verbal confirmation or denial that you're still with him.

"it . . . is," you can barely thread together the words. "feels s' good, toma . . . one more, pl--ease." your inner thighs are sticky, but you can't tell whether it's sweat or your own slick that's trickling down your skin. "jus' one."

"damn near insatiable," he grumbles, but regardless, his fingers sink back into you without hesitation.

he can't deny you. but, when he feels his cock twitch in his jeans when you lift your head to gaze at him with those hazy, adoring eyes and sweetly ask him for a kiss, he begins to wonder if he's just as bad as you.

[cheshireliam]

vent ahead you have been warned

no like seriously i don't recommend you open this post if you're not a roger and/liam fan. but if you want to? rest assured it's not character hate (really).

i understand that the top 5 suitors will get special content because they're called promise events for reason aka the events were promised back in 2024 during elections, so i don't have anything against giving fans of those suitors what they're meant to get.

what makes me upset is ikevil's treatment of roger and liam for ranking #8 and #9 respectively. just because they don't have as many fans as other suitors like jude, does that mean their fans don't matter at all? can you imagine if your favourite suitor doesn't get a single featured event throughout the past more than 365 days? imagine seeing other players having something new to gush about every other event, while all you can do is stare at a poster for an upcoming event that doesn't feature your man. AGAIN.

there's a difference between treating some suitors better because they're popular vs straight up ignoring those who aren't. "c company" can give the top suitors however many events and gachas they want, it doesn't matter. but to exclude specifically the "bottom" two suitors from a LOGIN EVENT (that's completely unrelated to the upcoming promise event btw) is just too much. it's just chibis. just give roger and liam fans the fuckin' chibis. what's so hard about drawing another two tiny people? they only include roger and liam when it's paid content. how DARE they still try to milk us when they don't treat us properly at all.

top suitors' fans spent ungodly amounts of money on the game to support their fav, yes. but have roger and liam fans been spending absolutely $0 or something...? is our money worthless? we're consumers just like the rest of the playerbase. so they can't say it's not worth your time to make content for that two suitors.

@ a certain "c company" : roger and liam are characters that YOU created. i'm sure the artists and writers who worked hard to create them love these characters too, because they're also a fruit of their efforts. they exist and they have fans too. and mind you, they're main characters — not side characters or NPCs. if you think simply giving them a couple of lines in other suitors' events is enough, i'm telling you that it's not.

and then again, i must reinforce that i don't hate any of the other suitors and most definitely don't have anything against their fans. i'm genuinely happy for them that they always get new content, but i just think roger and liam fans deserve to feel that joy too. if you can read this entire post and still conclude that i hate the others suitors/their fans, then i suggest you improve your reading comprehension skills.

[runninriot]

Hurt full of Hope (i'll be the pit to your pendulum)

prompt: "I thought we agreed it was over." | rated: E | wc: 4.307 | cw: sexual content, emotional breakdown, unhealthy coping mechanisms | tags: 'friends' with benefits, pining, Eddie is a mess, Steve is a mess too but in a different way, emotional hurt, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending | complete fic on ao3

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 27

The grip in his hair is tight, almost possessive, as strong hands guide him further down the pulsing intrusion blocking his airways. It burns, makes tears well up in his eyes, and Eddie has to fight the urge to cough but at the same time-

he hasn’t felt this good in days.

The familiar stretch of his lips around the girth is heavenly like the scent flooding his nostrils as his nose is pressed into soft skin and coarse hair.

Eddie chokes, feels saliva dripping uncontrollably out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin, making a mess between the other guy’s thighs.

A rough tug brings him back up, lets him breathe for a moment before he’s forced back down.

   “Ah! Yeah, just like that! You always know how to make me feel good, Eddie.”

The praise is like a drug; he’s always been too weak to withstand the drawing power of it, the toxic concoction he knows is killing him slowly each time he goes back for more.

Eddie swallows, sucks, licks as if his life depends on it. And maybe, in a way, it does.

Because this is all he has, all he is.

It’s all he can offer to get what he desperately craves in return - affection, at least. Not love. But everything is better than nothing.

