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absurdthirst · 7 months

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Edible Flowers {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of brothels and sex work, use of the word 'whore', general bad attitude, threats of violence, voyeurism, mentions of masturbation, SEX POLLEN, uncontrollable lust, rough sex, unprotected sex, dub-con due to sex pollen.

Comments: After losing his coins and unable to join the others in your party at the brothel, Pero decides to bathe with you in the local river. Both of you unaware that the flowers that line the banks of the river will make your blood sing with lust.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!!! I don't know where I would be without your friendship, Charlie. I love our conversations and our crazy thots. I hope you have the BEST day! 🎁🎊💝 I think it a tradition at this point that your birthday fic be sex pollen 😂

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You ignore the grumbled curses from the foul smelling man next to you. Angrily searching bags and shoving them off to the side. Rolling your eyes at his odious manner, his stench and his overall unpleasant demeanor. It wasn’t your fault that you two were the only ones left at camp. He had no coins to spend, having squandered them on the last village by getting drunk and misplacing them. You were still here with the horses because you had no interest in visiting the brothel.

“You should just go.” You huff, smirking in amusement at the thought. “Perhaps they will tumble you just because of your charming demeanor.”

“Quit talking before I decide to test how sharp my blade is.” Pero Tovar hisses angrily, his dark eyes narrowed in frustration and unhappiness at being left behind. No one, not even that bastard William, would lend him the coin to get his dick wet. After nearly two weeks of hard riding and no privacy to pleasure himself, he wants a release that is in a tight, warm cunt. Not the palm of his axe calloused hand.

“I’d remove your balls before you ever touched my tongue.” You snort, reminding him of your own quick use of a blade. The last man who had tested you had his body stripped and left for the buzzards when he had thought to try to force his will on you. You like to think the other men you rode with walked a little more carefully around you after that.

He grunts, unwilling or unable to come back with another retort and starts to dig through his bags once again. Searching in vain for the pouch of coins that would apparently get him away from you.

Your own search of your bags is much more organized, searching for the precious sliver of soap you still had and a clean set of clothes. The river is just past the little copse of trees and you have plans for a long soak and a good scrub in the cool, clean waters. It’s been a dusty, dirty road and you want to feel clean again. Or at least, not as filthy.

Finding the soap, you take it out and sigh softly, inhaling the scene of the flowers that had been pressed into it. It’s your last little cake that you had made, representing the last piece of yourself that you had left behind when you had started on this journey. Leaving home and traveling with this brash, rough, uncouth bunch of mercenaries.

They had decided that having a woman among them was a good thing. You were better for distractions, getting tavern owners to allow you to bunk under their roofs, sometimes using your ‘feminine wiles’ to get jobs when necessary. Tovar had been the only one to keep his distance and his surly attitude around you.

“Fuck.” The curse is accompanied by the saddle bag being thrown across the camp clearing, making you bite back a grin at the Spaniard’s ire. Pissed that he should have to stay back and not partake in the drinking and whoring.

“There it is.” You snatch your clean bandage out of the bag and tie it closed. “Perhaps you can mend your armor.” You offer, standing with your change of clothes and your soap. Your money pouch is with you, not trusting him to keep his fingers out of your coins to go off and have his pleasure. “I would not even suggest a bath. I know you have no use for such a thing.” You smirk, enjoying the darkness of his scowl and the muttered curses under his breath as he glares at you.

“Where are you going?” He demands, motioning towards the camp. “We need to start a fire.”

“I am going to bathe, you can start the fire.” You tell him, watching him shake his head. “No. You stay and help.” He spits. “I am not sitting by and doing all the chores.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “I have made the fire every night for nearly two weeks.” You remind him. “I am not the camp whore. You want a fire? Start it.”

“Puta.” You glare at him when he calls you a bitch, but you don’t say anything, knowing it won’t do any good. Pero is not a man who claims to have manners. You’ve seen him fight with the locals over perceived insults or slights. Manners is not something that would ever cross his mind when it comes to his own actions.

Instead of spending time arguing with him, you simply walk out of the clearing with your things and make your way through the trees down to the edge of the river.

Pero growls again, glaring at your back as you walk away from him. Unsure why the fuck he lets you talk to him like that. Irritated that he had been left back, that his money was gone and he was unable to go find release in a hot cunt for a few coins.

Letting out a sigh, he rolls his head back, rubbing his shoulder and catching a whiff of himself. The acrid, sweaty scent of unwashed man makes him grimace and he hates to admit that you are right. He could do with a bath himself and cleaning his leathers. Sighing when he realizes that despite his best efforts, he would be doing what you wanted him to do.

It takes him a few moments before he smirks. You are down at the river. Naked. Washing. He grunts and despite himself, his cock twitches at the thought of seeing your body and stroking himself from the safety of the trees. Or perhaps he will outrage you by just diving into the water himself. He huffs a chuckle, imagining your glare and curses as you try to keep your eyes off him. You grumble and curse when any of the men pull their dick out to take a piss, you would hate it if he stripped down to the bare skin of his ass.

He lingers another moment, weighing his choices and blows out a huffed breath. Ambling slowly over to the bag he had thrown across the clearing towards the horses when he had been cursing his luck. Groaning slightly as he bends down to pick it up, he can’t help but think that a bath and a solid night of sleep might be better than a rowdy night in a brothel, drinking and whoring.

The waters are slow in this bend of the river, making it a good place to swim and wash. Maybe even catch some fresh fish if there is any. The village is nearly a quarter of a league away, the men preferring to keep their horses and belongings well away from the towns until they are ready to leave. Too many places would seek to steal from the mercenaries, as foolish as that might be.

It’s isolated here, no sign that anyone from the village ventures this way. Lucky for you, because the flowers blooming on the bank are sweet smelling and look edible, although you haven’t seen that variety before. There had been some rabbits eating them before you had scared them off. If you had your bow, you might have been having rabbit for dinner.

Now, you slowly peel off the clothes that are caked in dirt, sweat and blood. Groaning slightly when you start feeling light begins to give your muscles relief. Your breast band digs into your skin and you eagerly begin to unknot it so you can unwind it from your chest.

When it’s completely unwound, you groan again, reaching up and massaging your sore tits. Nipples aching as you slowly palm them. The feeling is incredible and it makes you close your eyes, missing the slight movement in the treeline to your left.

Pero’s eyes widen when he sees your tits. You’ve never even taken a piss in front of the men, preferring to go off behind a rock or some trees when the group has stopped. Now he’s unsure if the dark thatch of hair that covers your cunt is what is drawing his eyes or your hands roaming over your breasts like you are pleasuring yourself. The way you are groaning has his cock hardening like he is watching a show that some of the whores would use to make men pay more coin in the brothels. His mouth waters and he reaches for the laces of his breeches, eager to pull his cock out and stroke it until he spills on the ground.

Until he sees you turn around and carefully make your way into the water. Your ass swaying invitingly as you wade into the water and he watches you dunk your head under the water. It looks too refreshing to pass up and he wants to join you. He does need to wash.

The water is perfect, cool and clean, making your nipples harden even more and you lean back to float on the water for a moment. Relaxing and sighing at the way you already feel better, feel cleaner just by dunking yourself in the river. Once you scrub your clothes and body with the soap, you will feel positively luxurious. The only thing that could possibly feel even better would be to sink into a feather mattress to sleep.

The water surrounding you muffles the sounds from on shore. Your eyes closed keeping you from seeing the other mercenary strip down to his skin and start to wade into the water. His eyes on you as he manages to cover his already hard cock with water to his chest before you notice the movement beside you.

When your eyes open, they are wide, wrenched open from the slight shift of the water around you. Finding the dark eyes of the Spaniard fixed on you, making you shoot up, your feet slipping for a moment before finding your footing on the rocks and burying your body up to your neck in the water.

“What the hell are you doing!?” You shout, thankful that his own body is halfway underwater. You don’t know if you wanted to see how well endowed the man is. It wouldn’t help things and you are already trying to tear your gaze away from the muscle and scars that adorn his chest. Evidence from previous battles that show how he has survived. Your hands cover your breasts under the water and you quickly move away from him.

“Bathing.” Pero hisses back, rolling his eyes at you and smirking. Your mouth had dropped open like a fish and he enjoys the shock. Even if he had wanted to cum before he entered the water, he likes that you are surprised by his presence. “What are you doing?”

The fact that he plucks your soap off the nearby rock and starts to lather up his hands with it should make you take it back, but you find yourself just staring. Watching as he doesn’t move towards you, just sets the soap down and does exactly what he said he was doing. Bathing. His hands sliding over his skin and soaping himself up generously. Scrubbing the soap into his shorn off beard and into his hair. He had apparently hacked it off before coming into the water.

“I didn’t mean bathe with me.” You hiss, still submerged in the water. “How long have you been watching me?”

Pero smirks and arches his eyebrow at you. “You mean did I see where you like touching your tits?” He asks. “I did. You should unbind them more.”

Cursing under your breath, you huff and shoot him a killing glare. “Keep your eyes off my tits.” You mutter, but that only makes the Spaniard chuckle as he continues to scrub his body clean.

“Every woman has tits, yours aren’t special.” He lies knowing that he had been hard as a rock as he looked at them. Thought about sucking on them. You don’t know that, and his hard cock is under the water, out of sight.

