#panted parrots

[iknowwhatyousaidlastsession]

We broke down the door and then left. We ate everything but the meatloaf.

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I'll give you a presumptuous roommate who acts like you're his maid even though you are paying just as much as him for your damn dorm

[jisatsu-draw]

🦜+👖

[muggycuphead]

Phiddie's Drunk FancyJanuary 2024 - Day 27

Day #27 - This is so sad, Alexa play game over sound effect

“Take the L already, son”

I grant you permission to make fun of me by the time being for being a steam/mobile noobie, I sure know I deserve it U_U

Also yea that’s a pepepeepe referenz

<- Day 26

Day 28 ->

Wanna see the other prompts? Check my teaser here

[90th1k1k0m0r1]

plotting

[nonasuch]

IT IS TIME: Miss Universe National Costume 2023

it's here! the Met Gala for people who actually understand what camp is!

yes I'm like 3 months late, but I sat down and watched the damn thing. I put up with the horrible little rhyming couplets for each contestant so you don't have to. and without further ado:

Albania: Starting off very Victoria’s Secret this year! Apparently it’s gold for important symbolism reasons, not just because everything in this competition is blinged out to within an inch of its life. The wings do look nice in motion!

Angola has a good balance of bling, actual cultural dress, and oh hey it has surprise bonus art on the back! That will be a theme this year.

Argentina: Why is there a guy in a hat right down at the bottom edge of her cape. He looks like he’s staring at her butt. How does this represent their flag.

Aruba: This is fine. I like the coral. She thinks climate change is bad. Her parrot is clearly way too heavy to hold up and it wobbles like crazy in motion.

Australia: This is now multiple years in a row that Australia has just worn a fucking prom dress. It’s got native wildflowers on. You could have made this exact same dress with a Great Barrier Reef theme and I would have liked it 80% more.

Bahamas: This costume is allegedly based on a 19th-century doll from the Bahamas “world famous straw market,” which is already bullshit; I googled “bahamas straw market antique doll” and like. they both have big skirts? I guess? Anyway now I’m too distracted by the way she has a hoop skirt awkwardly jammed under there and hiked up on one side. Minus ten for poor construction.

Bahrain's theme is “Bahrain’s pearl heritage,” which like. I guess? The headdress and yoke are pretty. Put more pearls on the actual outfit. Kudos for getting to wear pants.

Belgium: Girl. No. Why is your theme “Latin dance” and why are you wearing a spangly cocktail dress with a totally unrelated piece of fabric fluttering behind it? (Apparently the fabric was designed by a member of Belgium’s royal family? Who is a fashion designer? This is what nepotism gets you.)

Bolivia saw Aruba’s parrot and was like, I can do that better. And she was right! It’s way less wobbly and the costume as a whole does work better. Also made from recycled materials, so we’ll see if that’s a theme again this year. The back of the cape is nice too.

Sadly, Bolivia's parrot supremacy was short-lived, because Brazil was like, bitch please. I see your sad little parrots and raise you FOUR giant parrots, and also the shoulder parrots are articulated and can turn their heads back and forth. I think Brazil wins the parrot competition that only she knew she was in.

[shotmrmiller]

1.8k of what was supposed to be a drabble, oops. same au as this just different situation.

there he is.

the titan the crowd calls Ghost. a creature who seemed to have crawled out of the abyss itself, rage etched into the very marrow of his bones. scars crisscross his arms, chest, and back— souvenirs of battles both won and lost. no one knows much about him. no real name, no past, no future. blank.

a void.

just like his sunken eyes, the only thing anyone can see from behind the midnight black skull balaclava that clings to his face like a second skin. (does he even remember what he looks like underneath?) he stands in front of the club's owner in ragged clothing: a tattered wifebeater that's been stitched, torn, and re-stitched. his pants have strained seams and patched knees. his boots are high cut, made of worn, scuffed leather with laces in the front, pulled tight. functional.

he's terrifying. most here come to fight for glory, for redemption, for escape. not he, though. reverent whispers claim this is all he knows. that he fights like a cornered, wounded beast, with no discipline nor strategy. just primal hunger and unmatched ferocity.

and that's who your idiotic, egotistical boyfriend wants to fight. granted, he's a pretty damn good boxer. not that you'd know much about that, you're simply parroting what you've heard his coach say. but this isn't boxing. no one here wears a padded helmet, with comfortable gloves and silky shorts. the fellow with the mohawk currently fighting isn't even wearing a mouthguard, for fuck's sake.

there are no fucking rules, no referees, no honor, no mercy.

your shoulders rise up to your ears as you tense at a nasty blow the pretty one you've come to learn is named gaz gives mr. mohawk. it splits his lip instantaneously, crimson dribbling down his chin and onto his barrel chest. he should be in pain, but there's only a glint of madness in those bright blue eyes of his. the crazed smile he gives gaz is all blood-stained teeth.

your boyfriend taps you on your shoulder, making you jump. "i'm gonna go talk to mr. price now that he's no longer busy."

what?

"no! you can't be serious!" the metal chair you were seated on screeches as you shoot up and run after him, feet slipping on the mud-slicked floor. "hey! wait!"

he reaches the tall, burly man(broker?) with the antiquated mutton-chop beard before you do. the tailored suit clings to his large frame, molding to his mountainous shoulders and tapered waist. his polished shoes are pristine, unlike the surface he's standing on that's littered with wager slips and sodden with cheap beer.

"don't. be smart, fight smart. you can't possibly— did you see the way the one with the mohawk took a hit to the face without flinching? he's insane! they all are!" you flick your eyes to mr. price. "no offense."

he chuckles low. "none taken, sweetheart. soap's a vigorous man, is all."

soap. gaz. ghost. they've all got bloody fighting nicknames. meanwhile, the only thing your boyfriend's ever been called is dearie by his elderly neighbor.

"your pretty girl's right. i'd steer clear of the pit. this ain't no place for a sheltered bloke such as yourself." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, yet it felt like a facade. the evenness of his tone had dread crawling up your spine.

"boss." you squeak at the deep voice that comes from beside you— accent thick on his tongue.

mr. price waves a hand dismissively, the rings that adorn his fingers glinting under the dim light of the overhead lamps. "it's nothin' but a couple a'folk placin' their bets."

the look of unfettered stupidity flashes on your boyfriend's face as he turns his head and realizes just who mr. price was talking to. "if it isn't the masked specter himself."

stupid. stupid stupid stupid. god, your boyfriend came in one piece but he's going to leave in bloody pieces if you don't stop him. "stop," you hiss. "this ridiculous stint of yours is over." as is this sorry excuse of a relationship. he'd been a sweet guy at some point, or maybe you were just blinded by his good looks. "sorry for the bother, mr. price. we'll be taking our leave." tugging on your boyfriend's sleeve, you try to lead him away but he stays anchored in place, posturing like a peacock; chest out, shoulders squared and head held high.

he looks at ghost as he challenges him. "name your price. anything, i can meet."

how he can be so blasé in the presence of this bastion is beyond you. ghost stands tall, his shadow engulfing you whole. you can feel the weight of his presence, a crushing force pressing against your sternum. he doesn't speak; and honestly, he doesn't have to. ghost's silence spoke volumes.

"he's not interested, see? let's just go before we're thrown out on our arses."

but your boyfriend doesn't concede. if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire. "not good enough for you? eh? is that it? think yourself untouchable just because you're king of the underbelly?" he goads.

your cheeks are hot, scalding with embarrassment. he's starting to garner attention from the audience that's supposed to be watching the current fight.

and then ghost breaks said silence. "i don't want your money." his rich voice reverberates through bone and marrow; it rattles your very core. "you didn't work hard for it, i can tell. golden spoon runt."

your boyfriend's eyes ignite with anger. for a moment, you thought he was going to swing on the spot, but then, like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated. his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes. "what do you want, then?" he questions.

ghost tips his head your way as he keeps his gaze on your boyfriend. "her. i win, she's mine."

you should've known your now ex would agree. nothing would keep him from accomplishing his goals of 'putting the big dog down' as he so eloquently put it. now you're firmly sat right next to price on the stands (because you will not be calling him john anytime soon, no matter how many times he corrects you) essentially as his hostage.