   “Fuckin’- God! Look at you, Eddie. You’re such a mess!”

Isn’t that the truth. The bitter, undeniable truth.

He knows it’s wrong, that he shouldn’t settle for this. Shouldn’t give himself up for a quick blowjob in the back of the car, out on the side of the road where no one can see them. No candle light, no soft sheets, no comfort – just the dirty act of being used for pleasure because somehow, that’s all he’s good for.

And Eddie must be good. Why else would Steve keep coming back after he dumped him?

   ‘I thought we agreed it was over,’ Eddie had dared to say the first time Steve called him again in the middle of the night, asking if he wanted to meet. Said it as if they’d both made that the decision, when in reality-

    ‘You didn’t want to do this anymore.’

Steve had laughed at his words, told him to stop pretending that he didn’t want it just as much.

And he was right; Eddie wants this.

He’s desperate for it.

Because while for Steve their hook-ups had always just been a casual thing, for Eddie it’s always been so much more.

Steve knows that, knows that Eddie’s in love with him. That he wants to be more than just a toy, a warm body, a willing mouth.

That’s why Steve told him to get fucked – before he came back five days later to fuck him once more.

Then again, and again, and each time, Eddie says yes. Each time he puts up with the ache in his heart just to have Steve for a little while longer.

He knows it’s stupid, knows it’ll only end in one-sided misery. That no matter how good he is, no matter how many times Steve comes back to him, he’ll never stay.

Steve will use him up, drain him until he has nothing more to give and then, inevitably, he’ll throw him away like a broken tool.

Eddie’s throat aches because he keeps himself down, forcefully overstepping that fine line between good and too much as he constricts helplessly around the tip of Steve’s cock until he comes, spills his release and fills his mouth with bittersweet poison.

   “A-ha, oh fuck! That’s it, take it all in.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told, greedily swallows Steve’s cum along with his pride, tastes bitterness on his tongue in more ways than one.

And when he’s done, Steve pulls him up quickly, doesn’t even look at him while he tucks himself back into his boxers and jeans.

    So, he’s not gonna fuck me today, Eddie thinks with too much regret.

He would’ve let him. Would’ve let Steve press him face-down, ass-up into the backseat and fuck him hard. Would’ve wanted it to hurt because then he’d have something to drown out the pain in his chest.

   “Need me to take you home?”

Eddie wants to say yes, wants to have just a few more minutes with him. But he declines the offer, knows they would only drive in awkward silence and he already feels like crying, doesn’t want Steve to see how broken he is.

   “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll walk,” Eddie answers quietly, voice hoarse.

He can still taste Steve on his lips, has his senses full of him. It clings to him, like it’s part of him, like it lives there in every cell – Steve is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

And it hurts. It fucking hurts.

He pulls the handle with too much force when he opens the door, trying to keep himself steady. He feels dizzy and his legs tremble when he steps out of the car.

   “You sure you’re good?” Steve calls after him but Eddie doesn’t turn around, just pushes the door shut and starts walking.

He waits until he hears the engine go off, waits until he can see the headlights passing in his peripheral vision before he lets the tears flow.

The night air is warm but inside, Eddie feels cold. He shivers, wraps his arms around his middle, tries to calm his breathing but nothing helps because everything hurts. His jaw, his throat, his heart most of all and-

No more. He can’t do this anymore because if he doesn’t put an end to this torture, it’ll be the end of him.

continue reading here

[harpersdragons]

New Fic!

Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd

Talia tasks Jason with taking Damian to his father, and a few things change

Primary Tags: jason and damian met in the league, mainly fluff

I've written through half of chapter 4, i'm expecting 5-6 chapters

Chapter 1 under the cut:

word count: 1327

Jason’s life changed (for the third—fourth? Fifth? Fuck Jason’s lost count—time) the day Talia burst into his room in the league headquarters.

Jason snaps to attention, drawing the knife from under his pillow.

Talia may be like a mother to him, and he may love her little boy more than anything, but this is still the league. If you’re not hypervigilant, you’re dead. Threats are everywhere, even where you don’t expect them.

“The clown is dead.” She announces.