Snorting angrily at his insult, you snatch the soap off the rock where he had returned it so you can bathe. Your relaxation is ruined by his presence and the last thing you want is to give him any more of an eyeful. He can stay here and you will leave.

Washing quickly, you scrub your clothes, painfully aware of his presence as he splashes and curses behind you. Trying to ignore him while you wring your clothes out and lay them on the stones to dry. Hating that you would have to expose yourself again to get out of the river and dress.

“I’m not looking.” Pero taunts, fully aware that he is watching you struggle to make a decision. The glimpses of your breasts and ass as you work have kept him hard and his hand squeezes his cock under the water.

Not looking back at him, you roll your eyes and stand up, walking out of the water to your pile of clean clothes. Rushing to put on your shirt, you don’t bother with a breast band, happy that the longer, larger shirt covers your ass as you wiggle into your breeches. “You may want to wash again.” You snort, turning to look at him still in the water. “I can still smell you.”

His eyes narrow and his mouth spits out another curse, but when you disappear into the trees to go back to the horses, Pero lifts his arm and sniffs. Wondering if you can smell him still, although all he can smell is the pretty soap you had. He grumbles to himself and starts to wash his own clothes.

****

By the time Pero returns, clothes damp and squeaky clean, you’ve started the fire and have cleaned out your bag that you use to gather berries. “The flowers next to the river are edible.” You tell him. “I’m going to get some. If you want to eat, come with me.” Already annoyed he hadn’t started a fire before bothering you, the last thing you are going to do is feed him.

You don’t want to see what he will say, just turning and stomping back to the water’s edge. In hindsight, perhaps you should have given him the coin to go with the other men. If only to keep him from annoying you. Finding his presence far more distracting than normal, when William is around to keep him occupied.

You ignore his grumbled curses as he follows you. Your stomach starts to growl and you know that there are plenty of the tender flowers to eat now and then save for later if you can gather enough. You’ve learned that despite the number of men in your party, foraging for food was often more successful for hunting. A few of the men were incapable of hunting silently without scaring off all the small game.

The small, pink flowers are pretty. The red pollen in the middle is eye-catching and you find yourself wondering why there are so many of them blooming at once despite watching numerous creatures feast on the tender buds. Reaching out, you pluck one flower from the stem and pop it into your mouth. Groaning quietly at the almost honey-like taste of it. Immediately picking another one to eat.

There are hundreds of them. Quickly starting to pick them in earnest. One for the bag, one for you to eat. Groaning everytime you let the flavor of the flower burst on your tongue. The taller Spaniard moves to the bush next to you and does the same, his own mouth shoved full of the edible flowers. Eating them as fast as he can. They are almost addictive.

It’s gradual. The way your body warms up and starts to tingle. Your skin is suddenly more sensitive than it normally is by the breeze coming off the water. Making gooseflesh rise and you shiver slightly.

Tovar grunts beside you, shifting and clearing his throat. Making you think that he had just swallowed wrong since he eats like an animal. Continuing to pick and eat the flowers until you feel like your stomach is going to burst from the local vegetation.

It’s only then that you realize how warm you are. Pulling your shirt away from your neck and humming quietly. Needing to almost take off your shirt as your nipples harden underneath the fabric. “Ohhhh.” You bite your lip and turn away from the bushes as you realize that you are feeling a certain kind of way.

You’re turned on. Stumbling back towards camp, you can feel the arousal starting pool between your thighs and you feel your cunt bottom out at the grunts of the man following you. “What the fuck is going on?” You choke out, dropping the bag onto the ground as you wrap your hands around your stomach.

Tovar nearly stumbles to his knees behind you, his cock harder than it has ever been in his life and he swears he need to pull his cock out and fuck his fist. “I- it burns.” He rasps, squeezing his eyes closed and ignores the soft whimpering sounds that are coming from you. Trying to suck in enough air to calm his racing blood.

“I don’t-” You moan again, making the mercenary to your left growl as you rush over to your saddle bags. “It- what is happening?” All you know is that you need to touch yourself. The need to find release building up like an infection under your skin. Your clit throbbing with every pounding beat of your heart. “I don’t fucking know.” Pero spits, dropping to his knees and his palm presses against his cock with a moan. “I need to cum.” He growls.

The raspy, rough sound of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and you feel your entire body light up at the thought of a thick, hard cock inside your aching cunt. Your broken whimper nearly a gasp. So close to giving in and begging Pero Tovar to touch you.

“Give me your coins.” Your eyes fly open at his demand, finding him dragging himself to his feet and lurching towards you like a drunkard. Eyes pitch black with need and lust as he comes closer.

“What?” You shake your head. “No. You are- you aren’t fucking a whore with my coins.” You hiss, making the man moan when you curse.

You don’t understand how desperate he is. Fumbling with his belt he tosses it away and reaches for the laces of his breeches. “I am begging you, hermosa.” He groans. “I need- fuck, I need to bury myself in a cunt.”

It’s your turn to moan, watching in surprise as the grumpy, harsh, uncouth man in front of you starts to unlace his breeches to pull his cock out. “This is- this is madness.” You whine, your own fingers starting to unlace your own pants. The thought of him fucking you is now buried in your head and it’s all you can think of. Him fucking you until the pain and need fade.

“Give me-” Pero chokes out another moan when his fingers wrap around his cock to pull it free. Unable to stop from stroking it aggressively, even though his palm is dry. “Please.” He begs, knowing that the need is overriding his good sense.

You never thought you would ever hear Pero Tovar beg for anything. Not even death when he was staring it down. Now he is begging for release and your own body reacts visceral to that plea. Your own breeches unlaced when you look up to see his cock in his hand as he pumps it furiously. Eyes closed and mouth opened on a moan as he tries to slack his lust. Your cunt gushes, bottoming out at the sight and you are pushing your breeches down in a rush as you try to kick off your boots at the same time. “Fuck me.” You demand, voice breaking as you stand on bedroll.

He’s dreaming. He’s in the middle of a fantasy because he swears he hears you beg him to fuck you. Knowing that would never happen, he opens his eyes and chokes out a sound when he sees you pulling your shirt over your head and standing naked in front of him. “Her-”

“Fuck me.” You beg again, dropping down to the blankets and spreading your legs. “I need it. I feel like I’m going to burn alive if you don’t fuck me.” Your arousal is coating your thighs and dripping down onto the rough blankets. Fingers already between your thighs to start rubbing your clit. Giving into your own body’s desires.

“Mother of God.” Pero curses, rushing forward and dropping to his knees between your thighs. Hand still wrapped around his cock and pumping it as he notches himself at your cunt. There’s no time to be gentle. Merely snapping his hips forward and burying his cock into with hot walls of your cunt with the loudest groan he’s ever made.

Air is pushed from your lung, giving you no time to think, to scream, as his thick length breaks you apart as he pushes inside you. Splitting you in two is an almost painful pleasure that has your nails digging into his arms and your body bucking under his. Needing more, you sob in relief when he feels the same way and starts to move immediately.

Your cunt is hot, tight around his cock. Making him grit his teeth together and bunch the blankets in his fists so he doesn’t leave bruises under your skin as he holds onto you. His hips slam forward, a rough little growl tearing out of his throat every time he reburies his length inside you.

Moaning, your nails start to rake down his back. At first it’s over the shirt he is still wearing as he fucks into you. His pants at his knees, still dressed while you are completely naked underneath him. Then your hands slide under his shirt, needing to feel his hot skin as you moan again. His cock hits deep, every thrust filling you perfectly.

Hissing, Pero grunts out a curse. “Shit.” He bites his lip and his next thrust is even rougher, pushing you up the blanket slightly. Your legs squeeze around his hips and you lift your body up to let him pound you back into the ground.

It’s overwhelming and still not enough. Every time his cock scrapes against your walls, it makes your body light up in pleasure, the pain and heat subsiding for a brief moment. Making you crave more every time the sensation comes back.

Your nails dig into his back but he doesn’t even pay attention. Too focused on the hot clutch of your cunt and how every time he rocks into you, those walls squeeze him like a vice. Groaning out curses in every language he knows, Pero feels like his entire body is being heated from the inside. “I- I’m gonna cum.” He chokes out, knowing that he won’t last more than a few thrusts.

You are right there with him, your body bowing and arching with every stroke of his cock deep within you. Pushing you closer to the edge and your eyes squeeze shut. “P-Pero-ooooo” Your back arches up, cunt locking down on his cock as your scream of pleasure rings out in the trees, making the horses startle and stamp.

Once you tighten around him, Pero is gone. Groaning out your name as he rocks forward one more time, staying just as deep as he can possibly get, relief and pleasure mixing together as he paints your walls with his seed.

You pant, trying to catch your breath even though the pain is still there, just beneath the surface. Able to relax for just a moment as your eyes close. Listening to Pero grunt as he works himself through his own pleasure and collapses on top of you.

“I-” he groans as he twitches. “Let me get my breath and I will fuck you again.” He promises, knowing that if he is still hard, you must also be feeling the effects of whatever has possessed the two of you.

“You better, Tovar.” You moan, squeezing him again as you bear down on him. Grinning when he curses again. “Mierda.”

“What the fuck is causing this?” He asks breathlessly.

“I don’t know.” You admit. “Maybe it’s- maybe it’s the flowers.”