"nothing personal, sweetheart. i'm a businessman, after all, and the prize walkin' out the front door would be bad for business. hope you understand."

no, you don't. so you tell him as such.

"tha's alright. simon'll take good care of ya, i promise."

"is there any particular reason you're so cocksure of your simon winning?" you manage to ask, your voice fragile.

he takes a thick inhale of his cigar before answering. "unfortunately for you, i've seen it all— the broken bones, shattered dreams, and—" you watch tendrils of smoke unfurl from his mouth, "adversaries who never walked back out."

spectators have already begun to huddle around the cage, puffing on cheap cigarettes. they all look desperate, eyes gleaming with greed. this time the one collecting wagers is a blonde woman, older in age, with her hair in a low bun and a puffer vest. "that your wife?"

he curls a large hand around my shoulder before twisting to look at— "laswell? no. don't swing tha' way." price gives you a gentle squeeze.

oh. you can feel warmth creeping up your neck. "sorry. didn't mean to- er. i didn't know."

"'s'alrigh'. her wife's nice enough. you'll like 'er.'' her wife? the confusion must've shown because he rumbles out a laugh. "no. it'd be me barkin' up the wrong tree. i—" he tightens the grip on your shoulder, "like whatever's pretty to look at." his words from before resounded in your head.

'your pretty girl's right...'

the heat that'd receded now stung the tips of your ears. whatever words you want to say are lodged in your throat but thankfully, you're saved by the bell. literally.

the rusty thing tolls and the crowd hushes their voices and stills their restless shuffling. first walks in your ex (idiot), looking exactly like what ghost had called him earlier— a golden spoon child. his shorts are glossy, even under the flickering, sickly light that falls over the cage. his boxing gloves are a vibrant red, pristine as if right out of the box. (you don't remember soap getting his pretty face broken by hands with gloves, but whatever.) he looks perfect, like something out of a hollywood movie.

and so out of place.

unlike ghost who's just stepped into the ring— who commands the attention of all within the hazy room. he fits right in with the rats who scurry around in the bowels of the city. he moves like the shadows that cling to the dark corners, his steps silent as whispers. a haunted being— one the world above with its neon signs and bustling crowds has long forgotten— has made his home down here.

ghost bumps his mma gloves with your ex's boxing ones, in a show of surprising sportsmanship.

the bell tolls once again, and the fight begins.

and just as quickly as it began, it ended. you blink, momentarily displaced, because there is no way what just happened is real. there hadn't been no real fight. it'd been one devastating blow to the side of your ex's jaw that ended everything. he hadn't stood a chance. it—

"'s done. sorry, love. but simon's headin' this way to claim his prize." price gives you a sympathetic pat to your back. "i swear it on my life he won't harm a hair on your head."

what?

ghost barrels through the roaring crowd and comes to a stop before you. "you're with me, now. best get used to it." shock blurs your vision, or maybe it's the fact that you've been hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder that did it.

it doesn't matter. the one you came here with is currently lying limp on the stained mat, his mouth hanging open a little awkwardly. is he broken? you're put down on a bench in a large dressing room that has only one tall locker in it with a tiny ghost sticker on the front.

"did you... is he dead?" you ask, pulse quickening.

"no. either dislocated or broke tha' jaw of 'is only."

you sputter when metal clinks on the surface of the wooden table he's currently leaning his weight against. dusters? "you used fucking dusters?"

he turns his head and looks at you, piercing and intense. "you and i both know i didn't need anythin' to knock his teeth down his throat, isn't tha' right, pet? eh?"

his knuckles are calloused and heavily scarred, the little finger bent at an angle even when straight. "don't worry 'bout him, you're with me, now." he shrugs on a plain, black jacket and heads for the door. "try to leave and i'll jus' find you again. don't make this any harder than it has to be."

welcome to the rat king's domain, sweetheart.

[celestialtarot11]

Future Spouse PAC—

Hi friends! Highly requested—a future pick a spouse reading. I appreciate all of you for being here <3 please like, comment and reblog to help this blog grow! Your presence means the world. It’s also 11:11 as I type this so for anyone who needs this here you go.

Pile 1: Hi there pile 1! Hope all is well in your world. For you I see a lot of prominence in your future spouse. They are physically well dressed, put together and appear luxurious. They can invest in quality brands and wear clothing that makes them feel good. I’m seeing someone wear a long tail coat and it emphasizes their height, because it’s slender and yet angular. This person has a great sense of fashion! I heard fashion icon. Some people may look to your future spouse for inspiration, and I heard designer. So perhaps they work closely with others in a artistic sense! They could be a Leo, Taurus or Capricorn. This is also someone who is generous with their energy and resources so if someone needs help they will offer it! Humble, has humility and carries themselves well. I have a feeling this is someone slightly older than you! They could have a pet as well, maybe a parrot for someone or a budgie. Cute! But back to their generosity I feel they give back to their community a lot, and may donate, raise funds for charity! There’s this soothing angelicness to them which people are drawn to, and their smile is also soft and beautiful! It’s something you’ll really like! I also see boyish rugged features for those who are interested in men. And for women I see chubby cheeks, fuller lips and lighter eyes! Your person can be on the taller side :) As for their hobbies may include hiking, skiing, camping! They may go with family as well. They could also be into religious studies like studying different religions, cultures and traditions. They may not necessarily be religious, but study the bible or Quran for example. They just love to learn. Thank you pile 1 for being here! Means a lot to me. Hope you like comment and reblog <3

Pile 2: Hi there pile 2! Haha for you I got a very elusive slippery energy from your future spouse. I feel as though in their younger years they were really hot. They were a know it all. They were charming, devious and funny. And they still are! They’ve certainly still got it going. I do feel as though when you meet them you might pick up on those traits from their past and stay away—but this person has identified that they want a deeper commitment here with you. They have grown a lot and instead of chasing cat and mouse, they are confident in attracting the right person. They don’t want games anymore, I’m hearing they don’t have time for it. So your person could be very busy and on the go often, like traveling to other states or places for work. It requires them to constantly be moving. I feel as though there is an element of long distance here but not necessarily forever! They can be foreign, as well. Different culture, values, traditions. But I think this’ll draw them in even more to you and vice versa. I feel this person has worked their way up to developing self respect and esteem, so they may be a bit intimidating at first. I see honey blonde hair, fair to tan skin, and tall figure. They can have toned figures and look as if they work out. They may be into sports of some kind that challenges their body. They need to get that energy out, i feel as though they’re like electricity, constantly sparking and looking to connect to a source. They can be scattered and flighty because their job is demanding of them, but they mean well. They’re funny, confident, boisterous, and charming! Very smooth with their word so expect them to charm your pants off ;) They may have black hair and keep it neatly trimmed! For men I see a neat beard and it isn’t long, it’s not a stubble either. It defines their face very well and I feel they have intense eyes. For women I see brown hair, thinner lips and green eyes! Or just lighter eyes in general. I feel they’re known as muscle mommy 😭 because their body is toned. Thank you pile 2 for being here! Any likes comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Pile 3: Okay right away pile 3 Electric by Alina Baraz began to play! Lol hope your day has been well. I feel as though this person is intense, stern and firm at first. I heard CEO. What kind of wattpad love story is this? Lmfao im hooked. Anyway, this person could have a higher position in your job and I do feel how you meet is they help you out. They may offer you a position, or talk to you, and somehow it slips out that you’re struggling. Im seeing two people meet for coffee in the lounge room and hitting it off, and its unexpected. I feel you two may expect a purely professional relationship but no—this is something deeper. There’s this feeling of intimacy and closeness with you two, like you two saw each other a long time ago and now you’re meeting again. Very familiar and comforting. Feels like 4h synastry! I love that. I do feel as though your future spouse is a provider and doesn’t mind if you want to take the reigns in bed too ;) they are skilled I should mention. I also feel they are someone who tries to understand what their emotions are and what its telling them. So you can help them, maybe you understand emotional processing better and can guide them. They’ll guide you through the material world and offer insights, and help you feel stable financially. I almost feel as though you’re the spiritual one and they are in touch with the material realm. So they are stunned when they hear of your spiritual journey and not only that but attracted. They feel tempted by what they don’t understand. Speaking of temptation—theres a lot. Psychologically it’s tempting to fall into old patterns and I feel as though this connection is helping you release that, but also intimately the temptation is there! Very strong. “Darker than the ocean, deeper than the sea.” I keep hearing that from the song and it describes the depth of your connection when you two meet. I also hear, “touch me, your electric baby.” So you two will definitely feel it. Its unmistakable! A little work romance never hurt anyone LOL that’s what I heard. Someone is saying it like a hushed whisper so I feel ya’ll will physically get closer to talk to one another—it’s an unconscious action yet so intimate. There’s a lot of unspoken tension here between you two. Anyways pile 3 enjoy <3 I hope this helped you! And please don’t forget to like comment and reblog to share the love.