Jason relaxes, then tenses up again once the words register.

“You’re not kidding.”

“No. I have personally ensured it.”

“What…what about the plan?”

“It has been changed. You will still go to Gotham, but you must take Damian with you.”

“What.” He didn’t mind Damian coming with him, but taking him from Ra’s was declaring war on the league.

“I need you to deliver him to his father. It is not safe for him here.”

When Jason agrees, she hands over a letter.

“Give this to my Beloved. Come, you leave now.”

“I’m—I’m not packed.” He didn’t want to see Bruce, maybe he could keep Damian for himself?

As soon as the thought pops in his head, he dismisses it. He wouldn’t be able to give Damian a fulfilling life, he’s barely 17 for fuck’s sake. (He thinks, anyway, the whole being dead thing makes knowing his age difficult).

“You will find everything you need on the plane.”

They weave through the labyrinth of corridors, eventually reaching the plane Talia’s arranged.

Damian is already there, sitting primly in one of the chairs in the cargo hold.

Talia exchanges a tearful goodbye (on Damian’s side, Talia is as immovable as ever) with her 6 year old, and Jason readies for takeoff.

When they arrive in Gotham, Jason lands at a private airstrip just outside of Gotham. Bruce would probably find out about it, since he seems to know fuckin’ everything, but that’s really not Jason’s problem right now. Talia had provided a small car, so he packs Damian into the backseat and drove off towards Bristol.

“Alright, Princeling, the rules are different here. Your father has two other kids, and you need to get along with them. No killing, no maiming, no trying to assert yourself as the rightful heir.”

“But I am the rightful heir, am I not?”

It still shocked him how formal Damian was. No matter how many times he heard it, hearing a six year old talk like he’s an old monarch or some shit is something you never get used to.

“It doesn’t work like that here. Bruce…Bruce loves his children equally,” Jason may not believe it—the Old Man has favorites, and you can never convince him otherwise—but Damian needs to. Bruce needs to accept Damian, and that won’t happen if the kid is trying to kill his siblings. “No killing and no maiming are the main rules, but make sure you listen to whatever Bruce and Alfred say, alrigh’?”

“Ok, Akhi.” Damian’s voice is sleepy, and Jason can practically hear him drifting off.

He smiles softly, having Damian around helped tremendously with getting the Pit Rage under control, and he’s sure that’s what Talia’s plan was. The rage is useful for some things, but if she wanted to get Damian out of Nanda Parbat for his safety, she had to make sure he wouldn’t be overcome with pit rage and kill the kid.

The drive passes pretty quickly, though he does catch a few glimpses of Bats on rooftops on his way to the manor. He makes sure they haven’t followed him, and then parks in the woods about a mile from the manor.

“C’mon, Habibi.” He grabs Damian out of the backseat and settles him on his hip.

“I can walk, I am not a child!” His voice is still sleepy, but the exclamation is still there.

Jason couldn’t help but snort.

“Actually, by definition, you are a child. I’m not making you walk a mile, I can carry you.”

“I can walk, Todd!”

“Quiet, Habibi. You’re not walking.”

“Tt.” Damian huffs but settles down.

The walk passes quickly, if you ignore Damian’s annoyed grumbling, and then they’re standing before the gates of the manor.

Well, kind of.

They’re standing off to the side and in one of the camera blind spots.

Jason takes a second to analyze the fence line, and finds a shorter tree they could climb and hop over.

Hopefully Bruce didn’t drastically change the security measures on the grounds.

He carries Damian over to the tree and prompts him to grab the lowest branch. Once he is safely sitting in the tree, Jason climbs up after him.

”Can you jump over the fence and land safely?”

Damian tosses a scathing glare (well…as scathing as a six year old can be) at Jason and prepares to jump.

”That wasn’t an answer, and I really need one. The ‘safely’ was the most important part of that.”

”Tt.” Damian throws himself off the branch, flipping in the air and lands softly on the ground.

”You’re gonna get along so great with Golden Boy…” Jason mutters before following. He doesn’t flip, but he does manage to land almost as softly as Damian. He eyes the yard for a few seconds, trying to spot the security triggers.