He snorts, doubting that but he doesn’t argue with you. Knowing that whatever it is, it will have to work itself out of your system. At least this is more pleasurable than bad stew.

“More Pero.” You beg softly, starting to move under him again as the heat begins to build again in your core. His cock is still hard and you need that feeling again.

“Greedy.” He chuckles, looking down at you with dark eyes and for the first time he leans in to press his lips to yours, kissing you as he slowly starts to rock into you again.

Gasping in surprise, you cling to him, kissing him back as you stare up at him as you kiss. Wondering why his lips are so much softer than they had looked and his kiss is much gentler than you had expected. Not that you had expected him to kiss you at all.

Now that the first, brightest pain has passed, he can afford to be tender. To take a moment to make sure that there is more than just raw power in his thrusts. “I’ll give you more.” He promises. “I’ll give you everything you need, hermosa.”

****

The fire burns low, feet shuffling in the grass as men crowd around the sleeping pair on the ground. None of them believe that the Spaniard is wrapped around you, both of you obviously naked under the blankets. Your clothes are scattered on the ground around you.

“Do you think he fucked her?” The whispered question reaches William as he smirks down at his friend. Resisting the urge to poke him with his boot and wake the man from the obviously deep sleep.

“What do you think?” William turns his head and looks back at the other men.

“I think if you wake her, I will cut your tongues out.” Pero doesn’t even open his eyes as he growls his threat to the other men. Tugging you closer when you shift in your sleep until you relax against him. Your breathing evening out and slowing down again as you settle back into your dreamless sleep. Worn out from the multiple rounds you and Pero had the night before while the pollen from those flowers worked out of your bodies.

William grins, motioning for the others to quietly back away. “We’ll let them sleep a little longer.” He hums quietly. “Let's go down to the river and wash up.”

Pero grunts, knowing that he should warn them, but he’s not going to. The bastards left him here and he had to find out the hard way to stay away from the flowers. They could learn their own lessons. Smirking to himself as he presses his face into the back of your neck and inhales the scent of you. Maybe losing his coins wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he would warn William.

“Amigo…..”

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar the great wall #tovar #tovar x reader #tovar x you #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar imagine #tovar fanfiction #tovar the great wall

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svtcrus · 7 months

Text

───── `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 BABY LOVE ME EVENT SERIES

SHUT UP & KISS ME || gojo satoru x afab!reader

SMUT , MDNI

note : oral (m recieving) , blowjob lol , rough play , hair pulling , degradation , lowkey toxic relationship(??) , not proof-read

synopsis : a heated argument turns into a heated resolution.

a/n : here we go part 2 with a gojo smutt. gotta go back to my roots ofc for my bae. sorry it took so long, studies are so ass.

the room is ringing, screams of fury echo throughout the bedroom and nobody seems to be getting their side heard.

it's frustrating when satoru is only dense on the topic of love. he's a sweetheart, but he's also a jerk sometimes. a horny bastard albeit—does he even love you at this point?

"baby, I hear you loud and clear. just tone it down will you?" annoyance along with slight malice is seeping through his teeth, he's getting tired of this. constant fighting over this and that upon hours only to make up the next day. the reason behind such arguments are lost in the fragments of your memories.

satoru is really trying here. yet those stupidly pretty lips of yours are berating him—he's immature, how the thought of him being the strongest doesn't mean he's always safe.

he's really fighting it now, there's no way he's getting turned on from your anger. he just can't help himself. one half is telling him to stop, the other telling him the argument is long lost and it should be dealt with.

fuck it.

"shut up & kiss me." he seethes as those soft fingers of his grab you with force onto your cheeks. the grasp is pulling you into him, smashing his lips with your beautifully painted ones. it's a harsh kiss. you could practically still taste the anger through the lust, but it doesn't stop you from feeding into his desires. you already so tired from the screams and falsity.

it's ironic in a way that you find warmth and safety as he begins to completely encase you. the palms of his hands grab your face so roughly yet lovingly at the same time. tongues twirling, as he's nibbling at your top lip with low groans. with as much effort as you could muster, you're pushing satoru down onto the bed.

"mm..trying to take control honey?" your lips part with a slight trail of saliva, hot gasps fill this invisible bubble that you find yourselves concealed in. he's grinning with so much cockiness, and it's beginning to piss you off again. much to your dismay, you were very much still pissed at this perverted boyfriend of yours. however he's making every second more difficult as he manhandles you atop the comforter. now he was the one towering you.

before you could even blink satoru is ripping whatever piece of cloth that was covering that sweet body of yours. he's giggling, watching you just fall under his gaze. watching you fully allow him to feed into his raging fantasy. you were getting a piece of him tonight.

he's unzipping his pants with eagerness, the tent was very much evident. he's gripping onto your waist with such ease, you were now face to face with his cock and shit he was hard. there's no way that'll fit, you think.

"toru there's-"

"shut up & suck it." you couldn't even reciprocate his sentence, the sudden death grip of his fingers forcing you to suck his dick makes you yelp in surprise. his bitterment from the argument is clearly showing through this rough play—you're whimpering as he begins to shove himself deep into your throat—yet this new side of him is so enlightening to see.

a side so cruel at how he was receiving pleasure from you, so cruel of you to be gagging on his cock when you were "biting" his ear off moments ago. his girth was something, the length of satoru's cock was a whole story. his tip leaking precum was hitting the back of your throat, forceful thrusts of him trying to chase a high he oh so desperately needed.

"f-fuck, such a fucking whore. working that pretty mouth of yours to such good use hm?" slender fingers tangled themselves into your hair, then dragging down to your chin, squeezing your cheeks together. a mixture of cum and spit spilling out the corners of your mouth.

he's throwing his head back in ecstasy, the palm of his hand back to gripping your crown. fucking you faster—god, your mouth is doing wonders to him—harder, using you so goddamn well.

"shi- fuck. m'gonna-!" you used one hand to start rubbing him fast, gags getting louder just to drive him to the edge. whatever you were angry at him over it was long gone. your pussy was dripping wet, eyes pooling with tears as you felt him release inside your mouth making you choke a slight. that didn't prevent you from kitten licking him clean of cum, swallowing every bit of his seed. the sight before him made him grin in pride.

"mm.. putting that berateful mouth to better use...swallowing it all up so well." is all he says before leaning down to kiss you more intimately. he can taste himself through the kiss, tongue swirling onto yours.

"s'not over yet baby. lemme take my fill too hm? can you stay obedient?" you nod quickly. all you want is for his cock to be inside you. to pound you till all you could see is the stars that sparkle in his ocean eyes.

"isn't that so easy hm? no need for you to be so angry. i'll fuck you so well, you won't even remember us fighting." soft, hot whispers linger near your ear. hands pushing you back down onto the bed, knee prodding up your inner thigh—you whimper.

"so just shush that pretty mouth & behave 'kay sweets?"

©️ svtcrus || 09.24.25 ; BABY LOVE ME EVENT

do not modify, use, copy or plagiarize my work.

#svtcrus 100 #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo smau #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #anime smut #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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brucewaynehater101 · 6 days

Note

I want Duke included in batfam family fics. being the older sibling Damian needs, relatable yet guiding. Tim being ‘Dukes robin’ and having lots of respect for Tim yet he’d also steal his slice of pie. Duke and Jason hanging out, and Jason appreciating how he never tries to lecture him. Duke and dick matching vibes (or as much as they can) when on patrol and somewhat in the family, and both trying to make their brothers calm tf down. Bruce trying desperately to not fuck up with Duke like he did his other sons, only serving to confuse and slightly alarm Duke. Alfred and duke being the only ones with more then *1* braincell.

he also has so much potential for angst of being a meta in a family everyone thinks hates metas, and people somehow forget him???

(I have more just don’t have the energy to write it all down)

Heck yes! I agree that Duke needs to be included in more batfam fics (and especially as a more pivotal role). I personally try to add him a bit, but I fear I do not include him enough as a key member of the batfam.

Duke is hella important and should be treated as such. I'd love to see more fics with him pissing off GCPD for fun. Just chaos and pranks against GCPD, rogues, Batman, and the Batkids. Also, he should he allowed to punch (or kick) as many JL members as he pleases (Hal was just the first).

Duke and Dick having similar fashion ideas is a cute idea I've seen in the fandom. I would also just love to see more fanart of Duke rocking some fun outfits for galas (especially if the galas follow the AU of Gotham being super weird with their social norms). Duke being featured on magazine covers, being asked to model, and being interviewed would be cool fanwork ideas to play around with. I've seen so many of the other batboys and none with Duke as a magazine cover.

Here's my ideas on how Duke could interact with different batfam members. Feel free to reblog if you have ideas yourself or think the dynamic should be different.

I feel like Duke and Cass would get along really well as chaos gremlins who get away with their shenanigans. Messing with Commissioner Gordon is a favorite pass time of theirs. For some reason, even when presented with evidence, Bruce doesn't believe that Duke and Cass would do the things they get away with. It's both impressive and annoying to the other batkids.

Duke could have a weird relationship with Tim. On one hand, Tim is Duke's Robin. The cases he's solved, feats he's accomplished, and respect Gotham has for Tim's Robin in general (for being Batman's therapy kid) are unfathomable. On the other hand, he's seen Tim walk into the same wall four times within three minutes. They both share a love for riddles, but Tim can be an idiot at interpersonal relationships.