Extra

Paid readings 🤍

[doodleswithangie]

"Huh, wild." "'Huh, wild.'"

[Image description: Fanart comic of a scene from episode 10 of Dimension 20's "Burrow's End," featuring the stoat family and Dr. Tara Steel. Alt text is provided and copied below the cut. End ID.]

Copied Alt Text

Page One: The stoat family is gathered around the walkie, planning with Tara. Tula says, "If we're worried about Tara running this gambit by herself-"

Page Two: Tula speaks to Thorn Vale and continues saying, "You could imitate Tara over the walkie talkie to Wenabocker, and just have her be waiting at the paddock." Elsewhere, Tara asks into the walkie, "Can you do an impression of me?"

Page three: Thorn Vale mimics her, parroting, "'Can you do an impression of me?'" Tara curses (the word censored by a frozen strawberry), catches herself, then says, "Sorry, pants?"

End Copied Alt Text

[iknowwhatyousaidlastsession]

It's a kitchen. It's got kitchen things in it. Like shelves n' shit.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Seventeen

TW for biological functions I guess? In a fantasy setting? And brief mention of blood.

“Stee,” something nudges Steve, rocking him a little, and then there’s another, whispered but urgent, “Stee.”

Steve blinks the rest of the way awake, squinting in the morning light, “you okay?”

“No. Ow.”

Steve’s all the way alert immediately, “where? What’s wrong?”

Eddie takes Steve’s hand, pressing it real low on his tummy, “ow.”

“Oh,” Steve says, leaning over and pressing a little bit.

Eddie immediately seems to panic, dragging Steve’s hand away and shoving one of his own right up between his legs, pressing hard. He looks uncomfortable as fuck.

“Oh! Baby, do you need to pee?”

“Called pee?”

“I-it’s when- you know what never mind, just come with me.” Eddie comes with Steve into the bathroom, and Steve shuffles him over to the toilet, “you need to pull your pants down.”

Eddie looks at him uncertainly.

“Here, these,” Steve gives Eddie’s sleep pants a tug, and Eddie soon joins in on pulling them down. “Uhm,” Steve says intelligently, faced again with that slit between Eddie’s legs, “I didn’t...I guess you should sit?”

Steve guides Eddie down, and he perches on the toilet.

“Now just, relax I guess? Let it happen?”

“Stee,” Eddie says, plaintive and confused and clearly fucking uncomfortable.

Steve squats in front of his knees, which is so new it takes Steve by surprise all over again, and he rests a hand on Eddie’s brand new bare knee, just because he can. Just to feel it under his palm, smooth and...maybe there's a little stubble growing on Eddie's thigh. He uses his free hand to gently press at Eddie’s lower stomach.

Eddie yelps, grabbing Steve’s hand away, “ow ow ow ow ow,” Eddie’s bloodshot eyes water, and then there’s a splash and very loud and insistent stream of urine that goes on for quite some time. Eddie’s breath is shuddering throughout, his eyes squeeze closed and he grips Steve’s hand and shoulder desperately.

It’s finally done, and Eddie's left panting, “many ow. Many.”

“Uhm...it doesn’t usually, maybe because it was the first one? No ow next time?”

“Next time?” Eddie repeats, sounding distraught.

“Yeah, sorry baby. Pee a few times a day.”

“Called few?”

“Few...not many.”

Eddie sighs through his nose, kind of relieved by the news, “not many.”

“Just wait until you gotta’ poop.”

“Called poop?”

“I-it’s- you know what, lets just cross that bridge when we get there.”

When Eddie stands, pulling his pants back up, still a little uncertain on his feet, the toilet bowl looks like it’s full of blood. Steve drops the lid and flushes it away, trying desperately not to worry that Eddie’s kidneys are like, failing, or something. “Yeah, hopefully the next one will be okay, like with what you coughed up...you should probably drink plenty of water today.” It’s not like they can get Eddie to a doctor.

“Water,” Eddie repeats, “brush teeth?”

“Yeah baby, we can brush our teeth.”

Eddie does, standing next to Steve. Steve watches them both in the mirror, but Eddie appears to, mostly, be frowning at himself. Once he rinses, he touches where his eyebrows were, then runs a hand over the top of his head. “Different. No hair. No Eddidie.”

“Oh baby,” Steve reaches out, touching gently, “hey, there’s a little bit of stubble, here, feel,” Steve guides Eddie’s hand. The first sign of hair is so minute as to be not visible yet, but Steve can definitely feel it, “your hair will come back.”

“Tomorrow?” Eddie asks, more hopeful.

“No baby...it’ll take some time,” Eddie pouts, “but it will.”

By the time they get back to the bedroom, Eddie is pulling a face, “wet,” he tells Steve, pulling at the crotch of the sleep pants.

“Oh...right. I guess we’d better wipe next time, hang on, I’ll get you a clean pair.”

“Clean pair,” Eddie parrots back, sitting on the bed, all long flailing limbs. He struggles a little, getting tangled, but he doesn’t ask for help, so Steve just waits and watches; he’s going to have to get the hang of this at some point. “Breakfast food?”

“Sure thing.”

Eddie stands, and his pants immediately fall down. Eddie looks down at them, pooled around his ankles on the floor, “pull pants down.” Steve can’t help but laugh.

Eddie’s pouting, but Steve can tell it’s good humored, a little smile hidden underneath. Eddie hasn’t changed at all; still just happy to be involved. Happy that he’s made Steve laugh.

“Okay, lesson one I guess,” Steve goes and stands next to Eddie, “come on, you can get them.”

He’s awkward in his movements, and Steve stands close to make sure he doesn’t like, fall over and face plant or anything, but Eddie manages to bend and grab them, and then pull them back up, clutching at the material.

Steve pulls the drawstring cords tight for him, tying it securely, “all my stuff it going to be way too big for you.”

“Too big.”

Eddie sits on the stairs, and Steve waits half way down. He sits for a second, looking at Steve, thoughtful. And then he stands back up, both hands awkwardly gripping the rail, “oh boy,” Steve sighs, “okay, but carefully.”

“Carefully,” Eddie hovers a bare foot out, wobbling. It takes him a second to coordinate bending his knee, and his foot lands on the next step with a thump. Steve never really thought about how much easier up is than down, but it definitely is.

Eddie gets a rhythm going, still white knuckling the rail, but they get there, and he’s much more confident by the time he gets to the bottom.

Steve looks at the sad contents of his fridge and sighs. He’s not giving Eddie a cold bowl of cereal, he’s not doing it.

“Wait there,” he heads into the garage, rummaging through the freezer. He comes up with a couple of frozen pizzas, and prays he’s not setting a bad precedent with pizza for breakfast...but then it occurs to him what day it is, and he thinks fuck it, it is Christmas.

Steve gets both pizzas in, dealing with the pot of peas they had abandoned on the stove top last night.

Steve makes himself a coffee and Eddie another glass of water; Eddie looks at it mistrustfully, and Steve figures Eddie has already made the link between drinking and peeing, “you need to,” Steve tells him, pushing the glass closer.

Eddie sighs like a man going in front of the firing squad, but he does sip it.

“Pizza good good good,” Eddie says, licking his fingers clean of cheese grease.

“Yeah, I like it too. You done?”

“Done?”

“Finished?”

Eddie looks sad, “no yes,” and rubs his tummy.