He scoops Damian up again and picks his way across the yard, heading for the Manor.

He stops a little ways away, within view of the driveway and front door. “Ok, I’ll stay here until you’re inside.”

Damian furrows his brow and turns his inquisitive gaze on Jason. “You are not coming with me?”

”This isn’t my home anymore, Princeling.” He smiles sadly, “Your father won’t want me around, this is somewhere you have to go alone.”

”I do not want to live there without you! Why can’t I stay with you?”

”You need to stay with your father. He can keep you safe.” Jason crouches to be eye level with him, and runs a hand through Damian’s soft hair. “I will always come if you call, Habibi. I promise you.” He tugs two letters out of his jacket, one for Bruce and one for Alfred.

He wrote the one for Alfred specifically. Damian needs to know how to contact Jason, and therefore someone in the family will too.

“Give these to Alfred Pennyworth when he opens the door.” He hands them to Damian, “Go on now.”

”No! You can’t leave me.”

”Damian.”

”Why do you have to leave me?” Damian’s eyes started watering.

”I don’t belong here, ok? I can’t stay.”

Damian huffs and glares at him, tears still leaking out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but you need to go.” Jason pulls him in for a quick hug. “I love you, Habibi. If you need me, tell Alfred, alrigh’? He’ll be able to contact me.”

Damian doesn’t respond, just buries his face in Jason’s chest, in an uncharacteristic show of affection.

Eventually, Damian pulls away and wipes his eyes. “I do not want you to go, Akhi.”

If Jason stays any longer he just might stay, damn Damian’s convincing.

“I can’t, Dami. Bruce doesn’t want me!”

”How do you know?”

I’m not your father. I don’t have to deal with your teenage rebellion.

I’m not your father

I’m not your father

”Because he fuckin’ told me so, kid.”

”Tt.”

”Dami…” Jason sighs, “I’ll visit, how ‘bout that? I’m sure we can figure it out.”

”That is acceptable, I suppose,” Damian’s tone is sullen, and he refuses to meet Jason’s eyes.

”Good. Now go on, the bats will probably be back from patrol soon.”

Damian darts in for another quick hug, then makes his way towards the door.

Jason watches as he knocks, then a few seconds later Alfred opens the door. Damian hands over the letters and is ushered inside.

Time for Jason to head out, then.

“Bye, Habibi.” He murmurs, then leaves the way he came.

[chronic-optimistt]

YOU WRITE ICEBREAKER FANFIC OMG BEST NEWS EVER!!!! also lol fo you have any other family headcannons your enjoying cureently its no big deal if you dont!

I DO!!! my user on ao3 is imdeadsirius and i’m dedicated to exclusively icebreaker fics :)) got my first little au almost finished and should be up this month! soooo excited for yall to see this one !!

Now here’s some headcanons ! I’ll share some more in the future if that’s what yall want

I’ve made a post of this before but Mickey wears a necklace with a “J” charm because he can tells everyone it stands for “James” but the real ones know it’s for “Jaysen”

Whenever Nova + Mickey don’t like someone they call them a “3-in-one” (calling them unhygienic; a user of 3-in-1 soap) ex. some asshole: “I agree with the All Lives Matter movement.” *walks away* Mickey and Nova: “what a fuckin 3-in-one”

Dorian doesn’t wet his toothbrush before brushing his teeth. he says the saliva in his mouth is enough. diabolical.

I touched on this briefly in a fic, but Cauler is a naturally good artist. He’s got doodles for days and they’re all surprisingly lovely. Sometimes he draws in the corner of the page of Mickey’s homework when he’s not looking and Mickey finds it and secretly thinks it’s so fucking cool how genuinely talented he is without even having to try

Novas a huge swiftie. Like. Huge. I mean this chick is a straight white girl with a thing for hockey boys and a canonical ao3 addiction. There’s no way around it.

