eddie n steve jerking eachother off to a polaroid of you <3
“isn’t she hot, stevie?” one big ringed hand squeezes steves cock from base to weeping tip, thumb swiping his slit. the rings are on bc steve is a bit of a masochist and the catch of the metal against the veins on his cock make his hips jerk into eddies hand.
before them lays a picture of you, a polaroid you’d taken this summer with that flowery sundress on, high thighs melting around the skin of your legs as you smiled back at the chunky camera, pink tongue poking out to lick the strawberry ice cream from the cone you’d been holding. eddie had taken the picture. kept it in his lockbox like the lovesick fool with a crush he is.
he hadn’t expected steve the hair harrington to come over to get a puff. they’ve formed a tentative friendship, if a bit of a rivalry sprinkled with sexual tension over their shared interest in you. hadn’t expected for the weed to loosen steves pretty lips, hadn’t expected to start talking about you, how pretty you were, how good you smelled. taking out the photo, he hadn’t meant it to lead to this, he just wanted to show it off.
but now here they were, the scent of weed thick in the room as eddie kneeled behind steve, both of their jeans shoved down past their asses, as your photo lays splayed out on the bed in front of their waiting cocks. steve is pumping his hips into eddies hand, his pink tip leaking all over eddies wrist as eddie grinds his cock against the curve of steves ass.
“she’s so pretty. god-” steve gasps out, a bit breathless as eddie twists his hand around his cockhead.
“yeah, she is man.” eddie agrees. “prettiest tits I’ve ever seen. when she wears those low cut shirts, jesus.”
steves head tips back, resting back against eddies shoulder as he fucks his cock into the wet sheath of eddies fist, the slick sounds filling the room. eddies other hand comes up to grip his throat, lips against his hear as he continues to talk, “think she’d be able to take you? you’re pretty big steve. fuckin’ horsecock. gonna have to get her all wet to be able to take this thing in her cunt.”
“jesus christ.” steve grits, feeling his cock jerk. “man, fuck you. don’t say that.”
“been thinking of eating her out for ages. look at those legs, man. about to burst out of my jeans everytime she wears those short fuckin skirts. could get her all wet n’ sloppy with my tongue- really open up that tight little hole- and then-” he squeezes the tip of steve right at the top, before deliberately stroking down in one slick sweep. “-then you take this fuckin goliath you call a cock and ease it in real slow. hm?”
steve spills all over eddies fist, gasping, his pink mouth open and wide as his chest heaves and eddie kisses his neck, pats his hip sharply and leans back with a grin as steve slumps down.
s'not over yet because steve turns to face him, glares and now eddies the one gasping as steve takes his hard, wet cock in his hand.
“and what about your dick, huh? you think she won’t want this in her mouth?”
“fuck, man-”
“yeah, that’s what i thought. how many more pictures do you have of her to jack off to? s'that what all those stains were? blowin load after load staring at that ass in those tight skirts she likes to wear.”
meanwhile you’re at home kicking your feet because your two hot friends keep flirting with you and you’re going crazy thinking about them.
The briefing wraps as it usually does, with Poe pushing himself off the holotable with a verbal dismissal of all in attendance that is affirmed by Leia’s razor-sharp gaze and a slight incline of her head.
Supply runs are more commonplace now than intelligence operations — allies are sparse in the galaxy now, following the Hosnian calamity and the Battle of Crait — and more often than not, Poe is headlining those supply runs.
He rarely seems to ever remain on Ajan Kloss for more than a week now. There was the most recent mission to Minfar and before that, Tevel.
Trying to make a coherent reblog and all I can manage is …
Things to add to my Christmas list… A pretty backless green dress and a flyboy! Like holy … I was not expecting this and I am absolutely floored! Not only did this have the cutest, sweetest relationship and the absolute yearning for each other when they can’t spend time together but it was also HOT!!
I absolutely love the dynamic between them and you know I’m entirely soft for a flustered flyboy.
Top tier. Love it. Will 100% read it another 20 times.
Officially, the war was over. Practically, there was still a lot of work to be done for that to be true. You’d heard stories from Wedge and Hera and some of the other old Rebellion folks who’d come back to the fight, that this was normal for a post war galaxy. Didn’t make the work any easier though. It seemed like there was even moreto do now, as if the Resistance hadn’t been scurrying around at constant all-hands already.