For Damian, Duke has seen how the world picks up kids and spits them out. He's seen kids lashing out, how they merely want to defend themselves, and how fantastic they are once you get to know them. He's been angry and spiteful at the world too. For Damian, Duke's hella impressed at the kid's heart despite all the shit he's been dealt. Duke would encourage chaos, talk with the kid about how different emotions have impacted Duke's actions and life, and is an overall supportive figure. They can often be seen doing both wild stunts and "common for their age group" activities for fun (although the game Sorry is banned because of them).

Jason and Duke would probably have a complicated relationship due to Red Hood's actions. Their similar childhoods (as far as economically and location based) would lead to jokes and shared customs that they chat with Steph about (such as Creepy Toe Joe or that specific gas station or the phrase they say as they passed that one pothole). Despite that, they have different viewpoints on Bruce and murder.

Duke is probably one of the more emotionally intelligent and communicative batfam members. If Alfred is the sassy version, Duke would get a good laugh out of those remarks and the astute observations.

Bruce and Duke angst could go hard. Bruce is trying so hard not to make his past mistakes. Duke and his perception of Bruce (he holds Bruce in high regard) and how that affects their relationship.

As far as Duke being in a "perceived to hate metas" family, that could either be hilarious or angst. I imagine people trying to intervene or "save" Duke from the Bats would be infuriating and sad to see.

Duke could also laugh at the batkids' superhero friends and how they, even as adults, are banned from entering Gotham. Duke is free to live in the manor and come and go as he pleases. Any of the batkid's meta friends have to be snuck into Gotham.

#dc comics #dc universe #duke thomas #thank you for the ask!!!!

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sxnshxnxxnddxxsxxs · 30 days

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why do people always have damian refer to talia as mother or talia?

now i’m gonna preface this by saying i don’t speak arabic nor am i arab but arab people feel beyond free to just tell me to stay in my lane.

that being said it makes zero sense to me that damian refers to talia as mother or her first name. this goes for both canon and fanon.

mother makes no sense to me because he wouldn’t have grown up saying mother, like you expect me to believe that in nanda parbat damian was referring to his mother in english absolutely not. and while i understand the idea that once he moves to gotham he tries to assimilate i don’t think he would do that my addressing talia as mother. like he might say my mother when referring to her in general. but when actually speaking to her or about her to her family that just feels very unnatural to me.

talia also makes no sense to me. like is to showcase their tumultuous relationship sure okay but i have never in my life seen or heard of a brown person or a poc in general directly refer to their parents as their first name. like when they’re not around sure but as a direct address never. i say this as a poc myself. like you expect me to just believe that talia would allow that. absolutely not. like no matter your stance on respectability politics i feel like addressing your elders with the appropriate respect is a pretty universal thing especially among poc. and you can still portray a tumultuous relationship between parents and children without having an element that’s so aberrative.

i think it especially pisses me off in fanon because people love to have damian refer to bruce or dick as baba as like evidence of their improving relationship but then have talia be called talia or mother. and if the reasoning is that damian and talia’s relationship is so bad that he’s doing this purposefully to put this space between them then that should be demonstrated in the narrative. that this is a recent change, an unnatural one, it isn’t instinctual, but it is purposeful. i mean there are also other issues with talia and damian having a horrible relationship but i find that most of that comes down to talias post 2001 characterisation so i wont go into it but i defo think writers should keep in mind. no media is ever created in a vacuum.

anyway from a little bit of research i’ve done i’ve found that yumma, ommah and omm are all very common ways to say mother. there are loads of different ways to say mother because arabic has so many different dialects. i’ve also found out that ommi el-habiba means my beloved mother which i could totally see damian saying really bitingly if he is fighting with talia.

once again arab people feel free to correct me or tell me to mind my business. but also i think about this a lot like even mama makes far more sense to me than mother or talia

#damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #talia al ghul #dc batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #batman #batfamily headcanons #batman meta #batfam meta

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maxybabyy · 3 months

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cross-posted on ao3

Lando is asleep on the couch when he comes in.

His jeans have been kicked to the floor, soaked where a bottle of apple sourz must have tipped over. He looks fine if a little sweaty, hair flat from the pillow but not worse for wear than when Daniel left. Had a night in then, he thinks and pulls the blanket over him.

He heads to the bathroom, breath still rank from the bar.

Lando had wanted to come and almost threw a fucking tantrum when Daniel had told him no. Lando may be allowed in bars now – a proper adult, their father would say – but that doesn’t mean Daniel is any more inclined to watch him and his friends get sloshed off mixers and shots.

Daniel almost doesn’t notice him as he walks in, head in his phone when he goes to take a piss. Scotty’s trying to settle the bill, the fucking uber ride and bottle of vodka they shared, Chloé conveniently left out of the budget breakdown. He doesn’t care, sends him his share with a quick, ok.

“Hello, Daniel,” someone says just as he’s about to pull his dick out, hand already in his pants. “Lando of course did not say you would be here.”

“Lando’s passed out on the couch, reckon he isn’t up for saying much right now,” Daniel says and turns towards the voice.

It’s one of Lando friends, because of course it is. Max, he decides, watches the kid as he sits on the counter next to the sink. There are two of them he knows, Fewtrell who’s been nipping at Lando’s heels since neither of them knew what it meant. And this Max, the hot one.

“Always he is bad at drinking,” Max says, mouth stretched into a wide smile. “He is very sloppy after one beer only, and then he gets very tired also. Like a little kid, you know?”

“Yeah,” Daniel says with a smirk. He steps closer to lean against the sink, feels the warmth pouring off of Max. “Not like you, right?”

Max shakes his head, touches his tit with an open palm like he’s going to swear on it, sucks in a breath when his nail catches on his nipple. It looks swollen too, hot and pink, heavy against the swell of his pectoral. Daniel’s eyes flicker down to where he also isn’t wearing pants, the pile of clothes just inside the door.

“Sometimes I think of course that you and Lando cannot be brothers,” Max says, kicks his feet against the cupboard underneath him. His legs look long, strong and tan from the summer sun. He must be bigger than Daniel now, taller too.

Daniel remembers the gawky nineteen-year-old Lando had brought home. Max on exchange from the Netherlands, taking the same courses that Daniel had done only three years before, with the same instructors too. “Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He had told him just to watch Max blush, cheeks scarlet as he ducked his head, stuttered out a quiet, “Of course, Daniel.”

“And why’s that, Maxy?” He asks now, touches the side of his knee to watch Max scramble to move, spread his thighs so Daniel can dig into the drawer underneath him.

“Always you are so handsome and funny also,” Max says, waves his hand around like that somehow adds to it. And maybe it does, because Daniel’s chest burns, overwhelmed. He feels almost sick with it, with how easy it is for Max to say, knows then he must be more drunk than he thinks. “Lando is just – Lando.”

Daniel laughs, squeezes Max’s knee. He watches the jolt of the muscle, the buck of Max’s hips up into nothing. Hears the sharp whine that escapes his lips.

He should tell him to leave, to put his shirt back on and go back to Lando’s room. Sleep it off so Max won’t hate himself for running his mouth when he wakes up. But he cannot, asks instead, “Is that a toothbrush in your hand or are you just happy to see me, Max?”

Hazy blue eyes stare back at him as Max squeeze his thighs shut. It’s rhetoric, almost. Redundant at best, and mean at its core, maybe. Because there is a toothbrush in his hand, the bright pink tool held in a slack hand against his thigh. But he’s hard too, obvious in the tight grey boxer-briefs he’s wearing.

“Always I am happy to see you, Daniel,” Max says. He spreads his thighs against and watches with dark eyes as Daniel steps between them, presses against the counter until there’s almost no space between them. “I have a toothbrush also, but I do not think –“

“Want me to brush your teeth, Maxy?” He asks, feels the shame as it flushes his chest, violent. Desperate. But he wants it, can almost imagine how it would feel if it was something else in Max’s mouth. The head of his –

“Please,” Max begs and lets his mouth fall open.

Daniel has done it maybe once before, brushing someone’s teeth. It had been a necessity then, a favour to a friend who had been too drunk to move, vomit still on his shirt. So far away from this, from Max watching him squeeze out the toothpaste and bring it to his mouth, his thighs squeezed tight around Daniel’s waist.

He starts off small, brushes over Max’s front teeth with tiny back-and-forth motions. The movement feels awkward from this end, like jerking someone off when you’ve been masturbating your entire life. Max keeps still, breathes through his nose like Daniel told him to.

Daniel reaches his molars, the toothbrush shoved deep into his mouth when suddenly Max shuts his mouth around it. Daniel is slow to realise it, keeps up the motion of the brush and watches Max move with it. Lips working over the shaft over it until he’s close enough to kiss Daniel’s fist.

“Max, mate. I cannot see what I’m doing,” he says, forces himself to laugh. He pulls back too quick, listens to the way Max chokes on nothing. “Let’s try the other side, yeah?”

It goes great until it doesn’t. Max deep-throats the toothbrush again as he watches him through hooded eyes. His hips rock aimlessly into empty air, pre-come soaking through his briefs.

“Max, no,” Daniel says. He pushes down on his bottom lip to keep his mouth open, ignores the way Max whines. “Be good for me, yeah?” He keeps a hand in Max’s hair, holds him steady as he tries to move with the brush, push it further into his mouth.