^ Cauler absolutely hates Taylor Swift. Like. Rolls his eyes whenever the name is uttered. Is visibly disgusted when her music plays in a public facility. The second someone outs themself as a swiftie he’s putting at least 8 feet of space between the two of them and sanitizing his hands in fear

Mickey’s shoe size is legitimately oddly small. Like when Barbie joked that he had fetus feet he was borderline right. Bro’s a men’s 8 on a good day

Mickey falls asleep during class alllll the time but when he does in their public speaking class Celeste and Nathaniel make a game out of stuffing as many pens in the hood of his sweater as they can before he wakes up and then letting him walk around all day with pens falling out of his hood and internally confusing the fuck out of him as he wonders which of his pockets he has pens falling out of unknowingly

^ when his teammates pick up on this they start to do it during the team study sessions except instead of pens it’s like tupperware containers and tissue boxes and stress balls and instead of in his hood it’s them balancing random shit on his body so Mickey’s eventually just like got his head resting on his arm snoozin with everyone’s stuff stacked on the back of his head in a giant tower on the verge of toppling

Delilah is obsessed with asmr and it annoys the shit out of everyone because she’ll just be sitting in the corner listening to *tappy tap tap* when ppl are trying to sleep

Mickey’s mom used to tend to his hair when he was little and it now brings him so much comfort when people play with his hair. Sometimes when he’s chilling with his sisters they’ll sit behind him and take out a comb and brush it out of his face and he’s like falling asleep. The first time Cauler runs his fingers through his hair he absolutely fuckin melts. (Cauler does it a whole lot more after noticing how much he likes it.)

[simpingforcreamsoda]

I think it would be really funny if everyone who’s made a pseudo intellectual post harassing or justifying hatred of Jocat stubbed their toes all at once. Like seriously it pisses me off so much seeing (hypothetical name definitely in relation to nobody) peewhirlpool on twitter go “um, he’s horny but pretending to be wholesome so people should be MAD AT HIM” like touch grass and grow the hell up. You’re malding because someone drew himself on SFW dates with women from a meme template. Because he made a parody video comedically showing off his fictional crushes. Breaking news fucko, sometimes people are attracted to women. Sometimes, just sometimes, people might want to fuck women. Some people have the desire to have sex with women. It’s so crazy how that works, isn’t it? It’s ok, you can come out of the blanket when it stops being scary! I wouldn’t want some widdle Internet funny man with a cute lil puppydog pfp to learn what a sex drive is! Check your arms for any boo-boos, because I fucking guarantee a song cover of Lizzo’s “Boys” and a panel drawing of two people dancing like in Beauty in the Beast didn’t melt your face off like the nazis in Indiana Jones.

Jumpscare! When I was in elementary school I had a crush on Blaze the Cat! Nah that was tame, wasn’t it? Ok here’s a good one— sometimes I’ll see women in real life and think “wow, she’s super pretty.” Sometimes I’ll even think “Wow, she’s hot.” Lock me in fuckin Alcatraz, pissvortex. Oopsie, said the barely hidden name because like be real who’s reading this besides my mutuals. It turns out when you don’t actually harm or harass people in real life, and respect them as human beings, you’re allowed to have feelings.

Not even sure why I’m so mad about this. Maybe I’m not even mad, maybe I’m just baffled. So many people going after some DND and Final Fantasy YouTuber and not only doxxing him off platforms, but trying to mask it by saying “he gives me the ick! I bet he looks at hentai” (believe it or not, you can look at hentai and it’s not a crime also, but clearly some people aren’t ready for that conversation). It’s not even that you’re making baseless assumptions and forcing what you think is sin on an individual who has not made anything nsfw in these things other than a reference to the couch meme at MOST, those assumptions don’t fucking matter! Like genuinely why do you CARE if Jocat likes women? He ain’t doing shit! You’re pissing yourselves over DRAWINGS! So yeah, washed up tumblr funny guys, and everyone else who participates in this bullshit, honestly just shut your fucking mouth. You jagoff.

Oh and yeah, I know some of you are doing this because Jocat is nonconforming to stereotypical masculinity. Maybe a lot of you. I hope next time you eat a tootsie-pop you cut the roof of your mouth on a crack in its outer layer.

am I missing something? Oh yeah, and then hammers fly everywhere, now it’s a a joke that’ll get me harassed by a site mod.