It was exhausting. Even more exhausting was Poe’s schedule - which was nonexistent. If you didn’t share a bed with him, you’d assume he never slept at all. He didn’t just have responsibilities as Leia’s heir - he had responsibilities to his pilots, to his spies. He was working four or five jobs all the time.
It had come to this - there was talk of First Order contingencies on the wastes of Scariff. Personally, you weren’t sure how they could even build on Scariff, as if radiation levels weren’t through the roof but - Poe decided it needed to be looked into and he wasn’t wrong. But there was no one to fly the recon mission. The pilots were all deployed.
I’d like you to know it’s 7am here and this was entirely the way I needed to start an early Monday!!
I really enjoyed this so much. Not only was it hot but also cute! I’m really soft for the fact he still asks if he can kiss them even though they’ve obviously been together a while and I just find that the cutest thing!
a/n: hi hi hi! it’s been forever since i’ve written something and it felt so good to get this out. the jealousy aspect of the relationship is obviously dramatized for the smut. pay attention to red flags in ur personal relationships! i hope you enjoy! my requests are open <3
The flashes of cameras as the door to the limousine opened were immediate.
For a moment, Tamaki was thankful that you were sitting closest to the door. He watched you step out, careful to accept the hand of the driver and make sure your heel was planted firmly on the ground before rising. He had to think through every second of motion he made to prevent an accident or making a fool out of himself; as he saw the light flicker off the sequins of your dress, he wondered if you had to do the same- or if the gracefulness you carried in your movements was just included in the irrevocable marvel that was you.
“(Y/L/N), over here, over here!” The paparazzi yelled out for your attention as Tamaki tottered his way to your side, and he couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh in relief as you laced your hand through the bend in his arm. Even in his mid-twenties he still hadn’t found comfort in any form of public emergence… you were the only thing that grounded him, but especially so tonight.
You had been off in America for nearly a month with your agency, taking workshops, keeping up appearances as you were being called one of the new Pro-Heroes to keep eyes on. It was nearly two years after graduating with your class from UA High, but still, you were making waves in the Hero scene all around the world alongside your agency partner, who you had grown up with and now worked with- Mezo Shouji.
Tamaki didn’t dislikeShouji. How could he? He was one of the most respectable people he had ever met, even while going through school years. There was no denying that he was a good friend to you, as well- there were no signs pointing otherwise. You had been dating Tamaki for almost seven years now and while there were mishaps he comforted you through with your other friends, nothing ever went astray when it came to your multi-limbed agency partner. There was nothing to hate.
Well… maybe one thing.
You spend so much time with him.
It nearly had Tamaki itching at this point. He understood the insane schedule of a hero as he lived the life himself, just in a different agency. Time together was sparse, so when you had it, you had to make the most of it, especially now that you were back from such a long trip. The anxiety he felt bubble in his stomach as he watched you be whisked away for pictures with Shouji annoyed him beyond coherent thought. What was the point of getting so upset over this?
He tried to reason with himself while he stood off to the side, sometimes taking pictures with Kirishima and Togata as they passed, sometimes answering questions for reporters that he wished would just walk away. He trusted you, he loved you more than anything, and he genuinely considered Shouji a close friend at this point. Still… when his pointy ears perked up at the sound of compliments towards you and him, he wondered if he was going to be sick.
“You two look sogood together! Can we get another pose?” One of the reporters chirped, holding her camera up as you and Shouji stood in another position for her. He didn’t realize he was zoning out until he felt Mirio’s hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his reverie.
“Relax, Tamaki, we’ll be out of here soon! Wanna start walking up?” Always positive and alwayshaving his back, Tamaki was thankful that Mirio saw his clenched fists and dark eyes as general anxiety and notshooting arrows into the hand- hands?- that Shouji had currently gripping your hip.
Giving a short nod in response, Tamaki and Mirio began their trek inside the building, all the while Tamaki prayed for this night to just be over.
***
He learned quickly that it was far from over.
If anything could go wrong that night, it seemed to happen. He got to sit next to you for the awards, but Shouji was on the other side of you. This was normal, Tamaki kept reassuring himself. You two were nominated for an award together, which symbolized the best duo currently in the field. You won, of course, and while Tamaki was so fuckingproud of you, he couldn’t help but feel that same twinge of jealousy. You looked so beautiful in the dress you were wearing, and all night he could feel his cock straining against his slacks in response. He hadn’t been able to touch you in weeks…and that was allShouji was doing tonight.