The top of the mouth is harder, the angle awkward from where he stands between Max’s thighs. “I don’t think I can do the rest, Max. My wrist,” he says, shows how limited his wrist rotation is.

But Max barely pauses, slides instead to his knees in front of Daniel, “Like this, no?”

Daniel chokes on his breath, feels the way his dick twitches in his pants. There’s barely any room between Daniel’s feet and the counter, but still Max fits perfect. His head tips back against the cupboard, thighs spread wide to make room for Daniel.

“That’s perfect, babe. Yeah,” he tells him softly, cups Max’s cheek in his hand.

Max’s eyes stay closed as he lets himself be moved, tongue wet and pink inside his mouth. Daniel doesn’t know how long it lasts, knows at least they’re above the designated two minutes. His dick strains against his pants when he strokes Max’s cheek to let him know they’re done.

Max is slow to come back, eyes blinking slowly until he refocuses on Daniel. A sweaty hand grabs the crook of his knee, pulls him in until his leg is pressed against the heat of Max’s chest, the tip of his chin resting too close to his dick.

Max tips his head back and opens his mouth, shows off the mess that sits on his tongue. It isn’t – doesn’t really look like come, too foamy with the paste Daniel uses. But it’s enough to pretend, to imagine what Max would look like if Daniel did come in his mouth.

Daniel lets himself look for another moment, soak in the sight before he nudges Max up against the sink so he can spit it out. “That’s it, good boy, Maxy,” he says, watches Max through the mirror.

If he looked drunk before, he looks downright indecent now. Cheeks flushed and chest wide as he sucks in breath after breath. Looks just about ready to pass out too.

Daniel pats his back and nudges him over to grab his own toothbrush, feels the way Max shudders underneath his hand. He’s just about to tell him to go to bed, when Max drops back to the floor, knees loud on the tile.

“Daniel, please,” Max says, begs.

Daniel leans against the sinks, angles his hips away from the space Max has created. He knows what Max wants, mouth open even now. But he can’t. Not when they’re both this drunk. So he does the only thing he can think of, shoves three fingers into his mouth and tells him to be quiet.

It works.

Daniel goes through a condensed skincare routine one-handed, feels the warm, wet suction of Max’s mouth around his fingers. The increase in pressure whenever Max swallows, how he leans into it when Daniel presses down on his tongue, sick with want.

He leads Max down the hall of rooms when he’s done, opens the door last on the left and lets him in.

#do you also want people to brush your teeth or are you normal?#maxiel #maxiel fic #my fic #fic #my writing #max/daniel #toothbrush fic

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robertdowneyjjr · 5 months

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so none of this is what any of you asked for, but part 3 of the stonyclunks soulmates au @stark-and-shield @polizwrites @soliloquent-stark

(parts one and two)

tony spends his flight home from london agonizing over what he should do next.

on the one hand, his feelings about captain america haven’t changed. if anything, he’s now even more adamant that he wants nothing to do with him, because not only does tony now have proof that cap is a total dick, he also now feels like all that childhood trauma?? was the result of a lie. now he knows that he grew up being compared to someone who isn’t even really as great as his dad made him seem. so maybe now he has some validation (and vindication) that howard was wrong. but still, he could have just done without the years of feeling like he wasn’t good enough.

on the other hand, he’s a hopeless romantic at heart and he’s always dreamed of meeting and growing old with his soulmate. he grew up surrounded by them — his parents are soulmates. ana and edwin jarvis are soulmates. aunt peggy and uncle daniel are soulmates. that nature-defying love has always been the shining example of what real happiness is to him and he’s been desperate for it since he was 25, the average age when people meet their soulmates. the fact that he lived until he was 38 and still never met his soulmate had hurt him everyday. and sure, he’s happy in other ways. he’s content with how his life has turned out. he has amazing friends. he has a family that supports him. but god, he wants to share it with someone who he knows is fated to be his.

now, he’s kind of annoyed that he and his dad have another thing in common, what with howard not meeting maria until he was in his 40’s. and at this point he’s starting to think that being soulmates with captain america is some sort of sick cosmic joke that the universe is playing on him.

also he’s really, really pissed that the words that are permanently marked on his skin are so ugly.

at dinner before their night at the opera, tony tells maria, “mama, i met my soulmate.”

“oh that’s wonderful, antonio! tell me all about them!”

maria can hardly contain her excitement, and tony feels awful that the news he’s about to share isn’t worth her feeling this happy about.

“it was two weeks ago, a total accident. he was really mean,” he explains softly. if they weren’t in public right now he might even have just shown her the words on his thigh, but he knows her protective instincts would rear their head immediately and she’d skip the opera just to get started on hunting down the man who spit such vitriol at her son.

“oh. well, has he apologized for it?” maria asks. “i hope he has some basic manners, at least. i won’t allow someone who treats my son such poorly into the family, whether you’re soulmates or not.”

“he… has. quite dramatically,” tony says, thinking about the instagram post that had been causing a media frenzy for a week now.

“well, good. he should know you’re to be treasured,” maria sniffs. “when will i get to meet him?”

“i haven’t seen him again since. i don’t know if i really want to.”

“why not, bambino? you’ve always wanted to meet your soulmate.”

“mama… it’s captain america.”

maria looks around the restaurant. “where? i thought howard was with him tonight. crazy old man, still thinks he’s in his prime and trying to keep up with people half his age.”

“no, mama. my soulmate. he’s captain america.”

“oh. oh dear.”

“yeah.” tony picks up his fork and starts eating again. “i think i might just be better off dying alone.”

maria doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. suddenly all the excessive whining from steve that howard has been telling her about makes a lot more sense. she knows that steve is a good man. maybe not perfect like howard always made him out to be. but kind, nonetheless. he would be good to tony, good for him, she’s sure. tony just needs to give him a chance.

but also, like she said, tony should be treasured. if steve wants to make up for how they started off, he needs to pull out all the stops. tony deserves nothing less than the best, after all. and to be honest, maria thinks she might enjoy watching steve grovel a bit. she’s also looking forward to making fun of howard for having such an idiot as a best friend and future son-in-law.

so she starts planning.

“tonio, darling, why don’t you stay over at the mansion tonight? ana was just saying we haven’t had brunch with you in ages.”

“sure, mama.”

under the table, she texts howard.

M: is steve still pouting about his life?

H: unfortunately. i’m just glad beer does nothing for him. i can’t imagine how much worse this all could be if he were drunk.

M: poor boy. maybe he’s also feeling a bit lonely. there are plenty of rooms in the mansion if he doesn’t want to go home to an empty apartment tonight.

H: he might like that. i’ll let him know.

#maria loves to meddle okay she just wants her son to be happy but she also wants to have her fun #while writing this i also just realized that howard should be basically on his deathbed now he’s so old #but let’s just say… when you meet your soulmate you start aging slower. okay yes let’s go with that #stonyclunks soulmates au #stevetony #stony #kay writes things

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ghost-bxrd · 24 days

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For "your court of owls batfam" au , how would Bruce react if Cobb ever got seriously hurt to the point of maybe having to be replaced? Also how do Dick and Jason feel about Cobb? Do they get along or is it strictly professional?

MWAHAHA I GOT ONE PERSON INTERESTED IN THIS AU ALREADY! *cheers*

Okay so Talon lore is that very little can keep a Talon down permanently. They can even regrow limbs if given enough time! So that’s neat. But basically replacing Talons isn’t a practice often exercised.

I know the Court canonically tried getting rid of Cobb in the Court of Owls saga because he got defeated by Batman and they didn’t think he’d “recover from the shame of being so thoroughly deafeated”.

It therefore stands to reason that he’s aware that he’s easily replaceable (there is always more than one Talon at any given time, although stored away in cryo usually) if he doesn’t perform to the Court’s expectations. Cobb is the best, been the best, Talon for over a century (?) now, but that means nothing if he fails to fulfill his missions.

So let’s say Cobb gets heavily injured by something that shouldn’t have been much of a challenge for a Talon. Let’s say his inattention/hubris/whatever nearly gets Bruce killed—-

That would be scandalous.

For one, his injuries will take several weeks to heal. Weeks in which the Voice will be virtually defenseless without their Talon. This is unacceptable.

And Two, some regular two bit criminals should have never been able to best a Talon in such a way. It’s a disgrace to the Court.

No, no, a new Talon must take Cobb’s place now. He has become obsolete. His services have been appreciated, but, “oh, you understand dear Talon, don’t you? The weak must be culled from the flock”.

And Cobb understands. He does. He’d thought- he thought he’d have more time, though. Time to convince Bruce to let him train the boy after all, to make sure his Voice is protected even after Cobb is gone. That the Court’s machinations will not see Bruce dead before the year is done because the new Talon will not know that Bruce is the best thing to have happened to the Court in a century. They will end up killing Bruce, killing Dick— (he shouldn’t care- he doesn’t care. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t-)

But then Bruce storms into the labs like the onset of a hurricane, all righteous fury and indignation, Dick hot on his heels (wide eyed and still too little with not enough training to hold out against the new Talon long enough to at least escape) demanding what the fuck is going on and why his Talon isn’t back by his side yet.