“I get that,” Eddie has half his Pizza left, and Steve three slices of his, “but we can eat the rest later.”

Eddie perks up, “lunch?”

“Yeah, we can eat it at lunch time. You want to see what’s on TV?”

“TV.” Eddie stands up, determined. Steve watches; Eddie uses any furniture in reach, and then the wall, to make it to the kitchen doorway. He stands for a second, faced with the gulf between the doorway and the couch. Slowly, and a little uncertain, Eddie makes the trip.

He sits, and Steve watches it dawn on him that he needs to get back up again to turn on the TV. The sigh that comes out of Eddie is spectacular, but he gets up, and he does it.

Steve feels like he just watched Eddie sink a winning basket, or something.

Eddie’s fallen asleep again, Steve can feel it in how his breathing has evened, how his body is lax. They’d watched 'A Wonderful Life' this morning. Granted they missed the first little bit, and Steve is sure Eddie didn’t really follow the plot, but Steve just...couldn’t resist it.

Clarence earns his wings, Eddie got his legs.

Eddie had finished his pizza at lunch time, and had more water, but only because Steve bribed him with half a beer for afters. And then came Eddie’s second ever pee; almost clear this time, with maybe the faintest trace of pink. To say Steve was relieved is an understatement.

Steve figures he’s right, just like with the crap that came out of Eddie’s lungs, there must be some sort of trauma when it comes to using body parts that are brand spanking new.

Steve’s not really watching the TV any more; there’s another Christmas movie on, something about Prancer the reindeer. It makes nice background noise as Steve decides Eddie has the right idea and allows himself to doze.

He’s very nearly asleep when the phone rings, startling both Steve and Eddie awake.

Steve’s halfway up, Eddie flopping off him onto the couch when it hits Steve; he hasn’t told anyone. Shit.

He answers the phone, already half certain the it’s Robin, “Hello?”

“Hey,” it is Robin, “look, Steve, I know you said no and everything but I’m really worried about you, and it's Christmas so I really don’t think-”

Steve cuts her off, “Eddie’s fine. He’s here he-”

“What??!”

“Yeah, he, he came out of the pool last night. He’s like, completely fine.” Steve smiles as Eddie appears in the doorway, one hand resting on the wall.

“So he’s just- alright? Like, what happened then, why..?”

“Oh. Oh shit, no he has legs Rob!”

She squeaks down the phone, “legs!”

Eddie moves closer, careful steps that are already about a million times more confident than yesterdays, “called?”

“It’s Robin, you want to say hi?”

“Birdidie.”

Steve hands the phone over, watching as Eddie holds it to his ear, “hi Birdidie.”

Steve can hear the noise Robin makes, it’s so loud, Eddie completely startles, dropping and then fumbling the phone and nearly stumbling himself. Steve manages to grab Eddie by the tops on his arms to steady him, and then takes the phone back, he can vaguely hear Robin saying, “hello? Are you still there?”

“Sorry, Robs, you just scared him a little.”

“Okay, yeah, okay yeah that’s fair. Sorry. Can I come over? I should come over-” and Steve cannot blame her at all, but he does kind of wish their little bubble had lasted a tiny bit longer.

“Okay Robs, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yup yup Mom will drop me, I’ll bring left overs!”

Eddie sits with his legs pulled up, trying to tuck them under himself like he would his tail; it isn’t really working.

“Birdidie in?” He asks looking distinctly uncomfortable, plucking at the frayed edge at the bottom of his sweater.

“Yeah, Robin's coming to visit.” Eddie looks distinctly unhappy at the prospect. “What’s wrong? You don’t want Birdy?”

“Eddidie-” he starts and the stalls out, “Birdidie good bad.”

“Okay, can you tell me why?”

“No Eddidie,” he says, a hand going to the top of his head.

“Oh...you’re worried about you hair?” Eddie nods, “baby, no ones going to care.” Eddie just looks, if possible, even more downhearted, “but you care, don’t you?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay. Okay I can sort this, wait there.” Steve heads upstairs, raiding his mother’s wardrobe. It’s arranged by season and then occasion, so all of her ‘skiing’ – drinking too much in a lodge – outfits are all clumped together. Steve finds three hats, they’re all bobble hats and all distinctly feminine, but Steve takes them to show Eddie. On his way out, his eyes catch on the jewelry box.

All the rings in here are probably too small to fit Eddie properly, but Steve takes a plain silver band that might fit Eddie’s pinkie finger. He takes his haul back down stairs, kneeling in front of Eddie where he’s sitting on the couch.

Steve lays out the three hats across Eddie’s thighs, “okay, here we go, what do you think.”

“Called?”

“It’s a hat,” and then Steve commits a personal cardinal sin, he pulls one on to demonstrate.

Eddie seems to brighten as he understands, touching each one individually. He chooses the one Steve hoped he would, it’s the subtlest of all of them, black and white herringbone with a black edge and a grey faux fur pompom, which Eddie quite likes the softness of if his stroking is anything to go by. He pulls it on, smiling, “hat good.”

Steve reaches into his pocket, pulling out the little silver trinket he found, “and this.”

Eddie brightens again, touching the ring where it lays on Steve’s palm. He clearly wants to say something, his mouth opening and closing, but he doesn’t have the words. Eventually he points to the lights on the tree, opening and closing his hand to imitate the slow blinking of the lights.

“Those are lights...they're shiny,” Steve tilts his palm, the ring catching the light, “this is shiny.”

“Shiny...good.”

“Pretty”

“Called pretty?”

“Uhm...so if something looks...good. So if you like shiny lights,” Steve points, “or…” Steve struggles through Eddie’s known vocabulary, “trees, trees can be pretty.” He touches Eddie’s sweater, “blue, pretty blue.”

“Purple more good than blue,” Eddie informs him with some certainty, making Steve laugh.

“Okay, purple pretty,” Eddie nods, “so, you want this on,” Eddie gives his left hand over easily. His fingers are actually much slimmer than Steve had really anticipated, and the ring spins loosely on Eddie’s pinkie finger. Steve moves it to the one next door, where it fits well, snug against the last vestiges of Eddie’s webbing, “okay?”

Eddie leans forward to kiss Steve, “thank you Stee.”

Part Nineteen

[sehtoast]

Say Please (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+ | orgasm denial, sex toys, begging, finger sucking, sublander, gender neutral reader, sex toys under clothing, edging | Fic Directory

He was on his literal fucking knees for you– all for you.   

Begging.

You had The Homelander begging.  

It didn’t take much.  Some time, some patience… A little remote controlled toy inside of him alllll day long, set to the lowest possible speed.  He should consider himself lucky that Vought’s costume department thought to make his suit erection-proof.

“Please, please– fuck– please! ”   He mewls against you, hips jerking against his wavering restraint as he fights not to just hump your fucking leg.

   You run your fingers through his hair and his whole body twitches and he whimpers.  

“I– I’ll do anything!”  He pants desperately, walking himself closer on his knees to press against you, face buried against your abdomen.  “A-Anything, just– fucking help me!”   

Throughout the day, he managed to come in his pants twice– forbidden from cleaning up, of course.  After that, his body needed more, much more than that dull little vibration against his sweet spot.  All those times his demeanor broke, all the odd stares at his flushed face, every fucking time he thought of pressing his cock against the edge of a table for a subtle relief…  

He was going fucking insane.

You smile down at him, other hand moving to thumb at his lips.  He swallows your finger in an instant, tongue slicking it with saliva, suckling in the hopes of pleasing you enough to earn his release.  Your taste sends a shiver down his spine that compounds with the vibrations in his ass so deliciously that it makes his eyes roll back.  His hips press forward, cock rubbing against your leg in timid motions.  Like he was afraid you’d jerk away and sentence him to suffer even longer.

You meet his motions with a small push of your own and he sputters, face clenching, drool starting to dribble off his lower lip.  You tug his head back by his hair.

“Tongue out,” you order, smirking at his compliance.  You slide your thumb down the length of it, teasing him ever so slowly.  His face contorts as your thumb creeps further back toward his throat until he gags.  You give a playful chuckle, leaning down to spit against his tongue before engulfing him in a heated kiss, his moans and heavy pants mingle with your collected breaths.  “Good boy…”

His body lurches against you harder.