Little did he know, you were completely aware of how he was feeling. Jealousy wasn’t a new feeling for Tamaki, and you were both very open to each other communication wise. Judging by the way he was groping you in the back of the limo on the way to the gala, you knew you were in for it already. Tamaki tended to take a lot of emotion out during sex, knowing that what he couldn’t possibly describe with words, he could show through actions. Would it hurt to… encourage that kind of roughness? You didn’t think so, fueling your own desires and setting yourself out to be the thing Tamaki couldn’t take his eyes off of all night.
After the awards, you focused on the little things. Reaching out to touch Shouji’s arm when you laughed at something he would say, or pressing your ass against Tamaki’s boner and pulling his arms to lace around your chest to make it look like a normal, sweet gesture.
The sharp intake of his breath was enough for you to know you hit a nerve.
“Careful, bunny.” Tamaki whispered in your ear, rocking forward against your ass just slightly and raising goosebumps across your skin. “I’d be more compassionate if you want that dress,” His hand trailed up your chest, his thumb sticking out to trace the fast-pulsing vein in your neck, “to still be in one piece by the time we get home.”
Your response was out before you could think about the repercussions. “The reporters said it looked stunning against Mezo’s hair.”
Wrong move.
Suddenly thankful that no one around you was paying attention, you barely had time to gasp before you were being yanked out of the ballroom and down a secluded hallway. He was bold to assume that you were able to keep up with his lanky legs in the heels you were wearing, but your fashion didn’t seem to be his top priority at the moment. You played catch up with him, nearly being dragged the rest of the way before he found a bathroom.
“AbathroomTamaki? Seri- hey!”
Your dress was being unzipped and pulled down your body before the door was even closed. After pushing it shut and locking it, Tamaki lifted you out of the mess of fabric and kicked it to the side. You wanted to make a comment about how expensive it was, but judging by how he was literally holding you in the air to kick your heels off of your feet, you figured now wasn’t the best time to talk.
“What is it about Shouji that has you so enamoured?” He asked in your ear, dropping you to your feet before rippingthe panties you had off of your hips. Your complaints fell on deaf ears and you were thanking the universe at that moment that your dress had a bra built in.
“What? Tamaki, I’m not-”
“That’s not an answer. Is it the arms? Do you think about what he could do with arms like that, bunny?” His voice grew deeper towards the end, sounding like it was scratchingout of his chest as his arms suddenly turned into a multitude of tentacles, each finding one of your limbs to grab onto to hold your back against his chest. You were on full display in the mirror in front of you, and Tamaki was looking over your shoulder at the complete showhe was making of you. “Do you want to feelwhat all of those can do?”
With one sticky tentacle trailing up and wrapping around your neck, you had very little room to speak. Instead you laid your head back against his shoulder and tried to look up at him, open-mouthed whimpers ringing off the bathroom walls and drool trickling down your cheek.
You felt your eyes roll back into your head as his limbs squeezed and pulled at your nipples, one just barelyfinding your clit between your folds and running small circles onto it. You weren’t able to control the whimpers, or silence the sounds in any way, and you could only wonder through the fog if anyone was listening.
The thought had you soaking.
Tamaki, truthfully, was just as much of a mess as you were. With his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, tie undone, and buttons popped on his shirt, he still felt like he was in a sauna. It took very little to get him worked up when it came to you, and seeing you spread eagle against him and nearly crying in his ear before he even took his dick out had him questioning if he would cum in his boxers.
“Yeah bunny, that’s a good girl,” He panted, pressing a kiss to your temple as he quickly used a tentacle to undo his pants and release his cock. There was no waiting- he could feel your abdomen rippling the way it before you hit your peak and he neededto be inside of you. “Such a good girl-”
Stumbling forward with his pants around his ankles, Tamaki lifted you up onto the countertop between two sinks so that you were on your knees. He was at the perfect height to slip into your dripping cunt from this angle, his tentacles pulling your arms behind your back as he began the process of stretchingyou out around his dick. You spread your knees just a little wider, causing him to hit a spot deep inside of you that made you yell out for him and fall back against his chest. He used this position to his advantage, beginning to pump himself inside of you.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Tamaki breathed out, his left hand turning back to normal so he could hold your neck again, but this time against his own skin. He picked up his pace with this, but as he sped up and your moans and whimpers grew even louder, he pushed you forward so your hands were bracing yourself up against the mirror.