And he doesn’t accept the scientists’ reasonings that Cobb has done his duty; has become “outdated”. Doesn’t accept the reassurances of the “new one” being just as good— no, better, than the previous one. Doesn’t accept that a new Talon is supposed to protect him now. (“Him or none,” Bruce says, tone colder than the permafrost of the arctic, and at his side Dick’s eyes flash with unvoiced threat. “Now get out of my way.”)

As to the relationship between Cobb and the kids, well. His and Dick’s relationship is tense at first. Cobb has no interest being anything of a family to him despite their blood relations. He only sees Dick as a potential new (and perfect) Talon that could keep Bruce safe if he himself is deemed “outdated”. He’s not happy about all the potential “going to waste” by Dick being made Bruce’s ward, being allowed to live a sort of normal life. But once Dick approaches him for some training in physical combat… well. Sorry, Cobb tried. He really did. But Dick Grayson invented charisma, and even Cobb isn’t immune. He grudgingly starts liking the kid but will deny that until he’s blue in the face. Dick ends up being the Gray Son of Gotham, the highest ranking court member after Bruce with the training of a Talon.

With Jason it’s more straight forward. At first Cobb is pissed at Bruce for taking in a “street rat” and intending to adopt him, but… well, Jason grows on him “like fungus” (a direct quote). At first Cobb doesn’t really know what to make of Jason. The kid is loud and aggressive, but shrinks away like a wilting flower at the first signs of someone raising their voice. (He’s soft, Cobb thinks. The Court will eat him alive.)

But Jason’s also got a spine of steel as he clearly demonstrates when he jumps Cobb with a knife after an unfortunate misunderstanding where he assumed Bruce was in danger of him, and that kind of loyalty at least he can work with. (The kid’s still soft inside as all get out, but he’s excellent at covering it up with violence and bravado, and his charm is that he’s honest in a way so utterly foreign to the Court that it endears him to all the trustworthy members within a few months).

Jason becomes The Heart of the Court, the morality that Bruce was starting to have trouble clinging to; keeping them all on the right path towards a better future. A better Gotham.

(Cobb absolutely loves the children as much as Bruce does. It just takes him a bit longer to get there. And Jason is his favorite sorry I don’t make the rules. COUGH.)

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bookish-phile · 6 months

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fourth wing in a nutshell (i think?)

“Stop letting fear leach into your voice,” Luca snaps from behind Rhiannon. “If the dragons think you’re a coward, you’ll be nothing but a name tomorrow.” “She says,” Ridoc narrates, “inducing more fear.”

“It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.” “Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.”

“Hell yes!” Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. “That’s our girl!”

“Get on your back?” I repeat like a fucking parrot.

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

“You will not fall. I will not allow it.” “You will trust me.”

“But…” I shake my head. “Dragons value strength and cunning and…ferocity in their riders.” None of which defines me. “Please, do tell me more about what I should value.”

“For the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.” I lift my chin. “Tairneanach.” “Pronunciation could use some work.” Tairn’s voice rumbles through my head.

I belong to Tairn and Andarna…and, in some really fucked-up way…Xaden.

Tell him to ease up on you.” “Tell him to mind his own business.”

“Tairn says if you harm me, he’ll burn you,” I say as dragons to the left and right launch skyward without their riders, headed back to the Vale. But not Tairn. Nope, he’s still standing behind me like an overprotective dad.

and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.” “I mean, I’m not opposed—”

“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from Liam’s side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.”

"..but Sgaeyl does whatever she wants, whenever she wants.."

“Are we on offense or defense?” I ask Xaden. “Little busy right now.” “Oh no, am I distracting you?” A smile curves my mouth. Shit, am I flirting? Maybe. Do I care? Oddly enough…no. “Yes.”

“What did she say?” Xaden asks, gripping my shoulders to steady me. Tairn growls and a puff of steam blasts us both. “I’d take your hands off the rider,” Sgaeyl warns.

“Fuck, that stubborn, feisty look always makes me want to kiss you.”

but it’s not his position that steals my breath. It’s the saddle strapped across his back that has me gawking. “I hear it’s all the fashion,” Tairn brags.

“Third-years are taught to build wards, and at this point in the year, they’re leaving anyway.” I shrug. “May as well send them early so they can be of use.” “Point fucking made.”

Dress uniforms only.” She lifts her brows at Ridoc. He shrugs. “What else would I be wearing?” “One never knows what you’ll come up with,” Devera says, dismissing us.

“So she’s grown quite close to him out of necessity.” Out of lust and need and the ache in my chest I’m terrified to define, but sure, necessity works.

“Then what made you even think that? Have to admit, it pissed me off. I’ve given you exactly zero reasons to think I’m in anyone else’s bed.”

anyway i almost forgot to post this and i also think no one actually read till the end bc i never read long posts so im gonna assume no one else does either

also these are just some stuff i found funny

#fourth wing #violence sorrengail #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #xaden x violet #ridoc #rhiannon #liam mairi #etcetc

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neuro-die-virgin · 26 days

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Someone reposted my top surgery post saying ‘they should remove [my] head’ like who is they?? The fucking tranny police? Because you’re too much of a pussy to do it yourself? If you’re going to threaten me, do it properly. Look me in the fucking eyes and say you want to kill me.

Anyway, I have some advice if you’re trans on the internet - don’t ever let them see you down. Don’t post videos of yourself crying or getting angry and fazed over getting misgendered or whatever. Don’t fucking do it. They live off that shit. They love it. The best way to piss these people off is to be happy and to not give a fuck. They have zero empathy - don’t try to appeal to it. They don’t care about facts or reason, don’t try to argue with them. There’s zero fucking point. They just hate us because they’re pathetic basement dwelling losers who get zero bitches and hate themselves for jerking off to trans porn when no one is watching. You want to know the real reason they don’t like us? It’s the ick factor. It’s the ‘ew that’s weird and makes me uncomfortable’ factor. There’s no actual solid reason other than the shit they tell themselves at night about us grooming kids or whatever it is they think we do in our spare time. Half of them also hate us because we force them to question their sexuality. When a straight man sees a trans woman and his smegma-coated unwashed dick gets hard he goes into a spiral of panic about being gay, and instead of thinking critically about this he lashes out at trans people because that’s easier than accepting the fact that he might be attracted to one of those *things*. They think about us far more than we think about them - remember that. Just because we take up space in their minds doesn’t mean we’re obligated to allow them to take up space in ours. I know for a fact that they’re weirdly obsessed with us because the only way they’re seeing our posts is by actively looking for them. They seek out our content like bloodhounds on a scent.

We consume their thoughts and their lives. Don’t let it do the same to you.

#lgbt #queer #ftm #trans #transgender #transmasculine

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 2 years

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#321

“Hey. I know you are surprised to see me, but hear me out. First are we alone here? Do you live with someone? No? Good. Ok. Earlier today you thought I was at the main office. I wasn’t. I was in the inventory. I overheard you on the phone talking with some other guy…. Don’t look panicked. You are fine. Was he your boyfriend?... Whether you call yourself a queer or sperm burper who likes to suck dick at the dirty book store, I don’t care. I just want to fuck your ass good….

“It took all the will power I had not to come around at work, throw you over the work table, and shove my cock into your cunt. But I don’t shit where I eat. So, you want me to plow you?

“Good. Let’s go into your shed here…. Nah, I don’t want to go into your bedroom. I didn’t come here to make love to you; I came here to rearrange your insides. Now get fucking naked.

“No, I’m keeping my clothes on. I don’t have much time. I have to get home soon. Weren’t you the one who told whoever you were talking to that you love being naked in front of a glory hole at the bookstore? Thought so.

“Decent body there. Fuck! That ass is nice and plump. Bend over. I don’t give a shit what you hold on to, just present your ass to me. Fuck yeah. You have lube? No, no time for you to go into the house. My spit will do. You’ll feel more pain though.

“Scream! I don’t care. What? You weren’t expecting me to be fucking huge? Fuck yeah! Oh man your cunt was made for my cock. Quit squirming. I got your waist, you ain’t going to fall over. I’m in control of this fuck. Just figure out how to take it.

“Don’t worry, I’m getting close. I hope you like getting bred; if not, I don’t care, ‘cuz I’m dumping a huge load in you. And you are going to fucking take it. Here it cums. Here it fucking cums. Take it. Take it like the whore you are. Fucking whore! Here it… ahhh! Ahhhh! Goddamned whore!

“Damn bitch, you should have grabbed on to something. You knew I was going to let you go at some point. But damn, you look like you belong on the floor: destroyed and in a heap.

“Stay still, I have to take a piss…. I said don’t fucking move. My piss is going in one of three places: on you, down your throat, or up your cunt.

“Oh yeah, I knew you were a sick bitch when I came over. OK, so here’s what’s going to happen. First open up your toilet mouth. You should know the taste of my piss. Tomorrow, at work you say nothing about any of this to me or anyone else. When we get off work, you are to come directly back here. I want you to welcome me in your home. Have the decency of being naked at the door. You are allowed to wear knee pads. I plan on putting your mouth to the test. I will have more time to use you than today.

“My cock is covered in your pussy juices, some of my jiz too. I have no plans on washing it off between now and then. That will be your mouth’s job to clean up day-old ass funk along with stale cum and piss, and the sweat from a hard-worked day. You will also be cleaning out my asscrack. That’ll be your responsibility too.

“That’s what you can think about for the next day. You should clamp down, my load is leaking out. You shouldn’t waste such a gift. And don’t wash off my piss between now and tomorrow.