“Good boys get what they want, right?”

He gives an eager nod.

“I better hear you say it,” you chide deviously.  “All I can hear right now is that toy slowly dying inside of you.  Is my Johnny a good boy?”

“I’m a– I’m a good boy!”  He parrots eagerly, hands palming at your sides.  “I’m good– I s-should get what I want!”  He whines pitifully when you step away from him.

“On the couch,” is all you had to say for him to scramble to his feet. “Take everything off– except your underwear.”

He damn near shreds his suit ripping it free from his body, each piece thrown about the room haphazardly.  Homelander sits eagerly for you, fists clenched at his sides as he watches you strip your lower half bare.  He could’ve come then and there if not for that last scrap of restraint keeping him from losing it.

The front of his red briefs are stained a dark red, evidence that he’s been leaking so much all day that his previous releases never got to dry.  You ghost your finger over the tented fabric, sliding featherlight just over the tip.  His head falls back and his thighs flex as more pleas fall from his lips.  You work the fabric down to his knees, watching with delight as the moisture inside clings to him in strings.  He hisses at the cool air finally wafting over his heat.

You give a playful flick to the base of the toy, which rests right against his perineum.  His cock rests against his hip, tip red and weeping, shaft jumping each time his hole twitches against the toy.

“P-Please…” He keens in a whisper so tight you barely hear it.  “Please,” he says again in a sob.  Tears gather in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill down his flushed face.  His mouth is agape with desperate, heavy breaths, chest heaving with each one.

You position yourself to hover just over the tip, just enough that no meager thrust upward would quite touch your entrance.  His hands come to your hips but you’re quick to relocate them elsewhere.  You are in control, not him.  You decide when and what he can touch.

He sucks a sharp breath of air when you grasp him to guide him in, and no sooner than his tip breaches your hole is he practically fucking screaming, eyes blazing a bright crimson as he spills into you.  His sounds are weak and endless as he chokes on a breath, cock spurting load after load into you, come spilling out to run down his shaft.  There’s so much and you fucking feel all of it.  He bucks up into you at one point, having floated up off the couch just enough to finally fucking sink inside.

He writhes– practically fucking convulses through his orgasm, all while you get to sit there and watch with a devilish grin.  Your hand dances up into his hair once more to grip and tug, tilting his head back to clear the way for every kiss and bite you decide he’s earned to that delicious neck of his.

As soon as he can catch his breath, he’s apologizing– he’s begging you to forgive him for ruining it.  Little does he know that this is exactly what you wanted all along.  To reduce him to such a base need that the slightest touch of your heat would send him spiraling.  You didn’t edge him since sunrise for nothing– even if he did succumb a couple times between then and now.

You retrieve your phone from where you’d tossed it on the couch and increase the toy’s speed, going from practically zero to one hundred in a second.  He arches and shouts, head shaking back and forth as he grits his teeth.  He knows not to fuck up into you– not yet.  

Not until you give him permission.

You fully intend to fuck him silly for the rest of the night, but not until you’ve had a little more fun with your darling dear Homelander.

Not until the only thing he knows is that he’s your good boy.

[roadkillremi]

Catch Me.

Billy Loomis X F!Reader X Stu Macher

MasterList

Warnings : MINORS DNI,( the following is all consented ) degrading, tying up, chasing around with a knife, chasing through woods, language, exposing the readers chest, a small grinding moment

Summary : Billy and Stu love to play their little games on Reader. This time it's a game of cat and mouse in the woods. But what happens when she makes it past the woods?

Billy reflected his sick games onto you all the time. He would pick out clothes for you to wear. They would be the most feminine and dainty things. This time it was a white night gown that went to your ankles. Billy smiled at you, "So pretty.". You looked up at him, "Billy I wanna go to bed.". He looked at you, "and leave me alone?". You darted your eyes around the room.

"No- I'm just tired." You whined. Billy shook his head, "You should have thought of that earlier. Before you called me all needy and shit.". You looked down ashamed of yourself, Billy grabbed your chin.

"It's okay, baby. Let's play a game, hm?". You looked up at him, "Billy I'm bad at games." You whispered.

"Shh, not at this one. Now let's play one of your favorites when we were kids.". Your eyes widen and you shook your head.

"Yes. Let's play cat and mouse in the woods." He grabbed your wrist taking you outside. You breathed heavily, you were sure it was another psychotic break from his mother leaving. He walked to the border of the woods.

"You run. I count to 15.".

"What about Stu?-" you whispered. Billy looked into the woods, "You know what happens when I catch you. So Run.".

"Billy. I'm scared." You said softly. He looked over at you, "Do you know what to say when you're uncomfortable?". You nodded, "What is it? What's the word?". You swallowed, "Parrot." Billy nodded, "Now run." He demanded. You took off wincing at the pain of your bare feet hitting the sticks. You glanced behind you, nothing yet. You stumbled down a hill tripping onto your knees. You hissed in pain, you heard Billy's boots against the leaves. You stood up quickly trying to find a hiding spot. You darted around finding two big rocks to hide between. You hated to admit it, but you loved running from Billy. He knew it and that's why he did this to you. You heard a low whistle and foot step. You looked down at the ground trying to steady your breath. Billy squatted by one opening of the rocks.

"Found you."

You crawled out the other end and ran off. You knew if you ran far enough you'd make it to Stus house. And you'd win.

His heavy steps were close behind you. The cold air stung your lungs. You pumped your arms faster as you saw Stus house in the distance. You felt relief in you and tried to run faster in the field of overgrown grass. Billy's footsteps grew faster and louder, you stumbled upon the porch. You banged on the door, "Stu! Stu! Open up!". Stu opened the door and you ran in and slammed the door shut. Stu looked at you a bit surprised.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He held you close to his lanky body.

"Someone's chasing me!" You panted, a knock on the door echoed. You shook your head, "Don't answer it, Stu.". Yes I backed up from him as Stu opened the door with a soft chuckle. Billy walked in and looked at you.

"This is the farthest she's made it..." Stu said with a wide smile. Billy nodded, "It is. She usually trips so God damn much.". You backed up into the couch causing you to fall. Billy and Stu walked into the living room looking down at you. Billy squatted, "What now, Bunny?".

"I-I won!" You fussed. Billy smiled and gently grabbed your chin.

"So naive. So dumb. So Pretty. That's why you're our final girl." He said grinning. Stu sat you up right, "Look at your dress it's all dirty.". You looked at Billy, "He made me wear it.". Stu put his finger on his chin, "Better take it off so I can wash it.". You shook your head, "No.". Billy stared at you, he leaned into your ear.

"Are you still wanting to play?"

You nodded, he backed away before standing up.

"Stu take her upstairs." He demanded. Stu grabbed at your hips, you pushed him away getting up. Stu took out his pocket hunting knife flicking the blade up. Billy gave Stu a small nod, you ran up the stairs. Stu laughed running after you, "Come on! Don't be scared, baby!". You ran around the hallways before locking yourself in a bathroom. Stu banged on the door, "Let me in!". You stayed silent, "I know you're in there.". The doorknob jiggled aggressively before it went silent. You stayed there waiting for a sign of him. You slowly creaked the door open looking down the hall. You stepped out silently walking, Billy pushed you against the wall.

"Get off!" You fussed. Billy smiled, "Got her.". Stu huffed, "I wanted to catch her.". Billy glared at him, "Then handle the brat.". He threw you towards him, Stu grabbed your wrists and pulled you into his room.

"You're okay with this?" Stu asked softly. You nodded, "Yes, Stu.". He smiled pushing you onto the bed, Billy walked in holding rope.

"Let's see if she wants to be a rope bunny for us.". Billy grabbed your ankles. You kicked at him trying to fight it off. He smacked your leg leaving a red sting. He tied your ankles together tightly. You kept fighting against Stu as he tried to grab your wrists. He put his knife up to your neck, you stopped fighting him. You stared up at him instead, Stu smiled and grabbed your wrists tying them together.