This gave Tamaki the perfectangle to watch your reactions, seeing your mouth fall open and the glass fog as he pounded balls-deep into you relentlessly. “Oh, Tama, right there, please, please~” Your strings of words began to barely make sense as he held your hips in a bruising grip, but still, it wasn’t enough.
Slipping you off of the counter, Tamaki dropped you to your feet and brought you back against the cool tile wall. He wasted no time in picking you back off the floor, utilizing one hand of tentacles to wrap your legs around his waist as he buried himself back in your pussy.
This position was much more intimate, and fuckdid he look like a beautiful mess above you. No matter how many times you two spent time like this, neither of you would ever get sick of it. Tamaki was convinced that you were the best thing he would ever have in this lifetime, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to spend a lot of that lifetime making you cum around his cock.
“You feel so good, Tamaki~” You whispered, your lips crashing against his in hopes of swallowing some of the ridiculous noises you were sure were floating through the building at this point. He responded with a long, drawn out groan, his eyes pressed tightly closed as he fought to not cum that second. Your arms fell around his neck and you let your hands wander up into his hair, yanking at the indigo tresses and forcing his thrusts to stutter inside of you. You could tell he was fighting off his orgasm, but you wanted nothingmore in that moment than to make him release. “Cum in me, Tama, fill me up, please cum in me~”
Another groan from him, but this time followed by now two human arms wrapping around your torso, pressing you hard against the wall, and fucking you with absolute reckless abandon. Tears fell from your eyes at the sheer impact, and as you bit down on his shoulder, you came harder around him than you ever had in your relationship. You worried your nails drew blood with how harshly you were grasping at him, but with the sheer force of his own hands, you knew you would probably face similar marks.
Tamaki came deep inside of you, stuffing his load and filling you to the brim. Your first thought once you caught you breath was to clean yourself up since you were already in the bathroom, but before you were even off from against the wall Tamaki had stuffed your pussy with a plug he pulled from the pocket of his slacks.
Once he backed away you looked at him incredulously, and he couldn’t help but take in your entire look. You were a mess, ridiculously so, and he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe off excess eyeliner and mascara. As he tried to gently fix your hair, he pressed the softestkiss to your forehead. “I’ll help you zip the dress up. Long night ahead.”
***
Even as you walked back to the main party, you questioned how you didn’t notice Tamaki had a fucking plugin his pocket. You whispered to him about it the whole way there, commenting on how there was still so much to do that night and it could have been so uncomfortable.
Tamaki could only smile. If you didn’t notice the plug in one pocket, you surelydidn’t notice the ring box he had stuffed in the other.
→ “Sako has left you with no other options, so you take it upon yourself to make one- even if that option means staying with him and the mob.” [mafia!au - f!reader - 2k words]
a/n:it’s britney bitch. also, for the month yall had to wait for this chapter, i know 2k words aint enough, but there’ll be more in the next chapter i promise. im not really feelin this chapter anyway but what can you do ig. also my taglists are too long. alerting this many people at once gives me anxiety [navigation] [rrh masterlistandplaylist]
TW: prostitution, sex rings, sex trafficking, murder (all only mentioned)
➾ “You and Tomura explore the new Nether update together. After a tragic accident with lava and a hoglin, you’re there to comfort him.” [842 words]
a/n: sorry the banner looks weird. i had to save one of the banners from tumblr after realizing i no longer had the og format saved, so it was already blurry to begin with, and then i put non blurry wording in, so it’s all just blegh. i should just change all the banners tbh. i hope the fic is good tho. i’ll write shigaraki taming every cat in the game next! and thank you all so much for supporting this series. it means a lot to me that yall enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy writing it!!!! [navigation] [minecraft with shigaraki masterlist]
➾ “You and Shigaraki build a castle.”[696 words (nice)]
a/n: no i havent been watching minecraft timelapse videos on youtube for an entire week straight what do you mean aha i would never [navigation] [minecraft with shigaraki masterlist]
The incessant whirring of the washing machine is tunneling in your head, adding to the stress induced migraine you’ve already received. But the man in front of you is more than chipper, smiling as he takes in more of the pie you’ve prepared.
“You’re not in here.” He smiled toothily and tapped on the leather cover of the captain’s log. “Care to tell me what your name is?”
Her gaze stopped on his pistol and on the metal basket-shaped guard of his cutlass, before moving onto Monroe and giving her the same quick assessment. She drew her legs away from him, and took another sip of water before letting her hands rest in her lap, grimacing as the shackles rubbed against the raw skin of her wrists.