“OK cunt, I am out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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everybodyshusband · 4 months

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nothing to help the writer's block than writing a shitty, shitty, no stakes crack fic :)) inspired by @run-of-the-milf's post about the ghouls doing a "most searched questions" video

rated T or M (i'm not sure which but there are sex jokes so...?), 1k words, no warnings apart from the fact that this is so so stupid sdjhf

As soon as the red light begins blinking at him softly, Swiss steps out from behind the camera, grinning widely. He gives Cumulus a thumbs up and the ghoulette begins to speak.

“Hi, I’m Cumulus and these are the ghouls from the band Ghost, and we’re here for the Wired Autocomplete Interview!”

“Wait,” Rain interjected. “Are we allowed to call it that if it’s not the official Wired one?” They had in fact conducted an actual interview with papa earlier that day, but it had been a stilted, official one, with all of them standing silently behind Copia as he did all the talking and referred to them by their official Nameless Ghoul titles. They were all excited to do this one together and be as silly as they wanted to, not having to worry about appearances whatsoever.

“Eh, who cares, it’s not as if this one is being posted anywhere,” Swiss argued. “We could fuck on camera and the only place it would go outside of our pack would be Copia’s office computer.”

Aurora’s head snapped up. “We’re gonna fuck on camera?”

“If we’re gonna fuck on camera, then why do we have all these chairs set up?” Dew teased, trying to let the multi ghoulette come to the correct conclusion on her own.

“I dunno…” She looked at him with wide eyes. “Should I have prepped myself or something?”

Mountain scuffed Dew over the back of the head. “Stop teasing her,” he reprimanded, but his eyes were sparkling with mirth as he turned to explain what was actually going on to her and a very concerned looking Aeon.

“I wasn’t!” Dew tried to counter, which only rewarded him another bonk on the head, this time from Cirrus.

“How about you shut up and we start the interview?”

“Great idea, Cir,” Swiss grinned. “Here, dirt boy, catch!” He threw a poster board at Mountain, who fumbled to catch it before it hit the ground.

Mountain shook his head in amusement. “A little warning next time, Swiss?”

“Nah,” the multi ghoul shrugged. “It’s funnier to watch you struggle.”

“Who’s this one for anyway?” Mountain asked.

“Me, I think,” Dew said, reading his name in the search bar. “Go on, ask me my questions, Mounty.”

The earth ghoul sighed. “Fiiiiine. This first one is just your name so…” He peels off the first bit of paper. “Dewdrop ghoul… Hah! Dewdrop ghoul height.”

Swiss cackled from behind the two of them, earning a heavy thwack on the thigh. “How tall exactly are you, Dewy?”

Cumulus tried and failed to suppress a laugh. “What is it the fans say? Two sauce packets tall?”

“You’re all so mean to me!” Dew cried out, but he was suppressing his own tears of laughter.

“It’s okay, Dew,” Rain said soothingly, patting him on the back and making the fire ghoul purr happily under the attention. “I know you’re actually three sauces tall.” The satisfied smirk on Rain’s face paired with Dew’s reaction was well worth the lecture (read: gentle chastising) they all knew they’d be getting from Copia about the noise.

“Oh, fuck you!” Dew screeched. “I fuckin’ hate this game…”

“You don’t wanna use this chance to tell us your real height?” Aeon asked, curiously.

“I’m a demon from Hell,” Dew mumbled, still pissed off. “I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“It’s because he knows he’s short,” Swiss stage-whispered into Aeon’s ear, making sure the entire pack could hear.

“How about we move onto the next one before Dew burns the Abbey down?” Mountain teased. “Dewdrop ghoul… Hands. Why are people so obsessed with your hands, Dew?”

“Because they’re fucking hot,” Aeon, Cirrus and Rain murmured in perfect unison.

“...Before anyone gets too horny,” Dew said. “Let’s move on. What’s next?”

“Swiss and Sodo dick grab,” Mountain read off the card. “And the next one down is also: Dewdrop and Swiss Watcher in the Sky.”

“What can I say,” Swiss smirked. “The people love me grabbing the little guy.” He punctuated his statement by reaching a hand forward and rubbing his hand over Dew’s chest possessively, winking at the camera. On Dew’s other side, Aeon blushed.

“What did I just say about getting too horny, Swiss?” Dew shook his head, laughing. “Let go of me, heathen. We’ve still got questions to answer.” He brushed Swiss’ hand off of him. “Any more for me, Mount?”

“Don’t think so,” the earth ghoul replied. “Next board please?” Rain chucked him the next one and Mountain immediately laughed out loud as he peeled the first bit of paper off. “Cardinal Copia gay,” he read out, causing the entire pack to also burst out laughing.

“Well, he definitely wasn’t gay last night,” Cumulus smirked.

“Oh really?” Rain asked. “He was for me last week…”

They both dissolved into laughter and turned their heads towards each other, no doubt exchanging notes about their Papa’s preferences in the bedroom.

“Moving on…” Mountain said. “The next one is… Rain and Dewdrop choking.”

“Oh God,” Rain said, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“Good one, Dew,” Aurora teased. “You’ve got him so worked up about even the idea of your choking stunt onstage that he’s forgotten he works for a Satanic Ministry.” She turned to Rain and flicked his head back up. “God’s not here, Rainy.”

“...Aaaaand on that note,” Cumulus said, clapping her hands together and grinning, struggling to contain her laughter. “We’ll stop there!”

Aeon wasn’t not so lucky in the containing laughter department, having thrown his head back and cackled enough to have fallen off his chair with an oof.

“Okay, uhhh,” Cumulus started again. “Thank you for watching our interview–”

“Even though the only people who are going to watch it will be us,” Aurora interrupted.

“–And hopefully one day we’ll be back to answer more questions,” the air ghoulette finished. “Goodbye!”

Dew lunged at Swiss for making another short joke, teeth bared. The camera fell over as he collided with the multi ghoul and the screen went black.

#seriously this is so dumb #but it was fun to write something and not take myself seriously at all :D #husband ficlets #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #also everyone is so out of character but it's because they're being silly i guess sfhbsdjk

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wildrosesayshigh3 · 3 months

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Would Damian have been robin if Tim willing gave up the mantle according to Pre-Crisis times?

This going to be long so buckle up.

This isn't going to be specifically pre-crisis, but more focused on the robin transitions. So Damian is the only robin to be given the mantle, Dick, Tim, Steph forced his hand into excepting and Jason was mentored into it by Dick to take up the mantle.

Plus (and correct me if I'm wrong) Damian is the only one who wears the mantle without the previous mantle wielders permission. Dick was growing up, Jason was dead, and Tim was in boarding school. To my (vague) knowledge Tim wasn't all that willing to give up the mantle. So would Damian have become robin at 10?

The only reason Dick was allowed (reluctantly) to be robin was because he was already athletic enough to keep up. Jason was trained, Tim became robin without batman's agreement and Steph was Spoiler.

So would Damian still be given the mantle after coming out of the LOA and being an unknown in terms of skills and loyalties and mental health. Like I know some can make the assumption that he was given the mantle because Batman (Dick) needs a robin. But that so reckless, the mantle of robin is known to be batman's student, the one who learns all of the bats trick and tips in order to succeed. Why give the mantle to a boy who (1) hasn't earned it like the rest and (2) just came out of potentially abusive situation. Cause lets face it the LOA is not good for a child mental or physical well being.

What should have been done was giving him two years at existing around the bat clan before giving him the mantle. I don't care if Bruce was lost in time and Tim was who-knows-where. Unlike before where Bruce desperately needed a robin, Dick has more connections inside and outside of Gotham at his disposal. Batman has been without a batgirl or robin before and he can do it again.

Also Damian doesn't really have a connection to Robin like the others. To him Robin is a mantle of the protege of Batman (his father) that he only knows through his mother who left him at the manor without so much as a by your leave. Robin isn't anything else.

To Dick, Robin was a connection from his old family to his new, a symbol of his childhood and past. To Jason, Robin was magick and the hero who protected Gotham since he was a little kid. To Tim, Robin was hope and Batman's salvation. To Steph, Robin was viewed the same as Jason did.

Plus each of the vigilantes that take up the mantle all still have some connection with the name in there current names. I think that the nepotism would have pissed them off.

Night Wing, the wings of the night connected to both his families not one or the other but both. A vibrant blue stripe as eye catching as the the robin costume with a black as bat background.

Red Hood the red of the blood on his costume, a name chosen to snub a madman. And reclaim power over itself. (Even if phoenix would be much more appropriate)

Spoiler taken inspiration from the Robins around her to o good and bring evil doers to justice.

Red Robin still a robin. Just new colors and feathers adorn him.

#damian wayne #would he have been robin with Tim's blessing #the robins #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #what does the mantle of robin mean to the owners #I have no idea where this is went or is going

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stevewhoreington · 2 years

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wrapped in denim

Billy’s back is pushed into the mattress, and his legs are spread as far as his blue jeans will allow. He won’t take them off. Doesn’t matter, apparently, how many times Steve asks, or hints. He just says, ‘You decided to come here. I’m not taking my fucking pants off. Too much of a risk.’