"What now?" You ask softly. Billy tilted his head to the side, "We hurt you." He smiled. Your eyes widen, he chuckled "Don't worry.". He grabbed Stus knife dragging it down your nightgown.

"It won't last long.".

Stu stood above you staring down at you. He grabbed your face smooshing your cheeks.

"Don't worry, sweetie. Its the stuff you like.". He let go of your face and back away with a wide smile. Billy pushed your ankles up revealing your underwear to the two men.

"Seems like she's enjoying it." He smiled. He put his knee onto your clothed cunt. He pushed it down watching you whine beneath him.

"Poor little whore. So needy for us." Billy whispered. Stu watched intensely, "Should've thought twice before calling us. Telling us how much you wanted us." Stu cooed. You groaned causing Billy to apply more pressure. You moaned softly grinding against his knee. He smacked your thigh causing you to yelp.

"fucking whore." Billy muttered. Stu hiked up your night gown more revealing your chest.

"No bra either." He tsked looking back at Billy. You grunted, "Asshats" you Whispered. Both the boys looked up at you, "Let her go" Billy Whispered. Stu backed up obeying Billy. Billy got up and left the room, Stu followed. You stared at the door and yelled their names.

No answer. You yelled again and again until your voice grew tired. After what ft like hours Billy walked in.

"Done being a little bitch?"

You nodded, he cut the top letting you free. He gently picked you up out of the bed carrying your tired body out of the room. Stu was in the hall waiting for you, "Is she okay?" He whispered. Billy shrugged carrying you downstairs laying you on the couch. Stu kneeled down to your level.

"Did we go too rough?"

You shook your head, "No, just tired.". Stu nodded before sitting on the couch snuggling you. Billy sat on the other end, his hand placed firmly on your thigh.

[planetsage]

NEW PIN ! ꒰ 🧚🏽‍♀️ HEAVEN 𖧧˚⋆ʚɞ ── choso kamo 𝜗𝜚 . . . SAVE ?

“all of our love filling all of our room. your low warm voice curses as you find the string to strike within me that rings out a note heard in heaven.”

contains. nsfw so, minors and ageless blogs do not interact. f!reader. switch!choso but mainly dom!cho, sort of fighting for dominance, “ma’am,” f rec oral, dirty talk, fingering.

“can i try .. being in control? y’know, like how .. like how you are usually?”

choso pants sweet puffs of air betwixt words. they suffuse into the otherwise stilled air, toying with the curve of your ear before kissing at it softly. he’s curled up underneath you, twitching and shaking like a spring leaf at how you press swelled lips against the flush of his neck. “you want to be in control?”

you parrot him almost mockingly, and he nods. moving to push you underneath him so quickly you blink a few times to register what just happened, “yeah, i want to be in control” his eyes lock onto yours, dead-set. his wispy lashes so long they almost push up against the lower scruff of his brows, “want to make you feel good” he’s moving down your body, slowly, never letting his gaze grow weak or falter, “want to make you cum on my tongue” a kiss to your stomach and then another to the pit of your belly button, “want to make a mess out of you so i can drink it all up” oh, he’s going to be the death of you, “want to be used”

he nestles palms between the curve of the back of your knees, pushing them up to your chest. then licks a few fat, wet stripes on your inner thighs, muffling into the warmth of your skin, “can i?”

he pulls a smirk out of you. you’ve never seen him like this before. regaling you with words as is if he’s selling himself, but your head dips into a nod, “yeah, cho. make me feel good” slipping a craved hand into his mussed hair. he perks up almost noticeably, as if he expected you to say no. looking up at you, but then his eyes darkened. the usually clear windows to his very soul, fogging over with pure lust.

he opens his mouth, flashing white enamel before closing over the dyed lace of your panties, tearing through it like some crazed dog making your body quickly sit up, “what are you— that was fucking expens- ohhh fuck“

his lips, wet, suction around the bud of your sensitives clit, sucking so harshly as if it’s his last breath of air, slick spit coating as he pinches his brows together, speaking against your sloshy cunt, “shut up and take it”

“who do you— hahh nngh, think you’re talking to, huh?”

“this prettyy fuckin’ pussy. so loud when it sucks me in jus’ — listen, baby”

he dips two long slender fingers into the warmth of your sticky walls, smiling against your cunt at how it squelches so messily, your head slipping back at the sweet stretch, your body already giving in to him, “feel good baby, hmm? tell me just how good ‘m makin’ you feel. say it”

your ass raises and arches up into a bow at how he’s carelessly talking against your cunt, sending warm vibrations to the pit of your stomach, his sharp teeth occasionally teasing and grazing your clit.

“sh— shut— up and eat me out”

he lets you have it with a muffled, “yes ma’am” too caught up and lost in your addicting taste to keep testing and pushing you— he’s successfully dipped a toe, but doesn’t dare to fully submerge, he knows he’s no match and you’d eat him alive like a starved great white.

your thighs hungrily clamp around his flushed face, “fu— fuck gonna cum. don’t stop. don’t fucking stop” and he wouldn’t dream of it.

his fingers slosh in and out of you, hurriedly begging you to give him more. greedy. both your hands dig into his hair grabbing bushy handfuls, grounding yourself against his warm, flattened tongue, “that’s it, baby, use me. fuck my face”

a wave. a tsunami of pleasure surged deep, deep in your core, spreads warmth through your entire body as you push against the crown of his head, “don’t run fr’me” he’s lapping at your pussy through your high, the world around you blurring leaving you empty, your body spasming against the strength of his heavy arms.

you look so pretty like this, he thinks. your body humming angelically with aftermaths of his tongue, bathed in a glow of pure gold. he now sees why you love being in the position he’s in, but now that he’s seen oxymoron personified, this heavenly yet so sinful side of you, he doesn’t think he can go back.

© planetsage 2024 all rights reserved. no part of this may be reproduced in any form.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

stress relief | spencer reid x reader

wc: 3k, rating: explicit/18+

warning/tags: established relationship, face fucking, blowjobs, vaginal sex, submissive!spencer, whiny!spencer, insecure!spencer (just a little, more like awkward lol), confident (and insanely horny) fem!reader

a/n: i'm back with more pwp!! surprise!!! i have no excuse. i wrote this in about 2 days. i needed to get it out of my system i think this spencer (s3-4) is crazy and perfect and i need him. also thank you for 100 followers on this little reid blog of mine! i hope to keep writing more on here <3

(p.s: you can find this fic on ao3!)

When you get on your knees between Spencer’s legs, looking up at him with wide eyes that spell sin, Spencer knows he’s in for a wild ride.

“You’ve been working too hard, Spence,” you say, shaking your head, speaking like you’re talking about the weather and not like you have a hand on his crotch, steadily stiffening under your touch.

You watch Spencer’s throat bob as he gulps. He blinks quickly, once, twice. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so,” you hum, fingers already toying with the button of his work slacks. Spencer had gotten home late from work tonight, but was still fretting over the stacks of reports on his desk in his home office in the apartment you share. After dinner, you’d convinced him to lounge on the couch for a bit, instead of getting back to work – leading you to where you are right now. “I think you need to relieve some of your stress.”

Almost like he’s nervous, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “What are you thinking?”

“Orgasms release endorphins which contribute to stress relief, no?” You parrot the fun fact Spencer’s told you countless times, a small smirk on your face. As if your hand gently palming his cock hasn’t made your intentions more than obvious.

His eyebrows raise. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“Wow, you could at least sound a little more enthusiastic about your girlfriend giving you head.” You deadpan, but you pop the button of his slacks anyway.

Spencer squeaks. “Sorry. I– I really want you to blow me.”

“I know, darling,” you coo, pulling down the zipper of his fly slowly, feeling the hardness of his cock pressed against it. His underwear is a bright pink when it gets exposed. You chuckle to yourself. “Cute."

Spencer flusters, laughing nervously. “Oh my God. I kind of forgot I was wearing those. Haha. Sorry."

“Baby,” you frown slightly. You’re not mad, not in the slightest, just amused with how he’s acting. You place your hands on his thighs, pausing with any of the action. “Why are you sorry? I think you’re so cute, you know.”