“Pirates.” Her voice was low and hoarse, husky from dehydration. “Of course it would be pirates.”
His smile took on a sharp edge. “What were you expecting, princess? A rescue mission?”
word count:5003/15703 total chapter:4/? rating:NR (T for now, will go up to M/E in future chapters) tags:pirates, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, adventure
“You said–”
“I remember perfectly well what I’ve said, Miss Clarke. Now sit down, I’ve reached a rather interesting part of my book and I’d hate to have to put it away.”
“Is that a threat?”
He unfolded his legs from where they had been resting atop one of the tables inside Jasper’s tavern and put his book down with more force than needed, almost overturning his dish.
“If it was a threat you wouldn’t be asking me this. Now please, would you honor me with your presence this fine morning so that I can get back to my breakfast?”
Sensing a losing battle, Clarke pulled out a chair and sat down, throwing a cursory glance to the book cover to her right — The Tempest by William Shakespeare. Interesting choice of reading matter.
She watched him eat for few minutes, uncaring that her staring could be considered quite impolite. When she judged him to be nearly over with his breakfast, she tugged his book closer to her and opened it at a random page.
His hand holding his fork froze halfway to his mouth. My, he made a fetching picture gaping at her like that.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She turned the next page, reading the words but not really immersing herself into the play’s plot.
“I’m not allowed to leave this tavern unless it’s with somebody of your little pirate circle. I’m not allowed to talk with anybody that is not you, your sister, your boatswain or Niylah. I’m not allowed to do anything that doesn’t include you asking me to answer the same questions again and again and again until we’re readying to tear at each other. I’m rather bored if you will, staring at walls can be so unbelievably dull.”
His eyebrows went up and he washed down the next bite of food with more wine.
“I fail to see how this is less preferable than the dungeon cell in the tower.”
Yes, Clarke remembered that discussion rather vividly. After they were done grilling her for information the first night, the matter of what they would do with her had come up. To say that his sister had argued strongly to put her in a cell would be an understatement. But Raven had taken Blake’s side, citing that if they threw her in the old tower, she would gather more attention as to why she was there in the first place than if she was staying in plain sight.
Clarke, of course, had no choice in the matter either way, but she did appreciate Raven’s solid logic. Blake’s pragmatism, however, wasn’t high on her list of things she was grateful for. If she overstepped a line there was no saying what he would do; what was best for him hadn’t always coincided with what was best for her.
“I can’t just sit in one place all day and do absolutely nothing!”
“I don’t see how that is any different from what you’ve done in the past, or is it the tea parties that you miss so much?”
“Maybe not,” she counters, leaning forward in her seat so she’s looking him right in the eye. “But I know who you are. You’re the one who wrote a piece about how much you hated Princess Ariadne’s casting.”
The smile he shoots her in return is more of a smirk than anything. “And you’re the one who’s playing her,” he quips, tilting at his chin. The motion is teasing, almost challenging, and she feels her pulse pick up, despite herself. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Or: Bellamy is less than pleased when soap opera star Clarke Griffin lands the lead role in the Callister reboot. So, naturally, he writes about it.
It’snot supposed to blow up. She’s not supposed to respond to it either, but here they are.
The notification pops up on his phone in the middle of studying and it’s like every possible thought vanishes from Bellamy’s head at once. He shakes his head with a smile and looks back down at his books, lines of texts now blurring before his eyes. For one thing, he had a long day at work before he even dragged his ass to the library to get some work done on his thesis. His whole body is tired, his eyes most of all.
But all of a sudden, he finds every nerve in his body alight with expectation. It’s downright stupid that his high-school crush should still have this effect on him more than a decade later, but he never claimed to be emotionally well-adjusted.
Case in point, his heart lurches when his phone lights up again a few seconds later, this time with a text to the group.
The tiny smile that had cropped up on his face at the sight of her name grows into a full-fledged grin. Over ten years since they spoke with any kind of regularity and she starts a conversation like it’s been ten minutes.
Whatever link it is she’s sharing, Bellamy would have agonized over how to breach a twelve-year gap. It’s such a Clarke thing to ignore the awkwardness completely, he can’t help feeling fond.
Monty Green: Sorry did we just go back in time? Is it 2006 again?