Because Billy’s dad is just down the hall, and. Like, Steve gets it. But, he thinks he’s missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Thinks that he isn’t seeing the whole picture. Thinks that Billy’s holding back. Billy’s said, my dad’s an asshole, on a couple of occasions and Steve has always said, I know the feeling, man. But. Today, as soon as Steve had scrambled not-so-gracefully through his window, he’d said, I’m dead if he sees you here. Said, we’re both dead. And, Steve doesn’t want to die, but he also really needs to see Billy. Really needs to get off. Is desperate for it. As though they hadn’t fumbled around in the back of the Camaro just last night, hands down each other’s pants and Billy kissing bruises into his throat.

‘Fine.’ Steve settles, because he doesn’t want to die, and he doesn’t want Billy to die. Not before they can get off. No fucking chance.

Billy’s a little pissed off, but, he seems a little smug too. The quirk of his mouth might as well say, ha! This is payback. Because Steve’s between Billy’s thighs, fucking dry humping him, and they’re both in jeans, blue denim, with like, zero stretch. Steve isn’t chasing the friction from Billy’s body, so much as chasing the friction from the seam in his own pants. It seems all a little pointless, maybe. Like a lot of hard work, effort, but. Billy will only say, told you so, or, this is why you should just wait, if Steve pulls back. If he lets the denim defeat him.

Besides, Billy can’t be one hundred percent pissed, because his hands are gripping onto Steve’s shoulders, and his legs are open, even if they’re not open quite enough. And it’s not just Billy’s fault; Steve’s jeans are also the fucking bane of his existence. Too rough and stiff, and nearly too thick to feel the heat between Billy’s thighs.

Nearly.

He clings to what he does feel. Tries to focus on the limited heat that he’s positive he can feel - positive he isn’t just imagining - but he can’t know for sure, because he knows the heat of Billy’s thighs too well. Is probably a fucking expert at imagining it by now.

And Steve’s sweating. Just a little. Damp collecting at his temples, at the nape of his neck. His lower back, the back of his knees. It’s hard work, fucking around in denim like this. Trying to get off in denim. He groans, lips working against the shell of Billy’s ear when he mutters, ‘This is ridiculous.’ And it is ridiculous, but it’s more ridiculous, probably, that he’s still trying. That his hips are still snapping as though he’s actually fucking Hargrove, and not just rocking up against him.

Billy’s grinning beneath him, because of course he is. Dick. ‘Well,’ he says, not quite breathless, but getting there. ‘This is what happens when you don’t do as I say.’

‘Fuck off.’ There’s no heat to Steve’s tone. Most of his energy is in the thrusting of his hips, is in the effort to grind his hard cock against something more than just the seam of his jeans. Preferably, against Billy’s cock. But. They’re not quite meeting.

Billy laughs. Says, ‘C’mon then, pretty boy. Gonna keep fucking me or what?’

And. Billy’s tormenting him, quite clearly, but - that’s good. His words are good. They’re a little bit filthy and, considering Steve doesn’t have a satisfying amount of friction to rub up against, they’re a good alternative. Something that might, potentially, tip him over the edge when he needs it.

He nods into the crook of Billy’s neck, shoots back with, ‘Yeah. Gonna keep taking it for me, baby?’ He’s never really been good at the whole dirty-talk thing. Never really had a reason to spew words like that. Action always just came easy. Came with being king, and. Then there was Nancy, and she’s. Not the kind of girl to cloak in filthy words. And. Shit. He’s losing his train of thought, but then Billy’s hands are gliding down his body, fixing on his hips.

And he mumbles, all rich and deep, and voice like velvet, ‘Uh-huh. I’ll take it. I want it.’

The tips of his fingers dig into Steve’s hips and maybe his jeans are actually a bit of a godsend in this moment after all, because he’s almost sure Billy would be drawing blood from his flesh.

Steve rocks his hips. Closes his eyes, and then. Opens them again. Because, he has Billy Hargrove looking pretty under him. Soaked in sunshine and all golden. Golden skin, golden curls. Eyes all blue and green like the ocean, or. How Steve imagines the ocean might look. Thinks he doesn’t even need to go see it for himself. Thinks he has a piece of it right here; spread open and warm and writhing beneath him. His own wave. A tidal wave. Beautiful and stormy.

‘Wanna watch me while you fuck me?’ Billy’s smirking, like he’s caught Steve out.

Steve doesn’t have the energy for words. He just nods. Nods rapidly. Feels stupid.

‘Good,’ Billy closes his eyes and there’s no water now, no ocean greens and blues, just gold, gold sand. ‘Watch me, baby. Watch me and fuck me.’

Steve does as he’s told. He stares down at the slice of sunshine, at the ball of fire, and rocks right into him like he’s fucking him. Like the roll of his hips is of any kind of consequence. And.

They haven’t actually fucked yet. Just stripped down to their underwear and messed around like this. Handjobs and blowjobs. But. No fucking. It, just hasn’t happened. Not yet. And, as Steve snaps his hips, feels Billy’s nails digging through denim, he thinks of the heat between Billy’s thighs. Imagines how it might feel, to fill him up. To. To have strong legs wrapped around him, keeping him close.

Billy’s eyes are closed and he’s moaning. Quiet, and hushed, because his house isn’t empty like Steve’s is. His face is flushed. Just a powdering of pink on gold. Rose gold. Looks so pretty, almost looks delicate, beneath the weight of Steve, but. He isn’t. He’s a tidal wave with a dirty mouth. Says, like he can read Steve’s mind - and Steve, honestly, wouldn’t be surprised, ‘Wanna feel you, baby. Want you inside me. C’mon. Fill me up.’ Says, ‘Fuck me harder’, like Steve’s actually inside him. Like there’s no barrier. No blue denim there to cockblock them.

There’s heat building at the base of Steve’s spine. Building fast and hard and fiery-hot. Hot like sun-scorched sand. Like, walking on sand with no shoes, no socks. Like touching fire.

He’s inside Billy. Not really, but. He’s thinking about it. Realistically, he’s chasing the friction that the seam inside his jeans is providing. Grinding against it with every thrust inside of Billy. Cock aching and leaking; probably spoiling the front of his jeans. Wet spot on blue.

Then Billy’s eyes are open. Heavy-lidded. Ebb tide. Calm waters, with a flash of something dangerous beneath the waves. His voice is soft, urgent around the edges, when he tells Steve, ‘Come. Come for me. Want you to finish inside me. Can you do that, baby? Can you come for me?’ There’s no stopping Billy once he gets started, and. Steve’s an open fucking book. Billy knows that he’s close. Knows that his words are hooking into him, anchoring him. Says, ‘That’s it, Steve. Let go.’ Says, ‘Make me all yours, baby. Fill me up.’

Steve drowns.

Comes with his mouth parted against Billy’s neck. Comes with the taste of sweat-damp skin on his tongue. The taste of salt that makes him think of seawater. Makes him think of being swept under. Wants to be swept under. Sinks willingly, and spills into his underwear. Shoots thick ropes that seem endless. That are being coaxed out by Billy’s tight grip on his hips and Billy’s dirty words, voice rumbling. ‘Yeah, Steve. That’s good. Just what I want.’

Billy leaves him panting and trembling. A fucking mess.

Has the decency to let Steve catch his breath before he says, ‘You need to go.’

‘What?’ Steve’s tongue feels thick and heavy and clumsy. Too big for his mouth.

‘Gotta go, Stevie. I’m serious.’

There’s no use in protesting. Billy’s mind is made up, and. Billy gave him this, at least. Billy risked it. Let him stay. And, Steve’s nodding, pushing his body away from Billy, and away from his bed. ‘But. What about you? I didn’t get to -’

Billy’s cutting in, propping himself up on his elbows and smirking at the dark patch on Steve’s light blue denim. ‘Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.’ He’s already popping the button and tugging at the zip on the front of his jeans, slipping a hand beneath the waistband.

‘Hey,’ Steve’s pointing, actually pointing at Billy’s snaking hand, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. ‘Now you open your pants, huh?’

Billy just shrugs. Looks blissed out, like he already has a good grip on himself. ‘Yeah, well. I’ll be alone and that’s different. Safer.’

Steve shoots Billy a look, because. Christ. It feels like he has fucking carpet burn after grinding against denim. Has probably been branded by his own fucking zipper. But, Billy just shoos him out with a wave of his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Says, ‘Off you go, Harrington.’ Like Steve’s wasting his time, or. Interrupting his wank.

Steve looks down at the front of his own jeans. Sees the spread of his own mess. Dark and obvious, against blue denim. Rolls his eyes and heads towards Billy’s window. It’s stupid, but he can’t quite help himself when he asks, ‘Tomorrow?’

Billy smiles. ‘Tomorrow.’

Steve clambers out of the window, exit no more graceful than his entry. Lingers there, and waits for ocean blue to meet forest brown. Billy looks, and he’s still smiling and his hand is shifting beneath the material of his jeans. Blue eyes, blue denim. Steve says, ‘Think of me.’

Billy’s laughing, and then Steve is too. Flips Steve a middle finger. And Steve knows. Knows that it means, one step ahead of you. Knows it means, see you later.

Then he’s gone. Walking from Billy’s house in stiff, stained denim. Burning hot, not just from the waist down, but. All over. Taking Billy’s taste and scent with him. Ocean salt and sun-baked denim.

#harringrove #harringrove smut #billy x steve #smut #steve x billy

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