“My head isn’t on straight right now,” Spencer sighs, shaking his head. “I just want– Like, it’s going to be good for me, obviously, because you’re so good at this. I don’t need to want anything. I just– Want this to be good for you too.”

“It’ll be good for me if you stop overthinking it, Spence.” You smile. “It’s chill. Also, when do I not enjoy sucking your cock?”

Spencer covers his face with his hand, but you see him smile, laughing to himself. “You’re so crude, y’know? But I suppose you do really enjoy sucking me off.”

“I know.” You chirp. “And I do."

Your hand is down Spencer’s pants before he can even tell you to go ahead, but he knows that you know he wants it. Spencer hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, taking them off. His cock jumps up and you watch, fascinated with the obscenity of it all. Spencer’s cock curves up towards his stomach, reddening at the tip already.

You wrap your hand around his hardening cock, as you start to jerk him off. He lets out a high-pitched whimper, like he can’t control himself, and he cups a hand over his mouth. His eyes are wide as he stares down at you. You giggle, “It’s cute.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Spencer says, his face a little red already.

You pout. “Come on, Spence. It’s really hot.”

His hand falls from his face to his lap, coming up to cup your cheek gently. “You like it?”

“You’re so sexy.” You nod. “Of course I like it. Now, make those noises for me again, pretty boy.”

Spencer squeaks as you tighten your grip around his cock, eyes fluttering shut as you stroke him. You work him up to full hardness – not that it takes very long for him to get there. You flick your thumb over the head of Spencer’s cock, tease into his slit where he’s steadily leaking already. His precome makes everything slick and sticky, easing the slide of your fist over his length.

Your eyes flit between Spencer’s face and his cock, marvelling at the growing mess in your hand and how his face is slowly but surely revealing his pleasure. He’s flushed, lower lip pulled in between his teeth, as you watch his chest rise and fall. His gaze pierces you, the intensity of how he looks sending shivers down your spine.

Knowing Spencer’s looking down at you, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, pressing it flat against the tip of his cock. Spencer lets out a strangled breath, eyes bugging out at the erotic sight of you between his legs. You wrap your lips around him, suckling gently on the head of his cock. You hope to make Spencer lose his mind like this. With the way he’s breathing heavily, lips parted as he takes in all of you, you think it’s working.

His whines are more frequent, accenting his hard breaths. You see how Spencer doesn’t know what to do with his hands, watch as he digs his nails into the flesh of his palms, and you instead hold him by his wrists to put his hands in your hair. The weight is comforting, and encourages you to sink down on his cock more. You take more than half of him into your mouth, but Spencer being… well-endowed meant that you often never were able to fit all of him in, unless you were in a particular mood.

The tip of Spencer’s cock hits the back of your throat, once it’s slid in. You gag at the intrusion, and Spencer lifts you off of him, slightly freaked out. “Are- Are you okay?”

“Baby, please,” you sigh, endeared but annoyed at the fact that he’s getting in the way of his own pleasure. “Trust me with this. Just focus on feeling good?”

Spencer’s brows furrow slightly, lips drawn into a little pout, but you nod to soothe his concerns. “Spencer, I want you to use me–” You stick your tongue out to lick at his length again, making him shudder. “–Just like this.”

“You want– You want me to…?” Spencer trails off, unsure if he’s picking up what you’re putting down.

“Fuck my face, Spencer,” you say bluntly, tired of flirting in circles. It’s fun flirting with Spencer, because it’s fun to fluster him when he isn’t expecting it, but right now, when he isn’t getting the hint, you need to lay it all out for him. “Use my mouth like a fleshlight. Whatever you want to do. Please.”

He inhales sharply, stunned at your explicitness. He pushes his hair back, out of his face, taking the time to process… everything. His gaze is tender, though, as he gently cups your cheek. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that. But if you don’t want it anymore, you– You have to let me know, okay?”

You smile up at him, pleased that he’s finally letting some of his inhibitions go, even if he still seems hesitant. You pat the side of his thigh thrice. “I’ll do that if it’s too much.”

“I love you.” Spencer says softly.

“I love you too, Spence.” You hum. “Now hurry up and fuck my face.”

“Jesus, you’re so crude,” Spencer laughs. He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. Pulling back, he guides his cock to your mouth, the head of his cock pressing against the plush of your lips. His mouth is open when he looks at you like this. He whispers, “Fuck.”

You open your mouth to take him in, like you were before, sinking down inch by inch, until he’s comfortably settled in the back of your throat. Spencer doesn’t move to fuck your face yet, so you make the first move. You bob your head up and down on his length, making sure your mouth is wet and slick as you suck him off. He lets out a moan, hand fisted in your hair.

And here’s where it starts: You slow on his cock, and Spencer, finally taking what he wants, pushes your head down onto his cock for more. You gag slightly. Spencer pulls your head back up, pushes you back down. While you appreciate how much he cares about you, him putting his pleasure first in using you like this makes your toes curl.

Spencer’s cock in the back of your throat is not uncomfortable, not yet, but Spencer steels himself to fuck your mouth and you find your veins thrumming with adrenaline. Spencer’s first thrust is exploratory, cautious. He’s nervous, or it at least feels like it when he fucks into your mouth. You would tell him off, but your mouth is kind of occupied right now. Instead, you glance up at him, and hope that your gaze tells him to just fuck me.

One arm against the backrest of the couch, Spencer thrusts into your mouth again. He gasps. Chasing his own pleasure, his eyes flutter shut as he fucks your mouth. His thrusts are shallow, desperate, hurried, but his mouth falls open in stuttered, eager moans. He’s so gorgeous.

You’ve never heard anything so perfect, the way Spencer moans, the way he cries out your name. You press your legs together to stave off the arousal building between them. You feel like a mess, Spencer’s hand making a mess of your hair, Spencer’s cock making a mess of your mouth. You think spit is probably all over your chin right now, but he’d probably think you still look great anyway.

Spencer gasps, out of breath as he whimpers, “I’m– I’m close, I can’t–”

He fucks into your mouth once, twice more, before slumping back down onto the couch. There’s a slick, wet ‘pop’ as you pull off of Spencer, pouting slightly. “You know I’m happy to swallow, Spence.”

Spencer laughs, tired, and explains, “I know you do, dear. I just don’t think I have it in me to come more than once. And I really want to come inside of you.”

His words make you blush. Spencer doesn’t get too explicit too often, so hearing him say dirty things always turns you on. You reach up to wipe yourself clean, but Spencer’s already ahead of you with a tissue pressed to your face, gentle as he wipes your mouth and chin.

After cleaning you up, he helps you up off your knees and onto the couch. You’re both still clothed, sure, but Spencer’s boxers and pants have been pushed down to reveal his cock; you must be even more of a mess, hair rustled and face messy, and the desperation that makes itself clear at the sight of the both of you makes you giggle.

Spencer smiles at you. “What are you laughing about?”

“We must look insane right now,” you laugh. “We’re not even naked yet and we’re like this.”

“Well, I think you look beautiful,” Spencer says earnestly in a quiet voice, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear. Spencer’s touch is gentle, it always is, and especially in stark contrast to the way he’d fucked your face, just like you told him to. “My lovely girl.”

“Spence,” you purr, nuzzling into his hand as he cradles your face. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Spencer’s answer is immediate, certain, and it makes you acutely aware of how turned on you are.

“I love you so much, and I really need you to fuck me right now.” You look up at him, watch as his face warms from serious to amused. You shift away from him slightly on the couch, but use the extra space to spread your legs. “Use this pussy, baby.”

Now, he presses his finger to his temple, shaking his head playfully. “Your mouth is filthy. You’re filthy.”

You grin. “Aww, Spence, at least tell me you like it!”

He leans forward to kiss you, hard and eager and desperate. You moan into the kiss, as his hand is pressed into the small of your back. You run your hand through his hair, where it’s starting to curl past the nape of his neck. When he pulls away, he says, looking deep into your eyes: “I like you. And your filthy mouth. Now let me fuck you.”

You giggle, wildly turned on as his long, deft fingers push your shorts and panties off. He kisses along your neck as he does so, then lays you back on the couch, and his thumb rubs circles into your inner thigh softly as he regards you, admires you. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“You are too,” you say, awed, as Spencer takes off his nerdy little button-up. His body is perfect – not skin-and-bones skinny, but there’s a healthy litheness to him that you appreciate, especially when you’re grabbing at him while he fucks you. “Want you right now.”