Jasper Jordan: I Did Not Spend The Better Part Of My Life As A Sci Fi Nerd For Time Travel To Happen Without Me Noticing
Monty Green: Title of your autobiography
Nathan Miller: I can’t believe you put in the effort to capitalize all of those words Oh no wait I absolutely can
Raven Reyes: Don’t worry Jordan I promise when I figure out time travel I’ll give you a heads up
Clarke sets her laptop aside and takes her earbuds all the way out and Bellamy tries not to smile. Apparently a conversation starter like that warrants her full attention.
“I’m aware,” she says, slouching so that her feet bump his on the coffee table. “What’d you do this time?”
“My boss–”
“Ugh.” She makes a face. “It’s bad already.”
Bellamy works in the sales department of a company that makes textbooks. It’s not what he thought he’d be doing when he set out to build himself a career in publishing, but those jobs are hard to come by.
This job in particular wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for his boss, whom Clarke describes as “a real-life Michael Scott, minus the fun parts.” Dante thinks of himself as a nice guy, but most of his attempts at humor are little more than unapologetic offenses. Which ranges from obnoxious to hurtful for Bellamy, both as someone who has worked hard to overcome his own biases and as a bi person of color who grew up poor.
To make matters worse, Dante lets his son– Cage, the human equivalent of a steaming garbage heap, and the mid-level manager– impose his whims on the office, which derails the employees from their existing work (shitty for Bellamy and others who get paid on commission) and often piles on more unnecessary tasks.
Clarke has heard endless ranting about the Wallaces and always offers Bellamy a sympathetic ear. Even if she couldn’t sympathize, she’s always the person he wants to tell about his day. It’s kind of a problem for him, being in love with his best friend and roommate, but if the alternative is not having her in his life, well, he doesn’t even want to imagine that, let alone live it.
“Which one this time?” She asks, lips quirking. It’s a little distracting, but he’s used to it. “Dante or Cage?”
“Dante. He’s making our branch go on a retreat. It’s a long weekend in the woods with my coworkers. And probably no cell service or wifi.”
“So an actual horror movie,” Clarke supplies. “What’s your excuse gonna be?”
“This is the part where I’m a disaster.”
“I love it already.”
“I told him that weekend was my girlfriend’s birthday and I couldn’t go,” Bellamy sighs. “He told me I’d have to use paid time off to get out of it, but that the lodge where we’re staying is ‘very romantic’ and that my girlfriend would be more than welcome to join us.”
Clarke pauses. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
here, have some wild night away fic. i’m rusty and pressed for time these days but it had to be done
a snapshot between rounds two and three
:::
i can’t lose
In the time it takes Aaron to piss and rinse his mouth out under the bathroom tap, his heart just about settles back to its usual pace.
Just about.
The scene in the bedroom put paid to that pretty quickly though, and Aaron allows himself the luxury of loitering in the doorway to survey the absolute mess they’ve made of the place.
There are pillows strewn across the floor (one very carefully positioned over by the mirror in the wardrobe door - put there by Robert to protect his old man knees, obviously.)
There’s a half empty bottle of poncy imported lager tipped over by the window, dark stain soaking into the carpet. Aaron has a vague memory of dropping it there when Robert had first started to tug his shirt free from his waistband, winter pale flesh under forgiving, expensive lighting.
The bed’s the star of the show right now though, once-pristine white sheets wrinkled and rucked up around the outline of Robert’s body. He’s sprawled right where Aaron left him, starfished across the centre of the bed, face still tucked into the crook of his elbow. He hasn’t even moved his knee down, legs still spread around the ghost of Aaron’s thighs. If it wasn’t for the mess on his belly, cock soft and red against his thigh, Aaron would think he was still waiting for it.
“Are you just going to stare at me all night?” Robert asks, muffled.
Aaron shrugs even though no one can see him. “Thinking about it. View’s half decent.”
He watches Robert’s chest shudder with the laugh he huffs out. Tries not to think about the come-dark patch of hair flattened under Robert’s belly button, what that would taste like, whether Robert would try to kick him away or drop his thighs even further apart for it.
Turns out a night away is all it takes these days to turn Aaron into a teenager again, if his own dick fattening up again is anything to go by.
He drops a hand to pull at it, can’t help himself. And he’s most of the way to fully hard by the time he realises Robert’s looking at him now.
“Not that I mind being objectified,” Robert says. “But are you planning on doing anything with that or should I sort myself out?”
Aaron rolls his eyes fondly. “When have you ever sorted yourself out?” he scoffs.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the Swindon trip already,” Robert says, but he’s curling a hand around his spent dick, ring finger dipping down behind his balls, to where Aaron knows he’ll still be wet with Aaron’s come, probably still stretched open.