“I know,” Spencer hums soothingly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Come on, love.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch, slack-jawed, as he wraps a hand around himself. His eyes flutter shut as he strokes himself, but he quickly snaps himself back to reality: guiding his cock in between your legs. He presses the tip to your clit, messy and glistening with your slick, and rubs against you in circles. You moan, feeling a little pathetic as you rut your hips forward to find any more pleasure like this.

Now, he presses the head of his cock to your hole, teasing, pushing it in slightly before it slips back out and spreads more of your slick across the rest of your cunt. You whine, pouting up at Spencer. He coos at you, “Okay, okay.”

Finally, he’s settled against your hole, the blunt head of his cock pressing into you excruciatingly slowly. It’s exhilarating, feeling him feed his cock into your hole, feeling him stretch you open, feeling like you were made for each other. He holds your leg up so he can press up closer to you, feeling so full as he puts his cock inside of you.

“Spencer,” you moan when he stops moving. “Fuck me. Just like earlier.”

”Okay, love.” Spencer nods, trails his hand down your waist and hips, down your thighs. “My gorgeous girl.”

Spencer thrusts into you, the first one sending electric pleasure through your body. He always loves to do it like this, make love to you slowly, intensely rocking into you until you feel all his love. You always do, but you don’t want that tonight. He knows that’s not what you want tonight.

When Spencer starts fucking you, his hips have gained a steady rhythm, your skin slapping together obscenely. It’s so wet between you two, where he’s pressed inside you. He fucks you hard and fast, eyebrows furrowed as he chases his own high. He’s so fucking cute, even while naked and trying his best to make you feel just as good as he does. He’s panting and groaning, your own moans mixing in with his. He knows you want him like this, hard and fast and messy.

You can’t form a coherent sentence, only able to babble and cry out for Spencer, for more, and you cling onto his arms as he pounds into you. You’ve never felt Spencer like this before. Sure, he’s always eager to please, doing whatever makes you feel good, but him going so hard, just like this, just the way you want makes you feel so needy, the both of you feeding off of each other’s desperation. All you can focus on is Spencer’s skin touching yours, the in-out slide of his cock, the slapping of skin on skin, the wet, slick noises of his cock fucking in and out of you.

“Cumming, Spence, I’m cumming,” You cry out needily, desperately, and you moan when he presses his thumb to your clit. He flicks at your clit in rough, hurried little circles. The pressure is cruel but just what you need for your release, and your whole body shakes as you orgasm. The high is so good, a different type of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You clench around Spencer, your cunt like a vice grip on him. Moaning loudly, his hips are stuttering as he comes inside of you too. He fucks out whatever momentum’s left in him, but pulls out quickly and gently, because he knows how fast you get overstimulated afterward.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, then presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, sweet, tame, unlike the depravity you were engaged in before, and the juxtaposition makes your head spin. Spencer, who is usually such a sweet, soft guy, being able to fuck you so hard and fast until the couch was creaking underneath you. You suppose that’s what he’s capable of when you ask. You like it. You wonder what else you can ask him to do. You think he’d do it in a heartbeat, knowing him.

“That was amazing,” you giggle breathlessly. “Spence, you’re a madman.”

”For you, my dear,” Spencer smiles. “Anything for you.”

You snuggle into his side, resting your head on his chest as you lay on the couch. You’re both sticky and gross, but you’re sure Spencer will be more than happy to clean up later. Right now, you’re just pleased to be cuddling your boyfriend.

”So, do you feel less stressed out about work now?” You ask, after a moment of comfortable silence.

”Well, I certainly wasn’t thinking about work,” Spencer laughs. “You know, some sociologists believe stress can be caused by positive events too? I think you cause me stress, but it’s good stress.”

”Watch your mouth, genius,” you snark playfully. “You’re lucky you’re cute enough that I’d take being called a stressor a compliment.”

“I love you,” Spencer sing-songs.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the stupid grin that forms on your face. “Yeah, yeah.”

[iwaasfairy]

FAIIRYYYYYYY!!!!!! WRITE FOR KENMA AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

a quick little smt smt because kenma has been on my mind since I watched the movIEEEE I loVE HIM O WANT hIM ♡♡

tw twincest, implied past underage content

“Don’t let the twins run off together without supervision,” your mom used to tell your aunt if she’d babysit. ‘Babysit’ as in lighten the load of two sneaky, restless pre-teens on your very overworked parents. Your brother was quiet, and shy around everyone that he didn’t know well, but he was always a force with you. One who knew what he wanted, and would get you to play along as long as you’d let him.

They’re up to no good, she’d pet your head with affection, but brows furrowed with something other. Aunts, cousins, family friends. Always said it with a certain look at you both, before leaning in to whisper— and you guess back then they knew something you didn’t.

Kenma probably knew. He just didn’t care you never did, because even with the added surveillance of older cousins he’d still find a way to dash off with your hand in his. Giggling and panting where you’d snuggle together in the alley behind the woodshed, or ducked into the pantry under the stairs to whisper and let him show you all kinds of things. Usually it was just the next enemy on his beat up Gameboy, or some cards he traded with Kuroo, or even a new trick with the ball. Sometimes it was something else, hand over your mouth when he told you to keep quiet.

“Your teacher told me a certain pair of twins always skip out on classes together,” your dad chastises over dinner one night after a big volleybal match. “Wonder which twins he could possibly be referring to.” This time it was the back room behind the gym equipment— only hastily cleaned up before the teachers stormed in. Can’t help it, a slight smile starts pulling at your lips.

You almost laugh when Kenma kicks your foot under the table, as your spoon clings too hard against the porcelain plates. “Just because Kenma does stupid boy stuff that will get him in trouble—” Your father’s thin glasses are down his nose as he looks at just you, interrupting your opened mouth to point your way, “doesn’t mean you have to join him. I really expect better from you kids.”

He acts like you’re supposed to know better. Maybe he should wonder if Kenma’s just convincing. It’s a simple and quick answer, he is. From the way Kenma slurps his soup, staring you down across the table under thick, playful lashes, you learn that apparently it’s more acceptable for boys to act mischievous. “Sorry, dad.” Big brother sighs.

Kenma’s feet grab yours to pull it up onto his chair, then plays with your toes so that you have to hold the giggle from breaking out in between the sharp breathing through your nose. “Sorry, daddy.” You parrot when he doesn’t let up, biting your lip at the way he pushes his thumb in.

Your dad is none the wiser, and just sighs. “You’re the older brother, Kenma. I want you to take care of your sister, not lead her astray.”

He does though, you want to say. Just maybe not in the way they’d like to see him care.

It’s only natural that you follow your big brother, your other half, across Tokyo after graduation. Into a bigger apartment where he can stream— when he asks it under hushed whispers trailing fingers down your arm. Of course you say yes.

It’s how you find yourself with your head on his lap, letting his long, skinny fingers trail through your hair as he sinks deeper into the couch. “D’you want some Thai too? I have to work at three so we can’t go out yet. That’s okay by you, right?” He’s so pretty from here, looks down at you with those sharp, calculating eyes with a softness reserved for just you.

“I’ll eat what you eat, nii nii,” you yawn, and also lift your upper half a bit more to press kisses to his hard cock, lick up the bead of glistening precum there. You’ll do whatever your twin wants you to do. You’ll do what you’ve always done.

Taking his cock into your mouth makes him let out the prettiest mumble, pushing up into your soft lips a little more as he agrees. “I know.” You let your head be pushes down as you hollow your cheeks around him, and choke just a little before you reach his pubes- pushing into the back of your throat. It’s hot, and he tastes so good. “I don’t need anyone else. Y’know that?”

“Mhm,” you’re nodding while pulling back, instead going to suck on his balls with an eager tongue. His cock twitches to get back to you. And the coy smile on your face as you look up from his lap makes him groan, holding the phone away from his mouth for a few seconds to watch you. “Guess we shouldn’t have been let off without supervision, huh?”