“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying are you?”
Aaron’s gaze flicks flicks back up to Robert’s face, but he doesn’t feel guilty, and Robert doesn’t look offended.
“Sorry, were you talking?” Aaron asks, drags his eyes as deliberately as he can back down the length of Robert’s body.
There’s a bite mark on the inside of Robert’s left thigh, high up where the skin is thin. Aaron’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to heft those thighs back up over his shoulders and remind Robert exactly who’s in charge here.
Robert doesn’t need to make room for him when Aaron knees his way back on to the bed, but he does somehow anyway.
Robert looks down at him, eyes dark. “You could probably just put it in,” he says. “If you wanted.”
Aaron wants. But there are other things he wants more than getting his end away for the third time in as many hours. He wants Robert panting, wants his head tipped back, hands braced on the fancy headboard. Wants to look up the long line of Robert’s exposed throat, watch him struggle to swallow. He wants Robert as overwhelmed as Aaron feels right now.
And there’s only one way to do that.
Aaron palms Robert’s knees, shuffles closer, holds Robert’s gaze as he very deliberately strokes his thumb over the flat of his tongue. It’s worth it for the way Robert curses, air punched out of him.
“Aaron,” he says, that half-panicked, anxious voice that means Aaron’s going to get exactly what he wants.
I had a dream that the king and the queen of a small country had a daughter. They needed a son, a first-born son, so in secret, without telling anyone of their child’s gender, they travelled to the nearby woods that were rumoured to house a witch.
They made a deal with that witch. They wanted a son, and they got one. A son, one made out of clay and wood, flexible enough to grow but sturdy enough to withstand its destined path, enchanted to look like a human child. The witch asked for only one thing, and that was for their daughter.
They left the girl readily.
The witch raised her as her own, and called her Thyme. The princess grew up unknowing of her heritage, grew up calling the witch Mama, and the witch did her very best to earn that title.
She was taught magic, and how to forage in the woods, how to build sturdy wooden structures and how to make the most delicious stews. The girl had a good life, and the witch was pleased.
The girl grew into a woman, and learned more and more powerful magics, grew stronger from hauling wood and stones and animals to cook, grew smarter as the witch taught her more.
She learned to deal with the people in the villages nearby, learned how to brew remedies and medicines and how to treat illness and injury, and learned how to tell when someone was lying.
Every time the pair went into town, the people would remark at just how similar Thyme was to her mother.
(Thyme does not know who and what she is. She does not know that she was born a princess, that she was sold. She only knows that one night after her mother read her a story about princesses and dragons, her mother had asked her if she ever wanted to be a princess.)
((Thyme only knows that she very quickly answered no. She likes being a witch, thank you very much, she likes the power that comes with it and the way that she can look at things and know their true nature.))
The witch starts preparing the ritual early, starts collecting the necessities in the winter so they can be ready by the fall equinox. Her daughter helps, and does not ask what this is for, just knows that it is important.
The witch looks at Thyme, both their hands raised into the air over a complicated array of plants, tended carefully to grow into a circle, and says, sorry.
Warning: adult language, consumption of alcohol, minor character deaths, hella angst, lots of self-doubt, strangulation, smut, betrayal, death threats.
Summary: Being a single mom is hard, being a single mom to your sister’s kid is hard, being a single mom to your sister’s super powered kid is harder, and being a single mom to your sister’s super powered kid while working as a villain is hardest. It doesn’t help that your kids want to be a superhero, it also doesn’t help that all those super heroes really hate your guts. But, you’re making it work.
Note: I really took this kid’s show out of proportion guys….
summary: back in Laredo, Javi’s past weighs heavily on him. luckily, a long lost love is there for him.
word count: 4.4k
WARNINGS: mentions of religion, loss and depression, alcohol and smoking; piv, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, doggy (what can I say, sad slut Javi needs some comfort).
gif: @skyshipper
read on AO3
The air is thick with heat, sweat and long lost memories. Some better than others. Not a single breeze rushes through the air. It’s all still, almost as if dead.
In all honesty, Laredo is both comforting and haunted.
Can’t be any worse than Colombia though, Javier thinks fleetingly as he tosses and turns in his bed. The heat is holding him in a chokehold, but you think he’d be used to it after facing years of it both here and in the drug paradise. But there’s a certain sadness attached to his hometown.
